Writing It Down

*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age; there is no underage sex in any of my stories.

Disclaimer: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.**.***.**.*

The rain came down in sheets, limiting Becky’s visibility. She was grateful her father had passed along his ‘Rain-X philosophy’ when they’d worked on her truck together, but even with the window treatment, the blades of her windshield wipers were working overtime. The heavy cloud cover made the late afternoon quite dark indeed. The diminutive girl was negotiating the streets of Baylor Lake, Louisiana with caution.

Becky had been soaked, running from Gilbert Hall to her truck. The umbrella had only kept the rain from her face; her sweater and jeans were thoroughly soaked. Her socks and tennis shoes squished as she pushed on the clutch to shift gears.

All she wanted to do was get home, get out of her wringing wet clothes, and soak in her whirlpool tub. She planned to light some candles, turn off the lights in the bathroom, lay back and soak in the hot, soothing waters.

After luxuriating in the semi-darkness for a while, she would bring her hands down and begin to slowly stroke her flesh. She would bring herself to orgasm, then once again luxuriate in the suds.

Her truck’s powerful engine grumbled, as if complaining. With a hot bath calling to her, Becky di want to jam the accelerator to the floor, get home in a hurry. But the relentless rain and the flooded streets necessitated caution.

The F100 Ford pickup truck had been stripped down and rebuilt by father and daughter until very little of the original hideous rusted shell of a truck remained. Even the chassis had been modified to strengthen it, to handle the 1999 Ford Mustang engine that sat underneath the hood, handle the horsepower that powerful beast could churn out.

=.==.===.==.=

The day after Rebecca Meadows’s graduation from Lloyd M. Bentsen High School in Sweet Oak, Texas, Clyde Meadows, Becky’s estranged father made a drunken appearance. Weaving and staggering and slurring his words, Clyde whooped and told Becky he was so proud of her, his baby girl, a high school graduate.

“So, what time’s the graduation?” he asked.

“Six o’clock,” Becky said.

“Six? Oh, okay, so we got time go get something to eat. Where you want to eat?” Clyde smiled happily, checking his watch with one eye closed.

“Six o’clock, yesterday,” Becky said, shoving her father out of the trailer she and her mother and two older brothers lived in. “Yesterday, all right? Yesterday!”

Becky’s mother went outside. Becky could hear her father’s whining voice, could hear her mother’s tight voice. Becky went to her room. She shut the door and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

A moment later, the expected knock came. Becky sat up and called out.

“He’s really sorry,” her mother started.

“Mom, he’s always sorry,” Becky snapped. “He’s always sorry. It’ll never happen again. This time he means it, he swears. Well, you God damned right it’ll never happen again because I’ve had it with him. He can go to hell for all I care.”

With that, Becky pushed past her mother. She saw her father standing in the living room, looking defeated. She stomped past him and left the trailer.

Jumping into her truck, Becky drove to the trailer of Todd Moore, her boyfriend. His mother’s car was in front, so she knew they couldn’t fool around; Becky actually shivered when she thought of fooling around with Todd.

They’d not actually had sex, but they’d come pretty close. He had used his mouth on her pussy and she’d used her mouth on his cock. She’d even swallowed all the sperm that Todd had pumped out of his cock. There was a lot of it and she’d swallowed it all.

Luanne Holmes, a classmate of hers had held court in the locker room of Lloyd M. Bentsen and had announced to all that sperm tasted terrible. Becky had not thought Todd’s sperm had tasted great, but she certainly wouldn’t call it terrible. And knowing that it brought pleasure to her man made it all worth it.

Becky knocked on the door of Todd’s trailer, but there was no answer. She knocked again, then tried the knob.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Becky called out.

The four foot ten inch girl skittered down the hall to Todd’s room. The door was open but Todd was not in his room. Becky went in, determined to wait for him.

“Oh wow!” Becky said, seeing the box for a brand new laptop on the floor next to Todd’s bed.

The new laptop was on his desk, large screen lighted. Becky walked over and looked at the screen. Pushing her glasses up her button nose, she began to read what Todd had written.

**An hour later, Abby called out that she was leaving. She still sounded quite irritated with him. Todd lingered in bed for thirty minutes more; daylight was just beginning to break. Then with a grunt, he got up and went into the hall bathroom.

Sliding the door shut, he dropped his briefs to the floor. Steeling himself for the blast of cold water that was sure to come, Todd started the shower.

His cock was hard; he’d been thinking of Luanne’s blonde pussy and big tits and hot wet mouth. He began to stroke his hard cock, imagining sliding his soapy cock between her wet, soapy breasts. With a grunt, he spurted his semen onto the shower wall. Finally, erection taken care of, Todd showered. **

Becky felt a heaviness in her heart; last night, Todd had said he loved her. But, reading his words; apparently he fantasized about Luanne, pleasured himself to thoughts of Luanne, not thoughts of Becky. Becky continued to read what he’d typed out.

**He toweled himself off, then padded, still nude, into the bedroom. He froze; Becky was sitting at his desk, reading his latest entry. She had her shorts unzipped and was rubbing herself as she read his words.

“Like my ass, huh?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Huh? Uh, hey, how’d you get in here?” Todd asked.

“I knocked, but no one answered. When I tried the door, it was open,” Becky admitted, getting to her feet.

She put her glasses on the desk, then allowed her shorts and panties to fall to the floor. Her tee shirt and cotton bra followed, fluttering to the floor to lay in a heap.

“I uh, that’s got to hurt, right?” she asked, nodding toward the computer screen. “I mean, you’re pretty big.”

“It, yeah, I mean, shit, I don’t know, but it probably does,” Todd stammered, cock causing his towel to tent out. **

“Thought you was nude when you left your bathroom, dumb ass,” Becky thought, continuing to read Todd’s words. “But now you got a towel on?”

**”The… Vaseline,” she said, reading his screen through severely squinted eyes. “Go get the Vaseline.”

He dropped his soggy towel to the floor of his bedroom and scampered back into his bathroom. He found the nearly empty jar of bargain brand petroleum jelly and carried it back to his bedroom.

Becky was on his unmade bed, on her knees. Her shoulders were pinned to the bed, her small hands were pulling her sweet bubble cheeks apart.

Todd dipped a finger into the slimy jelly and knelt on the bed behind his girlfriend. Both shuddered as he ran the greased fingertip around her tightly clenched rosebud. Then he used a little pressure. His finger pressed past her clenched flesh and entered her anus.

He could feel the tight ring as it clamped down on his finger. He could feel the smooth flesh, feel the warmth of her flesh as he pushed into her.

“Oh,” she moaned quietly.

“I’m hurting you?” Todd asked.

“No, no, that just feels, oh, God. I mean, when you were licking my, when you put your tongue up there, but this, oh!” Becky moaned and grunted.

Todd had his finger all the way inside of her rectum. He twisted the finger in an ever widening circle, then slowly pulled the finger out. Then, when just the tip of his finger was inside of her, he drove the finger back in. Becky let out a small ‘oof’ and shuddered.

He greased up his index finger and wormed the index and middle fingers into her. Her small hands continued to pull on her buttocks. Her buttocks had white marks where her fingers pulled hard on her soft flesh.

Todd twisted and pumped the two fingers in and out of her buttocks. Then he grabbed the jar of petroleum jelly in his other hand and brought the mouth of the jar to his hard, throbbing cock.

Becky was grunting and moaning, eyes tightly shut, mouth open. A thin line of drool dribbled out of her mouth, wetting Todd’s blanket.

Her eyes shot open and her mouth opened wide when the blunt head of Todd’s cock pressed into her greasy anus.

“I, wait, oh God, Todd!” Becky cried out as the blunt head forced into her anus, pushing past her sphincter.

There was a flash of white hot pain. His fingers had been slightly uncomfortable at first but that discomfort had given away to pleasure.

But Todd’s cock was much larger than his fingers. He paid no attention to her protests; his cock was in a warm, tight grip. Her muscles were attempting to force the intruder out and he could feel every pulse, every ripple as she tried to expel his cock from her bowels.

‘Oh God, oh God,” he grunted and loosed a torrent of sperm deep into her guts. **

Vulgar. The words were vulgar. Todd was a great writer, or he would be a great writer one day; writing poems that would describe passion, romance. There was nothing romantic about these vile words.

He was describing stuffing his fingers, his dick up her butt. And he was describing her as a nasty slut, a dirty, nasty slut that wanted him to stick his cock up her butt. After reading about him masturbating to thoughts of some other bit titted slut, she wanted him to use her.

She lashed out; it was all just too much. First, her father not going to her graduation, then showing up drunk and stupid this morning, then her mother’s trying, again, to make excuses for her father’s failings, again. And now this. Her new boyfriend, she had even said she loved him, her new boyfriend just seeing her as nothing more than a slut.

Her punch cracked the screen. Becky actually marveled at the nearly perfect spider web her small fist had created on the white screen.

Then she heard a door. A moment later, her boyfriend, her former boyfriend entered the room.

She slapped his face. She moved to kick him in his balls, but he moved before her tennis shoe could land, so she only caught him on his thigh.

“Your father’s very hurt,” was Imelda Meadow’s statement when a furious Becky returned.

“Good!” Becky screamed. “Now he knows how it feels. What’d I get for my birthday? Nothing. What’d I get for Christmas? Nothing. What’d I get for graduation? You got it. Nothing. He’s hurt? Well, boo hoo; he’ll get over it. I had to.”

That night, Becky decided to go to Scoops, a local ice cream parlor. They had the best caramel sundaes anywhere and she was in the mood to drown her sorrows. She arrived at the same time that Rory Smith, a former classmate also reached Scoops. For as long as Becky could remember, she’d had a crush on the tall, muscular cherub faced blond. And he was there without Luanne Holmes, his girlfriend.

They sat together; Rory even paid for Becky’s sundae. Their conversation was about Rory’s favorite topic, Rory. Becky did not notice, though; she was enamored with Rory anyway.

They left Becky’s truck at Scoops and Rory drove them to Browner Park. He parked away from the street lamp and they climbed into the back seat of his Lexus.

Becky almost giggled when she saw Rory’s cock. Fully engorged, Rory’s cock was a puny four inches. Todd, who was shorter than Rory, skinnier than Rory, had packed a fat cock that was at least six inches in length.

Rory grabbed Becky’s breasts, squeezing them painfully. He slobbered all over her nipples, making odd mewling sounds.

Losing her virginity hurt. Rory was sickened by the sight of Becky’s blood and lost his erection. The suggestion that they do sixty nine horrified Rory; he wasn’t about to put his mouth on her pussy.

It was a few days after that fiasco, or series of fiascos that Imelda told her daughter she had a visitor. Becky secretly hoped it was Todd; her anger had cooled. After all, what he had written wasn’t really that bad.

“Oh. It’s you,” Becky said, seeing Clyde sitting in the living room.

“I uh, yeah, it’s me,” Clyde agreed.

He then showed her a white poker chip. Becky pushed her large glasses up her nose and squinted at the token.

“It, it’s a desire chip,” Clyde explained. “I uh, I, after you, after I fuck, I mean, after I messed up, I still can’t believe I missed your graduation, baby girl, I mean, God, you know, day you was born, I couldn’t believe God had given me such a beautiful, perfect girl.”

Becky looked at his face. She could see the tears swimming, threatening to spill out. She could feel her hardened heart beginning to melt, so looked at the chip again.

“Anyway, that night, I called the hot line,” Clyde said.

“Hot line?” Becky asked.

“Alcoholics Anonymous,” Clyde said. “It’s this eight hundred number, and I called them and said I needed help.”

“Oh,” Becky said, not knowing what else to say.

“And I, I been going to these meetings, been listening to these people, I uh, anyway, last night, they asked if anyone had a desire to stop drinking and I got up and got this chip,” Clyde said. “I, I wanted to get one first night I went, but I, I was too ashamed get up, even though I really wanted to get one. Well, last night I said ‘Fuck it’ I mean, I said ‘Forget this stupid ass ego shit and get up and go get your desire chip, damn it.’ And I did and I want you to have this.”

Becky gingerly took the plastic chip and studied it. There was a simple ‘AA’ imprinted on the face of the chip. She then gave her father a hug. She did give him a sniff but could smell no alcohol on his breath.

Becky put the chip on her desk and prayed to God that this time, this time, her father meant it. She prayed that this time he would stick to his promises. After all, as far as she knew, this was the first time he’d actually gone to Alcoholics Anonymous, tried to get help, instead of trying to white-knuckle’ it himself.

A few days later, Becky drove to the bus station. The large bus that would take Todd to DeGarde, Louisiana was ready to depart. Becky waved at the large vehicle, hoping Todd would see her. She mouthed ‘I love you’ as the bus pulled out, then she followed the bus to I-10.

That evening, having nothing better to do, Becky decided to go to a movie. She didn’t even know what was playing; she just didn’t want to sit in her bedroom, didn’t want to sit in the living room and watch the ‘Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills’ or whatever it was that her mother was immersed in.

The arrow was green for Becky to turn left. She turned left, heard the scream of brakes, and then felt herself tumbling violently.

She had a concussion. Her glasses were smashed and those had been her spare glasses; she’d broken the others nearly a year earlier. The truck was a complete loss.

“They had to cut it open to get you out,” Becky’s father told her. “Thank God you had your seat belt on.”

Clyde’s AA sponsor loaned Becky his deceased wife’s car, until Becky could get her own. She didn’t even know this man, a large, bald headed man that constantly cleared his throat, even while talking, but he was willing to let Becky drive his car.

“And, you and me? We’re going work on this project been meaning get to,” Clyde said excitedly.

“What is this?” Becky asked, seeing a rusted greenish gray pickup truck sitting behind Clyde’s trailer.

“This? This is an F one hundred,” Clyde said happily. “That was the first car I ever owned; God! I loved that thing! Don’t know why I ever got rid of it.”

“Okay,” Becky said, seeing nothing but an ugly rust bucket.

But together, she and her father tore down the monstrosity. He showed her how to sand away the rust, showed her how to patch the spots that had rusted straight through the metal. The engine was a total wash; it had sat, unused for too long and the elements had corroded it. They found an engine out of a totaled 1999 Mustang and tore the engine down. They replaced what needed to be replaced, upgraded what needed to be upgraded and soon had an engine that looked dangerous, just sitting on the tarp.

And, every day, Clyde was sober. His hands were steady, his speech clear, and his step straight.

Father and daughter applied two coats of primer to the restored body. Then they picked out a dark blue, not whatever the previous color might have been. Three coats of the blue went down on the body; Becky was getting pretty handy with the air compressor. Ten coats of black lacquer went over the glossy blue; they even blacked out the chrome bumpers, chrome rims and chrome dual exhaust pipes. Ten more coats of clear lacquer went down, and finally they put in the windows, tinting them to the darkest legal tint. It depended on where you stood; the truck was blue. No, it’s black. No, no, it’s definitely blue.

“Uh, in other words (ah ahem mm) it uh, it’s almost a (ah ahem mm) a good thing that drunk totaled your daughter’s car (ah ahem mm)?” George, Clyde’s sponsor asked as he examined the final product. “Like that (ah ahem mm) bed liner (ah ahem mm).”

“Mr. George, thank you so much for letting me use your car,” Becky said, handing him the keys to his deceased wife’s sedan.

Then she hugged the large man.

“And thank you for getting my Daddy sober,” she whispered.

“Aw, Baby (ah ahem mm) God’s one got your daddy sober,” George smiled, squeezing her in a smothering hug.

This truck was a stick shift. Clyde had to teach his daughter how to drive; laughing that since the state of Texas took his license, he had to tell her, he couldn’t show her. The first time Becky let out the clutch, the tires chirped loudly and lifted the front wheels off the ground for a millisecond.

“Whoa!” Becky let out an excited squeal.

“Uh huh, don’t be doing that every time, hear?” Clyde also laughed, delighted in his daughter’s happiness.

On the campus of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, the truck was quite noticeable. Becky Meadows was just another fresh faced freshman, but the truck really stood out. Even her height of 4’10” did not stand out; many of the Cajun girls were as short as or shorter than Becky. The large 32E chest wasn’t an anomaly either. The waist length brown hair also seemed to be the norm around the campus; many girls actually had hair that reached their ankles.

Becky wanted to find Todd Moore; Abby Moore, Todd’s mother had said he was still a student at U.L.D. But the first week was spent getting acclimated to the campus, her schedule, her dormitory, her roommate, the cafeteria.

(The communal shower was an eye-opener. Becky had never showered with another naked girl showering less than two feet away from her. And there were nude girls of all shapes, sizes and colors. Some were pretty, some were worth sneaking a peek at. And a few were grotesque.)

Becky glanced around the large, noisy cafeteria, but never did see Todd. She looked around the library, but never did see Todd. She glanced up and down the halls of her five classes, and there was no sign of Todd.

“Why you don’t just go over to Sharp Shire? That’s the dorm for the guys,” Nadine Brown, Becky’s roommate suggested when Becky voiced her frustrations.

There were a few young men lolling about outside. They perked up when the cute girl approached, but none of them knew Todd Moore.

“A freshman? Why would I waste one minute of my time hanging out with a lowly freshman?” one shirtless youth sneered as he flexed and posed for Becky’s benefit.

“I’m a freshman; so, I won’t waste any more of your precious time,” Becky snapped, walking into the lobby of the dormitory.

A call up to the fourth floor Monitor revealed that Todd wasn’t in. Becky left a message that she was in Murphy Dormitory; please come by.

“Hey uh, listen, I uh,” the shirtless youth tried to talk to Becky when she stepped out of Sharp Shire dormitory.

“Go away; I already have one rectum, I don’t need a second one,” Becky snapped, stomping past the buffoon.

“Day-yum! Shorter! You been burned,” a young man chortled.

“Uh, yeah, uh Burn unit?” another young man said, pantomiming holding a phone. “Uh yes, one male victim, third and fourth degree burns, all over his body.”

Becky’s weekly calls home to her mother and her father were the highlights of Clyde’s week and of Imelda’s week. Both expressed their pride in her, both parents expressed their confidence in her scholastic aptitude.

“Dean’s list, I’m sure of it,” Clyde encouraged.

“But even if you don’t? We’re still mighty proud of you,” Imelda assured Becky.

It was after the fourth phone call home that Becky realized that her dad seemed to know what she had shared with her mother. And her mom seemed to know what Becky and her father had talked about.

“Mom, are you and Daddy back together?” Becky asked, getting right to the point on her next phone call home.

“I uh, well, I mean, he’s been sober and…” Imelda defended.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Becky assured her mother.

It wasn’t okay with Becky’s brothers. Jeremy moved out of the trailer and a week later, Martin followed. Both boys had suffered under Clyde’s active alcoholism for too many years; their scars were too deep.

Imelda made a joke of it, even though it was obvious that she was upset. She told Becky it was about time those two found out about rent and utilities and food and those bills that just pop up when you least expect them.

Five weeks into her semester, Becky finally cornered Todd. And saw that Luanne Holmes had not gone to Connelly College. It was Luanne that saw Becky first as Becky approached their cafeteria table. Luanne’s blue eyes opened wide and her face lost color.

“Hi Luanne, hi Todd,” Becky said calmly.

“Becky! I uh, hey! How you doing?” Todd stammered, clearly not happy to see Becky.

“You know, I left a few messages at Sharp Shire,” Becky said, voice still calm, measured.

“I uh, yeah, I uh, I been meaning get back to you,” Todd lied.

“It would have taken, what? Five minutes of your time to let me know?” Becky said, pointing to Luanne.

“Yeah, well, i…” Todd said.

“I thought you were a man, Todd Moore,” Becky said, voice becoming hard. “I thought you were a man, but now I see, you’re nothing but a little boy.”

Todd said nothing, just hung his head. Luanne sat stock still, saying nothing as Becky turned and walked away.

Safely in her room, Becky let out an anguished wail. She sobbed bitter tears over her loss. Then Nadine pressed a cool rag to Becky’s forehead. Quietly, Nadine sponged Becky’s tears away.

“Love hurts sometimes,” Nadine said flatly.

Becky now had no reason to turn down any requests for dates. Her first date was with Aaron Newsbaum, a legally blind man she knew from her Sociology 115 class. He was tall, gangly, used a white cane, even though he still had some vision, and was bright and funny.

“See, there’s this barbecue place? Cowboy’s? On Thursday nights, there’s line dancing,” Aaron enthused. “We can go there, get something to eat, then do a little dancing, what you say?”

“Oh that sounds great,” Becky smiled.

“Now, I uh, I can’t drive, but we can double-date with my roommate,” Aaron suggested. “Or I can Uber us there.”

“Or I can drive us,” Becky said.

The dinner was good. Not great, but Becky did like the double chocolate malt, and also tasted Aaron’s caramel apple malt.

Aaron and Becky had fun dancing. At ten o’clock, Aaron said he had an eight o’clock class so they left.

In the parking lot in front of Sharp Shire dormitory, they kissed, becoming more heated. Aaron let out a shuddering groan when he braved touching Becky’s breasts. From the light of the streetlight, Becky could see a dark stain in the front of Aaron’s jeans. She had made the young man ejaculate, just from letting him touch her breasts. That knowledge gave Becky a feeling of power.

“Next time?” Becky said, actually patting Aaron’s crotch. “Don’t waste that, okay?”

They did go out on a few more dates. He was funny, with a very dry and sardonic wit. He was also intelligent.

After their third date, they had sex on the bench seat of Becky’s truck. Aaron’s cock was a lot like the rest of him, long and thin. Becky wrapped her hand around the shaft and barely had her lips around the head of his cock before Aaron grunted and blew his load. Then he returned the favor. Aaron Newsbaum liked eating pussy and Becky shuddered, groaned and squealed through two orgasms before urging him to slide his condom onto his cock.

Before he did, though, Aaron had Becky roll onto her belly. He then used his hands to pull her sweetly rounded buttocks apart and lapped at her anus. He tried to force his tongue into her back door while his fingers continued to toy with her wet pussy. Becky grunted, then squealed in orgasm when Aaron jammed two fingers into her spittle lubricated rectum.

“No, no, stick it in me,” Becky finally demanded, rolling onto her back.

Unfortunately, Aaron seemed to think that sex meant that they were now exclusive. Becky broke it to him as gently as possible; they were both young, both needed to date others.

“It’s because I’m blind, right?” Aaron said bitterly. “Yeah, yeah, it’s all good. Shit, sympathy sex feels just as good as regular sex, you know.”

Thankfully, Ruth Eissenbach did take Aaron Newsbaum off of Becky’s hands. Like Aaron, Ruth believed that sex meant that they were exclusive. Becky was always polite whenever their paths crossed; she was also quite relieved.

Becky’s 4.0 GPA earned her a spot on the Dean’s List. Her roommate, Nadine, however, was on academic probation; Nadine spent more time hanging out in frat houses than in class or the library. She was almost cheerful as she packed her two suitcases at the end of the semester.

“Told my parents,” Nadine said. “I told them don’t waste their money; I hate school.”

When she enrolled for the spring semester, Becky’s student advisor pointed out that Becky needed at least twelve hours of Physical Education. So Becky signed up for beginner’s yoga.

Alexis Smith looked up as yet another student wandered past her open doorway. The head coach of the Lady Storm softball team was idly killing time; she and her two assistant coaches had already approved their current roster; and their first practice wasn’t for another three weeks. But Ed Baggett, the University of Louisiana at DeGarde was paying her, had given her an office, so Alexis was just taking up space.

Alexis sucked in her breath as Becky Meadows walked past. Susan Couvillion, Alexis’s best friend and her unrequited crush had been dead, drug overdose for almost six years now.

And Susan’s twin had just walked past. True, the doppelganger was at least ten inches shorter than Susan had been, and the twin wore glasses; Susan had not worn glasses, other than extremely ugly sunglasses. But Susan’s twin had the same beautiful brown hair, the same deep brown eyes, the same button nose, same pouting lips, and same round chin as Susan Couvillion. The twin also sported a large chest, just as Susan had proudly displayed.

“You!” Alexis called out, stepping into the hall.

Becky jumped, startled when a woman called out, loudly. She turned and saw a beautiful blonde woman approaching her.

“Yes ma’am?” Becky asked, stepping back slightly.

“What’s your name?” Alexis demanded.

“Becky. Becky Meadows,” Becky quavered.

“Know anything about softball?” Alexis asked, smiling down at the girl.

“No. No ma’am, not really,” Becky said, not relaxing her defensive pose.

“You’re my new equipment manager,” Alexis decided. “So you better learn.”

Alexis Smith had been a cheerleader for the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, and had been second base for the Lady Storm softball team. With her degree in Physical Education, along with her status of being a part of two championship seasons, it had just made sense to Ed Baggett to hire Alexis Smith as an assistant coach. When Linda Mouton, the head coach of the Lady Storm disclosed to Ed Baggett and Dean Robert Sims that she had Parkinson’s and abruptly retired, Alexis was named as head coach.

Alexis Smith was a horrible coach. True, she knew the game, knew the rules, but did not know how to train others in the game. She did not know how to rally morale, motivate players.

Becky studied the game. She used the computer in the library and studied the game of softball. Slowly, she started to recognize the numerous failings of Coach Smith.

Becky Meadows liked being the equipment manager. In high school, she’d never been particularly athletic, so had not been accepted by the athletes of Lloyd M. Bentsen High School. But here, she was accepted, even welcomed by the athletes, welcomed with smiles and gentle caresses to her shoulders, her arms, and her back by Coach Smith.

In time, those gentle touches and innocent caresses gave way to hugs and squeezes. When the team travelled to other campuses, Becky was often positioned between Coach Smith and the window of the team bus. And Coach Smith found reasons to touch Becky’s leg, arm, and waist often as the large vehicle rolled along.

Becky had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach as the older woman touched her, caressed her. It was not an unpleasant feeling, just an odd feeling, a feeling of being slightly off-balance.

“Nineteen to two. Nine fucking teen to two,” Assistant Coach Babette Broussard complained after their fifth straight loss. “Nineteen to two, to a God damned team that hasn’t won their last fourteen fucking games! Are you kidding me?”

“Come,” Alexis barked out when there was a soft knock at her office door.

“Coach Smith?” Becky asked, sticking her head in the door.

“Yeah Honey?” Alexis asked, brightening at the sight of Becky.

And then Alexis’s happiness gave way to bitterness, anger. Becky Meadows dared point out her mistakes as a coach. The little bitch dared question Alexis’s decisions during the game.

“You listen here, you little God damned cunt!” Alexis snarled, shoving Becky hard.

As a stunned Becky sprawled on the floor of Coach Smith’s office. Alexis straddled Becky’s waist and began pushing Becky’s U.L.D. Lady Storm tee shirt up, exposing Becky’s industrial strength bra.

“No,” Becky protested.

Ed Baggett, the Athletic Director of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde opened the door of the office just as Alexis pushed up the cups of Becky’s bra. The maneuver exposed Becky’s left breast and Alexis grabbed the large nipple, twisting the sensitive nub cruelly.

“Ms. Smith, that will be enough,” Ed Baggett thundered as Becky burst into tears. “In fact, you need to clean out your desk; you no longer work here.”

Ed Baggett, Dean Robert Sims and the legal team of Coutre & Associates offered Becky Meadows a full scholarship, as well as one hundred thousand dollars if she promised not to press charges. She signed the documents and walked out of the administration building. She also walked away from the game of softball. She had no desire to be their equipment manager ever again. Her last act was to stuff her U.L.D. Lady Storm tee shirt into a trash can.

Becky did not sign up for the summer semester. She proudly showed her father and her mother the letter from Dean Sims; she was on the Dean’s List again; she still maintained a 4.0 GPA.

While home, she did have another date with Rory Smith. He took her to Rustler’s BBQ, then back to Browner Park. Becky gave him a blow job, swallowing his load. Then Rory complained bitterly when she insisted on a condom.

Their third date was a movie and then another suck and fuck. Becky decided there would be no fourth date.

“Rory, how many girls you been with?” she asked when he called, asking for another date.

“Oh well,” Rory preened. “A gentleman doesn’t tell.”

“I’m not asking for their names. Just give me a number,” Becky said. “Ten? Fifteen?”

“I uh, about fifteen, I guess,” Rory stammered, multiplying the actual number by five.

“And still don’t know how to fuck? Girls got this thing? Called orgasms,” Becky said. “Google it. But don’t call me no more, hear?”

A week before the fall semester began, Becky noticed that her father looked pale. She also noticed that he was sweating, even though the air-conditioning was blowing high.

“No easy way say this,” Clyde admitted. “But, shit, you don’t drink for thirty eight years straight and not do some damage.”

“That’s kind of why I took him back,” Imelda quietly said.

“That. And you love me,” Clyde tried to joke.

“That. And I love you,” Imelda said, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I’m not going back to DeGarde,” Becky decided.

“Oh bull shit too,” Clyde snapped.

“Baby, you, you’re doing too good to not go back,” Imelda said.

“But Daddy’s sick,” Becky sobbed.

“No, Becky, no,” Clyde said. “You are going to school, and you’re going to do your best and that’s that. I don’t want hear this shit you’re not going to school. Just because I destroyed my life; that’s no reason for you to ruin yours.”

The next level from beginner’s yoga was quite a step up. Becky found herself dragging a towel and bar of soap with her yoga pad and workout clothes. Mrs. Patel, the instructor came into the locker room and stripped off her own sweat soaked clothes. She smiled at Becky.

“I am glad I have only the two classes on Tuesday Thursday,” Mrs. Patel admitted as she adjusted the taps of the shower. “Monday Wednesday Friday? I have all four levels.”

“Uh yes ma’am,” Becky stammered, looking away from the sixty year old Indian woman.

The woman did not shave. Anything. Her legs, her underarms were heavily carpeted with coarse black and silver hair. Mrs. Patel’s crotch was likewise thickly furred and when the woman had turned to grab her loofah sponge, Becky had seen that Mrs. Patel’s anus was fringed with a dark circle of hair.

Reaching and giving her own anus a deft rub, Becky was sickened to feel a fringe of stiff hairs. She vowed she would shave that clean as soon as possible.

“See you Thursday,” Mrs. Patel cheerfully called out as Becky scampered away.

“Yes ma’am,” Becky said.

Billy Fontenot took Becky to Benito’s Fine Italian Restaurant on their first date. Their second date was to the Flowers movie theater and then to Yum Yum Ice Cream for a caramel sundae afterward. He then drove them to Huvall’s Levee, a local make-out spot.

“So? What you think?” Becky asked as she slurped up and down the length of Billy’s fat five inches of uncircumcised meat. “Think I ought shave my pussy?”

“I uh, oh God yeah,” Billy grunted as Becky swallowed his entire length down to the root.

Billy soon pumped a hot load down Becky’s throat. He did not hesitate to put his head between Becky’s thighs, licking and sucking at her wet pussy. She reached down and pulled her right butt cheek, an invitation for him to jam a finger into her sweaty anus.

“Um, oh yes,” Becky hissed as Billy fingered her pussy and her ass, his lips firmly around her fat little clitoris.

Billy sucked her to two orgasms, then rolled a condom on over his hard cock.

Billy’s nice fat cock was one benefit of dating him. Another benefit of dating Billy Fontenot was that Billy had his own car; she didn’t need to drive them everywhere. Yet another benefit was he seemed to have a ready source of cash; Becky didn’t need to chip in for their dates. She would not have minded, but it was still nice to be able to keep her money in her purse.

The biggest benefit of having the occasional date with Billy Fontenot, though, was Billy Fontenot was roommates with Todd Moore. Usually Becky waited until the third or fourth date before she would have sex with her dates. Some would-be Romeos didn’t even make it to the third date.

But when Becky found out, over an excellent lasagna at Benito’s that Billy and Todd were roommates, Becky had almost fucked Billy on that first date. Now, laying underneath the handsome young man as he drove his fat meat into her, Becky told him to make sure Todd heard all about their hot and heavy fuck.

Three weeks before Thanksgiving, Imelda called Jeremy, Martin, and Becky. Jeremy and Martin refused to make the twenty minute drive to see their father as he lay in Collier Hospital in Lowridge, Texas. Becky made the four and a half hour drive after letting her five professors know what was going on. As she was maintaining a perfect score, her professors agreed that she could make up any missed assignments, provided she returned before final exams the first week of December.

“Hey, baby girl,” Clyde croaked out. “Becky, what you doing here? You got school.”

“Daddy, that don’t matter,” Becky choked out.

“Love you, baby girl,” Clyde said, wearily closing his eyes.

“I love you too, Daddy,” Becky sobbed, clutching his hand.

Three days later, Imelda called their two sons. Again, they refused to inconvenience themselves. Neither boy would come see their father as he lay in the ward of the charity hospital. With a nod, Imelda gave the doctor permission to pull the plug.

At the memorial service, Becky was introduced to Clyde’s second family, the members of his Alcoholics Anonymous home group. Most of them had glowing things to say about her father.

“I (Ah ahem mm) I ordered this for your daddy,” George told Becky, handing her an 18 month medallion. “I (ah ahem mm) don’t think he’s (ah ahem mm) going drink at the big meeting in the sky, so (ah ahem mm) guess we’ll say he’s got eighteen months today, okay?”

Becky gave the man a hug and kiss, then put the brass medallion into her purse. The heavy coin gave a soft ‘clink’ as it struck the white plastic chip, the one her father had given to her seventeen months earlier. She then looked around, but there was no sign of Jeremy or Martin.

“I’m an alcoholic (ah ahem mm) named George,” George said out loud.

“Hi George,” several people called out.

“(ah ahem mm) Clyde said he wanted the topic (ah ahem mm) of his last meeting to come from page sixty nine (ah ahem mm)” George said and a few people tittered. “But I think we’ll a (ah ahem mm) go to ‘A Full And Thankful (ah ahem mm) Heart’ out of ‘As Bill (ah ahem mm) Sees it.'”

“Page sixty nine in our Big Book deals with sex,” a woman whispered to Becky, smiling widely.

“Daddy!” Becky couldn’t help but giggle through her tears.

As they held the impromptu AA meeting at the memorial service, Becky couldn’t help but think that Jeremy and Martin should have been there. They needed to hear these people, hear their stories. They looked respectable, dignified, refined. And yet they used words like ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ and used those words in the same sentence with ‘God’ and ‘Gratitude’ and ‘prayer.’

The day after they buried Clyde, Becky returned to DeGarde. Her professors expressed their sympathy for her loss. Becky smiled, despite the tears.

“Don’t be sorry. My Daddy’s in Heaven and he’s out of pain,” Becky assured them.

Becky easily caught up on her assignments, then went home for the Thanksgiving break. Jeremy and Martin showed up for Thanksgiving. Jeremy looked sullen, spoke in monosyllabic grunts to his family. Martin nervously introduced Layla Green to Imelda, Becky and Jeremy.

Layla Green was an African-American girl with a medium sized afro hairstyle, skin the color of rich coffee with a splash of cream, and big golden brown eyes. She displayed a self-assurance and poise as she entered the trailer.

Though surprised, Imelda greeted the girl with smiles. Becky was used to seeing African-Americans and whites together on the college campus; in fact, she’d been asked out a few times by African-American men, and one African-American woman. She had politely declined those requests; she had not found any of those men particularly appealing. And had certainly not found Laquissa Toombs attractive. Plus that, the whispered comments behind the backs of the white women that did date black men was very scornful. Becky did not want to hear those words said about herself whispered about in the halls of Murphy’s.

She had smirked; she had not joined in, but Becky Meadows had certainly smirked when those words were said about Luanne Holmes. In private, Becky laughed aloud, imagining what Todd Moore’s reaction must have been when the pretty blonde informed him that she’d decided she’d go black.

But Becky too welcomed Layla Greene with a smile. Then she gave the hotly blushing Martin a smirk.

“Jeremy, since, since Clyde’s not here, you carve the turkey?” Imelda asked, eyes filling with tears as she looked at the empty seat.

“Yeah, course, won’t do it as good as Dad; I’m not falling down drunk,” Jeremy sneered.

“Never mind, God damn it,” Imelda snapped, eyes blazing. “Thought I’d let you take over as the man of the house, but can tell, you’re nowhere near ready to be a man.”

“Miss Imelda, I, I’m studying over at Oakleaf’s Cordon Bleu,” Layla offered. “I’d love to carve the turkey, if that’s all right with you?”

“Are you really?” Becky asked. “What’s the best thing you know how cook?”

“Best thing?” Layla smiled. “Girl, anything with chocolate.”

“She does this uh, damn, this egg custard? Has this burnt sugar on top,” Martin said as Layla quickly, efficiently carved the turkey. “That stuff? Aw man!”

After pumpkin pie, which Imelda admitted was from Burns & Burns grocery store, Jeremy moved to turn on the television. Imelda grabbed him by his hair and pulled him into his seat again.

“As y’all know, Clyde was working at Alliance Square; their maintenance department,” Imelda said.

Jeremy started to say something. A look from Imelda silenced his tongue. Imelda pulled three envelopes from her purse.

“And they had a life insurance policy, you know, where everyone in the group has the option to buy in,” Imelda went on. He took out a policy and set up how he wanted it split up.”

She handed Martin, Jeremy and Becky an envelope apiece. Becky gasped when she saw a check for eighty thousand dollars. She looked at Imelda.

“Momma, I can’t take this. What about you?” Becky declared. “You need this more than me.”

“Jesus, little Miss Goody Two-Shoes,” Jeremy taunted. “Ten thousand? Uh, I think Mom will be fine without ten thousand bucks. She probably kept most of it for herself anyway.”

Becky looked at Jeremy, then at Martin. Since Martin wasn’t correcting Jeremy, apparently, he too had been given a check for ten thousand dollars. She looked at Imelda again.

“Becky, seriously, I had my own policy on Clyde; Burns & Burns has an excellent benefits package,” Imelda said, smiling sadly. “And even though we were separated all them years, we were still married; we never divorced.”

Jeremy beat a hasty retreat as soon as possible. Martin and Layla followed, chattering about hitting a few Black Friday sales, now that they had ten thousand to blow. Becky helped her mother clean up.

“If they had bothered to see him in the hospital; hell, if they’d just shown up for the funeral,” Imelda said quietly, cutting herself another piece of pumpkin pie. “You want the last of this? If they had bothered to show up for the funeral; he was their father. He might have been a shitty father, but he was their father, I would have given each of you thirty five thousand. I would have taken a bit out my own and you each would have had thirty five thousand.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll take that last piece,” Becky agreed. “We got any more of that Cool Whip?”

Returning to U.L.D. after the Thanksgiving break, Becky doubled down on studies. She also went to First Union, where she had deposited her one hundred thousand dollar check from the University settlement. She intended to deposit her eighty thousand dollar check.

“You know, you’re only getting point zero seven percent interest,” the teller confided to Becky.

“Uh huh?” Becky asked.

“That kind of money? Might want think about investing, see about getting a bigger return,” the girl went on. “You know, make your money work for you instead of you working for it.”

Martin Boyd of Boyd Investment Group gave Becky’s hand a firm shake, sat face to face with her, not across a desk, and talked with Becky as if she was an adult instead of a child. He agreed that eighty thousand was an excellent beginning.

“You’ll get some brokers? You’re the one has to tell them what to buy, you’ll have to research your portfolio,” Martin said. “Me? Since I don’t make anything if you don’t make anything? I make suggestions, I look for opportunities.”

“And, yes, I run it by you first,” Martin said as Becky filled out the paperwork. “After all, this is your money. Your money.”

By the time the spring semester began, Martin Boyd had put seven thousand dollars more into Becky’s portfolio. He had lost two thousand in one venture also, but overall, Becky was showing a profit.

Nadine Brown had been a good roommate; she’d been a friend when Becky had needed a shoulder to cry on. The second semester, Mathilda Cooper had been neither friend nor adversary. The same was true of Veronica, not Ronnie Thompson.

Denise Watson, however, was a bitch. She tried to use her size to intimidate Becky. The larger girl tried to demand more of the closet space as well as dresser space. She also demanded that she be allowed to use Becky’s cell phone and Becky’s laptop computer.

“No,” Becky quietly but firmly said.

A week into the semester, Becky couldn’t find the brass medallion that George had ordered for her father. She searched frantically for it, but it was gone. Also gone was a twenty dollar bill that had been tucked away in her purse. The white plastic chip was in a different compartment of her purse than the compartment Becky normally kept it in. Becky always kept it, and the brass medallion in the center zip compartment.

Reaching for her cell phone, Becky saw that someone had made a phone call to Benhurst, Colorado while she’d been in the dormitory’s communal shower. She rapidly punched in the number of the University campus security office.

“Who you calling?” Denise demanded to know.

“Yes, hi, I’m in room three oh four, Murphy dorm?” Becky said when a tired sounding man answered ‘Security.’ “I need to report a theft.”

“What?” Denise screamed.

“Look, kid, you and your roommate work it out, okay?” the tired sounding man said.

“Send someone here. Now! Or I’ll get the DeGarde Police Department here. Understand?” Becky snarled. “Think Dean Sims would like that?”

Denise added battery to her charges, as well as destruction of private property. Thankfully, Becky would be able to use her spare pair of glasses until her new glasses came in. Stephanie, the third floor monitor sent a student to the cafeteria to get some ice for Becky’s black eye while Denise argued with the female security officer, screamed insults at Becky.

The medallion was located inside of one of Denise’s shoes, along with a wadded up twenty dollar bill. Denise would not admit to calling her home in Colorado, but since the number matched her mother’s number on the college application, she would be responsible for those costs as well.

The next day, Becky Brown, another resident of Murphy’s third floor knocked softly on the door of room 304. Becky smiled; she and Becky Brown delighted in greeting each other with ‘Hi, I’m Becky, no, I’m Becky, no, I’m Becky’ whenever their paths crossed.

“Hi, I’m Becky,” Becky Meadows said.

“No, I’m Becky,” Becky Brown said, smiling.

“No, I’M Becky,” Becky Meadows responded. “So, what’s up?”

“I uh, I had that bitch, Denise? I had her last semester,” Becky Brown said. “God, almost dropped out; I swear. Bitch helped herself to half my stuff and even ran up a three hundred dollar bill on my phone.”

“Well, don’t think she’ll be back,” Becky Meadows said, pointing to her black eye.

The two girls chatted for a few minutes, each sharing their Denise Watson horror stories. Becky Brown then admitted she had an Algebra test to study for and stood to leave the small dorm room.

“Third time taking it,” she whispered, embarrassed. “Professor Huxton is such an ass hole, I swear.”

“He is hard,” Becky Meadows agreed. “Bye, Becky.”

“No, I’m Becky,” Becky Brown said, then lightly kissed Becky Meadows on her lips. “Bye Becky.”

It had been a simple kiss, lip to lip. But Becky Meadows had felt an electric shock run through her whole body when the attractive brunette had touch her lips with her own moist lips. Quickly, Becky Meadows gathered her shower bag and her pajamas and scurried to the shower room.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you just get an apartment?” Imelda asked when Becky told her mother what had happened. “That way? You don’t have to deal with people like that Denise girl going through your stuff.”

“Or have to take showers with people like Natalie,” Becky thought, thinking of the horse-faced woman that seemed to pay a bit too much attention to other girls in the communal showers.

Martin Boyd suggested Becky invest in a house instead. As he pointed out, Becky had at least two years to go on a bachelor’s degree. Twenty four months of rent would get her no return. Twenty four months of mortgage payments, however, would get her a return on investment when it came time to sell. And, it would help her establish a solid credit rating.

Billy Fontenot agreed with Martin’s assessment. Apartment or house; either one would give them someplace more comfortable to fuck than the back seat of his Ford Edge.

Billy was no longer Todd Moore’s roommate. But he did still live in Sharp Shire dormitory, did still see Todd Moore in the hallways. Todd’s new roommate was an African-American gangsta wanna-be, so Becky did not pursue Todd’s roommate for any revenge fucks.

Tammy Hale was an agent with Davis Realty. The beautiful red head smiled and agreed to take Becky around, look at homes in the seventy to ninety thousand dollar range.

The first home was next door to a home that had seven cars in the driveway and an eighth car on blocks. There were several empty boxes, beer boxes and pizza boxes on the strip of dead grass between sidewalk and street.

“No. Absolutely not,” Becky said and Tammy drove to the next destination.

“Well, that tells me why it’s been on the market for five months,” Tammy agreed. “Notice? It is not one of ours.”

The next destination smelled of mildew; Becky did not even enter the house. Tammy called the listing agent to report the first home and the condition of the second home.

“No. My client does not want to make you an offer on either home,” Tammy snapped. “I’m giving you a courtesy call so you can clean them up.”

“Idiot,” Tammy said, dropping her cell into her purse. “See why I have such a low opinion of real estate agents?”

“Um, you’re a real estate agent,” Becky pointed out to Tammy.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I suffer from low self-esteem. Comes from being a cheerleader in high school,” Tammy shrugged. “The next one? Guy put it on the market last Tuesday. I haven’t even had a chance to see it yet.”

“How much is he asking?” Becky asked, nodding with approval at the middle class neighborhood.

“Seventy nine five,” Tammy said.

The house needed a new roof; they could see the shingles curling up. The windows were single paned; those would need to be swapped out for more fuel efficient windows.

“Oh my God,” Tammy gasped when she opened the door.

Apparently, Jonathon Savoie and Richard Arnaud, as well as Richard Arnaud’s wife had not taken their eviction well. The three kicked holes into the sheetrock, into the paneling of the dining room, and of every interior door. They had urinated on the carpet. They had poured cement into the two toilet bowls. They had pulled the closet doors off their hinges, had pulled the upper cabinets down off the kitchen walls, pulled the lower cabinet doors completely off of the cabinets.

They had left various pieces of furniture behind; those pieces too large to fit into their cars. Those pieces of furniture had likewise been ruined if the smell emanating from them was any indication.

Worse of all, though, they had locked Debbie Arnaud’s two pet Pomeranians in the house with no food or water. The two male dogs whined and whimpered, too weak to even walk to Tammy and Becky.

“Oh my God, Ms. Meadows, I’m sorry, I, I can’t show you any more houses today,” Tammy gasped, gathering the two beasts into her arms. “These two babies need to go to the doctor’s. Now.”

“I’ll hold them; you drive,” Becky agreed as they scurried to the car.

Once the two animals were safely in Dr. Dupre’s care, Tammy called her boss, Carmen Davis and told her what had happened. Carmen agreed to contact the seller.

“Again, Ms. Meadows, I’m so sorry,” Tammy said.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake,” Becky said, parroting something she’d heard at her father’s memorial service. “If we hadn’t shown up, who knows if them two dogs would have survived much longer?”

“Giving them fluids right now,” Dr. Dupre told Tammy. “Going try give them a little food later on, see if they can handle it. Give us a call, hmm, Monday, see how they’re doing, okay?”

Tammy thanked the man and her and Becky left the Kimble, Louisiana office. They sat in silence for much of the ride back to the campus of U.L.D.

“Did I lock the door?” Tammy suddenly wondered aloud as she put her signal on to turn into the parking lot of Murphy’s dormitory.

“I don’t remember,” Becky admitted. “I was too busy holding them puppies.”

At the three bedroom, two bathroom home on Tallow Road, Becky quietly walked around while Tammy took video of the damage to the home on her cell phone. She shook her head at the squalor, the filth created by the tenants.

The back yard had an eight foot privacy fence around the perimeter. There were two pecan trees that stood, tall and proud, though without any leaves of yet.

“Ms. Hale, how much you think it would take fix this up?” Becky asked as Tammy securely locked the door.

“God, I don’t know,” Tammy admitted. “Probably looking at least twenty thousand, maybe even more.”

“Offer them thirty,” Becky said.

Becky’s father had shown Becky how to sand, how to patch. Jeremy, her older brother had worked for Scandurro Construction before Joe Tonicetti had run him off. From there, Jeremy had hung sheetrock for Mike Morrison, and when Mike had died, Jeremy worked with Samuel Dees, until Samuel got tired of having to constantly supervise Jeremy.

“If that dumb ass can do it, I should be able to do it,” Becky said to herself.

“Yes ma’am. God, look at the video; they even poured cement into the toilets,” Tammy said into her cell phone. “New roof, new windows. Oh, and know you can’t see it on the video? But they peed on the carpets, so that’s ruined. Yes ma’am, thirty thousand. Seller pays all closing costs.”

Tammy smiled at Becky. Becky smiled, even though she imagined she could still smell the urine; some urine probably got trapped in the grooves of her tennis shoes’ soles.

“Them paying all closing costs will save you a bit more,” Tammy disclosed when she ended her phone call. “Give me a check for one percent, earnest money, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Becky said and tapped on her cell phone. “And…you should see it now.”

Two weeks later, the seller made a counter offer. Becky declined the forty nine thousand dollar counter and her and Tammy looked at a few more homes. After another week, the seller made a second offer; forty four thousand; Becky to pay the closing costs. Again, Becky declined.

“Ever think of being a real estate agent?” Tammy asked the third time she called Becky’s phone. “They’ve come back with thirty five, you pay the closing costs.”

“Sorry, I have a low opinion of real estate agents,” Becky laughed.

“Really! Me too!” Tammy agreed. “Self-esteem issues, I’m sure. Someone ought do a psychological study on them some day. Why do real estate agents become real estate agents? I’ll get the paperwork started, Ms. Meadows.”

On her first day off from her job at Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store, Imelda drove out to see Becky’s new home. She borrowed Jeremy’s rusty pickup truck and carted Clyde’s tools, along with the washing machine and dryer from Clyde’s trailer. Jeremy wasn’t happy about that; he now lived in Clyde’s old trailer home. When Imelda suggested he use part of the ten thousand dollars from Clyde’s insurance to buy a new washing machine and dryer, Jeremy clammed up.

“And you can get you a pretty good deal at Deubler’s,” Imelda told her son. “But, uh, no, I will not co-sign for you.”

Imelda was horrified when she saw the condition of the home. She swore she felt filthy, just standing in the living room. Her eyes watered from the stench of the uncirculated air.

The only interior door that the previous tenants had not damaged was the door from home to garage. They’d not damaged this door because it was a solid wood door, quite heavy. Becky helped Imelda unload tools and washing machine and dryer, then blocked the garage door from being able to be opened from the outside. She made sure she had securely locked the interior door.

Daryn Blutcher was six feet, four inches and 247 pounds of solid muscle. The twenty year old man played left cornerback, left tackle, and occasionally free safety. Daryn had an uncanny ability to be where the ball was. He was also as poor as a church mouse and not much brighter than a mouse.

“Daryn, hi, Becky,” Becky said, greeting Daryn as he left his English 220 class.

“Hi, Becky,” Daryn said, smiling down at the four foot, ten inch girl with the incredible tits.

“Listen, I need some muscle; I’ve got some carpet that needs to be ripped out,” Becky said, smirking at Todd Moore as Todd glowered from behind the hulking football player.

Daryn agreed to do the heavy work, for a hundred dollars. He and Becky donned face masks, rubber gloves, and goggles and got busy ripping the carpet from the three bedrooms, hallway, and living room. While Becky swept, then mopped the concrete floors with a solution of ammonia and water, Daryn used a sharp knife to cut the carpet and padding to strips of three foot width.

“All right, now, come here,” Becky ordered, pulling Daryn into the master bathroom.

She made him wash his hands, even though he’d worn heavy gloves. Then she pulled him into one of the rear bedrooms; none of the windows had curtains.

“Now, here’s your hundred bucks,” Becky said, counting out five twenties.

“Thanks,” Daryn said, stuffing the bills into his pocket.

“And…” Becky said and unzipped Daryn’s jeans.

His cock was seven and seven eighths inches long and quite thick. Becky knelt on the hard floor and stretched her mouth wide to swallow all seven and seven eighths inches down. She actually gave a shudder of pleasure when the head of Daryn’s fat meat entered her throat. That momentary spasm of gag reflex always triggered an oddly pleasant response in Becky.

“Damn, aw damn,” Daryn grunted as Becky’s lips, tongue and throat massaged his cock.

Becky fondled Daryn’s large testicles with one hand while her other hand rubbed her hairless pussy. She bobbed her head up and down, waggling her tongue around Daryn’s sweaty dick.

“Man, Becky, I’m ‘going to jizz,” Daryn warned.

“Mm hmm,” Becky agreed, not releasing his cock.

She again drove her mouth down to the root of his meat and let him spurt his load. The final two spurts, she caught in her mouth so that she could taste him. He had a slightly sweet taste underneath the bitter, salty flavor.

“Thanks, Daryn wheezed.

“You not done, huh?” Becky asked, shrugging out of tee shirt and bra.

“God damn, those are some nice tits,” Daryn gushed, seeing Becky’s unfettered breasts bobbling.

“Thanks,” Becky smiled, hefting them with her small hands.

Daryn’s cock did revive as he roughly played with Becky’s breasts. While Daryn squeezed her breasts, Becky stepped out of tennis shoes, then wiggled out of her blue jeans, revealing her bald pussy.

“Hang on, hang on, I got a couple condoms,” Daryn said as Becky gently pulled him to lie on top of her on the concrete floor.

“You brought condoms with you?” Becky asked, not sure whether to be upset or not.

“Hey, what can I say? You’re a beautiful girl. A guy can hope, right?” Daryn shrugged, rolling a condom onto his fat meat.

“I’m, you think I’m beautiful?” Becky asked, then squealed as the head of his cock slid into her pussy.

“Too beautiful be seen with a guy like me,” Daryn groaned as he slid his meat into her tight pussy.

Daryn Blutcher was not handsome. His blond hair was tightly coiled curls on a square face. His brown eyes were mean little slits on a face that looked like lumps of clay had been dropped to form an abstract face. His cheekbones were pronounced, his nose was too large, even for his large head and his lips were thin ribbons of chapped flesh.

“Ugh!” was all Becky could say as Daryn’s cock pounded in and out of her pussy.

“Ugh!” Daryn agreed as he pumped a load into the tight latex sheath.

“Got another condom?” Becky asked, still shuddering from her orgasm.

“I…yeah,” Daryn said, checking his pockets.

“Good,” Becky said, crawling to her purse.

Daryn watched Becky’s sweetly rounded buttocks wiggle and waggle as she crawled across the floor to where her purse was. He could see her tightly crinkled light brown anus, and underneath, he could see her wet pussy lips, reddened and open. His cock began to stiffen again. He quickly pulled the used condom off, then used his handkerchief to wipe his sticky cock clean.

“My last boyfriend? Called this bowling,” Becky said, bringing a tube of lubricant to where Daryn lay.

“Bowling?” Daryn asked, cock now fully erect as he watched Becky’s large breast wobble and bobble back and forth.

“Uh huh. Know how a bowling ball’s got three holes?” Becky smiled sweetly and Daryn almost filled his condom.

Billy Fontenot had taken Becky’s anal virginity, in the back seat of his Ford Edge. As usual, Becky had sucked him off, then pouted when he wouldn’t kiss her afterward. He then bent and licked, sucked, and fingered Becky to an orgasm.

“Hey, wait, what?” Becky giggled when Billy forced her onto her belly.

Billy then tongued Becky’s anus, fingers fumbling with her pussy.

“Oh God yes,” Becky hissed when Billy jammed a thick finger into her anus.

“Oh Billy,” Becky grunted when he added a second finger.

Becky enjoyed analingus, having her anus licked. She enjoyed when her lovers introduced a finger or two to her rectum during foreplay. It produced this odd warmth inside of her belly, a very pleasurable sensation.

“Ugh!” Billy groaned, dangerously close to ejaculating again.

He pulled Becky onto hands and knees and drove his throbbing cock into her tight pussy in one thrust. Three pumps and he spurted his second load into another condom.

The entire time he was pumping his cock in and out of Becky’s pussy, his fingers continued to twist and pump into Becky’s rectum. He squinted, trying to see his fingers plunging in and out of her, the little bit of moonlight not giving him much light.

“Ugh!” Becky groaned when Billy suddenly pulled his fingers from her stretched rectum.

Billy hurriedly pulled the condom from his cock. He held his sticky cock in one hand and aimed for Becky’s brown hole.

“Agh!” she cried out as he pressed the blunt head of his hard cock to her anus.

There had been a sharp jolt of pain. Becky sucked in her breath. Billy lurched forward, driving half of his cock into her bowels. Becky let out her breath in a scream of pain.

That had been their last date. Scott Williams, however, knew that spit, sperm and pussy juice was not enough lubrication for anal sex. Plus, Scott Williams had an apartment, with a large, comfortable bed.

Becky had tensed up when Scott began to tongue her anus. She tensed up when he introduced a finger to her rectum. She tensed up when he introduced a second finger to her rectum.

“Oh!” Becky let out a sigh as Scott began to lubricate her anal sheath with petroleum jelly.

It was pleasurable, Scott’s thick fingers plumbing her. Soon, he had three fingers thrusting and twisting inside of her and Becky reached down to rub her clitoris.

While she sook and gasped in orgasm, Scott pressed his greasy cock to Becky’s anus. Again, there was that sharp jolt of pain as her muscles tried to deny Scott entry. Then his cock was pushing into her and the pain gave way to that oddly pleasurable feeling.

Now, on a hard concrete floor of her home, Becky wasn’t sure if her tiny little rosebud could accommodate Daryn’s immense girth. She soldiered on, greasing up Daryn’s latex covered cock.

“Hold it straight,” Becky ordered, then swiveled around.

She squatted, facing Daryn’s feet. Daryn groaned at the sight of Becky squatting over him, long brown hair in cute ponytail, sweet ass lowering closer and closer to his cock.

Becky reached down and pulled her left buttock. Daryn could see Becky’s tight little ring coming closer and closer.

“Ugh!” Becky grunted as the head of Daryn’s cock bounced away.

Becky Reached back with her right hand, blindly searching for Daryn’s cock. She found the fat cock and guided him to her anus.

“Ugh!” Becky grunted as his cockhead pressed against her protesting anus.

“Oh God damn!” Becky screamed out as Daryn’s fat meat began to push upward into her.

He was big. And Becky had not prepared her rectum for such a large intrusion. Scott Williams had not been small, but Scott had taken the time to prepare Becky’s rectum for his cock.

“We can stop; we don’t need to do it like this,” Daryn groaned.

The tightness of Becky’s struggling ass was actually painful. If Daryn had not been looking at Becky’s light brown ring, stretched taut around the head of his cock, could not see her round ass cheeks wiggling, there would be no pleasure in this act at all.

“No!” Becky grunted in a strangled scream.

Her weight forced nearly half of Daryn’s meat into her rectum. Becky groaned; the pain seemed to be intensifying instead of subsiding into that pleasurable warmth.

“Damn!” Daryn suddenly cried out and Becky almost sobbed in relief as he ejaculated.

When Daryn ceased his shudders and unintelligible grunts, Becky gingerly wiggled forward, dislodging his massive cock from her ass. She almost collapsed in relief. Her anus throbbed with each beat of her heart; it was a few minutes before she could rise.

“Todd still tutoring you in Vocabulary?” Becky asked as she pulled her jeans up her stubby legs.

“Uh, yeah,” Daryn agreed. “Need me to see if he can tutor you?”

“No, took English two twenty last semester,” Becky said, struggling into her bra.

“Oh. Okay, where you want these?” Daryn asked, holding out the two knotted condoms.

“Garbage can’s in the kitchen, Becky said, wiggling into her tee shirt. “No, next time you see Todd, just let him know we went bowling, okay?”

When Becky pulled in front of Mauragas Dormitory, the Male Athletes’ dormitory, Daryn proved to be a little more intuitive than Becky gave him credit for. He smiled sadly at her.

“I’d ask you out, you know, on a date,” he started. “I mean, hey! I got a hundred bucks, could take you someplace nice, you know, I mean, not Radcliffe’s nice, but someplace nice.”

“Daryn, Radcliffe’s isn’t that great,” Becky said, downplaying the exclusive French restaurant.

“But, you’re already in love with someone else,” Daryn said.

“Huh?” Becky asked.

“But, yeah, you still want me to, I’ll tell Todd we made love,” Daryn smiled sadly. “But, I, can I have a kiss?”

Becky gave him a soft kiss. He smiled sadly again, then opened the door of her truck. Before he closed his door, Becky saw a tear slowly trickle from his eye. She felt absolutely horrible as she watched the large man walk to the dormitory.

Pulling up in front of Murphy’s dormitory, Becky wanted a shower, warm pajamas, and a good long cry. Getting out of the truck, Becky could feel her anus throbbing painfully. Walking up the stairs of Murphy’s, the elevator was far too slow, Becky could feel her anus throb painfully with each step.

Gathering her shower things, Becky hoped Becky Brown would come, just to chat, and hoped Becky Brown would stay away.

Each time Becky Brown came into her room, Becky Brown and Becky Meadows would play their silly little game of ‘I’m Becky, no, I’m Becky.’ Then they’d sit on Denise’s abandoned bed and chat. As they chatted and laughed, Becky Brown would touch Becky Meadows, tough Becky Meadows on her hand, her arm, her thigh.

And when she would leave, Becky Brown would give Becky Meadows a kiss, lip to lip. Becky Brown’s touches made Becky Meadows feel a little odd. Not bad, just off-center slightly. And those lip to lip kisses always produced an electric jolt inside of Becky Meadows’s belly.

Becky Brown must have been busy studying; she did not come to Becky Meadows’s room that night. Becky Meadows did her one assignment, constantly seeing Daryn’s sad face, seeing that tear trickle down.

A few days later, Becky wished she had hired Daryn again. Four by eight feet sheets of sheetrock were heavy. The internet had several videos on how to patch holes in sheetrock and Becky bought six sheets of the material, as well as the other materials the Internet had told her she would need.

“Measure twice, cut once,” Becky recited as she walked around, patching the holes in her walls.

Tammy Hale recommended Paul Robichaux for those jobs Becky could not do. Becky met with the handsome man and hired him on the spot. When he recommended turning the ruined dining room into a bedroom, knocking out the wall between the two rear bedrooms to create one large master suite, and enlarging the hall bathroom to add a whirlpool tub and separate shower stall, Becky knew she’d made the right choice.

“Save all the receipts; old owner’s wanting to sue the former tenants,” Tammy said. “Oh, and Payton and Eli say ‘Hi Aunt Becky.'”

(Tammy Hale had named the two dogs Payton Manning Hale and Eli Manning Hale. In her eyes, just like the two Manning boys, her pooches were winners.)

While Becky labored on her house, she would wave to her neighbors. Some would return her wave. Some would hesitate, then return her wave. Some neighbors pretended they did not see Becky’s wave.

Becky did the painting herself; she found a brand new air compressor on-line for half the price that the Home Depot in Elgee wanted. The miserable looking woman admitted, her boyfriend had talked her into buying it for him; he planned to open his own painting business. Then when the air compressor was out of the box, the boyfriend left her for another woman.

Paul admired Becky’s handiwork as he and his crew installed the kitchen cabinets. He took several pictures with a digital camera.

“Know, your cell phone has a camera,” Becky said.

“Uh huh, can’t use it,” Paul admitted. “Go to take a selfie? Get the top of my head, get my left shoulder, never get what I’m aiming for.”

“Just think how bad it would be if he drank,” one of his crew laughed.

“Bite me,” Paul laughed and took a few more pictures. “Ms. Meadows, this is really some great work you did here.”

Blue had been Clyde’s favorite color. Becky vacillated between pink and blue and decided on blue.

In between working on her house, Becky continued to study, continued to maintain a 4.0 GPA. In her weekly phone call home, she did complain to her mother; she was being stretched pretty thin.

“Poor baby,” Imelda teased. “Uh, oh, wait! You volunteered for this.”

One afternoon, Becky was in the library; Professor Laughlin wanted a group project on business principles. Members of each three person group were assigned randomly; Becky was thinking very seriously of telling Professor Laughlin that Jude Goss and Candy Steinbrenner were not pulling their weight; please assign her to another group.

“Hi Todd,” Candy simpered, thrusting her 40C chest forward.

“Hmm? Oh, hey Sandy,” Todd Moore said to the portly girl.

“Candy,” she said, losing her smile.

Becky said nothing, just regarded Todd with cool eyes. He’d allowed his thick brown hair to grow out; it was bushy, making his slightly scrawny physique look smaller. He also had a scrub of beard hair and a wispy looking mustache. Despite this, Todd Moore was still handsome, in Becky’s eyes.

“Hey, uh, um, uh, Becky? I uh, I was wondering, see, there’s this place, you like Mexican food? There’s this Manny’s,” Todd Stammered.

“Oh! I love Manny’s,” Candy interrupted. “Love Mexican food; there salsa is the best.”

“Manny’s? Yeah, they got good salsa,” Becky agreed, voice calm, even.

“And uh, then after? We uh, we can go bowling; you like bowling?” Todd asked, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

“I love bowling,” Candy interrupted.

“Bowling, the sport?” Becky clarified and Todd nodded, frowning at such an odd question.

“Never been,” Becky agreed, voice still quite calm.

“Want to?” Todd asked.

“When?” Becky asked.

“Um, uh, how ’bout uh, Thursday?” Todd asked.

It had taken all of his courage to get up from his table and walk to where he saw Becky sitting with two other students. Todd had told Dweeb, he didn’t know the boy’s real name to watch his back pack and walked to where Becky was seated.

His last reserve of courage was quickly depleting; Becky was not making this easy. Her cool, detached manner sapped all of Todd’s strength. And that Candy, Sandy, whatever, good God, why was she interrupting them? This was hard enough without her barging into the conversation.

“Pick me up outside of Murphy’s at six,” Becky agreed, then turned back to her notes. “All right, come on, we still haven’t decided what business we’re going to focus on.”

“Um, oh okay, six,” Todd said and shuffled away.

“Pick any God damned business you want,” Candy snarled, slapping her laptop shut.

“Hey, Candy? Not my fault he asked me and not you,” Becky snapped. “But I am not getting an ‘F’ on this junk, just because your feelings got hurt.”

“Why don’t we pick, oh, I don’t know, how about a Mexican restaurant?” Jude smirked, clearly enjoying the confrontation between the two girls. “Or maybe a bowling alley. You like bowling, Candy?”

When Becky complained to Professor Laughlin, the man shrugged and told Becky to deal with it. No matter where she went in life, she would be paired with people that didn’t pull their weight; it was up to her to figure out how to get the job done regardless.

On Thursday, Becky Meadows and Becky Brown were sitting outside when Todd shuffled up. Becky Meadows and Becky Brown gave each other a quick kiss, lip to lip, then Becky Meadows pushed her big glasses up her button nose and smiled at Todd. Becky Brown smiled at Todd then went into the dormitory building.

“So, where’s your car?” Becky asked.

“Huh? I uh, I don’t got one,” Todd admitted.

“Oh. We taking an Uber there?” Becky asked.

“I, uh, don’t you drive?” Todd asked.

“Yeah. Didn’t know I was going have to drive,” Becky sighed. “Fine, come on.”

Todd tried several times to start conversations as Becky drove to the Mexican restaurant. Becky wasn’t rude; she just wasn’t very encouraging. She answered Todd’s questions with short answers, asked no questions of him. She offered no opinions or comments to any statements Todd made.

At the restaurant, Becky listened as Todd talked about his declared major, English, with a minor in Mass Communications. Again, Becky wasn’t rude, she just wasn’t very conversational.

“Business,” was all she said when Todd finally asked what her declared major was; she didn’t elaborate.

Becky read Todd’s eyes when the waitress put the check on the table. She wondered if she’d have to pick up the check; Todd’s eyes showed he had not expected the bill to be that high.

“How ’bout I pay half?” Becky finally offered as Todd counted out some crumpled bills.

“I, God damn it, I hate to ask you, but could you?” Todd said, face red with embarrassment.

“And whoever loses at bowling has to pay for that,” Becky agreed, fishing out a twenty dollar bill.

“Okay,” Todd whispered.

Becky won the first game, somehow managing a fifty three to Todd’s forty six. She ‘lost’ the second game and declared that since it was a draw, they’d each pay half.

Todd looked disappointed when Becky drove from bowling alley to Sharp Shire dormitory. She looked at his hangdog expression for a moment.

“What?” she finally asked.

“I uh, well, I mean, Billy, and then Daryn, I mean, they said…” Todd stammered.

“What? Really? You thought, what? You think I’m some kind of slut?” Becky asked, voice becoming shrill.

“Well, no, but…” Todd stammered.

“You think I’m just going flop on my back and let you fuck me?” Becky shrilled, incensed.

“You fucked Billy and Daryn, oh, and Scott,” Todd yelled.

“After the third or fourth date, Todd,” Becky yelled. “Not after just one date. Jesus! You want just a piece of ass? Give that Candy a call that’s all you looking for.”

“Sorry. All right? I’m sorry,” Todd screamed. “I’m sorry about Luanne. I’m sorry I was such a dick about it. I’m sorry, okay?”

Becky pushed her glasses up her button nose, then looked at Todd. She pulled the glasses off and dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse.

“You really hurt me,” she said, voice breaking. “I thought, I mean, you said you loved me.

“Yeah, I know,” Todd mumbled.

She leaned over and gave him a soft, moist kiss. She gently pushed his hand away from her breast and sat back.

“Good night, Todd,” Becky said quietly.

“Uh, so, uh, you doing anything tomorrow night?” Todd asked.

“They just finished putting the carpet in,” Becky said. “So, I’ll probably be doing a walk-through; who knows? It’s good enough, might spend the night there.”

“Huh?” Todd asked.

Becky had not said anything about her new home. Truthfully, Becky had said very little about anything at all during their date. She had not even discussed her father’s passing, a monumental occurrence in her life.

Their next date was to Chuck for hamburgers, then next door for miniature golf. Becky ‘lost’ the game and gave Todd a kiss for winning. She then grimaced and rubbed her lips.

“Might want shave that stuff off your face,” Becky said. “Itches.”

“Hey. I like it,” Todd protested, rubbing his mustache with his index finger.

“Okay,” Becky shrugged. “Like it more than kissing me? That’s fine. Keep it.”

Candy, Jude and Becky finally decided on studying real estate brokerages as their business. Researching was not Jude’s strong suit and Candy just sat and sulked. Becky’s reminders that this project was thirty percent of their grade did little to motivate either Candy or Jude to put forth any tangible effort.

For their third date, Todd reluctantly agreed to go to Cowboy’s for barbeque, then line dancing. Becky stared at Todd when he showed up, mustache and beard still on his face.

It was apparent that Todd did not enjoy line dancing, did not enjoy Country & Western music. And when Becky pulled up to Sharp Shire dorm, Todd became agitated.

“What? What’s your problem?” Becky asked, looking at him.

“I mean, shit; this was our third date,” Todd said.

“Yes? And?” Becky asked, waiting.

“We, third date, I mean, aren’t we going fuck?” Todd asked.

“Won’t even shave that crap off your face?” Becky asked. “And, uh, Todd, just standing there, acting like you’re just too cool to dance? I’m supposed be all hot and ready?”

Todd let out a strangled scream of frustration. Becky shook her head, unimpressed with Todd’s antics.

“Todd, maybe what? Two years ago? Maybe two years ago, before I had a clue what anything was, I would have put up with all of that,” Becky admitted.

“Good night,” Todd spat and left the truck.

The last day in February, Becky moved into her new home. Todd was among the guests she invited for a housewarming party. Becky nodded in approval; he had shaved the fuzz from his face. Becky Brown was also among the guests and latched onto Daryn Blutcher as he sat in a comfortable loveseat.

Becky Brown and Daryn left shortly after wolfing down their plates of spaghetti and meatballs. Becky made sure to tell everyone that her future sister in law, Layla Greene, a recent graduate of a Cordon Bleu school had given her the recipe.

“House is beautiful,” Todd said as the last guest left.

“Thank you,” Becky smiled. “You’ve seen it all?”

“I, yeah, I guess so,” Todd said. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Oh, bet you haven’t seen the back yard,” Becky smiled, pulling him to the atrium doors.

“Becky, shit! It’s like what, ten degrees out here,” Todd complained as Becky pushed him onto a chaise lounge.

“Don’t worry,” Becky smiled and lighted the fire pit. “Be plenty warm in a minute.”

She pulled a heavy fleece blanket from the small outside storage closet and draped it over the chaise lounge. She then made Todd lay down and pulled the blanket over the two of them. She wiggled her butt back until she was mashed against his crotch.

“Still cold?” Becky asked, small hand rubbing lightly over his hard cock.

“I uh, no,” Todd moaned as her hand rubbed him through his jeans and briefs.

“You ARE?” Becky squealed. “Aw, poor baby, you’re frozen solid. Here, let me warm you up.”

Becky deftly unzipped Todd’s jeans and fished his hard cock out of his briefs. The angle wasn’t comfortable, but Becky managed to wrap her small hand around his fat cock.

“How about now? Still cold?” Becky asked, giving him a slow hand job.

“Freezing to death,” Todd agreed, hunching his cock against her hand.

“Oh, poor baby,” Becky clucked. “Well…”

She unzipped her jeans and pushed them down to her knees. She wiggled slightly and Todd’s hard cock began to slide into her wet pussy.

“Oh, yes,” Becky sighed as Todd’s hands massaged her breasts through sweater and bra.

“God, yes,” Todd moaned as he pushed himself into her.

“Still cold?” Becky whispered.

“I’m, um, I’m warming up here,” Todd moaned.

A moment later, Todd stiffened. Becky sighed with contentment as she felt his semen spurt into her. She’d not achieved orgasm; the position was awkward. But she was pleased that she could bring her man to orgasm.

“Damn, it, Becky, its cold out here,” Todd’s complaint woke Becky from her light slumber.

“Shit! Yeah, it is,” Becky giggled, looking at the dying embers of her fire pit.

She dumped some water onto the pile of embers and pulled Todd inside. Both let out a sigh as the warm air greeted them.

In her bedroom, Becky stripped out of heavy sweater and bra, boots and jeans, then assisted Todd out of his clothing. She lay on her bed and spread her legs wide.

“Come on, baby, use that magic tongue on me,” Becky ordered.

Todd obviously did not remember, he had ejaculated into her pussy just an hour earlier. He licked sucked and fingered Becky to a grunting, thrashing orgasm. She then rolled him onto his back, straddled him, and started to ride him hard.

“Yes!” she hissed as Todd began to play with her swinging breasts.

In the morning, after omelets made with some cheese and a few meatballs from the previous evening’s meal, Becky pulled Todd into the bedroom again. Todd was an anal virgin but Becky walked him through getting her tight rectum ready for his fat meat.

“Ugh!” they both cried out as he pushed into her.

Todd looked down and his eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. Her bubble butt was in front of him, two pale hillocks of flesh. There was a shallow furrow bisecting the two sweet globes of flesh. In that narrow furrow was a light brown ring of flesh, shiny with lubrication and the head of his cock was pushing upward into that tight ring of flesh.

“Ugh!” Todd grunted.

“Oh yes,” Becky hissed.

She loved that first stab, when her lover was entering her. The only time she had not liked it was when she’d had Daryn’s immense bulk invading her. Todd was fat, almost too fat for her tiny rosebud. That stab of pain was followed by a delicious warmth in her guts.

“Aiee!” Becky screamed out when Todd’s hands found her hanging breasts.

“Oh God yes, oh yes Todd,” Becky gurgled as Todd’s cock was entirely inside of her, filling her up.

Within minutes, Todd was hammering Becky’s ass hard. She grunted, screamed, and shuddered in orgasm. A moment later, Todd stiffened and blasted his load into her guts, triggering a second mild orgasm within Becky’s guts.

They showered together, but didn’t get very clean. Becky’s breasts did get quite soapy, though and she knelt and gave Todd a boob job, masturbating his cock between her breasts. When he blasted his load, she opened her mouth wide and tried to catch all of his cream.

Sunday morning, Becky woke Todd with a blow job, fed him breakfast, then told him she had a mountain of homework. He admitted he too had a mountain of homework to catch up on. She pulled on a bra and a long U.L.D. tee shirt and drove them to the campus.

“I uh, I love you,” Todd said when Becky pulled in front of Sharp Shire dorm.

“Aw! Thank you; that’s sweet,” Becky said and kissed him.

“I, you not going say it?” Todd asked, hurt.

“Hmm? Todd, I’m not sure, I’m not sure I love you,” Becky said honestly. “Got to remember; thought I loved you once before and you kind of shit on that.”

Todd didn’t answer; just jerked on the door handle and let himself out. Becky sighed when he slammed her truck’s door.

“Shit! Jesus, I said I’m sorry,” Todd yelled.

“Yeah, well sometimes sorry just don’t cut it, Todd,” Becky said, turning up an old Mindy McCready song. “Yeah, tell ’em, Mindy. Guys do it all the time, right?”

Becky was enraged with Jude and Candy when their Business Principles & Applications project received a grade of 79. She saw she would have to make a 100 on the mid-term and a 100 on the final exams if she wanted to maintain her 4.0 GPA. For Jude and Candy, though, a ’79’ was a great grade.

Two hours later, Becky was still angry with Candy and Jude. The sound of the steady rain drowned out the lecture of Early European History. Finally the professor waved the students out of the hall forty minutes before the class was to end; he was tired of repeating himself, tired of trying to be heard over the rain.

Marching out of Gilbert Hall, even with her umbrella, Becky was drenched. That morning, it had been fifty degrees, so Becky had worn a light sweater. Now, the air was a very chilly thirty eight degrees and the gusts of wind made it seem much colder.

The early March air was cold, the rain was cold. But the air underneath the umbrella was warm and Becky’s glasses fogged over, making it difficult to find her truck.

Once safely inside of her truck, Becky cranked the heater to full blast. She then carefully backed out of her space; there were other students racing about on foot and in cars and on bicycles. She sighed with some relief when she managed to leave the U.L.D. parking lot without incident.

The rain fell in sheets; visibility was minimal. Becky crawled through the streets of DeGarde, Louisiana, ignoring the one or two idiots that bleated their horns at her slow progress.

Turning onto Charles Lane, Becky had to brake when a yellow Smart car nearly came to a stop in front of her. The small car turned on Oak Park and Becky continued. Another gust blew the driving wind sideways and Becky slowed to a crawl again.

She almost didn’t see the girl. The girl’s sweater was dark gray and her skirt was dark gray. Fortunately, the headlights picked up the white knee socks and black and white saddle oxfords the girl wore.

As Becky slowly passed the girl, she vaguely recognized the forlorn figure. The girl was a neighbor, living two houses down Tallow Road from Becky’s own home. She did not know the girl’s name but the girl waved to her whenever they saw one another.

“Hey!” Becky called out, rolling the passenger window down. “Hey, get in.”

Montana ‘Monty’ Gardner stopped walking, wondering if she should run. The Baylor Lake High School student knew better than to get into a stranger’s car. But she was cold, wet, miserable.

“Thanks,” Monty said, scampering into the truck and closing the door.

“The bus lets you off this far from your house?” Becky asked as she resumed her slow progress.

“Huh? No, oh hey, you’re the woman moved into that house!” Monty said, recognizing the woman, now recognizing the truck.

“Yeah, right down the street from you and your mom,” Becky agreed.

“Not my mom,” Monty actually giggled, holding out her dark hand.

Monty’s father was a Pakistani. He was actually a second generation Pakistani-American; his grandparents had immigrated to America in 1961. His grandparents acclimated themselves to American culture. His parents acclimated themselves to the American way of life; they called themselves Americans. But James Carter Ahjib was radicalized in college. He called himself Amir Mohammed Ahjib and identified himself as Pakistani, disassociating himself from the Great Satan, America.

Radicalized or not, Amir did like blondes with big tits and had impregnated Chloe Kennedy, a fellow college student. Upon her birth, the baby was named Coltoom Ahjib. She was female, therefore, Amir disavowed any parentage. So, Chloe took him to court.

Enraged that the infidel Chloe Kennedy would dare bring dishonor to him, Amir vowed to murder her. He also vowed to murder the judge, an infidel who had no right to pass any judgement against him. After all, he followed the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed and this judge did not follow the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed. For that little threat, Amir was given jail time.

Upon his release, Amir did make good on his promise; he did behead Chloe Kennedy. He was captured as he attempted to enter the courthouse, searching for the judge who dared sentence him.

Political correctness being what it is, and fearing that the few Muslims in the community would make Amir Mohammed Ahjib some sort of martyr, it was almost three years before Amir was finally brought to trial for Chloe Kennedy’s murder. At his trial, Amir vowed to slaughter his daughter, the cursed dog Coltoom Ahjib.

Fearing their son’s threats, Amir’s parents sadly gave custody of the girl to Chloe’s half-sister, Margaret Gardner. Margaret Gardner first moved from Benhurst, Colorado to Lowridge, Texas. She also had Coltoom’s name changed so that Amir or Amir’s friends could not easily find them.

Hannah Montana,” Coltoom said when she was asked what name she’d like; she was a huge fan of the Disney Channel’s hit show.

“Oh, that’s nice, but how about just Montana?” Margaret suggested.

One morning, Margaret woke up to find two of her tires slashed. It was just a random act of juvenile vandalism, but Margaret was sure it was a warning from Amir’s friends so she and Monty moved to Colfax, Missouri.

One winter morning, a rat froze to death. Unfortunately, it had frozen to death on Margaret’s doorstep. Margaret was sure it was another warning so they moved again. Another incident, another move. Another incident, another move. Margaret grew to resent the caramel skinned girl that had brought so much hardship upon her.

This last move had been to Baylor Lake, Louisiana. Margaret vowed it would be the last move; Montana was now eighteen. The next move, Monty would be undertaking that move on her own.

The rain did not let up as Becky continued to drive along Charles Lane. From behind them, an impatient driver swerved around them, jammed his accelerator and spun his tires for a moment before fishtailing nearly 180 degrees.

“See, ass hole? That’s why I’m crawling here,” Becky said to the other car.

She smiled and shook her head. Monty smiled and agreed.

“So, why did the bus let you out so far away?” Becky asked again.

“Bus didn’t. I had to walk home from school,” Monty sniffled, then started to cry.

The eighteen year old girl told Becky that she had planned to spend the night with Candy Thibodeaux, a friend that also attended Baylor Lake High School. She had planned to ride on bus number 83 with Candy to Candy’s house.

“Bus one forty three leaves and I’m waiting and I’m waiting, and then Candy comes up and says she’s real sorry; she forgot all about it,” Monty sobbed. “She forgot all about it and she’s going go to Chris’s house but we’ll do it next weekend and they just leave me there.”

“And they couldn’t just bring you home?” Becky asked.

“Chris Breaux? Calls me a ‘Sand N*gger.’ No way he’d ever let me get in his car,” Monty said bitterly.

“And this Candy just… Monty, that don’t sound like no friend to me,” Becky said. “A friend wouldn’t just up and leave you like that. A friend wouldn’t ever go out with some guy says such hateful stuff about a friend.”

“Know what? You’re right,” Monty agreed, fresh tears coming to her eyes.

Becky sighed with real relief when she saw the windmill in front of the white and light blue house; this landmark let her know this was her street. She put on her blinker and made the turn. The driver behind her jammed his hand on his horn and did not let up until he was a block further up Charles Lane.

“What. Ever, jerk face,” Becky said to the irate driver.

“I will be so glad to get out of these wet things,” Becky said to Monty as she pulled underneath the carport in front of Monty’s house. “You need take a hot shower so you don’t catch your death of cold.”

“Thanks so much, Miss Becky,” Monty said, opening the door of the truck.

“Of course. We’re neighbors,” Becky smiled. “And, don’t call me ‘Miss Becky,’ that makes me sound so old.”

Monty didn’t say anything, just closed the door. Becky backed out into the downpour and turned back up Tallow, then turned left and into her own driveway. The garage door went up and she pulled her truck into the garage.

“Whew! Thank you God!” Becky enthused, thoroughly relieved to be home.

She unlocked the door and let herself into the warm home. She flicked the kitchen light on and slipped her feet out of her dripping wet tennis shoes. She pulled the sodden socks from her feet and closed the garage door.

Barefoot now, she walked through to the living room. The small lamp was on, casting a soft, welcoming glow about the comfortable room.

As she passed the hall bathroom, Becky reached in and flicked the heater on. She then shut the door to keep the warmth in the room.

In her bedroom, Becky selected her short flannel top and her flannel shorts. She slipped her feet into her fuzzy Panda Bear slippers and returned to the hall bathroom.

Becky still adored her Panda Bear slippers; her mother’s father had given her a pair of the black and white slippers when she had been a little girl of four years old. Sixteen years later, Becky continued to wear Panda Bear slippers, even though Pop-pop had been gone for ten years now.

When she reached the bathroom door, the doorbell gave a hearty chime. A split second later, there was a rapping on her front door.

Becky cautiously made her way to the front door; she was not expecting company. Todd had called her the other day and had attempted to keep his tone cheerful, but Becky could tell that Todd was still upset from the perceived slight; she had not told him she loved him when he had told her he loved her. Upon reflection, Becky was still convinced she’d been right; she wasn’t sure of her feeling for Todd Moore, and saw no benefit in saying something she might not feel.

Becky peered through the side peephole Paul Robichaux had installed for her. There was a peephole installed in the door itself, but Becky would have had to pull a stool in front of the door to use the standard peephole. Paul installed one in the door jamb itself, at an angle that looked out onto the small front porch.

“My wife’s four foot five,” Paul smiled when Becky had squealed in delight.

“Ask him how tall his other wife is,” one of Paul’s crew called out.

“I pay you run your mouth?” Paul called back. “Huh? Or I pay you keep your melon head down and do your work?”

“Melon head,” another crew member laughed.

“You too, Flap Ears,” Paul said as Becky looked through the peephole, marveling at the view.

“Flap ears,” ‘Melon Head’ laughed.

Now Becky peered and saw Monty standing at the door, looking absolutely miserable. Becky unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Forgot my Aunt Margaret needed my keys; she left hers at work, but since I was supposed go to Candy’s it wasn’t no big deal,” Monty sobbed out. “And after work she and Miss Louise was going go to the casino so ain’t no telling when she’ll be back.”

“Oh you poor girl! Come on, get in here,” Becky urged, taking Monty’s hand.

From across the street, Becky could tell that the dark skinned girl was a beauty, with her waist length brown and blonde hair. In the truck, Becky had been too focused on driving safely, despite the horse’s ass behind her to pay any attention to Montana’s looks.

Here, face to face in her living room, Becky could see that Montana Gardner was stunning. Her brown hair had streaks of blonde woven in. Her head was square with large golden eyes underneath a heavy brow. Her nose was slender, leading to full lips. Her jaw and chin were square, strong.

The sweater and white blouse were drenched, so stuck to Monty’s figure. Becky saw a white lace bra and Monty’s caramel colored skin through the translucent blouse. The skirt also clung to Monty, showing well-formed hips and muscular legs.

“Come on; I’m already getting the bathroom warm,” Becky insisted, pulling Monty to the hall bathroom.

“Whew!” Monty sighed as the warm air of the bathroom wrapped around her in a cocoon of warmth.

“You can use the shower, or if you want, there’s the bath,” Becky said, putting her flannel sleepwear onto the counter. “You want to do that? Soak in a nice hot bath?”

“Can I?” Monty sobbed.

“Oh, absolutely!” Becky enthused, hugging the crying girl. “Day like you’ve had? Bet a nice bath’s just what you need.”

“Thank you, Miss Becky,” Monty cried, clinging onto Becky.

Aunt Margaret wasn’t hostile to Montana. But, because she resented Monty, blamed the girl for their numerous moves, Aunt Margaret was not affectionate. She didn’t hug or kiss the girl.

“And, come on. I’ll put these into the wash, I’ll get you something wear while these get cleaned,” Becky said and began to unbutton Monty’s sweater.

Monty did not object to being undressed by another woman. She docilely allowed Becky to unbutton sweater and blouse, allowed Becky to unzip her skirt.

Becky had that odd, slightly uncomfortable feeling in her belly. As her fingers worked the buttons through the wet material, she felt that strange sensation, the same sensation she had whenever she and Becky Brown would kiss. She had that same feeling she’d had when Coach Smith would touch her thighs, her waist.

Becky showed Monty how to adjust the temperature of the water, showed Monty where the controls for the whirlpool jets were located and waited. Monty shrugged out of her bra, exposing her 30C cone shaped breasts. Becky’s eyes focused on Monty’s dark brown half-dollar sized areoles, crinkled from wearing a cold, wet bra, focused on Monty’s hard, fat nipples. That feeling of being off-balance was strong in Becky’s guts as she stared at Monty’s flesh.

Monty’s navel was a tiny dent in her flat belly. Becky smiled, thinking of her own nub of a belly button; she had an ‘outtie’ belly button.

Monty’s white cotton panties were also translucent and Becky could see the dark triangle of fur capping Monty’s prominent pubic mound. Monty wiggled out of her wet panties, then turned to adjust the water temperature. She held her hand underneath the running water and Becky looked at Monty’s sweetly rounded buttocks.

“How tall are you?” Becky asked, turning to leave the bathroom.

“Four eleven. Tell people I’m five even, but I’m really not,” Monty admitted, sinking into the nearly scalding water.