Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Jack Spratt
Title: Jack Spratt's My Everett Mountain Retreat
Summary: Don, recently detached from Special Forces after twenty-five
years, is trying to assimilate back into civilian life, not an easy task.
His niece Jayden has been his rock, just the thought her while on difficult
assignments kept him sane and able to focus on the target.  She is
everything he desires in a woman but she is his young niece.
His retreat from the world is a small cabin on a mountain face, which
has been in the family for generations.  It should have been the perfect
staging ground to integrate him back into civilian life.  It was a great
plan, except for one very beautiful complication, Charlize!  Want to know

more?  Well start reading!



   Keywords: M/ff con



   Fictional fantasy for adults only

   If stories involving adults and adolescences make you uncomfortable,
stop reading or delete this story NOW.

   This story may be downloaded by readers uniquely for their private use,
but may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other
websites.

   This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.

   Standard Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic and explicit
material and, as such, it is not suitable for minors.  If you are a minor,
please leave now, as it is illegal for you to be here.  If it is illegal
for you to read or view sexually explicit material in the community you
view such material, please leave now.  This story and characters are purely
fictional and any resemblance to events or persons (living or dead) is
purely coincidental.  If you are offended by sexually explicit stories,
please read no further.  If you are offended by stories featuring incest,
sex between minors and adults, or any other situation, please check the
story code before reading the text.  These stories are just that, stories,
and do not promote or condone the activities described herein, especially
when it comes to unsafe sexual practices or sex between adults and minors.

   Copyright (C) 2014, Jack Spratt.  ALL Rights Reserved

   Date of first publication: Nov.  6, 2014

   Story codes: M/ff con

   Story intro: Don, recently detached from Special Forces after
twenty-five years, is trying to assimilate back into civilian life, not an
easy task.  His niece Jayden has been his rock, just the thought her while
on difficult assignments kept him sane and able to focus on the target. 
She is everything he desires in a woman but she is his young niece.

   His retreat, from the world, is a small cabin on a mountain face; the
cabin has been in the family for generations.  It should have been the
perfect staging ground to integrate him back into civilian life.  It is a
great plan, except for one very beautiful complication, Charlize!  Want to
know more?  Well start reading!

   ****************************************************************

   My Everett Mountain Retreat

   A New Story By

   Jack Spratt
***************************************************************** Special
thanks to Phil Gorman 2014 for his expertise in re-editing and proofing. 
*****************************************************************

   Each time I enjoy the view from the veranda of the cottage, I can
appreciate the reason my great-great-great grandfather filed a claim for
this pile of rocks.  The claim consists of four hundred acres of rock, some
timber and under bush basically a mountain face, part of Everett's Mountain
Range, mineral wise until there is a market for volcanic rock, I won't get
rich from my inheritance but that wasn't the main reason for the original
claim.  Many, many years ago, there were a large number of fresh water
creeks with an abundance of beaver in the surrounding area.  Great, great,
great Grandfather trapped for years.  When the trapping ended, a result of
to many trappers and too few beaver, the cottage became a hunt camp for the
next generations.  Which for all intents and proposes it still is. 
Although, I haven't hunted game animals for years, however I have hunted,
not animals, MEN! 
*****************************************************************

   Who am I you ask?  My name is Don P.  Johnson, forty-six, single, never
been seriously involved.  While in the Special Forces for my twenty five, I
never felt comfortable with the thought of getting involved for a number of
reasons; first it would not be fair to anyone, always wondering if I would
return from an assignment.  Second, without a very clear focus on my task
and the many risks, I could end up very dead.  My profession was killing, a
sniper, it is a profession I excel at.  And no, it doesn't bother me; I
looked at my job as an exterminator, getting rid of vermin. 
********************************************************** With the
exception of my sister Rayne, and her thirteen year old daughter Jayden, I
have no other persons of interest in my life, and to be really truthful, my
only interest is my niece, Jayden is my rock.  Both of my parents died
young, cancer, the same disease that took my grandparents and great
grandparents.  I hate to admit this but the only time my mind isn't on
guard is my time spent with Jayden, unknown to her, she is the closest
thing to a girlfriend, I ever had.  Any time I was down because of my
assignment, just the thought of her, gave me a purpose to be very
successful at what I did, so leaving her to the wiles of my mixed sister is
not an option!

   I am self-sufficient as a result of inheritances from parents and
grandparents, plus my own savings, all invested at a New York Brokerage
firm, my funds are managed by a compatriot who, many years ago, acted as my
spotter in many exercises as well as in the field, I was instrumental in
saving his life three times during various tours of action, I know he will
never knowingly let me down.  The value of my investments keeps growing. 
****************************************************************** From the
cottage, I can see at least fifteen miles of rough wilderness.  There are a
few lakes and rivers among the miles of timber that is yet to fall to the
harvesters.  The majority of the terrain is inaccessible to harvesting
machines making it uneconomical to consider at this time; that is until
technology figures a way to harvest the forest profitably, fortunately that
is not likely in my life time!  The only mar on this pristine view is a
road that seems to have followed a snake.  Many years ago, the engineers
just followed the path of least resistance, blasting through the rock bed
to create a road for some limited logging.  The timbering didn't pan out
but the road which ends up on the other side of the mountain is here for
eternity.  It is the shortest route to get to the other side but also a
very dangerous trip, a few use it regularly, but those are the experienced
cautious drivers. 
********************************************************** A billion years
ago when this area was formed, the pressure from the earth forced upwards
large slabs of granite, some nearly two thousand feet in height, those
slabs are supported my many smaller slabs.  From my view you can make out
the layers.  Actually the cabin is located in valley between two massive
slabs, over time; vegetation grew and died building up what we call soil.
The cabin is located approximately seven hundred feet up from the road, it
is a very steep grade; this location was selected because of an active
fresh water spring behind the cabin.  Through time, many of the
outcroppings grew moss, which in turned died and created more soil.  Thus
somewhere in history, a lowly blueberry plant took hold.  Now every spring
and summer, the hills are blue with berries.  My mom had been a great
baker, and many a blueberry ended up in her pies and muffins.  I've been
out of the service for seven months, and during that time I have been
approached by my prior superiors six times trying to convince me to
re-enlist.  Poo, Poo on that idea!  I like the solitude and not being a
target; at least I keep telling myself that. 
*********************************************************

   Many years ago in my grandfather's time, a large power line company
wanted rights to cross his property; they needed to construct two large
towers on the highest part of granddaddy's land claim.  Grandfather being a
wise old man knew if he refused, they would go to court and win and the
towers would be built as the lower state needed that power!  So he gave
them permission at no cost to them, other than they had to supply power and
maintain the service to the cabin for perpetuity.  It was a good trade off.
Another plus factor is the company had to blast out a trail; you can't call
it a road to transport the tons of steel to build the towers.  That trail
gives me access to the cabin; my Yukon XL sits behind the cabin.

   Ten or twelve years ago a large cellular company approached my dad with
the same request for cell towers, like granddaddy, he gave them permission,
the condition was free cell phone service and internet forever.  Another
excellent trade, the rocks, where the towers stand, will never have any
other use.  *********************************************************

   Sitting in a very old but comfortable chair, surveying the panoramic
view, I can recall a number of times car were wrecked on the winding road.
In my younger years, it was a good place to race; actually it was a stupid
place to race as they are very few areas wide enough to pass at high
speeds. I lost six of my classmates on this road.  Rock cuts are very
unforgiving.  From the deck, to the left, about two miles of twisting road
can be seen, to my right maybe one thousand feet, because of a very large
slab of granite sticking upwards nearly five hundred feet.  That particular
slab has resulted in at least twelve lives lost in wrecks, as the speeders,
could not make the curve and totalled their vehicles.  From this distance I
can make out a number of Painted red crosses at the base of that
outcropping denoting the deaths.

   In the evening at dusk, I often hear the powerful motors of vehicles as
two or more are racing to their possible deaths, fortunately most survive.
They will never learn.

   Being discharged from the force doesn't mean you leave the force.  Your
physical body yes, you mind NO!  I am always on alert, after all the years
in the service it is inbred in me: scanning my surroundings even at the
cottage.  I have no reason to be so vigil; it is just part of my survival
training.  You can't just turn it off.

   One of my little quirks is surveillance, with the advances in
technology; you can buy small remote wireless cameras, which can be set to
activate by sound at a fixed rate of decibels as well motion sensors.  They
can be equipped with night vision lenses as well.  I have installed twenty
three of little gems, three at the back of the cabin and the rest in front
of the cablin, facing the access road and highway.  No, I am not paranoid,
just cautious; it comes with my prior job.

   Each morning I check the control board for the camera, as usual two or
three have had their small LED lite activated, usually a rabbit, or a
coyote.  Today is no different.  After erasing the tapes, I reset the
recorder.

   After breakfast, it is a repeat of what I've been doing for the past
week, enjoying a hot mug of coffee and the view.  The road traffic is few
and far between.  This morning there is the sound of a large diesel engine,
to my left is a transport is cautiously moving forward, he is driving to
the road condition, approaching each turn slowly and sounding his air horn.
Some of the corners are blind; you are virtually blind of anything around
the corner so the driver is very cautious.  That, I can respect.

   Soon all I can see is a large blast of diesel exhaust from the truck as
the trailer moves around the last rock cut to my right.  The only reminder
of the truck is the sound of the driver changing gears, then nothing.

   The sound of my cell brings me back to earth.

   "Hello."

   "Uncle Don?" **********************************************************

   It is Jayden, my Jayden.  Jayden is the only good thing my useless
sister has done in her life.  Jayden is the result of a one night stand. 
Unknown to Jayden, she provided me with the will to keep me going in some
of the far off shit holes of the world.  Just thinking of her beauty,
always gives me a lift.

   Jayden is thirteen going on twenty-two, she very wise for her age and
able to function very well, despite the handicap of her mother, my useless
sister.

   Jayden Johnson is about five feet tall, maybe ninety-five to
hundred-five pounds.  The weight is very well distributed.  Beautiful thick
blond hair, striking blue eyes that have sheen to them, her look makes me
feel uncomfortable, when thinking un-uncle things, especially when she
seems to be reading my dirty mind.  Her bottom is perfect for her body, her
breasts call me all the time to come and pay homage, well in my mind.  Her
face is to die for.  She is destined to make every male humble himself in
her presences.

   A number of years ago, prior to going on a tour, I hired a caregiver for
Jayden, ensuring she had everything a young lady required, from food to
clothing and an allowance.  I have zero confidence in my sister.  And as
expected, my sister didn't give a shit what I did for Jayden, she looked at
it as a gift, and she could use more of her waitress salary to get
shitfaced.  Jayden was never a priority for my sister; she looked at her as
more of a burden.  To me she is my lover who is never to be.

   "Hi Jayden, what's up?"

   "When are you coming back to town?"
**********************************************************

   Jayden and my useless sister live in Abbotsville, approximately thirty
miles from here.  When Jayden and her mother moved to Abbotsville, I rented
a two bedroom apartment for them and am still paying the rent and
utilities. Jayden's caretaker lives in the same building that in itself
gives me peace of mind.  Jayden will never want for anything.  In the event
something happens to me, all my assets go into a trust fund administered by
my long time buddy.  My sister will have no access and no influence to the
disposition of the funds.  When Jayden turns sixteen she will be provided
with a monthly allowance, plus the cost of her education and any costs
related to it will be taken care of as well.  Her accommodation if required
while at school will be paid.  At the age of twenty-one the administration
of the estate will be passed to her.

   "Is something wrong?"

   "No, I just miss you."

   "I will be in town on Saturday, can you wait till then?"

   "I guess I will have to."

   "Tell you what; let me take you to dinner at a upscale restaurant and
maybe a movie, your choice!"

   "Humm, what if I want to see a tear jerker?"

   "Then I will have to sit through it."

   "What if I said a porno?"

   "Then I would have to consider, I am not talking to my sweet, loveable,
beautiful niece Jayden, and wonder who the imposter is!"

   There is a giggle on the other end of the line, the same giggle that
makes my spine tingle as the vibes end at the tip of John Thomas.  Just the
sound of Jayden's voice makes me hard.

   "I'll make a deal with you, I will let the real Jayden accompany you for
dinner and a movie, and we can go to see that new action movie with Brad
Pitt."

   "Hey, that sounds like a plan.  I will call you Saturday morning to set
up the times.  If you have a particular restaurant in mind, tell me, so I
can make reservations."

   "I'll call you back later today, okay."

   "Talk to soon, Jayden.  I love you."

   "Humm, I really love you to!"

   I am now listening to a dead line.  She does it every time, at least in
my mind.  I have a boner of all boners, and it is a result of talking to,
or just thinking of my lovely niece, what I wouldn't give to be fourteen or
fifteen dating her.  Really, that thought doesn't help my current
condition.

   She did call back and told me she wanted to eat Italian, fortunately
Theodore's were still taking reservation for Saturday evening.  I booked us
for five thirty; Jayden told me the moves starts at eight-forty-five.

   When I pick up Jayden, her outfit has me panting; she is wearing a short
black pleated skirt showing a vast amount of flawless nylon covered skin,
and a white semi-sheer blouse that does her breasts proud.  They stand out
like beacons calling me.  Dinner and the movie went well, I think.  Jayden
surprises me, or should I say shocks me.  During the movie she slide
herself under my arm, slipped her hand under my shirt and slowly caressed
my stomach, gradually going lower and lower till my belt blocked further
advances.  When she seen my tent, she whispered in my ear.

   "Is that for me, or because of me?"

   It is hard to concentrate on a movie with that kind of distraction.  I
wanted to take her in my arms and touch her in kind, but I restrained
myself.  Finally the movie ended.  Walking to the car, she clung to my arm,
bouncing her soft thigh against mine.

   Assisting her into the passenger seat, I notice she has a very guilty
look on her face; that should have been a red flag to me.  Jayden has
always been a soul of propriety, but tonight for some reason, the devil
Jayden is here.  As soon as I closed the driver's door she was on me like a
second skin, Jayden was on a mission.  The way her breasts were mushed
against me it was obvious they were unencumbered.  She had unhooked her
bra. The final shock was when she tried to climb over the console into my
lap.  With my hands on her legs, attempting to block that movement, I
encounter bare skin lots of bare skin.  This young lady, whom I don't know,
had removed her panties and my hand was now caressing her soft warm moist
pussy, my finger slides between her luv lips, it feels so inviting!  My
mind is screams at me, this is wrong!  She is your little niece!  But John
Thomas says go for it, do the deed man, where are your balls!  The saving
grace was we were still in the parking lot, and a number of other patrons
from the movie were moving about, with headlights illuminating the inside
of the cab.  Jayden slipped back into the passenger seat, with a large
satisfied grin on her face.  The witch has her skirt tucked into her waist
band exposing my nemesis, her luscious bare moist pussy.  Her sexual
essence fills the cab.

   "Jayden!  What the hell do you think you are doing?"

   "Uncle Don, I don't be a prude.  I want you and I know you want me. 
Look at your hardon!"

   John Thomas is going to be the death of me; he is all for being
introduced to Jayden's honey pot.

   "You can't think like that, you're my niece."

   "Like that matters, you know I love you and I know you love me, I also
know what you have done for me over the years, yeah, and I know my mother
isn't much.  How many years have you taken care of me?  Hmmm, all of them,
Right!"

   As I try to formulate an answer, her hand grasps my excited John Thomas,
who is now enjoying being the centre of attention.  Oh, how I want Jayden.
Looking between her legs, I am sure there is luv juice accumulating.  John
Thomas votes go for it.  My good side is yelling, she's your niece for god
sakes, get a grip!  Good side won!  When I dropped her off at her building,
she smile that evil smile, then stuck her sexy tongue at me.  I didn't
trust myself to walk her to the door.

   Needless to say, I am frustrated, I am not happy; I could bite the heads
off rattlesnakes.  You guessed it.  I am not in a good mood. 
******************************************************************

   I had a hellva sleep, thinking how close I came to making love to
Jayden, John Thomas keep reminding me that his frustration and mine could
have been taken care of by a very willing Jayden.  She wasn't any help;
actually she kept instigating all kinds of un-uncle/niece like things
during the evening.  She wanted me to take her cherry!  John Thomas voted
yes for that scenario!

   It is just past five in the morning, my shitty sleep has done nothing
for my shitty disposition!  The big question is should I get up or try to
fall asleep again.  Two squirrels having an argument outside my bedroom
window decide for me.

   Once the coffee perking, I return to the bedroom to get dressed.  The
bed looks worse than some of the places I had to conceal myself wearing my
ghillie suit while on a mission.  My conscience is a hellva advisory!  Just
as I am tying my shoes, there is a horrendous crashing noise; someone has
hit the rock cut.  I know that sound, an unforgiving pillar of granite, and
the dying scream of twisting metal.

   Looking down the hill from deck, there is a black full size sedan,
squashed up against the granite pillar; another cross will likely be added.
There is no movement.  Then out of the corner of my eye, I see more
carnage. Not noticing it before, I see four tires in the air, from here it
looks like a black SUV in the ravine on the other side of the road, on its
roof, steam is rising from its punched rad.

   Quickly dressing, a travel down the hill, cautiously, if one was to slip
and start rolling down the hill, the odds are you would end up dead by the
time you stopped rolling, the outward cropping of sharp granite would
ensure that.  Now on the road, I rush to the car, there is no hope here,
only one passenger, the driver is sitting next to the engine, and the
magnitude of the collision had so much force it pushed the engine through
the firewall.  All that is left is blood and brain matter splatter on the
windows.  I have seen that combination many times before.

   The SUV is another story.  Steam is now rushing from the damaged
radiator, there is snapping sounds like electrical shorts.  The big
surprise is the ground is covered with one-hundred dollar bills.  The crash
had sprung the back doors of the SUV dumping most of its contents on the
ground.  Five very large black soft sided duffel bags are on the ground,
one burst its fastenings, and a bundle of bills broke its band, but the
rest of the full bundles are still in the bag.  Also on the ground are a
number of sealed plastic bundles of what I assume is coke, or drugs of some
kind, there are about twenty bundles, my guess three to five pounds each,
it is major weight that someone will be looking for.

   The SUV has two males in the front seat, both dead.  In both cases, the
airbags released but the force of the rolling vehicle snapped both of their
necks.  Their bodies are secured by their seat belts, hanging upside down.
Both heads are sort of dangling from their necks, not in a natural
position. Blood is seeping from their noses, ears, eyes and mouth.  Not a
good sign.

   Then I smell gas.  The unit is leaking gasoline from the filler hose; it
is seeping into the wheel well then dripping to the ground, not a good
situation.  There is a good possibility the SUV will go up in flames.  More
sounds of electrical shorts from the engine compartment make the
possibility of a fire eminent!  Time to get the hell out of Dodge!  Being a
good conservationist, I remove a pair of surgical gloves from my pocket;
this is a habit from my service days: leave no trace is always the motto,
and pick up all the loose bills, replacing them in the open duffel bag. 
After moving all five bags away from the possible inferno, I pick up all
the drugs bundles and place them in the wheel well, under the gas drip,
waste not want not.  Grabbing the heavy duffel bags, I return to the
wrecked auto for one last look.  Still just blood and brain matter, nothing
has changed.  Then I get an eerie feeling, like something about this scene
is wrong.  At the back of the unit, the trunk lid is sprung but not open,
curious, I lift the trunk lid.  The surprise is it contains luggage, it's
not that the luggage is a surprise; the fact is all feminine is the
surprise.  It is a very large set of very expensive matching designer
luggage, consisting of three large suitcases, two smaller cases, a makeup
case and a smaller travel case.  The scent of leather is evident.  This is
odd, since I've only found male bodies, did I miss something?  Unless one
of them was gay!  Slowly walking around the car, I look for anything
suspicious; the passenger side window is shattered, so much for safety
glass.  Peeking in the back seat, I notice the seatbelts are engaged
securing what looks like rolls of blankets.  Then I hear what I would
consider a whimper, not sure what it is or where it is coming from, I stand
still and listen.  There it is again.  Something or someone is in the back
seat still alive.  Getting the back door open is a challenge, it is jammed;
again I take all precautions of leaving no trace.  Finally springing the
door, I am looking at a pair of shoed feet of a young girl.  Her legs are
bound in such away they would not be bruised by the restraints.  Quickly
releasing the seat belts, I remove three rolled up blankets; the girl is
wrapped in a heavy quilt.  Opening the quilt, reveals a beautiful young
girl, her olive complexion gives her an era of mystery; she is not
conscience but is moaning.  There is a large bruise on her forehead where
it likely struck the arm rest during the collision.  Her hands are bound by
a similar restraint as her legs.  Whoever was responsible for this wanted
to keep the young lady bruise free?  First thing, I think of is white
slavery.  This girl was just a chattel for these creeps.  They were
delivering her to a purchaser.

   The girl is wearing a form fitting dress, not the run of the mill type
but a designer dress tailored to fit her young body.  Her shapely legs are
encased in off white stay-ups, there is a gap of flawless skin then a mini
white thong, and her large luv lips are embedded in the small V of cloth.
It appears she was dressed for presentation.  A sickening thought turns my
stomach; she appears to be the same build as Jayden what if!!  Removing her
restrains, it is a struggle to remove her limp body from the vehicle.  With
her slung over my shoulder, I carry her to the cabin put her to bed and
cover her.  She was my first trip. 
*****************************************************************

   The luggage and the young lady were not the only surprises in the car,
when I removed the luggage; I found another interesting item, a large
custom made rifle case containing, a SVD Dragunov Sniper rifle, with
accessories plus twelve boxes of ammunition 7.292 x 79 mm Warsaw, this is
not your average gun.  This is a very serious type of weapon, I will
examine it later as time permits, and it is certainly not a priory right
now!  ****************************************************************

   It took me six trips up the steep rock face to remove the girl, all her
luggage, the rifle and its accessories and of course the litter I picked up
from the SUV still in the duffle bags!  A true conservationist does not
leave any litter, including one hundred dollar bills. 
****************************************************************

   Just as I complete the last strenuous climb, I hear a loud whoosh, then
an explosion.  The gasoline, in the wheel well, had ignited and then the
gas tank exploded.  A large cloud of black smoke rose from the SUV.  No
more drugs, no more cash, a tragedy in the making and two crispy critters
in the front seat.  Being a good citizen I placed a call to 911 advising
them of the accident.  In forty five minutes the place was crawling with
people, including two local television crews.  Fortunately, the
investigators accepted the terrible scene as the truth, an unfortunate
accident the result of speeding drivers.  It took three wreckers to remove
what was left of the burnt SUV, every time it crashed and banged on the
granite, it removed more traces of the dope and the theoretically burnt
cash.  ******************************************************************

   My guest is still unconscious, in all the activity; my priority was to
remove her and all traces of her from the car.  I even removed the blankets
and comforter from the back seat.  Then I stood beside the vehicle for a
good ten minutes just looking at the scene.  I removed six obvious long
dark hairs from the back seat, there may be more but the obvious ones are
gone.  Being ruled an accident, I don't believe anyone will be looking for
anything more.  The cause of death of the driver was obvious.

   The young lady is either a preteen or a young teenager, but I am no
expert on young girls, with the exception of Jayden.  There are fresh
needle marks on her left arm, they had her drugged.  It is fortunate for
them they are dead.  Nobody hurts young kids on my watch.  I can feel the
wrath seeping up my body. 
****************************************************************

   My subconscious reminds me to do things in priority.  Until the drugs
wear off, there is nothing I can do or glean from the young lady.  My first
task is to hide the duffel bags, counting the funds are not a priority
hiding the stash is.  Having them in the open would only invite questions.
There is bound to be someone nosing around to determine if any of the funds
and drugs were found, and of course the girl, who could be my undoing.  The
authorities do not know she exists, but the bad guys do!  They will be
looking and the only one close to the accident scene is me! 
**************************************************************** Years ago
Granddaddy made several attempts to mine the property and as a result there
are many blast holes of various depths around the cabin.  With beaver stock
depleted, he had hoped to prove all the Nay Sayers wrong that nothing of
value existed in the rocks, was in fact, incorrect.  It wasn't!  One of
those craters close to the cabin is actually covered with a heavy slab of
granite.  It takes all my strength to move it, there is just enough room to
get all the duffel bags in and when the rock cover is lowered in to place
no one is any the wiser.  If anyone finds this cache it would be horse shit
luck.

   The cottage consists of one large room divided by storage closets and
shelving; it has one double bed where the young girl is now resting.  The
designer luggage is piled neatly at the foot of the bed.  She is still in a
trance from the drugs, since I don't know what they used, I just let her
sleep.  The drug certainly wasn't meant to harm her, just to keep her
comatose as they moved her from one place to another.

   My mind is analysing the circumstance trying to come up with a possible
scenario, was the girl being transported to the chief honcho.  Considering
the cash, the large volume of drugs, the fancy sniper rifle and of course
the young lady, if my conjecture is true there is one hellva pissed off
individual somewhere.  And when you consider his three delivery boys are
dead, he /she will be screaming for answers, and especially where his money
and dope is, the girl could be easily replaced!

   The squeal of brakes from the road has me on the veranda.  There is a
large county dump truck parked on the shoulder where the SUV when down. 
The men, carrying sacks, are picking up pieces from the wreck.  I watch
them for two hours before they decide the wreck area is now clean.  Anyone
trying to determine what actually happened by what is left, will be lacking
any clues, another point in my favor.  The only thing left from the crash
is blackened rock face from the burning fuel and tires from the SUV.  As
the truck returns to whence it came, I brew another pot of coffee.  Then I
notice the console that monitors the cameras, if the camera has recorded
anything the LED blinks, the twenty facing out from the front of the cabin
are flashing.  I turn on the viewer to watch what they captured!  It shows
various views of the car leading and the SUV that is following closely
behind.  When the car piled into the rock face, the SUV swerved to miss
hitting the car, but over corrected and rolled over the edge, it took a
very rough ride before it came to rest.  I don't think professional drivers
and all their protective gear could have survived the punishment.  The
cameras also have recorded my rescue of the young girl plus lugging the
duffel bags, luggage and rifle case up to the cabin.  That tape is now
smoldering on the hot coals of fireplace.  As I said, leave no trace.

   Just as I am enjoying a fresh cup of coffee, the bed squeaks, the young
girl moving, the drug is wearing off.  Standing and looking at her in the
bed, a pair of very frightened big brown eyes are staring back at me.

   "Hi, please don't be frightened, you are safe!"

   The look she gives me tells me, she has no confidence in my statement.
She looks scared, she surveys the cabin.  Of course I have no idea of what
her last conscience memory was or where.

   "Do you speak English?"

   "Yes!"

   At least now I know she understands.

   "The car you were riding in was in a severe accident.  The driver was
killed."

   "What car, I don't remember any car, the last thing I remember is a
woman dressing me in these fancy cloths then everything went dark.  Where
am I?"

   "This is my cottage in the mountains; the crash occurred on the road
below the cottage, you can see the spot from the veranda.  We are about
thirty miles from Abbotsville.  Do you know the city?"

   "Yes, I was held at a lodge on Lake Ryan."

   "Held?"

   "Those men had sold me; they were delivering me to the purchaser.  I
have no idea who bought me.  All I know there was a lot of money involved
because my guards talked about their share and what they were going to do
with it."

   "What is your name?  Where are you from?  How old are you?"

   "My name is Charlize Dilorenzo; I am fourteen.  I live in New Orleans
with my grandmother: my parents were killed four years ago; my granny is
all I have.  All I can remember is being dragged into a van, while walking
home from school; a cloth was put over my face, I woke up at the Lodge,
when I told them I wanted to go home, they just laughed, telling me I would
be at my new home in a couple of days.  They were not nice people."

   "How many were there?"

   "Three bad men!"

   "If it was the three driving the vehicles, you will happy to know that
they are dead, from the crash.  There were two vehicles both wrecked, one
burnt as well.  You were in the backseat of the car bound and fastened in
place with the seat and shoulder belts.  That is what saved you."

   "I need to go pee and I am hungry!"

   "I only have an outhouse in the back."

   The facilities are crude at best, an outhouse twenty feet from the
cottage back door.  There have been very few female guests, and the ones
that were here, were not impressed.  I will have to invest in a Porta Potty
for the weaker sex.  I watch as Charlize attempts to get up, she is very
weak.  Getting up to assist, she pulls back into the bed looking at me with
genuine fear in her eyes.

   "Charlize you are weak, likely from the drugs, plus we have no idea how
long you were under.  What is the last date you remember?"

   "Tuesday the sixth."

   "Shit that was five days ago, you remember nothing since then?"

   "Only hazy images, a woman came to the room and undressed me and took
all my body measurement, the last thing was when the same woman dressed me
in these fancy clothes."

   "First, my name is Don Johnson, second I rescued you from the car wreck.
I mean you no harm.  I wish to help you, but I won't touch you if that is
your wish."

   Again she attempts to get up with no success.  She is going to need my
assistance.

   "You really need my help.  May I?"

   "Oh please, I really need to go pee!"

   She is so delicate, in her weaken condition she slides in my arms, my
hands are on her breasts, so soft.  Of course my body reacts.  Since there
are no other options, I scoop her in my arms, carry her to the privy, but
quickly determine she hasn't the strength to do her business.  Hoisting
dress, then lowering her panties, exposes the eighth beauty of the world.
Her slit is partially spread, exposing a pink pea sized clitoris out of its
hood.

   With some effort, I manage to get her body in position to pee.

   "Charlize, you can pee now.  I will support you."

   I can feel her body tense as she tries to pressure her bladder to
release her pee.  Then a flood, for a good minute, the golden fluid flows
from her beautiful opening, it is fascinating to watch.  Finally she is
done, a dribble remains.  She looks at me with a very feeble smile; with a
silent plead to wipe her heaven.  Leaning her against the back wall, I do
my chore.  If Jayden's pussy is a duplicate of Charlize's I know there is a
heaven.  After using the tissue, I run my finger from her clitoris to anal
opening to confirm it is dry.  That feeling is burnt into my finger tip.

   Once her panties into position, I scoop her into my arms and return to
the cabin.  Sitting her in my comfortable chair, she gives me a big smile.

   "Thank you, but I am still hungry."

   "I am not sure what to suggest, you are so weak, and we have no idea
what kind of drug those bastards used on you.  I will warm some beef broth.
If you can hold it down for a couple of hours we can try some cooked rice
and broth, as well as a vitamin pill and some Omega Three."

   "Thank you for helping me."

   "You're welcome, let see if there is anything on TV about your abduction
and the accident."

   The all-news channel is carrying a rehash of the accident.  Authorities
have ruled it an unfortunate accident, the result of inexperienced drivers
driving too fast.  It goes on to give a bit of the history of the road and
all the lives it has claimed.  The interesting thing is they identify the
dead men; all are from the New York area.  There is no mention of their
backgrounds.  I wrote the names and ages down and will google them when
Charlize is sleeping.

   The broth dish is empty, Charlize has fallen asleep.  Covering her with
a blanket, I grab my laptop and sit at the table facing her.  Googling
Charlize Dilorenzo comes up with a flurry items.  First the abduction,
police have no clues but are continuing their investigation.  Charlize
abduction was the fourth in the last two months and like her case, there
are no clues in the other kidnappings, the FBI is now involved.  The girls
came from varying backgrounds, no connection between the victims has been
found, the only thing the binds them is their obvious beauty.  A
supplementary article is about Charlize's Grand Mother, the shock of the
kidnapping was horrendous event for the woman of her advanced age, it
resulted in a seizure and Charlize's Granny died in the emergency room. 
The gist of the balance of the article is there are no other living
relatives.  Charlize is all alone in the world!  The next article gives
some background.  The family emigrated from Venezuela, six years ago,
Charlize's parents and her grandmother.  It goes on to explain that
Charlize had two older brothers who both got involved with drugs; both were
killed in a drive by.  Shortly after that they remaining family emigrated.

   Now the three hoodlums are another story, there are articles on each
one, referring to their vast criminal background, they all have been
charged with numerous offences but very expensive lawyers got them off or
small fines.  That means mega dollars were protecting those hoods, money
that will be curious about the drugs, cash and the girl.  Not good! 
Perhaps a call to my investment buddy in New York could provide me with
more info.  He may be an investment banker now but I would lay odds he has
kept his contacts with the FBI and likely Home Land. 
******************************************************

   While Charlize slept, I boiled some rice and cooked a small portion of
ground beef.  I mixed the two with some broth.  This will give Charlize
something solid.  My hope is she can hold it down.

   She does look beautiful sleeping.  My mind recalls the wonders between
her legs.  Her pussy was so soft and warm so, shit why, am I even thinking
things like that.  Then Jayden's image pops into the mix.  My witch of a
niece did her damndest to make me do something to her after the dinner and
movie date.  I have to admit I was so tempted.

   When Charlize wakes, she does look better, the ghoulish color has gone.
Again she reiterates she is hungry.  The rice mixture goes down quickly.  I
have to remind her to eat slowly; otherwise we will be cleaning vomit from
the floor.

   Four hours later, she devours another plate of the mixture plus two
unbuttered pieces of toast.  She certainly has the appetite, but I don't
want to push it.  Tomorrow morning, I will try a full breakfast.

   It is really good to see her up and about.  She is now curious about the
cabin.

   "Don, I really need a bath, the way I smell it has been a long time."

   Bathing at the cabin is an adventure; it involves an old zinc coated
laundry tube, a couple of buckets, an old fashioned dipper and soap.  In
good weather, I drag all the items to a small deck at the back of the
cabin, fill the tube and then stand in it, using the dipper to wet down my
body, wash then rinse using the dipper, Walla I am done!

   Now with the Charlize, it could be a challenge, the odds of her being
comfortable standing naked on the little deck are slim and nil, which means
lugging the tub to the kitchen area.  After explaining the action plan to
her, she has a funny look on her face.

   "And where will you be when I bathe?"

   "Where ever you want me to be."

   "You have already seen most of me, you can help!"

   Getting ready for a bath is not as easy as it sound, two large pot of
water have to be heated.  Once that is done, the pots are refilled with
more water to rinse, if she washes her hair, we need volumes of warm water
to rinse, with me, I can stand cold water, her, I doubt it.

   It took a good hour to get ready, placing soap, my bargain basement
shampoo and a wash cloth at the ready, I call Charlize.

   I have pulled the curtains on the three windows and sit down waiting. 
Charlize comes from the bed area carrying clean clothes.

   "I can't believe the clothing I have; there is nothing practical for
roughing it, no jeans, shorts or T-shirts.  Everything in high end,
blouses, skirts even three dresses.  I have never seen so many bikini
panties and thongs, the bras must have cost a fortune, they are all
fitted."

   "We can go to town tomorrow and pick up whatever you need."

   She looks at me, then at the tub.  In a one room cabin there are not too
many areas where you can disappear.  She turns her back to me and lowers
the zipper of her dress; it slides down her body, ending up in a pile at
her feet.  I am gazing at Venus, from her beautiful hair, down her smooth
back, then her beautiful bum, perfectly proportioned to her body, and her
legs, they just don't quit.  Hell, my body is trembling just at the rear
view.  John Thomas is really excited!

   She steps into the tub, and begins.  I am mesmerized, watching her. 
When she leans over to do her legs, her bum cheeks spread, her rimmed
rosebud has my attention for a moment then the lower part of her luv lips
makes themselves part of my view.  John Thomas is standing at attention
enjoying this vision.  Does Jayden look as spectacular as Charlize!  I have
yet to see Jayden in the nude, not that she hasn't tried.  My mind goes
back to Jayden and our dinner and movie.  It was so close!

   After Charlize's bath is complete, she looks at me.

   "Would you help me rinse my hair?"

   "My pleasure."

   Beside her with a bucket of warm water and the dripper, I pour water on
her hair, waiting for her to indicate for me to add more water.  I get a
view of her beautiful breasts; they are more than a handful, supporting
half-inch dime sized nipples.  John Thomas really likes the view, so much
so, he's determined to embarrass me.  I really would have liked to see her
all of her pussy but didn't want to appear that crass.

   "Thank you, I appreciate that."

   I've been dismissed.  Sitting, I still watch all her movements.  She
could be very easily become a fixture.  Dumb!  How would I explain her to
Jayden!!

   She has to comb and brush her hair dry; I mentally put hair dryer on my
list.  Now she is dressed in a short skirt and blouse, no shoes or socks.
Then she hits me!

   "I want to call my Grandmother!"

   Shit, I was hoping we could have had that conversation at a later date.
She has gone through so much and now she is going to learn the last of her
family is gone.  Shit, Shit, Shit!

   The look on my face must have telegraphed what I was feeling in my gut.
The color drained from her face.

   "What is wrong?  I can tell by looking at you, there is something bad
happening.  What is it?"

   "Charlize, come and sit beside me.  Please."

   She moves towards me, her body racked with a sob.  She sits beside me
looking into my face; I watch a tear form and then run down her cheek.

   "Charlize, there is no easy way to tell you, your Granny past away,
triggered by your kidnapping, her body just wasn't strong enough to take
the shock."

   Charlize demeanor vaporizes, she collapse on my shoulder, her body
racked with sobs.  Pulling her body to me, I try to comfort her.  My face
is buried in her hair, inside I cry with her.  In life nothing as a rule
bothers me, but women crying or worse girls, it does get to me.  It must
have taken an hour before the sobs diminish.  I just hold her.  Then I
realize she cried herself to sleep.  Picking her up, I carry to bed, cover
her and leave to the front of the cabin.

   My mind goes back into defensive mode.  Rather than call Bill, I send
him an encrypted email, requesting info on the three dead hoodlums and if
possible their employer.  Bill won't question the request, but will provide
the info if possible.  Now it is a waiting game.

   Grabbing the rifle case, I remove the unit.  It appears to be brand new;
the manufactures protective coating still covers the surface.  The only
thing questionable is two machined groves at the end of the barrel.  Also
in the case, is telescopic scope with night vision, a very expensive piece
of equipment, I recognize the name, mega dollars.  In seconds it snaps into
place.  Moving the carrying case, there is still some weight to it.  The
groves on the barrel tip are explained a noise suppressor combined with a
muzzle flash suppressor, someone one with a master's skill machined this
unit.  This combination is truly a killing machine, and not for rodents.

   This situation keeps getting worse, someone will be nosing around, it is
just a matter of time.  Will I be prepared?  There is a slight beep from my
notebook; a new email.  It is from Bill and it is not good news.

   The three hoods were members of a drug and people smuggling cartel, the
FBI have been trying to nail the leader for years, but he is like Teflon,
nothing sticks to him.  Rumors are he is vicious, and believe to be
personally responsible for the deaths of eight of his competitors.  That is
all I need!  There are four paragraphs of suspicions, items the authorities
believe he is responsible for but no proof.  He asks the reason for my
interest.  My quick answer is explaining the three dead soldiers and how
they ended up on my door step.  Again I wait.

   Grabbing my gun cleaning kit, I start to work on the Dragunov to remove
all the manufactures guck.  An hour later done, I reassemble the unit
including the suppressor.  I need to test fire this killing machine. 
Loading a clip, I slip to the back of the cottage.  On the slope above the
cottage there is an overhang about three hundred yards distance, and under
the overhang are four boulders of varying sizes, my targets, any ricochets
will only hit more rocks.  Taking aim, and then slowly squeezing the
trigger, I hear pizt, no muzzle flash, the smaller rock explodes, and three
more shots eliminate the other rock targets.  This is one hellva rifle.

   Returning to the cottage, I remove the magazine and clean the rifle,
pack all the items back in the case.  Granddaddy had an iron box built to
store his rifle and ammunition with a large lock, the Dragunov joins the
original 30-30 Winchester, the iron box still servers the same purpose. 
The ping of a new email sounds out from the laptop.  It is Bill.

   As expected, Bill warns me to be very careful and be on alert for anyone
new in the area.  This cartel has a number of hoodlums and killers who
wouldn't think twice about blowing my head off if the boss ordered it. 
There is a rumor floating around that the leader has his men looking for
something, no idea what or where it is.  His last comment is `Don these are
not guys you fuck around with, if for some reason you cross their path, do
what you do best!!!!'

   I really didn't like the sound of that, I could run and hide, yea, that
will never happen.  My concern right now is Charlize.  If she could be the
target of the hunt, I will die protecting her.  But how to get her out of
harm's way, that is the million dollar question!



   When Charlize wakes, her eyes are red and swollen from crying herself to
sleep.  She looks are me like some lost.

   "What am I going to do?  I have nobody now.  Will those people be
looking for me?"

   "You can stay with me.  You have me, and I won't let you down.  I can't
answer anything about your abductors, but they will have to come through me
to get to you."

   Then more tears.  Attempting to comfort her, I hug her tight and pat her
shoulder.  While whispering in her ear, `it will be alright', over and over
again, I hope I haven't written a check I can't cover.  I mentally consider
our options.  What pisses me off is the unknown.  It is hard to plan when
you don't know the game plan.  My vigil has started.

   One thing did come to mind, my caretaker for Jayden.  Mrs.  Rose is a
widow, in her late thirties; as far as I know she does not work.  Perhaps
she would be willing to take care of Charlize.  It is worth pursuing.

   Charlize could stay with me until school, but I am not comfortable with
that, if she is being hunted.  She will need new papers, and I know just
the one to call, Bill! 
*************************************************************** It's been
four days, since the excitement, the cameras reveal the same stupid rabbit
and two squirrel, none carry anything lethal.  Charlize is eating full
meals.  But she is grieving.  I haven't called Mrs.  Rose, my cell may be
monitored.  Yes, I am very cautious.  As a precaution, I line the outer
walls of the cabin with a rock face nearly two feet thick at the base, it
looks odd, but the purpose is to stop bullets, the logs would stop many
calibers but if the adversaries are carrying rifles similar to the
Dragunov, their projectiles will pass through the logs like a shit through
a goose.  One difficulty was constructing rifle ports through the walls and
then spacing the rocks so the ports has a clear view of the front of the
cabin.  Firing a gun through a window may look good in the movies; it is
not practical in real life.  The firing ports are large enough for me to
use the night vision scope.  I manage to cut three ports, two in front and
one in the back.  I can't see those worms doing a frontal attack during the
day.  **************************************************************

   Early the next morning, I retrieve one duffel bag, one to confirm if the
cash is real or counterfeit.  The loose bills are real, and better yet,
they still are used bills.  Emptying the bag on the floor, reveals they are
actually in shrink wrapped bricks of fifty bundles.  I count seven sealed
bricks and the one that broke as a result of the accident, makes eight.  If
all be bills are one hundreds each brick has fifty thousand dollar value,
times eight, four hundred thousand, times five, two million dollars in used
one hundred dollar bills.  Yes we are bound to get visitors.  Removing the
broken bundle and one other, I repack the duffle bag and return it to the
cache underground.

   First thing I do is burn the two wraps, then grabbing a handful of
envelopes; I stuff each one with a wad of bills, and then distribute them
in different places throughout the cabin.  If any or all of the money is
found, it isn't enough to question the quirks of a hermit like me!  It will
provide walk around money.

   Today I am going to suggest we go shopping, we still need the porta
potty and hair dryer, even though Charlize has mastered the outhouse.  At
breakfast, Charlize smiles at the suggestion of going to town.  Maybe the
trip will be what is needed to bring her back to the living.  When we are
in Abbotsville, I will use a pay phone to call Mrs.  Rose.

   When Charlize is in the truck, I return to the cottage and rig all the
openings of the building.  I place small items that will move; if the doors
or windows are tampered with.  Old habits die hard.

   The drive to town is quiet; Charlize is gazing at the wonderful view. 
Pulling into the parking lot of the Super Mall get smile from Charlize,
this trip may be the catalyst to get Charlize out the dumps.  I hope so. 
Once in the mall, I give her six hundred dollars to shop, telling her I
will be in front of New York fries waiting for her.  The porta potty and
hair dryer, I can pick up from a hardware store as we leave Abbotsville. 
Charlize tucks the cash in her small carry purse, and is off. 
*****************************************************************

   There a bank of three pay phones to my left.  Mrs.  Rose answers on
first ring.

   "Hello Mrs.  Rose it is Don Johnson, how are you?"

   "I am fine, is there a problem with Jayden?"

   "No, why would you ask that?"

   "Because, every time you have called me, for the last three years; it
has been about your niece!"

   She is right.  It has always been about Jayden.

   "No not this time, I have a very serious situation that you hopefully,
can help me with."

   There is caution in her voice!

   "What can I help you with?  You have never come across as anyone that
needs help with anything!"

   "A friend of mine from New Orleans passed away a couple of months ago,
leaving his young daughter in my care.  There are no living relatives other
than me as her Godfather.  As you are aware, I live my cabin, not exactly
the right circumstances to raise a young lady.  Would you consider being
her caretaker and mentor?"

   "Wow that is one hellva request.  How old is she?"

   "Fourteen."

   "What you're asking is a great responsibility.  Can you give me a couple
of days to think about it!  Please don't tell me any more about her, if I
feel I have to refuse, I don't want to feel guilty."

   "I can appreciate that, can I call you Friday?"

   "Fine, I will let you know then."

   She hung up.  At least it is a start.  I know it is a lot to ask of
anyone, but she is the only one I know and would trust.  My sister is a
plain ZERO! 
*****************************************************************

   Just starting my third coffee, I notice Charlize coming towards me with
a loaded cart.  There is a smile on her face, shopping took her mind of her
sadness.  It looks good on her.

   "Don, I spent most of the money, there is more than clothes."

   "Please, if you need more money just ask.  If you need to shop again, we
can come back Friday."

   I have to call Mrs.  Rose Friday.  The shopping trip will give me a good
excuse to come back to Abbotsville.  Grabbing the cart, I lead Charlize
back to the Yukon.  The trip back to the cottage is much better than the
one there.  Charlize is bubbling over with enthusiasm.  Telling me about
her purchases of real jeans and denim shorts, no more designer clothes, she
can't wait to show me.  There is a large hardware store on our way out of
Abbotsville, porta potty and two hairdryers join the pile of Charlize
purchase.  When we arrive at the cottage, I have Charlize stay in the
vehicle while I check the cottage for tampering.  Nothing out of the
ordinary is found.

   After dinner, Charlize wants to bathe.  Heating the water warms the
cottage.  As before she undresses in front of me, like before John Thomas
wants to become one of the audience!  Every time I am honored with the view
of her body, my want quotient goes up.  I want to touch her, I want to
taste her, and I want to make love with her.  Her beauty is undeniable.

   She has grown daring, she stand before me giving a full frontal view. 
Her pussy is to die for, her slit seem to go forever, pointing to prominent
deep belly button, her luv lips are full and her inner lips are bulging: so
kissable.  The smile on her face, tells me she knows her visual effect on
me.  Could she be interested in an old reprobate such as me?  I have to get
me and John Thomas away from all this temptation.  Grabbing my laptop I
head for the veranda. 
******************************************************************

   If Mrs.  Rose accepts the challenge of being Charlize caretaker, I need
documentation confirm all the bullshit I told her.  Bill should be able to
help.  In another encrypted email, I ask if has access to the following
documentation, passport, birth certificate and immunization certificates. I
go one to explain the rouse, of the old army buddy, me as the god father,
the only living connection to the girls etc., telling him I need
documentation to support that for her acceptance at the local school.  I
provide her birthday, and her name as Charlize Johnston. 
******************************************************************

   Back in the Cabin, Charlize has finished her bath, standing in a new
wrap, drying her hair with the new hair dryer.  She turns and smiles at me,
boy has her demure changed.  As she moves the wrap opens, and displays all
of Charlize, John Thomas is now ready to salute.  I don't know how much
more of this, I can take.

   "I haven't thank you for saving me.  I would have likely died in the
back seat of the car.  There is not a lot of traffic on that road."

   Lifting the hairdryer upwards with one arm and combing her hair with the
other, spreads her wrap, exposing her nude body.  She is a very sexy young
girl.  Her puffy luv lips have a sheen to them that seems to reflect the
light, it is not a sheen it is pussy elixir.  I want some.  I have to get a
grip on my emotions, John Thomas is not helping, and perhaps he can take up
basket weaving.

   "I won't speculate about that, but if nobody came by it certainly is a
possibility, but fortunately, you are here safe."

   "Only because of you, do you think anybody will be looking for me?  What
if the guy who bought me comes looking?"

   "There is no way I can answer that, I don't know the type of people that
would think it was okay to buy a young beautiful girl that was kidnapped.
But I do know what they deserve if they are caught."

   Charlize looks at me as if asking me to continue that line of thought,
me and my big mouth.  My laptop pings, and email!  It is from Bill.  He has
some good news, if I would consider the name Charlize Jackson, it is even
better, the documentation is authentic.  Passport, birth certificate and
immunization forms are all available.  The only thing Charlize with have to
change is her birthday, from Mar.  9, 2000, to June 12, 2000.  I don't
think that will be a problem.  And the fee is only fifteen thousand cash!
Cash is something I have, it is fitting that the shitheads who are
responsible for the kidnapping, will be paying for the items that help her
go off the radar!  I send Bill an okay and ask for details. 
******************************************************************

   Charlize is still standing before me in all her glory.  How I want to
taste her.  But that is something for another time.

   "Charlize please cover up and come and sit beside me.  We have something
very important to discuss, so you have to behave."

   It took nearly an hour to explain the details of her new life, I did not
mention anything about Mrs.  Rose, and I need her agreement first.

   "How can you do that?  Give me a new identity!  Isn't the illegal?"

   "Having hoods get their hands on you is even more illegal.  I am not
suggesting you have to live under this assumed name forever but at least
until we know you are safe from those bastards.  If you were to show up in
New Orleans, out of the blue, there would be too many questions and god
knows where you would end up.  It would also alert whoever is after you."

   She looks at me, really her face is turn in my direction but her mind is
far off, digesting the information I just threw at her.  This young lady
has been through enough shit during the last month to cover three lifetimes
and she only fourteen.  The glaze in her eyes fades, and then there are
flashes of excitement, her body shifts arranging her bare boobs against my
arms.  The nipples are like bullets that end up in John Thomas's head. 
This not good!  She leans into me her mouth at my ear whispering:

   "I'm not a virgin."

   John Thomas certainly heard the remark; the strain of my shaft against
the restraints of my jeans is very uncomfortable.  Now Charlize is nibbling
my earlobe.  Any more of this, and I am going down for the count!  It has
been over nine months since I have enjoyed the company of a woman.  My
laptop goes ding, saved by the bell.

   "I have to get that."

   The long and short of the message is Bill requires the cash and two
passport photos, once payment is received it will take up to three days
before the documents are ready to ship.  He provides me with an address
where to ship the funds and passport photos, he requires a shipping address
from me, where the documents are to be sent.

   Charlize is standing naked, wrap in a pile at her feet.  Her finger is
beckoning me to follow her to the bed.  After all the time I spent thinking
about her, looking at her and now with the revelation she is not a virgin,
what will power I had, has slipped under her wrap.  Now beside me she grabs
my hand and leads me to Valhalla.

   Her nimble fingers remove the balance of my clothing, John Thomas hasn't
been this happy since Jayden played with him.  Now lying on the bed,
Charlize looks at me, draws up her knees and lets her leg slump to the
outside of her body, opening her fantastic moist peach for viewing and
subsequently eating.  On my knees between her legs, her fantastic scent is
like a beacon guiding me to the Promised Land.  One taste leads to another
taste, I am hooked.  Charlize's prominent clitoris is out of its hood,
extending three quarters of an inch, very suckable.  My ears are used as
guides, pulling my mouth as close as possible into her abyss, her elixir
flows freely; my tongue slurps the excess, between sucking her clitoris. 
Three times her body trembles with a massive climax.  Finally her death
grip on ears is released, her deep breathing continues.  Her elixir
continues to flow coating her extraordinary Rosebud.  Its rim is very
distinctive, thick and smooth, I couldn't help but run a finger over it,
and with minor pressure it slide in to the first knuckle.  Charlize's anal
muscles attempted to squeeze the invader into submission, it didn't work.
This opening has a lot of promise.

   Charlize has grabbed two hands full of my hair and pulls me bodily
upwards.  Balancing myself on my arms, she smiles then grabs both of my
nipples and squeezes, giving me painful instruction to mount her.  John
Thomas is more then will to fulfill his role.  He easily slips deep into
the abyss.  This feels so good.  Charlize has me in a death gripe, as her
hips are slamming into mine.  John Thomas takes over and before I can say
J. P.  Morgan, all my months of pent up frustration flow deep into
Charlize, I collapse, rolling to the right bring Charlize's body with me,
she is now on top.  Exhausted and fulfilled we both fall asleep!

   Hell, we really must have crashed, I awake on my back, Charlize beside
me still out.  Her legs are spread, pussy open and a small river of cum is
seeping down over her rosebud to the sheets.  John Thomas is showing
renewed interest.  He will have to wait, I really need a shower, but that
will come later.  I need to retrieve some cash before Charlize wakes, I
don't want to answer any questions.

   The slab covering the cache of cash hasn't gotten any lighter!  Grabbing
sixteen bundles, sixteen thousand in cash, I replace the slab.  Charlize is
still out of it when I return.  Removing all the bans from the bundles, I
stack them in two piles of eight.  Using a food vac, I vacuum seal the
piles into two bricks.  Placing the bricks in a grocery bag, I just hang it
up on a hook next to the door.

   There is a `ship it' location in the mall in Abbotsville; I can also
rent a mailbox for a month, providing Bill with a return address.  The
passport photos we can have taken on Friday as well, when we return to
Abbotsville for Mrs.  Rose's decision.  Things appear to be moving forward
like a plan!

   Rolling into Abbotsville the first thing we do is getting the passport
photos of Charlize.  When I suggest Charlize go shopping, her eyes light
up, I plan to meet her in an hour in front of New York fries.  With her
passport photos and my shopping bag of money, I enter `ship it'.  A very
helpful clerk provides me with the right size box and a shipping label,
there is a table where their clients can prepare a box for shipping.  Once
done, I pay the fee in cash.  And arrange to rent a postal box for a month.
The firm allow their street address to be used, thus my box is actual Unit
1204, 6576 Appleby Street, Abbotsville.  This ensures couriers will
deliver. I will send Bill an encrypted email tonight, advising him the
package is one the way and the extra funds are for his time.

   With a fresh coffee, my next chore is to call Mrs.  Rose.  Again I use a
payphone, very hard to trace.  Mrs.  Rose answers on the first ring.

   "Hello, Mrs.  Rose, it is Don."

   "I thought it may be you."

   "Have you thought about my request?"

   "Yes."

   "And."

   "I will do it, but first we have to come up with a fee, and how it will
be paid, it not that I am callous, but I am being a realist."

   "I will increase the fee that I forward to you for Jayden care, by the
amount you have likely calculated for Charlize's care.  What did you
decide?"

   The amount is actually under what I had envisioned Mrs.  Rose would have
requested.

   "I will instruct my bank to increase by that amount with the next
payment."

   "When do I meet my new charge?"

   "She is shopping right now.  She knows the plan but I never gave her any
personal information."

   "What is her name?"

   "Charlize Jackson, I really hope you like her.  She is a wonderful girl
who has lived through some horrible things."

   The introduction of Charlize to Mrs.  Ann Rose goes well, I left telling
both I had an errand to run.  Actually it was to let them get some face
time together.  Me, I enjoyed a coffee and a Jelly donut.  Arrangements are
made that Charlize would return tomorrow with her luggage and stay until
next weekend.  After the night with Charlize, I want a repeat and by the
looks she has been giving me, she feels the same.  John Thomas is looking
forward to playing train again in Charlize's tunnel.

   Back at the cottage, Charlize is happy, and is really impressed with
Ann. That makes me happy as well.  That evening Charlize undresses in front
of me, and then she grabs my hand and leads me to the bed.  John Thomas is
overjoyed and shows his interest.  To be truthful, this is exactly what I
was hoping for.  I will miss Charlize.  It is bitter sweet the next day
when we load the truck with her belonging and drive back to Abbotsville. 
When she sees Ann it is like to old friends meeting.

   Returning to the cottage, it seems of vacant without Charlize.  I know
she will be better off living with Ann.  I called my bank manager and
changed the monthly payment to Mrs.  Rose adding an extra two hundred for
an allowance for Charlize.  I make a note to myself, to look into my
financial arrangements; it may have to be adjusted to take Charlize into
consideration.  There are more than enough funds for both Jayden and
Charlize's future.  Before bed, I send an email to Bill.

   Three days later, there is an email from Bill the package has been sent.
That means a quick trip to Abbotsville.  The package is waiting for me. 
Everything appears authentic.  A quick trip to Mrs.  Rose's allows a quick
delivery of the documents. 
****************************************************************

   It has been seven days since, Miss Charlize Jackson moved into Mrs. 
Rose's apartment.  Charlize and I have talked at least twice each day, she
wants to come and visit, John Thomas wants her to visit, but I keep putting
it off.  I still have a real shitty feeling about what may happen, nothing
solid, no actual evidence just a very, very uneasy feeling of impending
doom.

   Every morning the surveillance cameras keep me up to date on the
movements of that stupid rabbit.  That small little bastard seems to trip
three cameras each night, and not always the same ones.  Many I should
consider a rabbit stew.

   The Dragunov and four clips has been my bed partner, each night I keep
wishing it was Charlize warm body beside me.

   Jayden has called numerous times suggesting another date; I keep coming
up with excuses.  Then she tells me she met Charlize Jackson, who is living
with her caretaker.  She is very nice; Jayden tells me I would like her. 
If she knew, I would be in deep shit, likely with both girls.

   I am really starting to go shack wacky, I would love to see both girls,
Charlize for renewing our carnal knowledge, Jayden, oh my Jayden, I do want
her, but dare I!  The knowledge that Charlize is more than willing helps,
but being stuck here waiting for something, that may or may not happen is
frustrating.  Then it happens!

   After another frustrating day, I tried to watch some television, but my
mind kept looking at the images of Jayden and Charlize, Charlize in her all
together, Jayden flashing her very willing pussy.  I shut everything down
and lay on the bed.  After an hour of rolling around, nature called.  When
I am here alone and dark, I usually walk out the back door to a rock and
let it go.  Relieved, I return to the cottage.  After stubbing my toe and
expressing a few curse words, I notice the camera monitor screen is
blinking; something or someone is moving between camera locations.  Is this
it?

   Now on my stomach with the Dragunov in hand, I crawl to the closest gun
port.  Flicking the scope to night vision, I scan the perimeter.  Back in
forth until I pick out one body, he moving slowly taking measured steps, he
is wearing night googles.  He freezes and using his hand signals someone to
move to the left.  Switching my view I am able to pick out two more bodies
moving slowly upward.  It takes me ten minutes to determine that there are
seven different bodies moving towards the cabin.  It took another ten
minutes to determine the first body I found is the leader; he is the only
one giving hand instructions.  Panning back and forth between bodies
keeping tabs on them, I know it is only a matter of time when they will
rush the cabin.  I have the advantage of surprise, as they assume because
the cabin is dark, I am likely sleeping.  I am sure they have likely been
watching the cottage for a number of days.

   Again panning to check their progress, all are standing stationary,
something is about to happen.  The body in the middle is moving; he drops a
knapsack and now has something in his hand.  There is a flash of a lighter;
the son of a bitch has a Malan off cocktail, focusing on his forehead, I
squeeze the trigger, pszt.  A small splat forms on his forehead, he seem to
collapses, dropping the cocktail, which hits a rock.  The area lights up
like a Christmas tree.  Then I hear.

   "Jesus Christ, he has a gun with a suppressor."

   Five shots come my way, all hitting the rocks pile against the walls. 
Then one takes out the window.  My next shot took out the leader, another
forehead shot, two more shoots, two more down.  That leaves three.  Victim
five was behind a large rock outcropping, he is using a night scope,
panning the cabin back and forth looking for movement.  Pszt, he has a neat
hole in his forehead, now leaving two.  After seeing their comrades taken
out, they are very cautious, keeping their body masses out of my view.  But
I still have the advantage as they don't know where I am shooting from,
thanks to the flash retarder.  If they are not looking at the moment I
shot, there is no after flash.  I know they are attempting to move towards
the cabin.  I keep panning looking for the slightest movement.  Then to my
advantage, sunrise, slowly, the morning sun starts to spread its welcoming
start of the day.  In the centre of the hill, a small bush moves.  Got ya!
Watching the bush, it moves again.  Whoever it is has no way to advance. 
He has to show himself.  Aiming to the left of the bush, which is his only
opening because the right has a sizeable rock impeding any progress from
that route.  Then I watch as a small bush rises, then a forehead comes into
my viewfinder.  He has a blueberry bush stuck into his head band, pszt, and
end of number six.  Now comes a real challenge, number seven, with my
consecration on number six, seven could be anywhere.

   Two slugs hammer the rock barricade, now in the morning light, I don't
have the advantage of seeing a muzzle flash.  I continue to pan; I have no
idea how close the gunman is.  It is not a good feeling.  Sliding
backwards, I reach back for the cameras monitor, assuming it hasn't been
hit, and if the cameras are still active it may get me out of this mess. 
The twenty forward cameras are still working but only two are active.  The
son of bitch is to my left, hugging the ground covered in a ghillie suit. I
am up against one of my peers, and he is good, if that camera hadn't picked
up the motion, I could have been dead meat.  With the advantage of knowing
from where he has to approach, I line my sights to that area and wait.  It
took him an hour to move five feet.  He is a professional, and he is good,
but not good enough.  He has to come into the open between two sizeable
rocks, the ground covered in blueberry bushes.  Then the blueberry bush is
moving forward, he is twenty yards from me.  The ghillie suit raises enough
to allow him to look towards the cabin searching for my movement.  It is a
shame to kill such talent, the last thing he sees is my muzzle.  The
ghillie suit rises as the slug tears through his cranium, and then falls.
Assuming my count was correct there are seven bodies on my mountain face. I
wait another two hours, watching the cameras and panning my killing zone.
There is no movement.

   Fortunately the damage to the cottage is minimal, they were professional
killers, looking for shots, rather than blowing holes in everything hoping
to hit something.

   With my rifle at the ready, I survey the carnage, the guy in the ghillie
suit, is dressed in a black jump suit, soft soled boots, everything was a
dull black, no metal at all.  The bloody mess is minimal; searching all his
pockets divulges nothing except a wad of one hundred dollar bills, which I
seize as a nuisance tax and a loaded Glock 9mm and three clips that I also
seize for hunting without a license.  All the bodies reveal nothing; all
have a wad of one hundred dollar bills, seven loaded Glocks plus loaded
clips and seven impressive rifles all with high end scopes and additional
ammunition.  The guy I believed to be the leader also has a set of vehicle
keys for a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter.  It has to be somewhere close.  My
problem is how to get rid of the bodies.  I can't call 911 and tell them
there was a war on my mountain and the bad guys lost.

   From my position midway down from my cottage, I spot the van to my left.
Guess what color, Black!  Stashing extra Glocks, rifles and my Dragunov
beside the leader's body, I walk to the Sprinter.  With the Glock at the
ready, I unlock the doors, no gunfire.  Slipping on my gloves I open the
door, inside reveals nothing personal about the group of dead gunslingers.
The van is a rental.  In the back is a full ten gallon gasoline container,
a funnel and two empty wine bottles and an open package of auto polishing
clothes.  Now in the driver's seat, the unit starts on the first twist of
the key.  It takes some fancy driving and a lot of wheel spinning but I
manage to climb the trail to the cabin.  It took four hours to drag the
bodies to the van.  I used a sheet of plastic, from the roll that has been
hanging in the rafters of the cottage for ions.  It took time to man handle
the dead limp bodies into the seats and securing the seat belts, by the
time I finish; I am sweating like a pig.  The bodies are starting to smell.
At dusk, I drive the unit down the trail turning right driving past the
massive rock pinnacle about a half mile.  Driving off the shoulder up
against a rock cut, I cut the engine.  Removing one of the polishing
clothes, I clean the key fob of any trace of me or my DNA.  Returning to
the front, I start the engine, put the unit in gear, the unit just pushes
against the rock but doesn't stall.  At the back, I remove the top off the
gasoline can, and flop it on its side, gravity takes care of the rest.  The
gas runs down the floor to the front, soaking into the floor mats.  My last
act at the scene is to light a match and toss it the back, closing the door
quickly, then get the hell out of Dodge.

   Three hours later, I hear sirens, someone reported the burning van. 
Although I can't see the Sprinter's location, all the flashing lights of
the emergency vehicles, provide an eerie panorama of colors.  Nobody comes
to visit.

   Early the next morning, I mix a solution of water and sodium peroxide
powder, a very dangerous caustic mixture and carefully pour some on all the
blood splatters from the bodies.  The mixture should deter anyone from
getting a DNA sample, assuming someone was to search for something that may
have happened on my mountain.

   The news reports are interesting, the theme being it was a gangland hit,
speculation of rival gangs in the drug trade, in this report, it reveals
the locate police requested help from the state police, who in turn
requested assistance from the FBI.  The identities of the bodies still
haven't been released, one reporter speculates that authorities have a very
difficult job; the burnt bodies are making IDs very challenging.  It has me
wondering if the bad guy's boss will be sending another crew, so far he has
lost ten soldiers. 
***************************************************************

   Then another surprise, an email from Bill, the contents is very
interesting.  `Hell Don, what did you do?  We are having a gang war in New
York.  It seems the crime boss of those three you inquired about had his
top lieutenant and six soldiers executed, gangland style and then burnt,
close to your digs in Abbotsville.  Tell me you didn't have anything to do
with that.  It has your finger prints all over it.  The boss blamed a rival
gang, my guess is he would never accept that one man could overcome his
lieutenant and his soldiers, and ordered a hit on the leader of the rival
gang, and then the shit hit the fan.  Both of the gang bosses were badly
wounded in a shootout, eleven, of the bad guys are in jail including both
gang leaders, and there are seventy eight charges against them.  What in
the hell did you do?  Bill'

   At last some good news, I return an email, advising Bill, I had seen the
story on the news.  And request he keep me updated.  I admit nothing.

   I followed the story on line, according to reports, because of the
weakened state of both gangs; their territories are being torn apart by
smaller gangs.  The local police have their hands full, in the last week
four have been shot in drive by hits.  All of this is good news for me.  In
their weakened state the gang's interest in the money, drugs, gun and
Charlize will be drastically diminished, they are now in a survival mode.
Assuming they come out of this they will have to rebuild, that is one thing
the local law enforcement will do everything in their power to inhibit.

   Last night was the best sleep I have had since this all started, with
the exception of the two enjoyable nights with Charlize.  John Thomas
continually reminds me, we should have a repeat.

   In my daily conversations with Charlize, she hints it would nice to come
to the cabin for a visit.  This weekend would be great, as Mrs.  Rose will
be going to a seminar on Early American History, one of her passions from
College.  She is leaving Friday and will be back on Sunday.  Sound good to
me.

   The weekend was fantastic, we never left the cabin.  Even John Thomas
had to admit, he was finally satisfied.  He was so exhausted he couldn't
even get up to say goodbye when I kissed Charlize goodbye Sunday.

   Monday was a complete wipeout; I slept most of the day.  The latest
email from Bill, give me more good news for a change.  The charges against
the gang leader have a good chance to stick.  One of his soldiers rolled on
him and is providing creditable evidence that should result in a
conviction. He will be tied up in court for months, even years. 
**************************************************************

   Finally, I may be able to relax.  Nobody will be looking for Charlize,
me or the other material I have collected.  I have enough ordnance to equip
a small army.  But that wasn't to be!  My cell is buzzing.

   "Hello."

   "Uncle Don, why didn't you tell me you knew Charlize?  Or how well you
know her!"

   My beautiful sexy Jayden, but something is not right, the timbre of her
voice tells me she is not happy, there is an icy feeling to it, and the
hair on the back of neck seems to be standing on end!  That is not a good
sign.  Something tells me there is a bit more to that statement, how do I
answer.

   "Mrs.  Rose introduced me to Charlize, and told me my Uncle Don, YOU,
introduce them and you are supporting her, and you are her Godfather! 
Since when?"

   Hell, I am still trying to create an answer for her first question!

   "Charlize and I had a long talk, about how you met her, it was very
enlightening!"

   I am still at a loss for word, I have a shitty feeling where this
leading.

   "She told me what you did for her, saving her, the clothing and
introducing her to Mrs.  Rose."

   Did you ever get a shitty feeling that someone is trying to remove your
balls through your anal opening?  I don't think I am going to like what is
coming next!

   "She also told me how she spent this weekend, she is still swollen, you
know where, she showed me what you did to her!"

   That swishing sound you hear, it's the sound of the guillotine blade
sliding through its guide, to remove my male appendages.  What next?

   "She told me, you made her feels wonderful, she lost count after four
climaxes, and even she showed me the pair of red lacy thongs she worn home
from the cottage when you dropped her off Sunday.  She is proud of the
thick coating of dried cum and pussy juice at the crotch.  You're cum,
Uncle Don!  She is keeping the panties as a trophy!  She has them in a zip
lock bag.  I have to admit you did a good job filling her pussy!  And you
will be happy to know she wants more!"

   John Thomas is not inspired by this conversation; I can't recall when he
had shrunk so small.  I still haven't had the balls to answer her first
comment.

   "Uncle Don, this is the devil Jaden talking, you have a choice, you make
arrangements to take my cherries this weekend or I will give them to the
next guy that asks me for a date.  Your choice!"

   Suddenly John Thomas sees a small glow of light at the end of the dark
tunnel; he's happy to remain part of my body and not be removed with a dull
knife.  His confidence is building and is more than willing to do the deed.
I've dreamed of doing Jayden for years.  Now it is her idea!

   "Jayden, may I pick you up Friday after school?  Would you like to spend
the weekend at the cottage enjoying the view?  I am sure my sister, your
mother won't mind."

   "Why thank you, Uncle Don.  It is so good of you to ask.  Will I get
everything what I want?"

   "Yes, every way you want.  Your desires will be my commands!"

   "Good, I have been checking the net; there are a many things I want to
try.  Make sure you are up to it!  You know I love you.  I still can't
believe you did Charlize before me!  You're going to pay for that!"

   "I love you Jayden, more than you ever know!  Bye until Friday!"

   Sometimes, uncles just have to make sacrifices for their niece.  It
should be a memorable weekend.  If taking Jayden's cherries is the price,
so be it.  Arrangements are made to pick her up at school, Friday, she will
pack Thursday night!
*****************************************************************

   I post these stories with hopes of getting feedback from you the reader.
If you would like to read more stories, support your neighborhood author
today by sending him/her an e-mail telling them what you thought about
their stories.  Don't put it off.  Do it as soon as you have read this
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   I would especially like to hear from any female readers.

   I welcome your comments both pro and con

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   Email me at jackspratt1@gmx.com

   This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental. 
****************************************************************

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