Karl Cared Enoughbyrosegardener©
Every part of this story is a fantasy. Nothing is real but the love.
No one had ever made love to her.
From age five to eight, a needle-dick great uncle had raped her, Thanksgiving and Christmas, without fail. She was lucky he had such a tiny penis, he didn't do any serious physical harm. She earnestly hoped that the full force of the fires of hell were now focused exclusively on his dick and balls for all eternity.
By fourteen, beer and sex were no strangers.
But no one had ever made love to her.
In high school, she had more than one pregnancy scare.
But no one had ever made love to her.
Her senior year, she met a guy ten years older than her, and moved in with him in early May, and graduated in late May. In June she got married. He told her he wanted a divorce in October. It was finalized in February.
But no one had ever made love to her.
She met another guy. She was nineteen. He was forty-one, married, one kid of his own, one step-kid. She got pregnant.
She had fucked and been fucked more times than she could count.
But no one had ever made love to her.
Rhylee had a beautiful baby boy. Dad? He was gone. He came, he left, and it was just the two of them, in a trailer in the middle of a trailer court, surrounded mostly by senior citizens. She was lonely, but she never wanted to see another adult penis in her life.
The baby was born on August 28. It had been a hot summer, and it was now a hot September. Rhylee was exhausted. She loved Kayden, with all her heart, but she had no idea it would really be this hard to be a mom on her own. There was the physical stress of being on call for the baby, twenty-four hours a day. There was the mental stress of trying to make ends meet. Her preacher did everything he could to help out with food, and finding a few dollars here and there to pay the trailer rent. WIC and the other programs didn't provide for much, and she didn't know how she was going to pay for day care because there sure weren't any good jobs available these days. McDonald's wouldn't pay even the trailer rent, let alone the electric and water.
The trailer had a tiny yard in front, that met with the tiny yard behind the next trailer. It was too small for a mower, but she didn't have one anyway. Mostly she let the grass grow, but the landlord had just gotten on her case about that.
She just sat on the steps leading up to her door, crying. She hated that. She didn't want to be a crybaby. She was strong. She was tough. She was beat.
Around the corner of the trailer in front of hers, came her neighbor. Karl was in his mid-fifties, a little rotund and gray-haired (at least what little hair was left). They had been "wave to each other" friendly, but didn't really know each other well.
"Rhylee!" Karl said softly. "What's wrong? Can I help?"
Rhylee shook her head. "No. I'm just so tired. It seems like I'm up every night, all night, and now that bastard Luke screams at me because this pitiful patch of grass he calls a lawn is overgrown. He told me to cut it today, or I am out. Shit. I don't even have a mower!"
"Don't sweat it, Rhylee. If that's your biggest problem, and I know it isn't . . . well, what I mean is . . . well, just don't worry."
He turned and walked away again, without another word.
Rhylee looked in the direction he had gone, shook her head, and whispered to herself, "Weird." Then she stood up, and went back into the trailer where Kayden was crying, again.
She went to the crib, and picked up her crying baby. She felt the diaper – dry. She sniffed. No poopy smell. "I guess you're hungry," she told her baby, and sat on the couch with him. Although her breasts had grown in size throughout her pregnancy, and certainly now that she was nursing, they still weren't huge, and she felt more comfortable without a bra, or with a sports bra. It was so hot today, that she just went without, with just a light tank-top. She pulled up her tank-top and gently guided his mouth to her left breast. He latched onto the nipple, and immediately began sucking.
She heard a whirring noise behind her, and twisted a little bit where she was sitting to look through the sheer curtain out into the front yard. There was Karl with his little electric weed-eater cutting her grass. She started crying again. Other than her preacher, it seemed like people just weren't very nice to teenage unwed mothers. She couldn't believe that Karl was helping her out like this.
It didn't take long until the whirring stopped. Then there was a quiet knocking on her door. Without thinking, she called out, "Come in!"
The door opened, and Karl stepped up into the doorway, and looked at her, holding the baby to one breast, and the other, hanging out, a drop of milk forming at the nipple. Karl turned beet-red. "Oh, Gosh! Oh, I'm sorry. He turned his face away. "I just wanted to tell you that whenever I cut my grass, I'll get yours, too. It only takes ten minutes. Oh, Gosh! I didn't mean to . . . I'm sorry. I'll go now."
He backed down the stairs, his head facing away from her, closing the door behind him. Rhylee just stared at the closed door. Then she smiled. Then she laughed out loud. He looked and sounded so funny! It was so funny she wasn't even the slightest bit embarrassed.
For the rest of September, and into October, Karl was true to his word. Every week he used his little weed-eater to cut the grass around both his and her trailers. After a while, she began to come out and sit on the steps while he did it. He would hardly say a word to her though. He would look up from his work, glance at her, turn red, and then look back down at the grass.
Rhylee thought it was pretty funny that an old man like him was so embarrassed over a little naked boob. She wasn't sure why, but she kind of wanted to rub it in a little. After two frosts, the grass quit growing for the year, and Karl didn't have to come around to cut the grass anymore.
Rhylee decided that she was going to have to do something to tease Karl. It was Indian Summer. It frosted at night, but by noon it was in the seventies outside. She scooped Kayden up in her arms, and crossed around to the front of Karl's trailer, and knocked on his door.
The door opened, and Karl looked out. His eyes opened wide, and his mouth opened into a little round "Oh!"
"Is something wrong, Rhylee? Do you need something?"
"Well, no, and yes." Rhylee replied. "I was just lonely. I don't ever see you outside now that the grass doesn't need cutting. I just wanted to say, 'hi!'" Rhylee stepped right into his trailer, without being invited, and closed the door behind her. "I figured we could sit and visit a little bit."
She went into his living room, and sat in a big recliner. "I hope you don't mind, but the baby is hungry," she said, and pulled her t-shirt up to her shoulders, and let the hem rest on the top of her bared breasts. Again, she guided Kayden's head to one breast, and left the other uncovered.
Once again, Karl turned bright red. He began to turn away, and Rhylee spoke up.
"No, no! We can't talk if you won't look at me! Now sit on that couch. We hardly know each other, and we live right next door! I want to get to know you."
Slowly, Karl moved past Rhylee, and sat on the couch.
"Now, I know you are Karl Christoffer. I know you are a pretty nice guy, or you wouldn't be cutting my grass. I suspect that you're the person that's left a couple bags of groceries on my steps, too." But that's all I know. Tell me all about you, then I'll tell you all about me."
That's how it began. An unlikely couple of friends began drawing close to one another.
"I'll tell you about me, but please, could you pull your shirt down a little . . . well, you know. I like to look people in the eye when I talk to them, and well, it's kind of hard . . . Oh, shit, I mean. . ."
Rhylee snickered quietly.
"You know, it's difficult for me to keep my focus on your face when your b-breast is uncovered like that."
"Ok," Rhylee relented. She covered the breast that Kayden wasn't busy sucking on, and Karl began talking again.
You know my name. I'm fifty-four years old. I'm widowed . . ."
"What happened?" Rhylee quietly asked, with interest.
A tear formed in Karl's eye as he continued. "Cancer. Her uterus. It made her so mad. She couldn't have babies because it was shaped weird. It wouldn't hold a baby to come to term. Then it became cancerous, and it killed her. They took it out, but it was too late. It spread, and she was gone."
"How long ago?"
"Three years. I quit my job. I sold our house, and almost everything we had. I bought this trailer for cash, and moved here. I figure that with the rest of the money from the house, I can pay my rent and expenses until I get social security and my pension. With a little luck I'll just have a heart attack and croak, and then I'll be with her again."
Rhylee shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought I had it tough."
"You do. It's hard to start life like this. It's like you're running a race, but you had to start a hundred yards behind everyone else."
Rhylee sighed. "Yeah, it does feel like that. But it's my fault. If I didn't spread my legs like I did, well, I'm sorry. That's rude. I shouldn't talk like that. I am just so fucked up these days, I don't know what I'm doing. But then, that's why I have a baby. Because of getting fucked up. Literally."
Karl tipped his head to one side, just a little. He spoke very earnestly. "I don't know you well. I don't know what your life has been like. I think it's clear that you've been hurt, and hurt a lot. And you're partly right. Unless you were raped, this baby is in part a result of your choices."
Rhylee shrugged. "Yeah, but it's weird. I know I'm doing this the wrong way. I've always gone to church. I'm lucky that my preacher doesn't hate me, and lets me keep coming, even with the baby. Not everyone in church is quite so happy about it. Even so, Kayden is kind of the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's hard, but I'm glad I have him."
Karl looked at her closely. Quietly, he asked her, "Why?"
"Excuse me," Rhylee replied. "I'm sorry for trying to embarrass you before. I need to change sides, so if you want to turn your head, this would be a good time."
Karl did just that. Seconds later, Rhylee said, "Okay!" and Karl looked back at her.
"Why are you glad you have Kayden?"
Rhylee took a deep breath. "Look at him! He's perfect. Look at those tiny little fingers. Look at those little toes. All the parts are there." She winked at Karl. "All the parts! And that one's kind of tiny, too."
"This is a new life. It's not all fubar like mine! He's starting from scratch. Maybe his life will go better than mine. Even if I screwed up, he's still a special gift to me."
"Fubar?" asked Karl.
Rhylee turned red. Suddenly she felt kind of funny about her language around Karl. "Fucked up beyond all repair." she offered.
"Got it. So, how did your life get all fubar?"
Rhylee took a deep breath, and then, before a word came out, the tears started to flow. "Damn, damn, damn!" she thought. "I can't lose control all the time like this!"
Karl just sat there. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his elbows. He didn't make any other move toward her, he just looked at her.
Rhylee looked down at Kayden, who had gone to sleep. She pulled him away from her nipple, and dropped her t-shirt over her breast. She held him to herself, and began patting his back, to encourage him to burp. Once she got her tears and voice back under control, she took another deep breath.
"When I was five years old, on Thanksgiving Day," she began.
Rhylee told him about Uncle Dick, as she thought of him. That wasn't his name, it was the one she used when she thought about her experiences. She told him about the pain. She told him about beer and drugs when she was fourteen, because it covered the pain.
The problem with beer and drugs was that you lost control, and others were willing to take control. More sex. More pain. Bad, bad emotional pain.
She told him about Derrick, in high school. About her very brief marriage. About Jimmy, the father of the baby.
They talked. They talked about her life, and about his life. Finally she realized it was dark out.
"Shit! It's late. I've gotta go."
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" he asked.
Rhylee felt funny, being in his trailer after dark. "No, I gotta go," she insisted. She got up, and went to the door. "I'm sorry for trying to tease you by flashing you with my tits," she said.
Karl smiled. "Well, they're not the first I've seen. They are nice. But maybe you're a little free with who you offer such a treat to. You're only twenty now. Even with all that's happened, I don't think your life is totally fubar." Karl smiled again. "But maybe it's time to think about how to avoid ending up there, you know?"
Rhylee shrugged. "I reckon. If you say so."
She opened the door and stepped out. "See you later."
Two days went by, and Rhylee heard a quiet tapping at her door. She was nursing again, and was only wearing a pair of blue jeans.
"Who is it?" she called out.
She heard Karl's voice answer, "It's just me. Is this a bad time?"
"Depends on what you mean!" Rhylee answered. "You can come in, but prepare to be embarrassed if you do!"
There was just silence. Rhylee thought that maybe Karl had left. Then the door opened quietly, and Karl entered, his face turned away from her. "Do you want me to come in, or not?"
Rhylee laughed. "No, do you want to come in, or not? All my clothes are in the washer, but this pair of jeans. I'm feeding the baby, and I'm stark naked from the waist up. But you can come in if you want."
Karl just stood there, turned away. He closed the door, and then, slowly turned around.
"Damn!" he thought to himself, as he saw Rhylee. "Why does she have to look so much like Margaret?" He wished he had his camera, but she would think he just wanted to have jerk-off pictures, or would spread them around the world on the internet. Seeing her body, getting back her pre-pregnancy slenderness, wearing blue jeans and a baby, he thought, "Trailer Park Madonna. That's what I would call it. What a picture. What a set of pictures." He also felt himself begin to harden. This young woman was hardly innocent in experience, but still there was a kind of vulnerability about her that he found endearing, and attractive. "Besides, you have to face it," he told himself. "This girl is just plain hot. I hate being old and ugly."
He crossed over, and sat on one of the plastic lawn chairs she used for furniture. "I didn't see you yesterday. I hoped you weren't embarrassed about telling me about all those things."
Rhylee shrugged. "It's my life. It sucks, but there it is."
Karl leaned forward again, resting his chin on his hands. He looked deeply into her eyes. "So, what do you want to do about that?"
And that's how it started. Karl and Rhylee became friends. When she needed a ride to Walmart, she gave him a call, or sent him a text message, and off they went. That was fun for her. She taught Karl all about text messages. He was good on the internet, but texting was something else again. She would wake him up at two in the morning. With the baby at her breasts, she would pick up the phone and start keying in a message. After a while, a reply would come in. Pretty soon, they were conversing every day, by text, by phone, or in each other's trailer.
Rhylee was still very casual about covering up. She was more modest in his home, but she figured her home was her home, and if Karl didn't like it, he could stop coming over. She told him that one day.
"If I don't like it?" he questioned her. "Girl, you don't understand! I like it too much! I may be old, but I'm not dead. I'm afraid I might lose my last particle of self-control!"
"Ha!" Rhylee responded. "Men have no self-control. Men are pigs!"
"Have I been a pig?"
"Well, no." she conceded.
"Your preacher. Has he been a pig?"
"No, but he's holy and everything. He's not interested in that shit."
Karl laughed merrily. "I don't want to pull age on you or anything, but I have to tell you, that is the dumbest thing I have heard you say. He's a man. I've met him, we've talked a little, I know he isn't gay. Therefore, he's interested in 'that shit.' And he hasn't been a pig, either."
"Pigs are what you have known. Not all men are pigs. But we are only men. Only human. And girl, you are the very picture of temptation."
Rhylee turned red. "Well, I reckon . . ."
"No, really." Karl said back. "You always say that when I compliment you. That's just your way of trying to hate yourself for everything that's happened to you. You're afraid that if you really are pretty, more men will treat you like garbage. Girl, there are men out there who would love to love you."
Rhylee snorted, "Yeah. I know. I've been loved by a lot of them."
"NO! You haven't!" Karl's voice was loud and sharp. "You've NEVER been loved. You've been fucked. Over and over again, but no one's ever made love to you! I don't think you even know what that is!"
There was silence between them.
Karl started again, softly. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry. That was truth, said too harshly, too loudly. It just makes me angry to hear you confuse fucking with lovemaking. I wish you could really learn the difference."
Something in what Karl said hit a deep nerve. Maybe it was when he called her "honey." She had been called that before. "Uncle Dick" used to call her that. "Honey," he would softly call, when she was trying to hide from him in her bedroom. He called her honey when he raped her.
Her father called her honey. He also regularly lost control of his temper, and beat her, sometimes severely.
So many of the boys she had been with called her honey. At least they did while their dicks were hard. Once they were done, they didn't call her much of anything. Now here Karl was, calling her honey, and it made her angry.
She had been fucked and fucked over, too many times. Rhylee went beyond sadness. Emotionally she went deep into her core, and found a tight ball of rage that grew and grew, until it began spilling out of her.
"Yeah? So who's going to teach me? Huh, old man? Are you going to teach me? Are you going to turn into a pig, too? Is it just coming down to that? Are you just one more dirty old man trying to get into my pants?"
Rhylee stood up. Her voice raised, she continued, "Fine! Do it! Teach me about fucking and l-o-v-e-m-a-k-i-n-g! DO IT!"
Rhylee pulled off her t-shirt, revealing a sports bra beneath it. "Here! Do it!"
She pulled her jeans down to her ankles and kicked them off. She stood inches in front of him, put her hands on her panty covered hips and yelled at him, "Do it! Teach me!"
She pulled the bra over her head and threw it behind her, spread her arms wide and shouted even louder, "DO IT!! Come on, Fucker! Come on, love-maker, TEACH ME!!"
Rhylee tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, and bent over. "Ya gonna teach me! Do it! Teach me!!
Karl stared. There she was. Her face was inches away, red and angry. She screamed into his face. He could feel flecks of spittle as she screamed. But he also saw the beautiful young woman. He saw her milk-laden breasts, swaying as she bent over, in front of him. His penis was hard, hard, hard.
She pushed the panties down to her ankles, lifted one foot, then the other. She scooped the panties up and threw them in her face. "God Damn Fucking Teach Me!!!! DO IT!!!!"
The tears flowed down her face. She stood in front of him, stark naked. Clearly she used to shave her pubic area, but hadn't kept it up. It wasn't long yet, but it was more than stubble. Karl yearned to touch, to caress, to take his mouth directly to those sweet lips just inches below his face and kiss her.