You're Always 17 Ch. 01

I was oilfield trash from white trash, she was a cultured lady from a wealthy and refined family. A most unlikely pairing, especially with my intention of hanging my diploma on the wall of my trailer and returning to the job that boosted me out of poverty and offered me a future as a wealthy man.

I'm pretty sure she wouldn't consider my thirty-two-foot bumper pull in Orla the home of her dreams, even if it did have four slideouts and numerous amenities my family home lacked. Things like toilets that flush, stoves on which all the burners and the oven work, and beds with worn-out mattresses that don't sag in the middle. It was a bit cleaner too, since I swept daily, mopped every other day, vacuumed my carpeted bedroom weekly, and washed the dishes after I washed them, as compared to (maybe) monthly cleaning and when we ran out of dishes.

I really didn't know much about their family, but since Chad went to high school at Dallas Highland Park and his father was a senior partner in his grandfather's law firm, there were certain assumptions I could make. Not that it mattered; I was looking for another hot piece of ass, not a wife.

Between the meal, the alcohol consumption, and the stories intended to embarrass the new grads that slowly morphed into bragging, we managed to kill the afternoon. Our reservations at the dancehall were at seven, so we returned to our rooms to relax, clean up, and change into western clothes.

My three-hour break turned into a fuckfest with Glenda and Cindy, who had to return to Kermit at six. That left me an hour to recover, clean up, and change clothes. Needless to say, sex was not the top thing on my mind when I joined the remaining group downstairs. Given that everyone intended to drink to excess, River had hired a van to take us to the Wild Wild West and pick us up when he called.

Like I said, my balls were drained and my cock was docile after the two-hour orgy, yet seeing the three MILFs and Abe's fiancée in skin-tight jeans and provocative tops somehow got my juices flowing again. When Chad's group arrived, I found that my sexual equipment was fully recharged. Chad's mom and grandmother both qualified as MILF/GMILF, his fiancée, like Abe's, was stunning, and his three sisters would give a mummy a hardon!

You'd expect that mothers and grandmothers dancing with a recent college graduate would be circumspect and perfunctory, like Mother-Son dances at a wedding reception, but hah! Even Katrina rubbed her nice tits on me and rubbed her pussy on my cock, all while whispering teasing words in my ear, and the Edwards sisters easily topped that!

The surprise was Chad's aristocratic mother dancing me to the other side of the dance floor and giving me a dry fuck with titty rub. The bigger surprise was her sixty-five, looks forty-five, grandmother doing the same. But the biggest surprise was the two fiancées, both of whom offered me a graduation memory to last if I'd come see them, while giving me an idea what it would be like if I did.

I wasn't sure if they were serious or teasing, but that was disappointing to someone who believes in true love. Either way, all these lovely women of wealth and privilege offering a roll in the hay to a poor boy like me was truly disconcerting.

I worked hard for every piece I got in high school, and no one ever came up to me and said I look like Brad Pitt or even Bradley Cooper. In my own mind I'm nothing special to look at; kind of your average Joe, with sandy blonde hair, a straight nose, cleft chin, blue-green eyes, and a body chiseled by twenty-plus years of hard work. Yes, my old man put me to work at age five, unpacking parts and supplies and putting them in the correct bins for the mechanics.

I was driving forklifts at 8, Bobcats at ten, and operating heavy equipment at thirteen. I played football, basketball, and track in junior high and high school because the alternative was to work from the moment school let out until dark-thirty. My old man let me, because I got too big and angry to handle, and I had younger brothers to do the work. I was really good at all three sports, and he got a certain amount of respect around town due to my athletic prowess.

It didn't make him like me more, or let me have weekends off, but my physical development did keep him from beating me, or any other family member if I was around.

My athletic prowess and the time off I got because of it also earned resentment from my brothers, and from the rest of the boys in school. It did get me some pussy, but nothing to brag about. Hell, if they had given me an award, it would have been something like "Biggest Asshole" or "Most Likely to Die in Prison." Yeah, I was an asshole, I did bust some heads (and some cherries), and I did break a few laws. I was never voted Homecoming King or Prom King or Most Popular Boy, or class officer, but I really DNGAF. All I wanted was a diploma, and out of there!

My intimidated, alcoholic mother didn't love any of us. She bore sons for my father out of fear, and lived in misery, hoping to die soon. Once I reached puberty and started growing, I stopped his beating on her and his constant, loud verbal abuse. You'd think that would help her be a better mother, or at least grateful, but she just continued to fix meals for us and drink herself into oblivion every night.

I have no idea what the situation is down there now, or even if she's still alive. Hell, for all I know, she, my father, and all three brothers could be dead and buried. I haven't heard a word from anyone in my hometown since I headed north seven years ago, and I don't want to. I'm building a life out here, and that's the life I want to lead. Fuck those people, and that town!

Strange that all those bitter memories emerged tonight, on what should be the happiest night of my life, according to Katrina and the other MILFs. The problem is, when confronted with lusciousness from the upper crust like the Barnes women and girls, my raising reminds me of where I came from and what I am, and I can become a morose drunk.

An hour later, I had swallowed my bile and danced with Kelly once, Shannon twice, and Angie three times. I was in a much better mood and was actually enjoying the dancing and the conversations when there was a commotion on the dance floor. Shannon slapped some cowboy wanta be silly, and he slapped her back. Chad and Abe were right behind me, which turned out to be helpful, as the disrespectful prick was with a passel of friends. He was skidding across the floor on his ass from my right hand to his jaw when his table emptied and rushed to us.

I dropped one with a straight right hand, kicked another in the knee, and was ducking to avoid a roundhouse right thrown by another when his body flew sideways, and he hit the floor hard. There were three of us and a bunch of them, until Daddy Barnes, River, and the Bean Bros. arrived. Chad knew some kind of Kung Fu shit, and Abe was a kickboxer, so they were more than holding their own. I'd taken a glancing blow to the eye and one to the mouth that I mostly blocked, so I considered myself fortunate to this point, but there were a bunch left wanting a piece of me.

Daddy Barnes was a big SOB, as you would expect from someone who played in the NFL, and he just grabbed combatants, choked them in headlocks for a few moments and dropped them, or threw them across the room. River, Tom, and Jerry were experienced brawlers, and they didn't play by Kingsbury or any other rules, so there were men holding their nuts right before getting bitch-slapped, and others writhing on the floor holding knees or ankles.

At first there was a steady stream of 'friends' joining the fray, but once the old men arrived, the audience grew but the number of combatants dwindled, until it was just us and the cops, who arrived in force. Since we were the ones standing, we were the ones cuffed and stuffed, over the strident objections of our womenfolk.

We were fortunate that there was a night judge to arraign us and set bail, and women to pay it, or we'd have spent the weekend in jail. We started the night as friends and acquaintances and ended it as brothers in battle. I appreciated Daddy Barnes wrapping me in a big hug, telling me I was a real bad ass, and thanking me for going to the defense of his youngest daughter.

That happened while Katrina and Momma Barnes were competing to stop the bleeding from my lip and eyebrow, and alternating fussing at me for starting a fight and praising me for standing up for Shannon.

I was a little concerned about acquiring a record, as many of the landowners and companies we worked for wouldn't allow anyone with a criminal record to work for them or on their land. I shouldn't have worried; by noon Monday the Barnes Law Firm had seen to it that all charges had been dismissed and purged from the system. Wild Wild West Security tapes and uninvolved witness statements would have gotten us out and charges dismissed on Monday anyway, but I felt confident this little 'white knight' intervention was forever forgotten after Chad Sr. and Chad Jr. got through with LPD and the court system.

Angela thought I was foolish for rushing into a situation like that, and Kelly found the whole thing amusing, especially her Daddy getting involved in a barroom brawl. Momma Barnes was a momma bear about her darling baby girl getting assaulted and slapped and she kept giving her warrior looks that indicated he was going to get really lucky soon.

The two fiancées admitted they had no idea their fiancés could be such beasts and clung tightly to them. Katrina's admonitions to me and River aside, the three MILFs seemed more turned on than upset, and their hubbies were unrepentant.

And Shannon, the little sexpot who started all this? Between bouts of crying about the pain and embarrassment of being slapped, she held ice to her cheek and gave me looks hotter than a pear burner. Shoot, every one of those looks gave me a hard on, and I stopped checking on her in fear Daddy and Mommy would intercept one and throw me back in jail.

It was Sunday morning by the time we got back to the hotel, so we agreed to meet at the hotel brunch around eleven. I was about the only male there that looked rested, validating my impressions from the police station. Angela had decided maybe I wasn't so reckless, given the swollen cheek and black eye little sis was sporting, and Momma asking if she wouldn't have wanted me to step in if it had been her instead of Shannon. Kelly still thought it was humorous, but she flirted a lot more than she had been. And Shannon kept her head and cheek covered with a hoodie so I / we wouldn't see her 'disfigured face.'

She pretty much melted when I told her how brave she was to stand up to someone twice her size, and how she was so gorgeous she needed to take self-defense courses like Chad, and her lovely sisters should too.

After brunch, we all began saying goodbyes, exchanging hugs and promises, and heading out our separate ways. Angela blessed me with her phone number in my pants pocket, Kelly asked me to hit her up on Instagram or Facebook, and Shannon put her phone number in my pocket wrapped in a damp thong, then innocently gave me her Instagram handle and informed me she was staying in Lubbock to meet and get to know her new roommate.

It all seemed innocent enough, except for the panties, which I learned when I got them out of my pocket in my pickup, had a most delectable odor. Some dim voice kept warning me she was too young, but a much louder voice yelled she was eighteen, and she was seducing me, so it was okay! I headed straight for Kermit, with the thong hanging on my review mirror as an air freshener.

The longer route through Hobbs and down through western New Mexico won out over the odds of spending hours at the four-way stop where 181 intersects 116. I got a call from Tom offering to buy me supper in Hobbs, but I asked for a rain check in favor of icing my bruised lip and eye. He agreed, but only if I would commit to supper at their house on Friday. I enthusiastically accepted that offer when he started talking about his special recipe for Prime Rib being the best in New Mexico, and Diane's recipe for scalloped potatoes being second to none on earth.

You'd think I'd have a clue by now, but hell no, I just wandered around blithely without suspicion.

Once home, with gel bags covering much of my face, I called the number to give thanks for the air freshener. She giggled, asked how my face was healing, and didn't want to hear that it would be days to weeks, not hours, for both of us to heal. She assured me she absolutely could NOT meet her new roommate and her parents looking like this tomorrow, so how could she fix it faster, or hide it.

"Darlin', you're so gorgeous a little coloring around your eye and a puffy spot on your cheek only knocks you from a twelve back to a ten, so don't sweat it. Use matching eye shadow on the other eye and cover up the discoloration with makeup. Tell them an amusing story about how standing up for your virtue got you slapped by some drunk heathen at your brother's graduation party, and how he and his friends got a serious beating from your brother, father, and some new friends who rushed to your aid.

"They will either be appalled at a stranger manhandling and then slapping you, and proud of you and your family for standing up for you, or you need to get a new roommate. You don't want to spend a year of your life with a snobby prig who condemns you for standing up for yourself."

She purred about me calling her a twelve, although she likely knows the male median is closer to fifteen, thanked me for the ideas on covering up her bruises, and told me she might book a spa tomorrow morning before her roommate came to let a professional do the makeup.

That out of the way, I asked when cheerleading practice started, how she made the squad, whether she was pledging the same sorority as her sisters, and other seemingly innocuous questions that helped me get a reading on just how narcissistic she is. Youngest child of a wealthy family defaulted to 'narcissistic' but the question was whether she was redeemable or only useful as a fuck toy.

When we got to her high school clubs, organizations, and experiences I was surprised. Yes, she was a four-year varsity football cheerleader and head cheerleader her senior year, she was prom queen, most beautiful, and she was Class Favorite all four years - no surprises there. But she was also class president for three years, and Student Body President her senior year, went to state in debate, and lettered for the potent Scottie tennis program in spite of not being able to play in the fall due to the cheerleading conflict.

To be honest, I was appalled that I had underestimated her that badly, and ashamed of myself for prejudging someone due to a physical factor and a fiscal factor.

She put me on hold to make the spa appointment, and then returned to grill me about my youth, family, current occupation, and plans. I used my standard gloss to prevent providing any real information about my family, told her I was all-district in basketball, second team all-state in football, and went to state in pole vault and the 400-meter dash.

She asked the obvious question: why I didn't go to college? I told her the simple answer was money; we didn't have any, and the athletic scholarship offers were from small out-of-state schools or shitholes in Texas, so I decided to go make some money in the oil patch and decide what to do next.

She let me know she knew I was bullshitting her about my family and my lack of interest in college, and she asked some very insightful questions to gain more information without being obvious about her disbelief. She was fascinated by my relationship with Katrina and River, and that my best amigos were migrants from Venezuela, Central America, and Mexico.

She also saw through the façade of the Beans being clients who wanted to help celebrate my graduation and made fun of my attempts to cast Glenda and Cindy as friends I made while eating at Glenda's café in Kermit. I ended that by stating, "Look, even if there was something more between us, I'd never acknowledge it because I try to be a gentleman, even if I am oilfield trash. They are gentlewomen whom I admire and care about, so let's leave it at that and change the subject."

She quickly did, delving into my online studies instead and expressing her awe that I could accumulate credits for so many difficult courses without having a prof and/or GAs for assistance. "Shannon, each of us learns best in our own ways. I do best when working alone, solving problems on my own, and looking at course content as something to expand my understanding or knowledge base, not something to get credit for. Many prefer the classroom, but most of my classroom time was a waste of time back home.

"I prefer self-paced, challenging curricula with real-world application and evaluation, unless, of course, we're talking about philosophy, history, government, or other ever-changing social sciences meant to challenge your assumptions and lazy thinking."

She bit on that like a coyote on a lamb, and we spent the next hour or so arguing in a good way; the kind of way where you agree to consider the other person's point of view before arguing against it. She was young, she hadn't done much of this, and yet I could see her IQ was way up there and she had a steel trap mind. Before I knew it, it was midnight, and I had an important job to get started in six hours. We hung up promising to talk some more, and I went to bed wondering what kind of quicksand I'd wandered into.

The job opening went well, more because I had a good crew than because of my leadership, and I found myself leaving at the five o'clock whistle with everyone else. Imagine my surprise when I found a Black Jeep Wrangler Rubicon parked in front of my trailer, and a couple of grinning javelina sitting on my back deck sipping beer with some blonde goddess. My grill was fired up, and there was a bunch of something covered in aluminum foil on the table, where several other covered dishes sat.

I parked around in front, looked over the Wrangler, and wandered around to the back. "Bien venidos, compadre! Your guest arrived early enough for us to clean up your dirty grill and make up some sirloin burgers for the party you're hosting to introduce sus amigos to this charming young lady.

"Sorry to say, but she got here right when we got off at two, so we've had plenty of time to correct most of the misunderstandings she had about you! Not all, but most! Now, greet her and get started on the burgers; tengo mucho hambre!"

I walked right into the first one. "How in the world did you find this god-forsaken place, Miss Barnes?"

"Well, there is this thing called a map program that showed me Orla, and how to get here through Kermit, where everyone at Glenda's Café seemed to know all about you. Some also seemed a bit better informed about your status as 'oil field trash' than you and were more than willing to share. I'd have been here by one, but they wouldn't stop telling me your life story. The owner seemed especially well informed about all that, and she gave me step-by-step instructions on getting here as well. And so here I am!"

"Well, welcome, but I don't think you want me to give you a welcome hug before I take a shower and change clothes. Meanwhile, you pendejos can put the burgers on, since you organized this party!"

"Lazy as always, perro perezosas!"

I went back around the front and through the house, shaved, showered, and dressed appropriately for the setting. When I came back out tables and chairs were covering my dirt back yard, and a hoard of immigrants with a few Americanos scattered in, including Katrina, River, Abe, and Isobel, his fiancée, were drinking beer and speaking one of three languages, or a mixture of all three. Shannon was sipping a beer on the deck and acting as a hostess of some sort. There was even a hand-lettered sign in Spanish congratulating me on graduating from college.