Country roads take me home; I’m humming the John Denver song, the radio’s off, I’m making my own music like I do a lot of the time when I’m driving. When I take off on a journey it’s always Willie and On the road again, sometimes, when I’m cruising during the day I’m with Tim McGraw going Everywhere, but at night, on a lonely country road it’s always Denver.
And I am on a country road, two lanes of mcadam, a single white line down the middle but it’s not taking me home, I’m in the west part of Missouri really not heading anywhere in particular, I had a vague notion of turning north in Kansas, wandering through the Dakotas, but maybe not.
I like the backroads of America, the interstate system is great if you want to get from point A to point B the fastest but they’re homogenized. Florida to California, Perkins Pancake houses, McDonalds, Denny’s, the same everywhere but I’m not in a hurry to get anything but a story, my names Will Forester but my nom de plume’s Joe On the Road, I’m a freelance writer looking for human interest tales. Country towns, mom and pop restaurants with Blue Plate specials, two chair barber shops, road side diners, two eggs, sausage and home fries for $2.95, that’s where I get my inspirations.
So Mutt and I are rolling along, I haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes when, at the furthest reach of my headlights something appears in the road. My first thought was, deer, but, no, this seems to be an apparition, ghostly in white. I slow, no, no ghost either, it’s a girl and she’s running toward me, waving me to a stop.
“Help me Mister, you gotta help me,” she pleads as she throws open the passenger door. She stops and screams, she’s just met my traveling companion, Mutt.
Mutt’s a mongrel with a lot of pit bull in him; he’s wandered onto my land and into my life five or so years ago. He was still a pup, someone had probably dumped him. I fed him and he adopted me; now he’s my constant companion, he’s my buddy and my protector, I trained him; the command “Go” unleashes sixty-five pounds of unrestrained fanged fury.
“Mutt, stay…you, jump in back,” both obeyed.
“Go Mister, just go,” she begs.
“Whoa, gal, what’s the matter,” I ask.
“They shot my daddy now they’re after me, just go.”
Through the open window I hear the distinct grumble, Harley Davidson’s, firing up.
“That’s them, that’s them, go, please they’ll kill me.”
I went; I figured I could get the whole story later but her fear was real, washing off her in waves.
Turn here Mister, turn right here. It was a gravel road; I turned, drove a mile or so and pulled over.
“Mutt, in back, you come up here, let’s hear what happened.”
After dog and girl switched I asked, “Ok, talk to me.”
“They shot my daddy now they wanta shoot me.”
She stopped, I waited for her to continue, she was mute.
I reached over and patted her on the back, “You’re safe now.”
“No I’m not, not half.”
It poured out, “My daddy cooked meth and sold it to a biker gang, when they came; I was in the bedroom, I couldn’t see but I could hear. They had a hellava argument, accused daddy of shorting them; daddy musta reached for his gun ‘cause I heard one of them scream at him, put the Goddamned gun down then there was two shots. I was climbin’ out the window, one of they said, fuck, he’s dead, let’s get out of here. They came out the front door, I was almost to the woods when one of ‘em seen me, he took a shot at me then come runnin’ but I got away.”
Everything had happened so fast I really hadn’t gotten a good look at her before, now I did. She was a teen, maybe fourteen or fifteen, she was wearing a long night gown, there were scratched on her arms and face and her bare feet were bloody.
“Let’s get you cleaned up a little,” I said as I reached back and got my first aid kit, then I’ll make a call, we need to find a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Oh God no Mister you can’t call the law, they’s a whole gang of them, the rest of them will get me for sure.”
She was going back into panic mode.
“Ok, just settle down honey, let’s get you cleaned up then we’ll decide what to do.”
As I swabbed her cuts with sterile antiseptic wipes I asked, “You got a name?”
“Unhuh, I’m Kari, how about you.”
“Joe, just call me Joe.”
“Take these, Kari,” I said as I handed her two ibuprofen and a water bottle, she wasn’t feeling it yet; adrenalin, but her feet would hurt in a little while.
“Now where do you want to go?”
“We gotta go back to the house.”
“Girl, are you nuts, why the hell would we do that?”
“My Momma’s back there, we gotta get her.”
“Huh?” My intelligent reply.
“She was in the outhouse when them guys came, they never knowed she was there.”
So, a right turn then another and another, gravel roads, country roads ‘til we hit the mcadam again.
“Here, turn here,” she directed me.
It was a shack, tumble down porch, unpainted, dead flowers in pots, uninviting desolation, Kari got out and ran to the porch.
“Momma, you in there, Momma, Momma,” she yelled.
A voice answered, “I’m out here Kari, in the barn.”
Kari ran that way, Mutt and I followed.
“Momma, this is Joe, he’s gonna help us.”
We were standing at the entrance of the barn, even in the dim light of the moon I could see she was terrorized, she had a club in her hand though, she’d fight if it came to that. I could smell the chemicals, too; his lab was in the barn.
Mutt heard it first, the low rumble of a single motorcycle engine, oh shit I thought, they’re coming back.
“In the barn, everybody in the barn, give me that and hide,” I whispered.
I took her club, it was an axe handle, no blade damnit, but good solid hickory, I called Mutt to my side and put him on alert.
He got off his scooter, “Yoohoo, Cassie, come out come out where ever you are,” just like in Ollie Ollie oxen free but this was no game, he had a gun in his hand.
He checked the house first, I hoped he’d give up but, no such luck, he headed for the barn.
He was a step inside, “Go,” I turned Mutt loose, he hit him low, all sixty-five pounds of bad attitude, I swung the axe handle. Damn, just like in Little League with my Louisville Slugger, I caught him flush in the face and followed with a chopping stroke; he toppled to the ground, I called Mutt off.
I checked him, his pants were ripped, his legs bleeding, his nose was flattened, splayed across his cheek but worst of all was his bashed in skull, there was no way he’d survive. I picked up his gun, I noted it was a .357 Colt Python, and stuck it in my belt.
“Gals run in the house and get some things but make it quick, we need to move it.”
I jumped in the Cherokee, Mutt took the front passenger’s seat, his perch and we waited.
I had to give it to them, they were quicker than any woman in my experience, they ran out in under two minutes. Cassie, I now knew her name was Cassie, had her purse with some clothes stuffed in it, Kari had hers in her hands, shorts a top and tennis shoes. They climbed in the back seat and I headed back the way I’d come, I’d seen a little roadside motel back around twenty miles, I figured we’d get a room then decide what we were gonna do next.
I had to ring a bell; it was after midnight so it took a little time for the old guy that ran the place to open the door.
“I want a room for one night,” I said.
He looked over my shoulder, saw my red Jeep and saw the two women in it.
“Thirty-five dollars, cash,” he said as he handed me a key, “Take four, down there,” he pointed.
I pulled up in front of the room, gave Cassie the key and told them to go in; I wanted to park around in back so my vehicle couldn’t be seen from the road.
I took the first aid kit with me, Kari’s feet might need tending then me and Mutt rapped on the door, Kari opened it a crack.
“It’s me,” I started to say but Mutt had already forced his way in.
Cassie was sitting on the bed, Kari sat beside her, “Ok ladies, what now, where can I take you?”
Kari answered, “Away from here Joe, we ain’t got nowhere to go and we damned sure can’t stay around here. They’s a pretty big gang, them bikers, they’ll find us sure.”
I glanced over to Cassie.
“She’s right Joe, we can’t stay around here, Kari and me both saw ‘em, they’ll not want to leave no witnesses.”
Ah hell, I though, I can’t abandon them and I didn’t want to read some news on the internet about two dead gals being found out in Missouri; tomorrow, first light we’d head down to my place in Florida.
“Let’s get some sleep; you two take the bed,” I stole one of the pillows and laid down on the floor, Mutt curled up beside me, and I’m glad he did.
‘Bout three maybe three-thirty he woke me with his low growl, he’d heard something.
I sat up and listened, now I could hear it, the throaty rumble of idling motorcycles, I peeked out the Venetian blind.
There were four of them, one guy was off his, was walking to the office door, the other three were still astride. I figured it would take a few minutes to get the old guy up, maybe with a little bit of luck we’d get away; I knew for sure the old man wouldn’t lie to those rough bastards to protect us.
I shook the gals awake.
“Quiet, grab your things, we gotta go out the window, they’re out there.”
They heard the motors, too.
I stuck the .357 in my belt; I’d slept in my jeans; opened the window and used the remote to unlock the Cherokee.
“Get in the back and don’t slam the door,” I said as I boosted Kari over the sill. Cute butt, I thought, I had my hand on it.
“Come on Cassie,” hers was too bony.
Mutt followed, then I climbed out, the dog was waiting at the passenger door but I didn’t want unnecessary noise. I let him jump in my side, slid in and fired up the engine; I hoped that they wouldn’t hear it over their own.
I had the .357 but I damned sure didn’t want a gunfight, there was four of them, no doubt all armed. Now I’m a pretty good shot but, at night, with a pistol I’d be lucky to get three of them even from ambush, probably only two; then there’d be five more dead bodies for the coroner to deal with and me and the girls would be three of them, I idled along behind the dumpster and hit the highway.
The full moon provided enough illumination; I kept the headlights off ‘til we were a mile away.
“Ok ladies, you can shut the doors now,” I said as I slammed mine and switched on the headlights.
I picked up US 65 and headed south, through Branson, Missouri and down to Little Rock where we went through a McDonald’s drive thru for breakfast.
I wanted a lot of miles between us and Missouri, we took US 65, out of Arkansas south into Louisiana. I’d seen it before but the girls got a kick out of it, there’s a town and it’s got a water tower like lotsa small towns but not many are painted with the picture of a vampire bat, yeah, the little Louisiana burg of Transylvania. We continued down to Vidalia then crossed the Mississippi at Natchez, hit US 61 down to I-10 and headed east.
Now I like country roads but like I said from point A to point B the Interstate’s the way to go. So, with a tip of the cap to Adolph Hitler, yeah, that’s what I said, Hitler, we were streaking east.
I guess I should clarify about the Hitler remark; our interstate system, although almost no body knows it is officially the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways, Ike saw the autobahn in Germany and thought it was a fine idea. Hitler had ordered its construction as a way to move troops rapidly, Dwight championed it here. We were on our way from point A to point B at seventy miles per hour; the cruise control was set.
I’ve got a little place on a creek off the Ocklawaha River, about a mile upstream on a little blackwater creek at the end of a sand road, I don’t think I was ever so glad to see it.
“Come on ladies, welcome to my humble abode,” announced as I walked to the door, “This is gonna be home while we try to sort things out.
My dad had been a successful surgeon. I had two older siblings, Alfred, my brother was also a surgeon, Megan, my sister was an English prof at FSU, I was a black sheep; I think I was also an oops baby, my brother and sister were both over ten years older than I was.
My home had been dad’s fishing shack, just a weekend getaway place. When he sold his practice and retired to Naples he fixed me up with a little trust fund and gave me the deed, so it was mine, he didn’t fish anymore, it was golf, golf, and more golf.
I loved the place, four rooms, two bedrooms, a living / dining area and a bathroom, yeah, I had facilities, even a shower and tub. There was electricity, not always dependable at the end of the line but electricity and a phone line. I used the phone line as a dedicated line for my computer, for conversation I had my cell phone; I cooked, warmed the place in the winter and powered the water heater with bottled gas. I had an underground tank that I refilled each year.
I showed them around.
“Y’all can share the guest room or, if you want to Kari, you can sleep up there.” I pointed, there was a loft, there was a bed up there, just a single but mostly I used the area for storage.
She followed my finger, “Too cool, I want to go up there.”
There’s no formal staircase, just a kinda fancy ladder, I let her lead the way, she climbed, I followed; I thought again, cute ass, then I thought, easy Joe, she’s fourteen.
I had to move a few things around, make room for her, but she was tickled, her own private area, we made up the bed and went back down.
I got us all Cokes and sat we all sat at the table, “I’m sorry to say, I can’t feed us tonight, all that’s here is dry stuff, coffee, flour, that kinda things.”
I clean out the refrigerator when I go on the road, like I said the electricity can be kinda iffy, I don’t want to come to the smell of spoiled food.
“We’ll go to town in the morning, get some food and some more clothes for y’all, ok,” but I’m gonna turn in now, I’m whipped.
I was out like a light in twenty seconds.
Groggily, I came awake the following morning to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the unmistakable scent of biscuits baking, Kari heard me stirring.
“Joe, you up, Momma’s got breakfast about ready.”
“Yeah honey, I’m up,” I answered as I stumbled to the bathroom.
I was scratching my balls, not paying attention when I entered the bath; I was attacked, being strangled, hell I fought.
I’d been clotheslined by a clothesline, someone’d hung a damned rope across my bathroom, there was two pairs of panties hanging on it.
“Casssssie, what in the hell is this,” I yelled.
She came runnin’, “Joe we gotta have a place to dry our unmentionables,” she seemed almost fearful.
I thought, she said that, she really said, their unmentionables, I hadn’t heard that word since my great-granny’d passed on.
“Now I understand the need for dry unmentionables,” I answered, “But this dog won’t hunt, you’re gonna have to use the clothesline out back.
“You go ‘head on and fix breakfast, Kari, come on, I’ll show you where the line is.”
She got the panties, I took down the rope and we went out back.
I’m safe now, my obit won’t read, “Joe on the Road” dies with rope around neck and suffocated by panties, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Wow Joe, this place is beautiful.”
I think so, too, like I said, I’m on a creek, there’s Federal land on the other side of the stream and state forest beside me. I’ve got two acres, around four hundred and fifteen feet of creek frontage and a dock with my sixteen foot john boat tied to it. Except for my lawn and my little garden my plot is mostly pine and palmetto but there is a copse of water oaks along side the creek about three hundred feet up stream. It’s one of my favorite places, sometimes I just tie up the boat, and sit in the little glen, thinking about story lines or thinking about nothing but the catfish I’m gonna catch, my dinner.
“Yeah, I think so, too,” I answer.
“Let’s eat Kari.”
I finally got a look at the house, it was spotless, they’d cleaned and mopped, dusted and shook the rugs, I didn’t hardly recognize it as mine, and there was breakfast on the table.
Cassie’s done good, with not too much to work with, she found my bacon grease in the fridge, heated it, stirred in some flour to make a roux and used a can of condensed milk to make white gravy, served over the fresh baked biscuits they make a fine breakfast. Even ol’ Mutt’s happy; she put some in his feed bowl.
Kari cleaned up and washed the dished then we headed to town. I call it town, it ain’t, it’s a Super Wal-Mart ‘bout ten or twelve miles down the road but it’s got everything a town would, groceries, drugs, clothes, you name it.
I pushed the cart, the gals did the shopping, fresh meat and vegetables from groceries, then lady’s wear. Cassie picked out a sun dress, shorts and a three t-tops, Kari got shorts and tops, too.
“Joe, can we swim in the creek?” Kari asked.
“Sure,” I answered.
They both got swimming suits, two piece for each of them then it was on to the lingerie department.
A half dozen pairs of panties each, two brassieres apiece and we moved on.
Cassie was shy about what she wanted, “Joe we gotta go over to the drug store part, ok?”
I wheeled the cart, she led.
I hadn’t lived with women in a long time, I’d forgotten about their stuff.
They picked out lipsticks and lotions, hair brushes, tooth brushes, cologne and curlers, deodorant and the piece de resistance, an economy sized box of Tampax, I blushed, I ain’t never had Tampax in my cart before.
Back home we put the purchases away, I went to my bedroom / office and started transcribing my notes, it was time to start writing, writing about biker gangs, methamphetamines and murder. I was hardly an expert but I had two crackerjack witnesses to interview.
When I took a break I grabbed a Bud and went out on the porch, kicked back in my chair and thought about how things were going.
I’d finally got a good look at Cassie; I’d have guessed her to be just shy of forty. I learned she’d had Kari when she was only fifteen. She was twenty-nine, twenty-nine, rode hard and put away wet, but I could see she’d been a pretty girl.
She had high cheek bones, regular features with a light spray of freckles across her nose and her strawberry blonde hair, after she’d combed it glistened, her breasts or best I could tell lookin’ at her braless in a T-shirt were small and sagged a bit and truth be told, she was skinny. I thought, if she’d get some meat on her bones she’d look pretty good.
Now Cassie, she didn’t need no meat on her, she was made just about right. Like her mom she was a strawberry blonde, freckles and all but she had a nice trim figure and a cute bubble butt. She had small titties, I guessed around a 34A but she’d grow, after all she was only fourteen.
I’d start my interview with them after dinner; Cassie was fixin’ a pot roast.
My Christ that woman could cook, we had roast with potatoes, carrots and onions, yeast rolls and some okra and tomatoes, she had a peach cobbler for dessert and sweet tea to wash it all down ‘sept the cobbler, she poured us coffee with that.
Kari was cleaning up, I got a beer and asked Cassie what she’d like, I wanted to talk to her, she said, “A beer’d be nice.”
I got one for her, “Glass,” I asked.
“No Joe, I’m a bottle baby,” in a voice I’d not heard from her, she was a little breathy, a little flirtatious.
I told Kari we’d be down on the dock, to get a drink and join us when she’d finished.
I started with general chit chat, loosening her tongue, softening her up for the questions I had, I wanted to know what life was like for a meth cooker and his family.
She handled my general questions, no problem but when I asked about Denny, her husband’s name had been Denny all she’d say was that he was an evil man, vile and hateful, truly Beelzebub of the Bible. She shut off and started to sob.
I stood and rubbed her back, “You’re safe here Cassie, nobody’s gonna hurt you.”
She stood and hugged me, burying her face in my chest, “You saved our lives Joe, thank you.”
When Kari got there I was still holding Cassie, “Momma, what’s wrong?” She asked.
“I’m ok baby,” Cassie answered, she’d regained control of her emotions, we all sat.
But I’d seen it, felt it, she was in pain, pain for the loss of her husband, pain for the loss of the way of life she’d known, I didn’t have that answer but she was hurting. I kept the conversation light, talked about life on the creek, the fish and animals they’d see, things like that, we talked ‘til it was time for bed.
Must have been around eleven, I was drowsing, not quite asleep sure not awake, she crawled under my sheet, “Hi Joe,” she said.
“Cassie, you don’t have to do anything for me, you don’t owe me that,” I said.
“Joe that’s not why I’m here, I’m here ‘cause I wanta be,” she whispered as she took John Henry in hand. That’s my pet name for him, John Henry.
“You’re a big boy aren’t you Joe,” as she engulfed me with her mouth.
Now they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, au contraire, tell him he’s got a big dick, that’ll get ‘em every time.
I ain’t sure which swelled faster, my ego or John Henry; I’d guess ego took the lead but John Henry caught up quick.
My God Cassie may have been a skinny little waif of a thing but she had one talented mouth. I’ve had more than my share of blow jobs but as a fellatrix she was beyond compare. I know, fellatrix, a damned big word for a country boy like me. I’ve got a degree in creative writing from the University of Miami but, hey Joe on the Road’s a country boy; I try to stay in character.
But back to John Henry and her sweet lips, Cassie deep throated me, no mean feat, John’s nine inches long and ‘bout 3 ¾ inches around, more than a mouthful for most ladies, Cassie let him slide down her throat then did some little humming thing, her soft lips, her slow up and down motion, that buzz she was doing, John started to swell, I was damn near there; and she stopped.
I looked at her, I didn’t say anything, I just looked.
“Joe, I’ll swallow the next time but I want the first one in me,” she said as she lifted her gown above her hips and straddled me.
Like a knife though warm butter I cleaved her labia and slid in, she was hot and wet, liquid velvet, she took all of me then paused, taking my hands she raised them to her gown covered breasts, “Play with my titties, Joe, play with me,” as she started to slowly post on my post.
I kneaded her breasts, they were soft with some sag, I tweaked her nipples and tugged them a little. Cassie picked up speed.
“Oh yeah Joe, oh yeah,” she panted as she pounded on me.
I kept one hand on her breasts but slid the other under her, fondling her clitoris, letting her ride my fingers.
My balls were about to explode, I arched my back pushing into her as she crushed down on me. I roared, my cum jetted from me, pulse after pulse of my semen, flooding her; she wailed her own climax, tremors rocked her body, her vagina contracted, squeezing John in a python grip then released then grabbed as her contractions came, one after another.
We both were spent; still she stayed on me, contracting her vaginal muscles, milking the last drops.
She leaned forward, gave me a kiss and dismounted, “Good night Joe,” as she left the room.
The girls had been with me for about three weeks, I hadn’t thought it’d work, I’d lived alone, just me and Mutt, for a long time, I’d been wrong.
Oh, it was different; I had some things I had to get used to, like the bathroom.
There used to be a razor, Gillette Foamy, Speed Stick and a bottle of Old Spice on my vanity, now it was covered, now I had Lady this and Lady that, creams, lotions I don’t know what all and, of course under the sink that big old box of Tampax and it smelled odd, I don’t know if it was their potions, their pee or their pussies but the air in there was almost enough to give me a hard-on.
Kari kept the house spotless and Cassie cooked, damn that woman could cook. I’ll not get too deeply into the sex, but I’d never had better and she came to me every night.
Me, John Henry and Mutt were happy boys and the gals were relaxed, smiling, pleased to share our space.
I decided I wanted to do a little fishing; I dug some worms and got one of the bags of chopped liver I kept in the freezer, the worms for pan fish the liver to bottom fish for cats. I asked Kari and Cassie to go with me.
Cassie took a pass, she’d already started dinner but it was gonna take a while, navy beans with a ham hock, fried pork chops, collards from my garden and corn bread were on the menu, she’d also picked some of my cherry tomatoes, cut them in half and was marinating them in vinegar and oil with some sliced onions for our salad.
Kari grabbed my cooler, filled it with ice, fixed a couple of sandwiches and put in some Cokes and beers; she met me at the boat.
I had a couple of rods and the bait already loaded.
“Is Mutt gonna come,” She asked.
“’Course he’s commin’, Get in here Mutt.”
I fired up my fifteen horse Evinrude and we chugged upstream, I wanted to show Kari my glen and I wanted to fish there.
I tied off to a tree and we went ashore.
Hooks baited, I tossed our lines in, Mutt took off into the woods after squirrels to chase, Kari and I sat side by side on the bank.
Now, I got to tell you, not much shocks old Joe, I did a hitch in the Marines, I rode America’s back roads, been in bar fights, thought I’d seen the elephant and heard it all, I was grossly mistaken.
Outta the mouths of babes, “Joe, how come you ain’t fucked me, don’t you think I’m pretty enough?”
I was slack jawed, just staring at her.
“Well Joe, why not?”
I sputtered, “Christ Kari, you’re fourteen, what do you know about fuckin’?”
“More’en I should Joe, that’s for sure.”
And I finally got most of the sordid story of life with Denny.
“You know anything about meth users?” She asked.
I was doing research for my article, I thought I might have an idea where this was going but I just nodded no and let her talk, she’d started, I wasn’t inclined to interrupt.
“Joe, it makes a man horney as hell, I mean I think they’d fuck a snake, shit, they’d fuck a wood pile if they thought there was a snake in it.
I was home, I don’t know for sure where Momma was but she weren’t there, daddy came in and he was flyin’, he looked for Momma but like I said, she weren’t there. He was gonna fuck someone and there I was.
I had on a little sun dress, he throwed me on the couch, flipped it up, tore off my panties and he raped me. He fucked me hard, he tore me, I was screamin’, he put his hand over my mouth and kept on ‘til he cum. Joe, I was ten years old.”
I tried to stop her, I didn’t want to know anymore but she kept on, she wasn’t looking at me, she wasn’t looking at anything at all, just a far off gaze, looking at the past.
“Joe once he’d fucked me, well, after that it was easy for him; if Mamma wasn’t around he took me. I recon in the last four years I’ve been fucked ‘bout a hundred times. It got so bad he done it when Momma was there, she tried to stop him but it didn’t do no good.
He wrecked me when I was twelve, knocked me up then got some old woman to do an abortion, she botched it, I bled bad
I may be fourteen but my pussy’s got to be around twenty-one as much wear as he gave it.
I asked her about that, why her mother could let it continue. Her reply was, “Joe this is my story, you gotta ask Momma ‘bout that.”
“Joe, you still ain’t answered; don’t you think I’m pretty enough to fuck?”
I stuck to my guns; no way I was having sex with a fourteen year old.
“Kari, you’re real pretty, damned cute but you’re fourteen, I can’t do that.”
“Why not, I know you and Momma’s doin’ it, I seen her go in your room most every night and I hear the two of you, damnit, Joe, I’m jealous, I want you to fuck me, too.”
I shook my head no.
She pouted, pulled away and stood up.
“Screw you Joe, I’m goin’ swimmin’.”
She pulled her T-shirt over her head, no bra, shimmied out of her shorts then slowly rolled her panties off, over her hips, down her legs, they pooled at her feet; she kicked them at me.
For just a moment she stood facing me, hands on hips, displaying herself in all her radiant glory and she was glorious, her small breasts were high and proud, capped with dusky rose areolas and tan nipples, her tummy was taut, she was already developing a flare to her narrow hips and she was a natural strawberry blonde, I’d testify to that on a stack of Bibles, her mons veneris was adorned by light reddish blonde curls. Not even a single Bible had a place in my mind at that moment let alone that stack I’d mentioned, she was perfect, she was desirable.
John Henry jumped and so did she, with a parting, “Just screw you Joe, she leapt into the water.”
When she surfaced I called to her, “I don’t know what the bottoms like here, don’t go that deep.”
The only thing I was certain that rested on the bottom was that .357 mag, I thought about keeping it but it was a biker’s gun, God only knows what it’d been used for, I deep sixed it the day after we’d got back.
Now I did know there was gators in the creek but I’d never seen one here, didn’t mean there weren’t none, just meant I hadn’t seen none. Besides, I did have my .22 revolver, first shot was rat shot for snakes then five hollow points; I might couldn’t kill a gator but I’d give him a damned severe headache.
I reeled in the lines, I was fishing for catfish, I didn’t want to hook a water sprite.
That’s what I saw, a nymph frolicking in the creek, she swam and then dived, her cute bottom above the water, her tight cheeks then her slit, as she disappeared below the surface, then up and again like a river otter, gamboling before me. She was giving me a private show, I knew it and she knew I knew it.
I climbed back in the boat, at the rear was a padded bench I sat on to steer, I lifted the seat, there was storage there; spare tackle, rain gear, towels and a blanket.
Back ashore I spread the blanket, sat on it and laid the towel aside; watching her caper for my viewing pleasure. I watched.
When she got out she sprawled on the blanket beside me and grinned at me. I tossed her the towel.
“Dry me Joe,” she asked.
I picked up the towel, to hell with my earlier reservations to the contrary, I wanted to put my hands on her.
I dried her back, slowly, lightly, from her feet to her shoulders I rubbed her, she turned over, “Fuck me Joe,” her eyes begged me, her voice was low and raspy, both of us totally aroused.
“I can’t do that honey,” I said, “Your daddy fucked you but I want to make love to you,” as I took her into my arms.
I kissed her, the sensuous kiss of a lover, then down to her breasts, her nipples were hard as pebbles, I sucked one while I kneaded her other, tugging on one with my lips, tweaking with my hand, I paid the each homage then moved lower, trailing kisses over her, over her tummy, at her belly button, a little innie, I paused to tickle her with the tip of my tongue, she gave a little shiver, I moved on down.
She was unshaven, untrimmed, just delectable strawberry blonde curls; I tugged at them with my lips then further. The tip of my tongue parted her labia, I could see her clit, red, engorged with the blood of arousal, its pearly tip glistened in the sunlight, I passed over it but I’d be back.
Like a serpent, my tongue snaked along her vulva, tasting her youthful freshness, she had a light acidic citrus taste, reminiscent of tangerines, her scent was light. At her vagina I slowed to pump my tongue in and out several times then continued, her vulva ended, I didn’t; I licked her perineum and rimmed her tight pink rosebud, she shivered again, I started back.
My route was a bit different; I slicked my tongue between her inner and outer labia, nibbling at her with my lips, alternating sides ‘til I was back.
With a finger I pushed the hood of her clit back and took it between my lips, I sucked on her, her gem was in my mouth, my tongue flicked her tip, exciting it, exciting her. Her body began to tremble under my attention, her tummy muscles rippled like a wash board as her orgasm flowed down, she encircled my head with her legs, pulling me toward her, burying my face in her, she wailed,
“Aaaaaah, Joe, fuck Joe, ooooooooh, Joe, stop, please stop, aaaaaah.”
I took my lips from her clitoris and licked her, her vagina was flowing, I licked catching her juices, drinking from her Holy chalice, I sucked, I wanted all of her, she lay back, limp, drained.”
I lay beside her and gave her a kiss; she tasted herself, maybe for the first time.
Her voice was quivery, “Joe, is that making love? Wow, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, maybe even higher, wow Joe.”
She clung to me; she now knew the difference, the difference between a rapist and sex with someone who cares.
She spread her thighs in invitation, “Now Joe, please now.”
I rolled over, lifted her legs to my shoulders and entered her, she was right, she was open but as I worked in she groaned, “Unnnnngh,” I was bigger than her daddy.
It wasn’t severe pain but I was stretching her, it felt fantastic, she was opening to me, she was tight, so very, very tight, John Henry was feeding on a taut young vagina, I wasn’t going to last too long, the friction was tremendous, fabulous but tight.
Finally I was all the way in, I stopped for a moment, her eyes were closed, there was a pained smile on her face, I slipped a hand down, touching her and began to stroke.
“You beautiful girl, you oh so beautiful girl,” I crooned.
I was filling her, touching places that’d never been touched, It wasn’t an abyss, bottomless, I’d found bottom, I touched her cervix, she winced then I slipped under, a vagina stretches to accommodate, Kari’s sweet rose blossom was opening for me, I stroked; slow, long languorous strokes, riding her high, touching her clit with every penetration; I wanted her to cum again
I hadn’t yet but I was ready, my fingers, she rode them hard, she couldn’t last, I rammed into her then just held her, stream after stream of my ejaculate filled this young girl, my young girl, my new lover; she came with a whimper, several small orgasms. One after the other then she lay still.
“Joe, can you hold me, please just hold me.” it was almost a mournful plea.
I lay beside her and swept her into my arms, she was softly sobbing as she buried her face on my chest.
“It’s ok baby girl, it’s ok, Ol’ Joe’ll take care of you,” as I squeezed her tighter.
She was kinda snively, “Joe, I know you will, heck, you already have, you risked your life to get Momma and me here, we’ll do anything for you, we both love you; Joe, do you love us, can we be your women?”
She was lying with her head in my lap, kinda out nowhere she asked, “Joe, how’d you become a writer?”
There was a little story there, there truly was.
“Baby, My daddy didn’t think I’d amount to much, he figured that spending the money on me at a good four year school would be pissin’ money away; now, understand, he had the money but he never figured I’d finish. He was mostly right. I didn’t have no idea what I wanted to study, well, truth be told, I knew what I wanted to study, the campus hotties but there was no degree to be had there.
“Will, I’m going to pay the tuition for Miami Dade Community College. It was an inexpensive two year school. If you finish there and get your AA I’ll pay at Uof M, fair enough?”
“Yeah, Joe, so what happened,” she was lying with her head in my lap just listening to my history.
“Baby, I didn’t have anywhere I wanted to go, anything I wanted to do, I took the crap I had to take but then I signed up for a course in creative writing. The prick I had for a prof failed me, Jeff Philips was his name or something like that; anyhow he failed me, I had to repeat the course but he goosed the bug. I wanted to write. I took the course again and passed, he even gave me some encouraging words; said he saw some talent, if I applied myself I might could go somewhere. I guess he saw something I’d never seen, I don’t write like him, I do human interest and some wildlife things but if it hadn’t been for him there wouldn’t be no Joe on the Road.
From my fine MDCC education, if I remember the quote correctly, George Bernard Shaw wrote, He who can, does. He who cannot, teaches. It’s in "Maxims for Revolutionists" from Man and Superman: but he was wrong, honey, Jeff can write, mostly short stories and poems. Hell sugar, he’s got ‘bout a dozen books listed on Amazon right now.
Anyhow, I got through the two years and daddy picked up the tab for the next two at the University of Miami, I got my degree in English Lit but Mr. Philips’ why I write.
We’d both shared, she, well she what had happened; and me, well me why I was Joe on the Road.
We packed up, I called Mutt and motored back, no fish but a lotta sharin’ between us.
“Kari, don’t tell your Momma what we done, ok,” I cautioned.
“”Course Joe, I ain’t gonna say nothing.”
I’m naïve, I’m male, I think only the guys talk about their conquests, I was one dumb sombitch. They cloistered themselves in Cassie’s bedroom, I could hear them whisperin’ back and forth but I couldn’t hear the words.
“Momma, he finally done it,” Kari whispered.
“He fucked you baby?”
“Well, I guess so but it wasn’t nothing like with daddy, Momma, he made me feel so good, he licked me down there, Momma, I cummed like you wouldn’t believe, he made me see moons and stars and meteorites, I thought he’d killed me, that I’d died and gone off to heaven then, I had to damn near beg him, but he put it in me. Momma, he’s pretty big, have you tried him?”
“Yeah, he does have a nice cock but, are you tellin’ me he ate your pussy?”
“Well, iffen that’s what you call it but it’s still down there so, no, he didn’t eat it but, wow you wouldn’t believe what he can do with that tongue.”
“Ain’t no man never let me feel his tongue, they all want me to suck then swallow their jizz but not one ever tasted me.”
“Momma, work on Joe, he’ll do it, he likes you and me.”
After we’d had that great Southern dinner, pork chops, beans, greens and corn bread, we went down to the dock, it was a pretty night, not near as hot as it’d get in a couple of weeks.
We were all just sippin’ on beers yeah Kari, too, I said, “lets sing,” figured we’d do a couplea country songs, no, Kari started out with “In Your Arms” by Phoebe something or another, I didn’t know the song, fact of the matter, I didn’t much care for it but then Cassie joined in.
I just listened; the gals had pretty voices even if I didn’t like the song. When they’d finished Cassie came over and whispered, “Joe, I wanta be in your arms, take me fishin’ tomorrow afternoon, will ya?”
The skeeters came out, we went in. We watched a little TV then hit the hay.
Cassie was already in the kitchen when I got up; breakfast was sausages, fried eggs, grits with red eye gravy, them great biscuits and coffee. After we ate I went in and worked on my story, it was coming along pretty well but I still wanted Cassie to open up, I had a daughter’s perspective, I wanted the wife’s.
When I finally took a break, Cassie was out in the garden hoeing around the cherry tomato plants; I grabbed a shovel and joined her.
“Gotta get us some worms if we’re gonna go fishin’,” I said.
Cassie pointed, “Why don’t you spade over there? I’ll put a little winter garden in, some mustard, kale and maybe some turnips.”
I spaded where she’d indicated but I thought; we’re makin’ some long term plans here, thinkin’ ‘bout winter gardens and all. Strangely, I didn’t mind a’tall, I found the idea appealing.
Cassie packed a little picnic basket, sandwiches and chips; I filled the cooler, got the rods and loaded the boat. I was leavin’ Mutt behind today; company for Kari.
We motored up to the same spot, under the water oaks and got out.
I baited up and tossed the lines out. Cassie had changed clothes, she had on a sun dress with thin spaghetti straps along with white sandals, she sat beside me.
“So, Joe, we gonna have a catfish dinner tonight?” She asked.
“We’re sure gonna try.”
We didn’t have long to wait, there was a tuggin’ on Cassie’s line.
“Grab the pole and catch him,” I coached.
She set the hook and reeled, it was a nice white catfish, around a pound or so.
She was getting’ ready to take him off the hook.
“Careful, don’t let him barb you,” I cautioned, so, of course he got her in the palm of her hand.
“Let me,” I said, I unhooked the fish and put him on our stringer.
“Cassie, let me see your hand.”
Fortunately she wasn’t gored deep, more like a slice, still it would hurt.
“I wanta take care of that for you,” I said as I got the first aid kit from the storage under the seat. I picked up the blanket, too.
I swabbed her palm with a sterile wipe and painted it with merthiolate, I couldn’t put a Band Aid on so I just gave it a kiss, “All better now,” I grinned at her.
I got the next two fish, two yellow bullheads, around a pound and a half each.
“Well I recon we’re gonna have that fish dinner, I’ll fry up some potatoes and onions, stew some okra and make a mess of hush puppies,” Cassie said.
Cassie spread the blanket on the grass, “You ready for lunch Joe?”
I got the drinks; Cassie unpacked the sandwiches and chips.
After we’d eaten Cassie gave me a big hug, “You’re a good man Joe, a real good man.”
Then she sat on my lap, clinging to me like she was fearful.
I rubbed her back, “You wanta talk about it Cassie? I asked.
“Not yet Joe, not yet, just hold me for a little while.”
I sat silently for about five minutes, letting her find solace in my arms; she raised her face to mine and kissed me, a deep passionate kiss as she eased me down to the blanket.
Cassie laid on me and continued the kiss, our pelvises met, she ground against my groin and John Henry woke up.
I slid the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and pulled her dress down to her waist, exposing her breasts. She’d filled out, put on a little weight, they were inviting, I took a nipple into my mouth.
Cassie’s breath caught in her throat, “Oh Joe, make love to me, please make love to me,” her words, almost a desperate plea, a plea to be loved and cared for.
I’d developed true affection for Cassie, love? Perhaps too strong a word; at least yet, but I wanted her happiness and I wanted her, I worked her dress over her hips and rolled her onto her back.
My mouth was still at her breast, they were swollen with desire, her nipples like marbles, I sucked first one then the other, her skin was flushed, dampened by perspiration, I licked the saltiness from beneath each then kissed down her torso.
She still had her panties on; through the fabric I rubbed her clitoris, light feathery touches, heightening her arousal.
“Jo, please, I need you in me.”
I rolled her panties off; I was going to be in her but not yet.
I’d never really seen Cassie’s body, she’d always come to me at night, in the dark, now I could admire her.
Her mound was covered by a strawberry blonde bush, untrimmed, curly, the hair was fine, soft, I tugged gently with my lips, teasing her, keeping her waiting.
“Joe damnit,” she moaned, she was trying to push me lower.
I skipped her clit entirely, parting her labia with my fingers, I opened her like the petals of a rose, her coloration was deep coral, her scent rich, the aroma of an adult female at the height of her arousal, I tasted her, slightly salty peaches, I laved her vulva down to her tight rosebud, I pressed with the tip of my tongue, entering about a quarter of an inch then pumped; Cassie quivered under me.
“Jooooe,”she breathed out my name.
I licked back up. The tip of her clit protruded from under her hood, glistening mother of pearl, I flicked it with the tip of my tongue, licked down her love button then sucked it in. I nursed on her like I was on a nipple, suckling her shaft while the tip of my tongue feathered the tip.
“Joooooooooe, Jooooooooe, Oh, oh, oh,” she wailed then panted.
Her orgasm was spectacular to feel and behold, her face formed a rictus, stretched into a tight open mouthed grin then the tremors shook her, her tummy flexed, her vagina pulsed, contracting, spewing her nectar as I drank her in, her luscious essence.
Cassie lay limp, drained, she thought he’d sucked her very soul from her, never, ever had she experienced such pleasure, higher than the heavens; she had to rest.
She felt Joe lift her legs, over his shoulders, he pushed her thighs back toward her chest and took her, deep, all the way in on the first thrust, smooth, liquid velvet, he stroked, filling her sweet vagina, pumping her pussy, giving pleasure, taking pleasure, God the sensations he was getting, he pumped harder, faster, urgently, he was ready,
“Oh God Cassie,” he roared as he exploded into her, jet after jet, pulse after pulse, his scalding seed flooded her, slowly he stroked ‘til he was empty, he softened and fell to the blanket beside her.
She rolled to him, he held her, gently stroking her back and down, her buttocks then back up. Giving her his attention, making her feel loved and desirable, endorsing her femininity, she was woman, she was wonderful.
“Joe, let’s jump in the creek, wash off, ok?”
In the water, they played, feeling each other, tickling, hugging, kissing, she washed him, slowly stroking his cock, his hand was under her, fingering her, teasing her clit as they kissed.
Back on the bank he dried her, she dried him, they returned to the blanket, she stepped in front of him and, for the first time he saw her secret, her entire back stippled with a criss cross of scars, thin scars like the lash of a whip.
She’d let him see.
Without turning she said, “That’s the story I wouldn’t tell you Joe. He beat me, whipped me with an electrical cord. If I was disobedient or argumentive, he’d whip me ‘til I was bloody. Joe, I know about you and Kari, she told me and she told me the things you asked her about me. Yes, I kept my mouth shut ‘bout what he was doin’ with her, I tried to talk to him, he beat me but I didn’t give up, I threatened him with the law, he said if I ever did that he’d kill me and Kari, too; I believed him, but he beat me again just for good measure. Come on, let’s sit down, I’ll tell you the rest of my story.”
It spilled out, all the abuse, the sadistic infliction of pain, his meth binges, everything. When she’d finished talking she was exhausted, she lay down on my lap, across me.
“Rub my back for me, touch me, take some of my painful memories with your hands.”
I rubbed her, light circles up and down her back, touching her scars, “My poor beautiful woman, my sweet baby,” I crooned.
She relaxed, cooing contentedly.
I let my hand wander lower, she’d filled out nicely, twin melons, perfect and ripe, I kneaded her cheeks, she wriggled a little on my lap. I slid a finger, splitting her melons and circled, she was tense, I felt her tighten. I used the tip of my finger, just the pad and pressed, firm constant pressure, not trying to pierce her, asking her to let me in.
I was still caressing her back and sides with my other hand, “Relax Cassie, just let go sweetheart, let it go, your gonna be alright.”
With a large sigh she did, the tension left her, her sphincter muscle opened to my pressure, I slipped the finger into her, it was unlubricated, I only probed her to my second knuckle, I just held her.
In a raspy voice Cassie quietly whispered, “You want me there don’t you Joe?”
“Sweetheart, I’m just playing.”
“Joe, I ain’t never done that but you can if you want to.”
“Cassie I don’t want to do anything with you that you don’t want done.”
“Joe, I think I want to, I want you to, it’s just I ain’t done it before and I’m a little scared.”
“We can just lay here Cassie, we’ve had a good day together, we can lie here and enjoy each others company, each others touches.”
She reached out and picked up the first aid kit, she’d seen the small jar of Vaseline I kept in it, she handed it to me, “Get me ready Joe.”
I did, with some of the Vaseline on my finger, I probed her back passage, she’d tightened up again, I spoke softly encouraging her, encouraging her to relax, I added more lubricant, stuffing her and she was ready.
I rolled her off my lap onto her back; I wanted to see her face.
I didn’t have a pillow to put under her, I rested her on my thighs, guided John Henry to her pore, I pressed, firmly but slowly, her outer ring parted, there was resistance from her inner ring, I kept the constant firm pressure, willing her to relax, slowly, ever so slowly she opened, I pressed through.
“Unnnnh,” she murmured, as I entered her.
Half an inch at a time, gradually I eased deeper.
“Joe, I can feel you up in me, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a fullness, way different than when you’re in my pussy, you’re stretching me, I’m closer to you than I’ve ever been, giving you something no one else has ever had, I love you, you know, I do.”
I spoke words that I hadn’t said to any woman but my mother, “I love you, too Cassie, I really do.” I realized I meant those words, I did love her.
And with that realization other thoughts flooded my brain.
An odd time and place for a conversation, eight or nine inches of cock buried in my woman but I needed to know.
“Cassie, can you have kids?”
“Why you asking that Joe?”
“I might want a kid, you know, you and me.”
“Yeah Joe I can have kids, I’m on the pill, why, are you proposin’ to me?”
“Cassie you can cook like a chef, clean like a demon, you even hoe my garden and catch me dinner, to top it all off, you may have the world’s tightest ass, hell yes I’m proposin’, you gonna say yes.”
“Oh I guess so,” she grinned at me.
I gave her a little thrust.
“Ugh,” settle down there John Henry, no need to get rambunctious; I said yes.”
Now that we’d gotten that little detail dealt with I got down to the business at hand, I pumped her a little faster, a little harder.
Taking her hand I guided it down ‘til she was touching herself. I got her fingers moving,
“You gonna cum for me baby?”
“Unhuh, I’m gonna cum.”
When she started tremblin’ I started firin’, her pussy was pourin’ all over me and I was fillin’ her back up.
When I’d softened and pulled out we lay arm in arm.
“So we’re gonna get married, huh Joe.”
“How about Kari and how ‘bout we get hitched next week.”
“You mean about you and Kari, Joe, I ain’t got a problem with that, she likes it, you like, I ain’t gonna bitch, it ain’t like when Denny was doin’ her.”
“You’re serious about marryin’ me aren’t you?” She asked.
“Yup and I want to hang around here, get a lotta lovin’ from you, make that youngen, get the garden started, catch some catfish, live the good life.”
“Guess Joe on the Road’s gonna have to become Joe on Blackwater Creek, an’ I’ll work on that “Great American Novel.”