Life At Islands Estates Ch. 21

Fall evaporated into winter, then the spring rains soaked us for weeks making road construction next to impossible. Finally the warm breezes of the summer of 1967, allowed us to move full speed ahead on the project. Lots were selling briskly, and houses seemingly sprang from the earth along the man made canals.

The commercial hub of the community had also started to take shape with the emergence of a Winn Dixie grocery store and Hess Oil had begun construction on a gas station. A strip mall was being surveyed and any number of other ventures for retail.

Helen Blossom has contacted nearly all of the managing directors connected with the extensive commercial holdings included in dads financial empire, and informed them of our intent to sell our percentage of each property to whoever is interested. We have entertained several bids and accepted each bid as reasonable. Closings on the sale of the holdings had begun with the stipulation that all payments are made by certified funds directly into our corporate account at the time of each closing. No fucking credit or payments!

Rita had advised us on Christmas Eve that we would be expecting a new arrival somewhere around the end of July. Caroline was most interested in how big Rita's tummy was becoming as the summer progressed and she was a big help in getting the nursery ready again for the new youngun. Billy Joe was making tracks in every direction and had joined Caroline and I on our daily treks around the estate. Caroline was learning new words every day and could carry on a conversation just like an adult. Sometimes she made more sense than the grown ups I had conversations with.

Sandra's house was nearing completion. It of coarse had taken on much larger proportions than she had originally envisioned but hey, I never do anything in a small way. It had been constructed using the same concrete and steel method as the main house, veneered with river stone, and clay tile roof. Just under five thousand square feet, it had five bedrooms, with full baths, a family room, dining room and living room, three-car garage and a monster kitchen. It also had a cozy den and a small spa.

The stable had been erected and a beautiful barn. These also built of concrete and stone with clay tile roofs. A rail fence separated the two buildings and surrounded the exercise ring and pasture. We had run 22,000 miles up on the big tractor-trailer rig, hauling the stone from Fernandina Beach.

Gerald and his crew spent all summer brushing out some of the woods to open up the yard. The tall pines dominated the property, but the entire north and south ends of the estate remained choked in Palmetto scrub. I love this place.

The war in Vietnam was raging. In May I received a letter from the Selective Service Administration informing me that the president required my services to help ensure national security. This sent us all into a tailspin. But I was eager to do my duty so on the appointed day, I reported to the induction center in Jacksonville. I went through all kinds of written tests, which proved I was smarter than I thought. When it came time for my physical examination, the good doctors took one look at the miserable condition of my feet and declared me unfit for military service due to FLAT FEET! One of those same doctors told me I was headed for a long painful time with my feet later in life and referred me to a foot man in Ormond Beach who has fitted me with special prescription shoes and I feel like a new man. It actually doesn't hurt to walk anymore. Life is good!

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Camille taught Rita to drive this summer. And in early June she passed her driving test and received the first driver's license of her life. I was proud of her and asked her if I could buy her a car. She told me no, that if she wanted to go any place, she would have me, or one of the others, take her. For some strange reason, I still had the urge to buy a new car so Camille, Rita and I drove down to Daytona to look around. I took a suitcase full of cash along, just in case I found one I liked and wanted to pay for it.

We drove Camille's '62 Lincoln Town Car, which was state of the art, in those days, and only had 29,000 miles on it. I really liked the leather upholstery and power steering. We looked at the Lincolns, Fords, and Mercury's at one dealership and then drove out on US 1 to the GM garage. Rita spied a red Cadillac convertible sitting on the showroom floor. She was drawn to it. They also had a gorgeous black Fleetwood stretch limousine, a Deville, four-door and a two-door.

I added up on my fingers, Rita, Camille, Louise, Helen, Gerald, Marie, Sandra if she learned how to drive, and Susan just because she still wanted to fuck me so bad, even if Gerald had asked her to get married, and myself. Nine altogether.

I picked out a young salesman in a double-breasted, pin stripe suit, how gouache, and I decided to make his day. I collared him and walked him over to the limo and asked if we could sit inside so as not to be disturbed. Camille and Rita climbed in on either side of him and I sat on the long seat on one side. I explained my problem to him simply. I wanted to purchase nine vehicles, I wanted to pay cash and I wanted them today. Could he handle the sale?

His face became ashen at the prospect of a fleet sale, but I think he thought I was jerking his chain. I handed Camille the key to the Lincoln and asked her to retrieve the valise from the trunk and bring it back to me. Our little salesman produced a notebook from his breast pocket and was hastily jotting figures on a page in the book. From another pocket he fetched a sheet listing all the cars available in their inventory and asked about which models I would be interested in.

Camille returned and as she entered the back of the limo, she displayed a yard of bare brown leg and left the skirt pushed up on her hip as she retook her seat. The exposed expanse of skin did not go unnoticed, resting against the sales guy's leg. Camille handed me the case and settled back in her seat. Rita, even with her big pregnant belly, had scooted a bit closer to our man and I could see that he was a trifle nervous with the two mischievous vixens sending heat waves in his direction.

After a few calculations he nervously asked, "You did say cash?"

"Hard cold," I answered.

"And whose name would we put on the titles?" he asked.

"Virgil Ellis," I replied.

"Well, Mr. Ellis, the window sticker price on the vehicles would come to, $326,334.55," he said. "Excluding Tax, Title, and Tag."

"Is this your best deal?" I asked.

"Certainly not," he answered, hurriedly. "I can sweeten the deal, a bunch, with some accessories and of coarse, on a deal this size, we have a little room to negotiate."

"Oh?" I asked.

" Let me speak to my sales manager for a minute and I'll see how far I can go," he hastened.

Rita's hand dropped into his lap and she searched for his meat. Camille was wiggling her ass closer to the guy and he was starting to sweat.

"Look, Chum," I said. "The girls are getting antsy here in the car, and you know exactly how far you can go on the deal so here's my offer. I have exactly three hundred and sixty thousand bucks in the suitcase. I want the nine cars we spoke of and everything General Motors has to hang on them, hung on them. Jesus, Rita, leave the man's dick alone until I get done fucking him out of these cars and then you two can do whatever you want with him."

Rita whined, "Can I have the red one?"

"You sure can, Honey," our salesman assured her and excused him self to get the paperwork rolling.

When he had exited the limo, we laughed our butts off. The girls both pulled their panties off and handed them to me. The skirts were hiked up even farther in preparation for the guy's return. The dark tinting of the windows made it virtually impossible to see into the back of the long car. I decided to wander around the lot and look at the cars I was buying and leave the girls to their own devices. Our salesman, James as he told me finally, hustled me into one of those little offices and I started signing a mountain of papers for the purchase of the Caddies.

My wrist was nearly broken after the ridiculous number of times I had to sign my name. Then a more distinguished looking gentleman, with a thin moustache, strolled into the room and introduced himself as the owner of the dealership and thanked me profusely for my business. I told him I was hopeful that we could do more in the future and he was most agreeable with the presumption.

James disappeared from the little office and Mr. whatever his name was, passed me on to the finance lady who he introduced to me as his wife, to finalize the deal and count the money. The cars would have to be serviced but I was assured that by the end of the day, they would be delivered to Islands Estates.

I stepped into another larger room with the woman who was supposed to count the cash. As we entered, she snapped the lock on the door and grinned at me. She was a pretty woman of about forty years with soft brown hair and dark flashing eyes. I expect she stood about five four and weighed in at a hundred and twenty-five. She also had a set of forty-twos on her that threatened to do damaged to the clothing that was feebly attempting to contain them.

"My husband asked me to count the money, and thank you properly, for your business, but I think you're an honest man," she said, standing full height and thrusting her gargantuan knockers in my direction.

"I am honest, the money count is accurate. Now you can show me your tits, which is obviously exactly what you want to do," I said, and sat down in the chair next to the table.

The straining blouse disappeared. The lacy brassiere had seven small hooks fastened between the bulging cups hiding her mammoth breasts. Leila, her name as advertised on her little nametag, unhooked her bra and displayed her tits to me. They were huge, but firm and sagged only slightly. Large pink areola surrounded tiny pink nipples. Tits this big needed big bulging nipples, I decided, but kept my thoughts to myself.

She advanced to straddle one of my legs and present her biggies for closer inspection. I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth and slid my hands up her legs, pushing her skirt ahead of them. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down as far as my leg would allow. I grabbed her free tittie with one hand and stuffed two fingers in her dry pussy, with the other. I was kind of shocked at first, because this was the first time in my life that I had encountered a dry hole.

I worked my fingers around in side of her loose cunt, but not a whole lot of lubrication happened. I felt her hands fumbling with my belt and pushed her back a little to allow her easier access. I pulled her panties the rest of the way off and stood to remove my pants and shoes. I tucked her drawers in my pocket and she grabbed for my big stick and swallowed it. I let her slobber on me for a while but I wanted to get in her pussy so I lifted her up and laid her back on the table. Her cunt was still really dry so I slathered her with my mouth to loosen her up a bit. She just kinda lay there like she wasn't feeling much. I spit a wad in my hand and swabbed it on my cock and slowly eased myself into her cunt. I went in without a lot of resistance because this babe was loose. I have a reasonably big tool but this woman had a canyon for a cunt. I fucked into her for almost twenty minutes before I dropped my load in her. She barely acknowledged the fact. She hadn't had an orgasm and for all I know, had been sleeping through the whole episode. What a let down. A woman with hooters like that should be a multi-buster. Not this one.

I pulled my britches on, collected my stack of papers, and left the woman lying on the table.

Rita was just climbing out of the back of the limo when I walked up. She smiled a wicked smile and said. "Camille will be with us in a minute. She's thanking Jimmy Boy for all his help."

Rita's cheeks were flushed and her hair was just a bit disheveled.

"You fuck him?" I asked her.

"I'm leaving that chore up to your sister. But my cunt is on fire from her mouth," Rita explained. "I did lick his little pecker for him, though. He almost lost it at first but he's hanging on nicely for Camille."

I opened the back door of the limo and just as Rita had suggested, our salesman buddy was energetically pounding his meat into Camille's upturned bottom. I couldn't tell if he had her in the rump or not but Camille was having a good time so I figured, what the hell! I gently closed the door and Rita and I walked over to her new convertible and I opened the door for her to sit in it.

She had the look of a child with a new toy on her face as she explored the fancy gadgets on the sparkling dashboard. She mashed the button and the canvas top swung up and over the car. I stood with my head stuck in through the window and noticed a quick bulge on her fat tummy as the baby kicked her. She grunted and put her hand on the spot,

"Little suckers got some power," she said and we both giggled.

I felt a hand reach between my legs and squeeze my balls from behind. I jerked my head up and out of the car window, banging it on the steel rail on the convertible top. Camille stood there with a shit-eating grin, trying not to crack up. Rita was also stifling a snicker as I stood rubbing the growing knot on my skull.

"I thought we were all friends here," I said.

Camille stepped up real close and reached for my dick again.

"I'm sorry, Cool. I just couldn't resist the temptation," she giggled.

I helped Rita from the car and we walked back to Camille's Lincoln. Driving home, I told the girls about my experience with 'Ms. Canyon Cunt'. They both offered their condolences on my 'Bum-Fuck" and wished me well in the future. I felt so loved.

The cars were all delivered as promised and I took movies of everyone picking which one they wanted and we had a grand time trying to decide where in blazes we were going to park all the cars. I bought the limo for myself, and the red convertible for Rita. Camille was partial to a green Sedan DeVille; Louise picked a powder blue Fleetwood. Sandra stood seductively leaning on the fender of a pink Coupe DeVille. I flipped Gerald the keys to a burgundy Coupe, and Susan the keys for a black Fleetwood. Helen fell in love with a white convertible and that left the dark blue convertible for Marie. Pop would be proud of me for spending so much money all in one day.

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June gave way to the muggy heat of July and Rita remained extremely uncomfortable. She swore this would be her last baby and we agreed that she would have her tubes tied after she delivered.

When the blessed day arrived, Louise and Sandra made Rita as comfortable as possible. The good doctor was summoned, on the twenty-third, when the contractions were coming five minutes apart and we all waited eagerly until well after midnight before she gave birth to an eight-pound plus baby girl. Being a good Southern Redneck boy, I had given lengthily consideration to what her name should be. Given that our son was named William Joseph, it was only fitting we should call the girl Roberta Suzanne. You guessed it, BOBBY SUE!

Now I had some serious opposition to my selection of the name for the girl, even the threat of prolonged abstinence from Camille and Louise, but I stuck to my guns and that's the kid's name. She had a whole mess of deep copper colored hair, just like her mama, and emerald green eyes. I guess Rita's Irish ancestry has shown its beautiful face. Little Billy Joe found the new bundle of joy to be an annoyance, but Caroline, now almost three and a half and nearly an adult was fascinated. She stayed close at hand much of the time so she could watch Rita nurse the baby and help change diapers. Billy and I spent more time in the yard, exploring.

On one of our expeditions out along the woods, Caroline stayed behind to help watch Louise and Rita give Bobby Sue a bath, Billy Joe and I encountered an armadillo waltzing across the mown grass over by a big azalea thicket. We crouched down on the grass and watched the prehistoric looking critter forage along the roots of the bushes for a meal. Billy held his finger up to his lips to make sure I was very quiet so as not to scare Mr. Armadillo off. This adventure lasted for a half hour before our woodland friend disappeared back into the scrub.

There had been wild pigs on the property but Gerald had captured them and put them outside the wall because they caused great damage to his lawns and those lawns and flowerbeds were his pride and joy. But all manner of bird and small creature abounded in the estate and we were never disappointed, on our frequent hikes, by lack of interesting sights.

We regularly witnessed the passing of dolphins up and down the river in front of the piers and the kids were always excited when they would breach and blow, just like Moby Dick in the movie. Fishing from the piers was a favorite pastime of the youngsters. Caroline would sit motionless, waiting for the fish to take the shrimp and after the hook was set, she would jump up and down with glee while I reeled in the wiggling fish. The children were a joy for us all.

One afternoon, I was walking the kids down by the now completed stable. Sandra walked up from her house to meet us and we stood talking by the rail fence while the kids explored the barn and stable.

"It's time to think about horses," I said to Sandra. "What kinds of horses are good? I don't know a thing about horses."

"Well, quarter horses are the ones cowboys ride," Sandra began. "Then there's Arabians, they're bigger and just gorgeous, and Appaloosas, Palominos, Paints, lots of different kinds. My daddy had Morgans on his farm. They are workhorses, very large and powerful. I guess it doesn't really matter, if we're just going ride them."

I was most intrigued with her knowledge of the different breeds.

"I have a book," she continued, "with pictures showing what all the various breeds look like and a little bit about them. We could walk down to the house and you could look, if you like."

"Let's walk the kids back to the house and drive back down to your place," I said.

She nodded her agreement and we started back to the big house. The walk was about a half mile and Sandra held on to my arm most of the way. Her hair had grown longer in the past two years and she wore it straight or in a ponytail. The sunlight reflected off it as we walked. She had given up the floozy makeup and too small clothes and was always dressed in western style shirts and either jeans or fluffy skirts, with frilly petticoats. I told Rita she reminded me of Dale Evens, Roy Roger's wife from television.

Sandra and I would get together now and then and do the bump and grind. Her appetite for sex was not as strong as the other, younger women in the family. But when we happened to find ourselves together alone, we would give in to our urges and let nature take its course.

On this particular evening, as we rode back around to her new house by the river, I looked over at her and saw her smiling and staring at me. She turned away, embarrassed at being caught staring, and blushed. We rode the rest of the way in silence, my cock hardening in my pants. Sandra was even better looking than her daughter.

We climbed out of the car, her frilly skirt swirling around her thighs as she walked. The top of her dress was worn down over the shoulder and she had a lot of skin exposed above her soft breasts. We entered her domain and I looked around at the primarily western style in which she had decorated. Very tasteful and comfortable. A big stone fireplace dominated the great room and overstuffed leather furniture was scattered all over the place.