Come Home With Me Pt. 01

In order to avoid a plethora of comments and e-mails about geographical errors and unbelievable people this story needs an introduction. Several of the different aspects, locations and people are based on those I have known, places I have been, and dilemma's I have witnessed or experienced. The main character is based on a kid that lived a mile away who was by most determinations "larger than life" considering her was already six foot one in his freshman year and six foot four when he graduated. He was indeed a big bad mean motor scooter, he had been all-state as a guard his sophomore through senior years and received a football scholarship to play for Iowa but ruined that opportunity the summer after graduating by blowing out a knee playing softball. As in the story, he ended up in the Marines.

I needed a remote location for the story and chose Bemidji, MN having spent a few summers there camping as a teen. The little towns I mention are real names but the content concerning them is fictional. The romance and title are based on something that I experienced, I actually asked a girl from another state to "come home with me" with the intent of marrying her. It didn't work out but did provide me with the impetus for this far-fetched story decades later.

For the guy who will comment on the PTSD issue as though I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, know this. I have the scars of two bullets in my gut received during combat and know all too well the ravages of PTSD. It doesn't have to kill you, but it will damned sure slow you down for a season. My aunt said it best in regard to her late husband, "he died in Vietnam, it just took forty years to kill him."

Come Home With Me part one

Finishing the gigantic porterhouse in a fancy steak place in downtown Chicago I thought back to how I'd gotten here. I had always been the black sheep of the family, my two older brothers had become successful wealthy businessmen doing it the legal way instead of how our old man got his money. He was always involved in a scam or con job, always fleecing someone. He had moved around enough that he didn't face retribution very often, the last six years of his life had been spent in Chicago, that is until somebody from his past decided to put a bullet into his thieving body. One low caliber shot dead center to the forehead with a hollow point leaving a gaping cavity at the back. The DA wasn't quite sure it was a professional hit, gee, what did he miss that everyone else saw?

I didn't know it until I was already gone from home but the woman we called mom was actually never anything more than someone living with the old man. She wasn't our stepmom, nor his wife, she was just someone who put up with his crap and raised his boys. I was a sophomore in high school when I came home to discover she was gone, the old man said she'd abandoned us, we knew no different. With the oldest out of school and the next a senior ready to graduate we were left with the impression that our mother had walked away and left us.

My anger and bitterness escalated after I'd blown out my knee erasing any chance of a college scholarship. The long, ever-increasing boil within resulted in a plethora of bad decisions. I had a block on my shoulders a yard wide, I was always in fights, arrested several times for underage drinking, always in trouble of some sort. I hadn't been out of high school a year and was already known as a thuggish ner-do-well looking at considerable time in the lock up. Though it's seldom done anymore, the local judge gave me a choice to go in the military or a year in jail. I vividly recall him pointing at me and snarling, "Your choice boy, go in the Marines and be a man or go to jail and be somebodies bitch."

There was no question in my mind, it would be while in the Marines that I would see more time in combat than I ever imagined. Iraq was winding down, but Afghanistan was going strong, after six years I got out of the Marines still full of the same anger and bitterness I'd entered the Marines with. The problem was that now I had no one to take it out on, at least over there I could shoot at someone if they shot at me. Having been discharged at Pendleton I bought a used Harley fat boy and set out to find adventure, it found me, and not in a good way.

Within a week I was embroiled in a barroom brawl over some chick who was getting the shit slapped out of her. I didn't know at the time that it was her old man, but I didn't care either, obviously his mom never taught him it's not okay to hit girls. I proceeded to kick his miserable ass within a few inches of his life, unbeknownst to me he was part of a local pseudo biker gang, I say pseudo because they were basically the weekend warrior type. Given my size, the anger issues I still dealt with, and a heaping helping of PTSD I was relentless in making sure this guy never slapped another woman. Those very same things also kept the others at bay, had they decided to pounce as one, I'd have had no chance.

As I left the bar headed for my bike I felt a hand on my shoulder, as I spun my arm was cocked and ready to unload, that is until I saw it was a woman, not just any woman, the one that had been getting slapped around. She looked the worse for wear, lips puffy and swollen, her nose looked broken, eyes puffed up and beginning to discolor, I felt bad for her but had no idea what to do. She reached for and touched my arm.

"Thank you, I was afraid he was gonna kill me this time. I've been putting up with this shit for over a year, and today it was all about how I took a swig of his beer without asking. I mean, what the hell, he's been fucking me every which way but Sunday and I'm supposed to ask for a drink of his beer? Anyway, thanks and if you're interested in being involved with real bikers I can let my brother know. He rides with the Mongols."

Now that was some serious shit, from what I knew, once you made it into the Mongols you seldom if ever got out. I wasn't interested in that kind of commitment, there were other things I wanted to do with my life. Three weeks later I was at a roadside stop taking a break when I first heard the rumble, a noise never mistaken for anything more than it was.... motorcycles, lots of motorcycles. I watched at least two dozen drive by and then froze as the lead bike slowed down and spun around, it was headed my way. I was not looking forward to what might await me. It took minutes until the thunder and rumble came to a close with the head bike a few feet from me.

Stepping off he walked toward me, all by himself, "You the mean motherfucker that stepped in at the County Line Bar?" I nodded. "Thanks, that was my niece. I didn't know he was pounding on her or he'd have been put in the hospital sooner."

My mind is whirling, in the hospital, I didn't put the guy in the hospital. It suddenly reached my lightning quick mind, he had. He told me to follow them to a bar called Miller's Place, it was a biker bar, and only a biker bar. Long story short he convinced me to ride with their group, they weren't the Mongols or Bandito's or Hells Angels, but yet, they controlled the drug flow in that area. I told the leader outright I had no intentions of being long term and if that wouldn't work I'd simply go my way. He was fine with that as long as I didn't divulge club info, with the warning that if I did my life would cease to exist.

I'd been with them less than a year when life took an unsuspected turn, I was riding alone returning from a drug delivery late at night when a drunk ran a red light and nailed me broadside. With my right femur, three ribs and right ulna fractured along with multiple contusions, abrasions and lacerations I was what one might call a mess. A few of the guys stopped in at the beginning of my extended hospital stay but that quickly tapered to nothing. I would be in the hospital and extended care for at least four months, they had other places to be and people to see.

The driver's insurance company was willing to cover all my expenses, but I wasn't sure if I'd be taken to the cleaners or not, so I hired an injury lawyer. A year to the week after the accident I straddled my latest Harley and decided that maybe the Midwest was a good place to find peace and solitude. Considering I was still rehabbing and walked with a slight limp I decided for comfort over coolness buying an Electraglide with a trailer to hold what few belongings I had. With all the medical bills paid and a tidy settlement in the bank I headed north along the coast. I intended to see a part of California I'd never seen before I headed east to what people refer to as "fly over country". I wasn't set for life monetarily, but I was comfortable for the time being.

I was in Eureka, CA staying at a motel for a few days to rest my aching body when my life made another unpredicted change. The woman who checked me in on Friday night was not the same woman behind the desk when I went to check out Monday morning. You might ask how that changed my life, the woman behind the desk was none other than the woman I'd called mom most of my life, she didn't recognize me, but I sure as hell recognized her. Wanting to make sure I was right before I unloaded on what I thought was a worthless bitch I asked a few questions.

"You look familiar. Did you once live in Des Moines, Iowa? She nodded. "Were you married to a man named Alvin Hiller?"

She gave me a puzzled look, "Married, no, I was never married to him, I lived with him and took care of his boys for a time, but I never married him. I'd still be with him if the prick hadn't lost a huge bet and told the guy he could have me for a week as payment. I envisioned being passed from male to male for a week of who knows what, I was on a Greyhound the next morning. I never looked back. The only thing I missed was those boys."

I was stupefied, "I'm Martin, the youngest of those boys. We were told you abandoned us for another guy."

She showed no emotion, "Yeah, your old man never faced up to anything in his life, even his supposed family was a scam. Where are the other two, in jail?"

"No, they both went to college and are businessmen, they're doing very well. I'm the only one considered bad except the old man, he's still running a scam somewhere. I got out of the Marines after six years and was drifting until I got broadsided. Spent the last five months in rehab. Say, can we talk more? I need to know what the hell really went on. I'll stay another night, maybe I could take you to supper."

She patted my hand, "Why don't you come to supper at my house, I have a wonderful husband and two children. Both girls are in dance, so when Sid takes them to practice you and I can sit on the deck and talk."

At the table her husband kept glancing at me, Linda, the youngest of the girls stared. Her older sister Lili was glancing furtively. I decided I needed to know what was going on. Facing Adrian I asked,

"What's the deal, why is everyone looking at me?"

She laughed softly, more like a chuckle, "Well Martin, you must admit you're rather large. You've got to be at least six foot two or three. You're broad shouldered and thin waisted just like the Marine posters. You look like you belong on a muscle beach in southern Cali instead of Eureka. That's why we're all staring."

I smiled, "It's six foot four actually. Not sure where all the height came from, far as I know I'm the only one of my family over six foot. The rest comes from having worked out and running every day before the accident, I'm starting to regain some of my former strength and agility. Nobody fff... messes with me."

Adrian looked at me with those scolding kind of eyes that only a mother can convey, "Thank you Martin, they've heard the word before but not within these walls. I appreciate you correcting yourself." Then added, "I noticed your limp, how did that happen?"

I gave them the short version of my year long ordeal and that from Eureka I was planning to head east, maybe find somewhere in the upper Midwest to call home. I laughed as she said something about finding a woman and being a dad someday. I was invited to stay in their home the rest of the week, capped off by an enjoyable weekend, the first in a long time. Most memorable for me and what made me begin to think children might be okay was their daughter Lili, at the age of six she did more to boost my wellbeing than anyone before.

I woke on the morning I was going to leave to find her snuggled next to me on top of the covers and under her favorite blankie as she called it. Next to my head was a teddy bear named Fred and a homemade cloth doll named Alice. I was about to say something when her mother stepped through the open doorway.

"Lili, what are you doing in bed with mister Martin, were you cold?"

"No mama, he was having a bad dream, so I brought Fred and Alice, then we laid down with him. He stopped having his bad dream and I fell asleep."

A 6 year old did more to help with my PTSD issues than anyone at the VA had been able to accomplish in years. I'd heard people talk about being wrapped around a little girl's finger, now I knew what they meant. How does a tiny creature like that win the heart of a massive man like me so quickly? I left on a bright sunshiny Monday morning with tears in my eyes, I hadn't cried in ages, but a little girl with a heart big as the Grand Canyon changed that. I had knelt on one knee to hug Lili goodbye, as she moved back she looked at me with quivering lips and tears welling.

"You can take Fred if you need him, I will still have Alice."

Shit, shit and double shit. How the hell can one not be softened by such unselfishness? The thought crossed my mind, "If adults were more like this little girl the world would be a much better place". I sat her on my knee as I hugged her one more time.

"Thank you Lili, but I think Fred and Alice should be together, I was talking with them, they like being with you best. So maybe they should stay here with you."

Her lips stopped quivering and her eyes instantly brightened as she gave me another squeeze and bound back into the house. Adrian thanked me and told me to make sure I didn't become a stranger, that I was welcome anytime. I wasn't sure I would ever make it back, but it certainly felt nice to be wanted. Driving into the early morning sun the warmth felt good on my body, I was headed away from the coast with hopes and expectations of a better life, my goal was to find somewhere not completely isolated, but not heavily populated either.

One of the nurses I'd come to know well hailed from Northern Minnesota and talked about how she wished she was back there at times. That was a viable option as far as I was concerned, I'd never seen Mount Rushmore nor the Badlands, I planned to see them since they were sort of on the way to wherever I was going. Traveling east on 80 I determined it might be worth driving a bit further north to check things out. It was late May, I had been anticipating cooler temps and was pleasantly surprised at how warm it was when I got back on the road. I made it to the Badlands by Thursday, spent a full day there and headed to Mount Rushmore.

I received lots of stares along the way, usually in diners or motels. I didn't fit the biker image with a trailer behind my bike, I didn't fit the weekend warrior image either, people stared for the simple fact that I was a big man with long hair on a Harley. It had been months since I'd hooked up so when a young thing of a chubby nature started flirting with me while she waited my table I decided to go with the flow. She was around five foot six, a bit of a muffin top, good sized breasts and the cutest damned pixy smile I'd ever seen. When I got ready to leave she asked if I was spending the night locally.

"I'm over at the Sunrise Motel. Did you have something in mind?"

She smiled as she handed me the bill, "I have you in mind. Got anything against showing a country girl a good time?" I shook my head. "Good, give me your room number, I'm off at eight."

At 8:15 I answered a knock on my door, she'd changed from her waitress outfit and was now wearing a cute mini dress, it couldn't have been more than mid-thigh if that. As I turned to close the door she pushed my hand off the knob, shoved the door closed and laid a smoldering kiss on my lips. Wondering if I should be concerned about STD's I asked.

"How often do you do this.... mmm, I forgot to look at your name tag."

"It's Gloria and I don't do this. I'm home for the summer and haven't had any lovin for three months, you're the first since before I left college, and to be frank, I wasn't getting much there either. I don't want to ball anybody from town because none of them can keep their mouth shut, the closest city where I'm not known is sixty miles away. Your cute, big as hell, and if your dick matches the rest of you, I'll be a happy girl come morning."

With her on tippy toes and me bending down her arms were around my neck, her ample breasts were pressed into me, her pelvis was grinding against me when she pulled back looking into my eyes.

"Can we skip the suck and lick part? I just want your dick buried in me deep, I want to feel you explode inside me, I love that feeling."

She had my pants open and my meat hanging in a matter of seconds. Lifting her skirt I discovered an uncovered bush, leaning against the wall with her legs open she reached between us, placed the head of my cock at the opening of her vagina and pushed against it. I was surprised and pleased at how wet she was, I'm not porn star huge but I've never had trouble satisfying a woman with the seven plus I do have. I had bent my knees slightly, so as she had lowered I pushed up until about half the length of my dick was in, we continued that rhythm until on the fourth try her warm bare pussy met with my pelvis. With my cock buried as deep as our bodies would let us she held tight to my neck and stopped.

"Oh my gosh, you're deep, I haven't ever had one this deep. Give me a minute for my body to adjust and then fuck me hard."

Having not had any pussy for a while I was concerned I might cum sooner than I wanted to, thankfully my body held out as she came twice while we fucked leaning against the wall. With my dick still in her and our clothes still on I maneuvered her to the bed, raised her off my cock and tossed her on the bed. She laughed and squealed as she lay back putting her hands behind her knees and lifting her legs alongside her body. I wasted no more time than it took to shed my pants and underwear, with her hands still behind her knees I moved into her cushy love saddle, sliding my cock the full length with a slow steady push. When our bodies met she whispered to herself I think as much to me.

"Oh fuck, this is so good. Give it to me big boy, make me squeal and fill my pussy with cum."

Hell, she didn't even know my name yet, all she wanted was a good time in the sack. We didn't last twenty minutes before she stiffened, let out a deep moan and pushed up into me as I slammed into her one last time. It felt like the tip of my dick was gonna explode, I hadn't cum that hard in who knows how long. As I was pumping stream after stream into her she was grinding her hips into me as though her pussy was milking me completely dry. I had to agree with her, it was "so fucking good". We lay side by side sated for the time being.

We were back at it again by midnight, her on hands and knees, chest on the bed with her back arched, scrumptious ass lifted high. Neither of us had to assist getting me buried deep, it was like her hungry pussy reached out and grabbed ahold of my cock. I could have sworn it literally sucked me inside until my balls bumped her clit. I had ahold of her ponytail when I bottomed out, she wiggled her ass and hissed, "Fuck it, fuck it hard, I need to cum again."