The Girl from the Ouachita Ch. 07

The Girl from the Ouachita, Ch. 7

No sex among those under 18 in this work. I edit my own work, and I provide too many details for a lot of readers. This is a long one, and the MC is going to be too violent for some. If you choose to continue, remember that you were forewarned.

If you haven't read the previous stories in the series, please do before you read this one; I don't reintroduce. Chapter 6 ended with Jo and Chris at the lake.

*

"Chris brought a ground tarp and several blankets. Laid over the thick grass on the hilltop, they made a wonderful bed for a naked sprite and her lover. Chris had seen her unclothed enough to know what he was unwrapping, but he'd never seen her lying nude in the sunshine on a warm day on blankets surrounded by greenery.

He scrambled to his pants, grabbed his phone, and took dozens of pictures in dozens of poses, "To keep me warm on those cold Colorado nights." Jo enthusiastically obliged him, but she was beginning to doubt he should be all alone on those cold Colorado nights.

How, she wondered, as she looked back over her shoulder at the cameraman while laying on her belly and lazily kicking her little feet in the air, could she convince TCU to let her go to school at CU for a year and regain her scholarships upon her return?

She pondered that thought on and off until they were making love for the third time, under the stars, with the moonshine illuminating her heavenly body.

****

Instead of heading back to Fort Worth, Jo and Chris drove to a nearby B&B he had found online. He was expecting 'no vacancy' due to the busy Memorial Day holiday, but Lakehaven had an unlikely vacancy. The owners were glad to have them, their accommodations were immaculate, the mattress was comfortable, and the bed was well and strongly made. They were unusually restrained due to the proximity of other guests, but still stress tested the bed.

They almost missed breakfast because a higher priority called when they awoke, but they made it down for the family-style spread with six other guests. After visiting with the owners and guests about fishing and recreational opportunities on the lake, they made their way back to Nanny and Grampa Clark's home bearing homemade cinnamon rolls sent by the owners of the B&B to their "very good friends, Ethyl and Ed."

After sharing the cinnamon rolls and fresh-brewed coffee, they visited for a while and then went over to the property they already considered 'theirs'. The Clarks said they would drop by in an hour and provide information about the lake in that area.

Jo and Chris wandered the shoreline looking for the best sites for the floating wharf, boat ramp, and swimming beach. He spotted what he thought might be good options, but the arrival of the Clarks changed all that.

Chris showed them their preferred house site, and the sites for the boat ramp, boathouse, and floating wharf.

Ed knew everything about the lake in front of their ranch, including the topography. He pointed out an underwater ledge near the shoreline that would make a good place to anchor a floating wharf, a rapidly sloping area for a boat ramp, and a gently sloping area in a cove for swimming, assuming someday little kids would be frolicking there.

Ed suggested a better site for the boathouse, given the best places for the wharf and ramp, but agreed the site for the house was perfect. "It offers 180 degree lake view plus a view of Steele Creek to the north and west, and you can watch sunrise from the front porch and sunset from the back porch.

"You'll be looking down at the swimming area to the southeast, and can walk straight down to the wharf to fish or get in your boat or wave runner. Most importantly, Lake Whitney is a flood control lake, so when the Brazos floods, it can get way out of its bank. This point is high enough that you'll never have water in your house, regardless of flood size, and you can pull the wharf over into the cove to keep it out of the current. I agree that this is the best place you could build!

"The more we're around you two, the more we're looking forward to talking to your dad next week!"

The Clarks returned home to prepare lunch; they invited Jo and Chris, but they declined, saying they would be leaving for Fort Worth soon. Chris meant it, but as soon as the Clarks were out of sight, Jo pulled the tarp and blankets out, laid them on the grass, gave Chris a devilish grin, and unceremoniously stripped off every stitch of clothing.

She stood there on the blankets with her feet wide apart, the sun turning her hair into a golden glow around her lovely face, and Chris knew he had never seen anyone who came close to comparing, live, in movies, on TV, or on the Internet: to him, Jo was perfection incarnate.

He dropped his eyes to her pretty feet with brightly painted toenails, and then raised them to her slender ankles, shapely calves, cute knees, and long, well-formed thighs. Her stance -- legs apart, hips thrust forward -- exposed her vulva and the light blonde down around it.

Her hips abruptly tapered to the tiny waist he could almost touch his fingers around, and firm breasts with pink cherries jutted from her chest. Her shoulders and neck were works of art, as if sculpted; and that face -- that beautiful and refined Grace Kelly face with the small straight nose, high cheekbones, pouty lips, and sparkling emerald eyes; eyes that displayed her intentions as clearly as her naked stance!

As if Chris needed further clarification of her intentions, Jo slowly pivoting to the side and then slowly turning to face away provided that clarity. He gaped at the incline of her back above the flare of her incomparable ass, and at the shape of her body from behind. She playfully glanced over her shoulder, saw his gaping mouth and the swell in his jeans, and then knelt down on all fours. She looked over her shoulder, smiled impishly, and asked, "Do you need a formal invitation?"

He kicked his shoes off while yanking his shirt over his head, dropped his shorts and boxers, and strode toward her. She giggled at his white athletic socks, but only until he fell to his knees, grabbed her by the hips, and abruptly inserted his swollen cock into her sodden pussy. She moaned, he groaned, and they began the ancient breeding dance.

Jo writhed, wiggled, and pushed herself back onto his cock until his flat belly was striking her perfect ass. He thrust deeply, held her hips still and wriggled his own, causing his cock to caress the boundaries of her vagina. He thrust, she pushed back; he pinched her nipples with his left hand and rubbed her little love nub with his right.

"Fuck her harder!" she commanded. "Fuck your little girlfriend like the slut you make her want to be! Make her scream and cum all over your big, hard cock! Do it! Fuck her until she cums all over your... ohhhhh yeeessssss! Oh, yes, baby, just like that! She's cuuuummmmminnnngggggg!"

The explosion of semen from his deeply buried cock and her explosion of milky white ejaculate from the Skene glands washed over one another, scalding her insides and his cock! She cried out loudly, and he roared at the sensation! She collapsed forward and he followed, crushing her little body under his in a most wonderful way. They lay there, still connected, panting and weak.

Finally, Chris rolled off and lay beside her, on his back. "Well, damn!" he muttered, "That's another first for me! How do you do things like that?"

She was silent for a few more seconds, then mustered the strength to crawl the few inches to lay her head on his broad, muscular chest. Once settled, head on chest, breast pressing against his ribs, she answered, "I don't know what you mean. I don't do anything but respond to you, My Stallion!

"But something about doing it in that position, and feeling the hot cum blast against my back wall made my insides spasm, and a hot liquid bathed us both! I can't explain it, but it was wonderful!"

With a giggle she stated, "But now I need to get into the lake to let drain out of me, because I feel so full!"

They slipped on their sandals, held hands, and took the trail down to the newly designated swimming area. The water was cool, but pleasant. He helped her wash the juices off her legs and vulva; she helped him with his cock, balls, and thighs. Then, like a bitch in heat, she backed that luscious ass against his cock, wiggled from side to side and up and down, and, in her best Demi Moore voice, said, "Your insatiable little slut wants you to fuck her again; from behind, with my hands on my knees! Can you do that for me, My Stallion?"

He could and he did, and she squealed again and again, until she began to collapse forward into shallow water. He held her by the hips and pummeled her ferociously, until he roared and pumped her full of his seed again.

Satisfied again, he picked her up, carried her to the blanket, and dried her with a towel from the truck. She sleepily pulled the sundress on, and he carried her and her underwear to the truck. The blankets would need washing, so he put them on the back floorboard.

As he drove, he considered the changes he was seeing in his sexy little girlfriend. Perhaps she was merely growing into her sexuality; perhaps she was growing more confident and that enabled her more aggressive approach to sexuality; or perhaps she was simply becoming more sexually oriented. He had been her first, and she had loved sex from that first moment.

There was little doubt that he had uncorked suppressed feelings and desires that had been bubbling just below the surface. The issue he had to face was not whether she was correct is calling herself an "insatiable little slut," but rather if she was honest in saying she was "Your insatiable little slut." He had not reason to doubt her feelings for him, but was her insatiable lust transferrable?

Just the thought made him ache inside.

Jo slept on his shoulder until they were on Chisholm Trail Parkway. She awoke with a start and a small cry; he cuddled her closer and asked if she had a bad dream.

"I did! I was with my mother, and she was telling me I had to take a job as a whore so we could live, because Elwood kicked us out again and she couldn't get a job. She took me to a truck stop and told me to raise $500 by dawn or don't come back to the motel, and then drove off. I saw dirty men eyeing me like candy, and I wanted to die.

"How can you love someone like me?" she asked pitifully, staring straight ahead. "I'm trash, bred, born, and raised! As she used to say, I may be smarter than her, but I come from her womb so I'm no better than her!

"I think that's why men try to buy me, to drug me and fuck me -- they know I'm trash!"

Chris was quiet for a few seconds while Jo continued staring straight ahead; finally, he spoke. "I love you because you are as pure as driven snow. I love you because you have a brilliant mind, and strength of character, and you know right from wrong and try to always do right. You have no control over who birthed you, but you have complete control over who and what you become.

"The idea that others see you and recognize you as trash is laughable, Honey. They tried to drug and fuck Kate too, and she's from a wealthy and powerful family, so that's just silly!

"No, Jo, they see your physical beauty and want to possess it, if only for a few minutes. Your ethereal beauty is both a gift and a curse; your immaculate heart, though, is the source of your true beauty, and it is your mind that sets you apart from others.

"We don't choose our parents or family; we do choose our friends and mates. Your biological family may be a disaster, but you are a part of another family that loves and respects you. You have two sisters, a mother and father, and a suitor, all of whom believe you are a blessing to us. Your past is past. You are building a bright future, through your own efforts, and your children will never know the deprivation and trauma you've experienced.

"Someday the bad memories that haunt you will be erased and replaced by decades of memories of happy and love-filled moments. Until then, share your angst and anxiety with me or your 'sisters, Donna and Diane', with your other mother, Debora, or your other father, Dan. We're here for you, in good times and bad."

Jo wrapped her arm around his, squeezed herself against him, and quietly said, "My conscious mind knows you're right; it's my unconscious mind that wanders into darkness from time to time. Thank you for loving me -- you are my rock."

"Loving you is the easiest job I've ever had, Jo."

****

Tuesday came; Jo was in class, Chris was at work. At noon, he checked his phone and saw he had a message from his lawyer. He called back immediately, and learned Jo's mom had asked for a meeting with Chris. That shocked him, because he lay awake last night planning a meeting with her later this week.

He asked his attorney to set it up as soon as possible, preferably after 3 pm on the first available day, but he would come at any time, even if he had to miss work.

The message came an hour later: the meeting was scheduled for four pm today!

The red brick Tarrant County Jail houses about 5000 inmates, including a large number of women held in pre-trial detention. Facing felony charges and unable to raise the steep bail, Gail Montgomery would remain incarcerated until her trial began in September, and likely for a long time after.

The last time he saw her, Jo's mother had dirty, greasy hair, was dressed in baggy, filthy clothes, and had wild, crazed eyes. There was nothing about her that reminded him of her daughter.

Today, wearing an orange jumpsuit, devoid of makeup, and with clean, brushed hair, her appearance was astonishingly different. In fact, she looked very much like a "rode-hard and put up wet" version of her daughter. Without the crazy, her eyes were almost as green as her daughter's, the nose was just as straight, and she had the same high cheekbones. The discolored teeth detracted from her appearance, as did the hard lines around her eyes and mouth, and the furrows on her forehead.

She was fairly attractive for a fifty-something woman; the problem was, she wasn't even forty years old! Drugs, alcohol, and hard living had aged her far beyond her years.

She sat there without speaking, letting him dissect her like an insect, before stating quietly. "I'm Gail Montgomery, Jo Kennedy's mother. I know who you are, Christian Alexander, and that you have been taking care of her since I drove her away.

"I asked to meet with you so I can apologize to you for attacking you with a knife, and for all the other grief I know I'm responsible for.

"It can't have been easy, taking in someone like Jo, after all I did to her, and allowed others to do to her. I know she couldn't have escaped without scars, and I know my selfishness is the reason.

"Anyhow, I also need to thank you for intervening with the district attorney's office to get me into a counseling and recovery program. I won't know if the program has changed my life until I'm out and able to make decisions again, but my mind hasn't been this clear since before I ran off from home at 16.

"I've made it to step 9 of the program. I made the list of those I've wronged, and I'm contacting them one by one to apologize and ask their forgiveness. Chris, can you forgive me?"

Chris looked at her in awe: who is this person, he wondered. Neither the stories Jo had told him nor his single experience with her had led him to believe she would ever be sitting across from him confessing her transgressions and asking his forgiveness.

When he didn't answer, she began, "I know this is too much to ask, but if you can ever..." but Chris interrupted. "Ms. Montgomery, excuse me: you caught me off guard. To answer your question, yes, I forgive you for the incident at my apartment. I know of no other transgressions against me; if there are any, I forgive those also.

"You're right - Jo has her demons to fight; but you she is courageous, intelligent, level headed, and forthright, so you must have done many things well in raising her."

Shaking her head, with tears in her eyes, she replied, "No, I did nothing except serve as the worst possible example. If anything, she 'raised' me. I was -- I am -- a drug addicted alcoholic. I could never take care of myself, much less my daughter, although I did love her in my own selfish way.

"I know she hates me now, and she has every right. She's at the top of the list of people I wronged, but I won't contact her because we aren't supposed to if seeing someone again would cause them more pain."

She sighed, and rather fiercely stated, "I've already hurt her enough for one lifetime!"

"One more thing, Chris. I have taken the plea deal, just as it was proposed. Thank you for asking them to drop the attempted murder charge, but I know I deserve to pay for my many crimes and failures, and prison is only a small part of my penance. Never seeing my daughter again is a much greater part.

"The plea deal requires me to serve seven years, during which I must continue in a drug and alcohol rehabilitation program, further my education -- I dropped out at age sixteen -- and learn a trade. Perhaps by the time I get out I will be able to handle life better, and I can become a productive member of society -- or at least that is what they tell me should be my goal. Knowing what a waste I've been, it's hard to imagine myself as anything else.

"Maybe if I can, I will be able approach my daughter and beg her forgiveness for the torture I made her life. Drunk and high, I didn't have to face reality, care for my child, do anything, or face anything. Sober, I see clearly what a fuck-up -- what a disaster - I've made of my life and how I wronged my daughter. I always accused my mother of being the worst mother ever, but I'm far worse than she ever was!"

"Do you mind if I call you Gail?" Chris asked. She nodded her acceptance, and he continued, "Whatever you did wrong, you have a very accomplished daughter, Gail. She had a 4.0 grade point average -- straight A's -- last semester, and will finish the first summer session with two more A's. Yes, you made mistakes, but don't think for a moment that your mistakes destroyed your child: she's a very special, very talented, young woman!

"Now, what if I told you I think seeing you like this -- sober, thoughtful, with future plans, and remorseful for the mistakes you made with her -- would do her good?"

He saw the doubt on her face, so he continued. "You will only be 43 years old when you get out of prison, even if you serve the full seven years. You have a lot of living left to do, as does Jo. In my opinion, knowing you are getting your life under control, are overcoming the demons that drove you, and that you recognize and acknowledge the errors of your old ways, is just what your daughter needs.

"She both loves and hates you; she loves you as her mother, but hates what you had become. Seeing you now will help her, even more than it has helped me reconcile my feelings toward you."

****

Chris rode home deep in thought. He wasn't supposed to see Jo tonight -- she and Kate were going to study for a major exam in a difficult psychology course they were both taking -- but when he pulled up to his house, the Jeep was parked in the garage.

As he approached the kitchen door, he heard voices. After unlocking the door and stepping inside, he listened for a moment and recognized both voices. He walked into the dining room, where Jo liked to study at the large oak table under the massive chandelier.

She was sitting directly across from Kate, and they were questioning each other from their notes. They were dressed in colorful rompers, and their legs were curled under them in the boneless way only girls can do.