Note: This is the ninth chapter in what will be a fairly long series. If you haven't read Chapters 1-8, this section won't make any sense. I mean, the sex scenes will mostly stand alone, but there's a pretty significant back-story. Anyway, thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated! Special thanks to AnInsatiableReader for helping me clean it up.
Keep in mind: this story is set in 2007.... the year I started writing it. I know. Sorry. Anyway, since it is set in 2007, things relating to sports in this chapter are from 2007. I've even used some new-fangled literary tool called.. er.. foreshadowin' or somethin'. I read about it in a book. Anyway... enjoy!!
Day 8
Thursday, June 19
Sumter, SC to Pittsburgh, PA
People have a lot of foolish reasons for waking up at the buttcrack of dawn.
For instance, a Marine buddy of mine tried multiple times to get me out on the links with him at 5 a.m. My grandfather loved to be out on the lake as early as possible, line cast and beer in hand in time to see the sunrise. My uncle back in Idaho routinely woke up in the middle of the night to go hunting, hoping to be out in the woods with something in his sights before alarms went off in the eastern time zone.
Me? I don't hunt, but I don't have a problem with those who do. I couldn't catch a fish if it jumped into the cooler for me, but I still try my hand at it once in a while. And while I think golf is the stupidest game invented, I'd learned early on in my business proposal process that more money changes hands on the 7th fairway of your local country club than in any corporate boardroom. So, I took up the game.
But getting up before the sun, the roosters and the active duty Marines? Fuck all that. That insanity was reserved for three things: gushing arteries, sex, and baseball.
Thus, I was cruising north out of Charlotte, North Carolina on I-77 at 6:30 a.m., trying to reach Pittsburgh by 2 in the afternoon. Josh, a buddy I'd met through playing fantasy baseball online, had season tickets to the Pirates. First pitch was at 4 p.m., and I wanted to get there in time to tailgate with him for a little while prior to the game. Since they were his tickets, I was going to have to root for the Pirates – an activity best done under the influence.
I'd only gotten a couple of hours of sleep after Kelly and I hung up, but I was still mostly alert due to a cup of coffee I'd grabbed from a Starbucks in Columbia. Just plain coffee didn't really do it justice – it had more names than a soap diva on her fifth husband and tasted a java-flavored sugar, and it definitely had my blood buzzing. Unfortunately, it was still too early to wake Kelly up – nymphomaniacs need sleep, too – and I wouldn't be dealing with any big city traffic until I hit Pittsburgh, so I decided to use the quiet time to take stock of my situation.
A week ago, I'd pulled out of San Antonio, free from my commitment to the Marines and ready to explore the country. I'd just had some pretty hot phone sex with a girl I barely knew, and while I figured I'd get laid a couple times along the way, I was really just eager to watch a lot of baseball and see a lot of concerts, catch up with some old friends and visit some parts of America I'd never been to.
I'd done all that, but the sex had been pretty much constant, too. During a three-day country music festival in Tulsa, I'd had sex with three women and played around with a couple more, including two threesomes. I used a big blue vibrator to get a pretty redhead off in my car on the way to the Florida panhandle, where I was going to visit my best friend from high school.
I'd watched a future major leaguer hit four grand slams in one minor league game, and a few hours later I had a foursome with my best friend, his girlfriend and a local girl I'd met. During a trip to Charleston to see some of my old military buddies, I'd given an attitude adjustment to a loudmouth girl I met during dinner, fucking her brains out while looking out at the Atlantic Ocean and earning a visit from the local police in the process.
Yesterday, I'd gone to visit my grandparents' graves and caught up with two of my cousins. One had been a planned meeting – the other had been part of a steamy threesome in my hotel room. I hadn't seen her in 15 years, but luckily we'd realized we were related just before we went too far.
The most surprising development, though, was Kelly. A week ago, she was a girl I'd had sizzling phone sex with, and someone I thought I might like to get to know a little better. Now, she was everywhere in my brain. She was on my mind when I woke up in the morning, and she was the last thought I had before going to sleep.
She insisted that I tell her everything I did in finite, explicit detail, and usually had her fingers buried in her pussy while I told the story. In Pensacola, we'd had phone sex on speakerphone while my friend Scott and his girlfriend Lynette had actual sex in the next room. The next night, we had phone sex again, this time while I fooled around with Stacy, the girl who'd joined Scott, Lynette and I in a foursome just a few minutes earlier.
Kelly was spontaneous, open-minded, funny, and genuinely caring – not to mention blood-boilingly sexy. Besides sex, we shared a lot of the same interests, and could talk for hours without getting anywhere near an X rating. Of course, I had no idea what she looked like, what her plans were beyond the Taco Bell she ran in Idaho, or if we'd have any kind of chemistry in person.
As a 23-year-old male, I was of course thrilled at the amount of action I'd been getting on this trip, but as each day passed, I was getting more and more bummed out that Kelly wasn't with me. There were only so many ways I could tell her what I'd been doing over the phone, and besides, if she was with me, her bubbly persona and overflowing sexuality would have no doubt enhanced each of my encounters.
To sum up: I was damn sure going to enjoy the rest of my jaunt across the US of A, and lap up each and every opportunity that came my way. But for the next two weeks at least, Kelly was a permanent fixture in my life, and I was looking forward to finishing the trip so I could meet her and see if there was a real connection.
I stopped a little before 9 a.m. in Wytheville, a town halfway through the state of Virginia on I-77. When I got back in the car, I noticed my cell phone blinking at me. I had one missed call – apparently, Kelly was up early.
"Not answering my phone calls now, huh?" she answered when I called back. She sounded like she'd just woken up – that is, insanely scorching hot.
"Well, there's an urban legend about cell phones triggering static electricity and blowing up gas tanks," I replied. "And really, not sure what the 300-pound trucker using the urinal right next to me would have thought if I'd whipped out my cell mid-stream."
"Maybe he'd want a little piece of you, too, huh?" she giggled. A little after 7 a.m. her time, and she was already in sex mode.
"There's a pretty long line for that, or so I hear," I said, firing up the Stratus and pulling back onto the highway.
"You hear correctly," she said. "Except, I don't want just a little piece."
"Oh?"
"I'm a whole pie kind of gal," she said, and I could almost see her licking her lips as she did.
"With whipped cream and a cherry on top?"
"Whipped cream, definitely," she purred. "I don't know how many cherries are left, but you can have whatever you can find."
Jesus.
"Anyway," she continued before I could come up with a suitable answer. "You only missed my call by a minute. The pot is starting to bubble, but it hasn't boiled over just yet." Her 'just' lasted about five seconds.
"What were you thinking about, huh?" I asked.
"Just keeping the dream I was having going now that I'm awake," she said.
"Which was?"
"Simple," she said. "Your cock in my pussy. From behind. Forcing me down into my mattress. So hard that I'm biting down on the blanket to keep from screaming out. Blistering my ass with your palms."
Damn, I thought. She must have been close when she called. She usually liked to warm up a little bit, but this time was straight to the point. I generally liked to warm up, too, but I could jump in late in the game when necessary. My cock went from about half awake to massively uncomfortable in less than a second.
"You are such a dirty little girl," I spat out, taking as strong a tone as I could. "You like taking it from behind like this... you like it when I turn your milky little ass black and blue, don't you?"
"Mmhmm." It was barely a whimper.
"What would your neighbors think, Kelly? I bet most of them are really, really conservative, aren't they? What would they think if they found out the sweet, proper little girl next door was really a depraved slut who likes having her head forced down into the pillow while she gets plowed like a wheat field?"
I'd never called her a name before, but I didn't think she'd mind. She didn't.
"I am a slut," she said. "Your slut."
"I know you are, Kelly," I continued, rubbing my cock through my shorts as I talked. "And you know what good sluts do, right?"
"Hmm?" she moaned the question.
"Good little sluts cum on command," I said.
"Oh, fuuuuuck," was her reply. I badly wanted to toy with her a little bit, just to see how long I could keep her on the edge, but that would have been unfair. She'd been at it before I called, so she was probably already too close.
"Are you a good little slut?" I asked. I thought of a hundred possible replies – she came up with number 101.
"I want to be." She said it so meekly, so demurely, in stark contrast to the heavy-breathing sex goddess she'd been a few moments before. "For you."
