THE VOODOO DUDE

Chapter 3

By Earl DeVere

(MMg, bi, oral, inc, exhib, voy)

Evie's wish to live on the island is unexpectedly helped along when Frank, while on vacation, learns that he has lost his job...

Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |


Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted 2020 with all rights expressly reserved by its author unless explicitly granted.


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Sunday June 13

As usual, I was up at first light. I had just finished my second cup of coffee when the phone rang.           

"Hello?"

"I've sold the paper, Frank," my publisher, Steve Boswick said. "The new owners don't want to keep you on. I'm giving you three months severance pay. I'm certain you'll find another position before that runs out. You're an excellent editor and photographer and reporter. Any paper would be lucky to have you."

Evie sat up in bed, looking at me expectantly. I turned and stared at her in amazement. My stare told her something important had happened.

"That was fast, Steve. You didn't tell me the paper was for sale." I replied. Evie had a giggle fit. "When did this happen?"

"They've been talking to me off and on for a couple of weeks. I didn't think they'd pay the unreasonable amount I asked for. Then they showed up at my door yesterday with the cashier's check. It's some ultraconservative communications conglomerate that's buying up small town newspapers in the south and southwest."

"I'll fly home tomorrow morning to pick up the check, and put my house on the market." Evie squealed, waking Charli. "You have a copy of my resume, don't you?" I added.

"Yes, and a glowing letter of recommendation. If anyone wants to talk to me personally, give them my home number. I’ll fly down there and pick you up if you want. I owe you that much. I can be at the airport by noon."

“We’ll be there,” I said, and hung up.

"It's happening," I said, amazed.

"What happened?" Charli asked.

I explained the sale.

Charli said, "There's a housing shortage in the Houston area. Prices are skyrocketing. We should make a hefty profit off our house."

"Are you going to go with me? Get what you want from the house. I'll rent a U-Haul to bring it down here, and put it in storage until we find a place to live."

"Yes. I'll need my... No! Let's get a fresh start. Just get the important papers, photo albums, art, and cookware." Charli said. "I'll stay here. If I go I'll just load us up with crap we don't really need."

"I want to go!" Evie said. "I want to say goodbye to my friends."

"We should be back Wednesday afternoon. We'll see if we can pack everything into your Caddie."

"We can sell that if we need to. I'll call in my two-week's notice Monday morning," she giggled. "I can't believe it's really happening."

"The next thing is finding employment here," I said.

"Go to the newspaper, Dad."

"There's a daily on the mainland. I could apply there."

"Go to the one on the island."

"It's a rinky dink little weekly. Probably a Mom and Pop operation."

"It won't kill you to at least try, Dad."

"Okay. I'll go there the first thing when we get back, and get that out of the way."

Evie smiled. It was a knowing smile.

"Let's get some breakfast," Charli said. "Room service."

She got up and looked in the mirror. Her skin was peeling. "I look diseased." She donned her translucent pink peignoir.

A young waiter arrived with the serving cart, and ogled Charli while he set out the meal.

“When are y’all leaving?” Charli asked.

“Steve said he’d meet us at the airport at noon, and fly us back to LaSalle.  We should be back Wednesday afternoon.”

“I’m going to spoil myself while y’all are away, and have brunch in bed every morning,” she said, smiling seductively at the handsome young waiter.

“Put some clothes on, Evie. We’re going to the airport. Steve’s flying us home in his Cessna”

“I want to wear my bikini. All my friends will be at the pool when we get there.”

“Clothes and shoes,” Charli said. “Don’t forget my clothes and shoes.”

Steve flew us to La Salle airfield. I took a seat in back so Evie could fly in the right seat were Steve could check her out in her skimpy bikini.  Then he drove us to Heritage Park.

“I am certainly not going to miss this place,” I said. “I hate this house. I hate the neighborhood. I hate suburbia. From now on, it’s apartment dwelling for me. The funkier the better.”

“My brother-in-law is a real estate agent,” Steve said still ogling my nearly nude little girl. “Want me to give him a call?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve.”

I was shocked when he hugged me. I had never seen him hug anyone. Not even his wife. “If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to call. You’re the best employee I ever had. You were more like a partner and a friend than an employee. I’ll miss you.”

“I’m going to the pool, Dad," Evie announced before Steve left. "Come as soon as you can.”

I went into the house and looked around. No nostalgia. No fond memories. I took my shirt and shorts off and walked to the subdivision’s swimming pool in my Speedo. The house was on a cul-de-sac. The pool, playground, and community room were less than a block away, as the crow flies. Since I couldn’t fly, I had to walk a block south, a block west, a long block north, and a block east to get there. I saw no one. It was suburbia. The only time you saw your neighbors was leaving for work in the mornings, and returning in the evenings, and maybe when they’re mowing their lawns on weekends.

When I arrived at the pool, I could see Evie was disappointed. “Mary Lou and Betty Sue are out of town for a family reunion. And Sandy’s got a cold or the flu or something.”

“That’s probably for the best. We need to get busy packing our stuff.” I dove in to cool off after the long walk.

“Let’s go back to the house and get started packing,” Evie said. “I want to get back to the island as soon as possible. I’m afraid I’ll lose my powers out here.”

When we returned, I said, “Let’s start with the books. We’ll line the bottom of the Caddie’s trunk and rear floorboard with them.” I had a 1965 set of Encyclopedia Britannica, with yearbooks through 1974. The only journalism text I had was an autographed copy of  "Beyond the Facts" by Louis Alexander. It was the textbook he had written for his feature writing class at the University of Houston.

We were shuttling books from the library to the two car garage, and packing them in Charli’s Caddie, when a blue 1976 Mustang pulled into the driveway. “I’m Charles Mann,” the man said getting out of the car. I'm Steve’s brother-in-law. He says that you’re putting your house on the market.”

“That’s right.”

“I seriously recommend that you wait six months or a year. You’ll make a lot more money. I guarantee it.”

“I need the money as soon as possible. Steve may have told you I’m unemployed.”

“I’ll have a buyer before lunch tomorrow. The housing market is crazy right now. Whoever buys it will probably turn around and sell it for a big profit in six months.”

“I don’t give a shit what they do with it. How much do you think I can get for it?”

I’d guess $10 to $15 thousand.”

“What the fuck? I owe a hell of a lot more than that on it!”

“That’s $10 to $15 thousand in your pocket. Pure profit.”

“Sell it.”

Mr. Mann gave me papers to sign, and left.

“Let’s go rent a trailer,” I said. “Wherever we move, we’re going to need furniture. And your mother has a shitload of dresses and shoes. She could open a resale shop with all the crap in our closet.”

We went to the nearest U-Haul rental place, and rented a trailer hitch and a flatbed trailer. “Juan will hook it up for you,” Harvey, the rental agent, said.

“Juan!”

A short Mexican came from the back room.

“Juan!” Evie squealed. “What are you doing here? We’re moving away, and I won’t be able to see you again.

"Dad, this is Juan. I told you about him.” She hugged him and kissed him on the mouth.

“I work here on weekends,” he replied looking worriedly at me.

“Hello, Juan,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m Frank. What’s your last name?”

“Garcia.”

“Evie, you will address him as Mr. Garcia.”

Evie frowned, but played along with me. “Mr. Garcia, we’re moving away. I was hoping we could... er... visit again before we go.”

"She wants you to fuck her," I said handing him our address. He was, needless to say, quite surprised at this. “You’re welcome to visit after you get off work. I’m going to grill some hamburgers.”

Evie whispered in his ear, “I told Dad all about us. It’s cool. He loves it. He wants to watch.”

Mr. Garcia attached the bumper hitch, and the trailer. Then wired the tail lights.

Finishing up he said, “I was getting ready to leave.”

“Follow us,” Evie said.

“I’m on a bike.”

“Put it on the trailer,” I said. “And hop in.”

Evie sat between us. “Kiss me, Mr. Garcia.”

He kept an eye on me as they kissed. Her left hand was on the nape of his neck. Her right was on his upper left thigh. My right hand slowly caressed her inner thigh, from knee to crotch. He placed his left hand on her right knee, and kept his eyes on me as his hand slid slowly up her thigh.

“My sexy girl’s thighs are so silky smooth. I love feeling them.”

“Untie my bikini, Dad.”

I pulled the string, untying the bow on the left side. Untying the square knot one-handed while driving proved more difficult, but I managed. I flipped the fabric out of the way, exposing her bald pussy. Juan looked up from what I was doing and her now exposed pussy, glanced up at me and then looked down at her pussy again.

“My Daddy wants to taste your cum in my pussy after you fuck me. He gets off to watching other men fuck me, then watching them watch him eat their cum out of my cunt.

"Don’t you, Daddy?”

“Yes, Baby. I do. You know I do.”

"Juan, you don't mind me watching, do you?"  Juan was speechless.

“I’m a fucking slut, and my Daddy loves me being a fucking slut.”

Mr. Garcia was finger fucking her when we arrived home.

“Do you know how to back a trailer?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you do it for me? I’ve never been able to do it.”

With the trailer squared away, she tied Juan's shirt about her waist, then led him to her bedroom.  Juan relieved her of her top before she got there. He wasted no time, and they fucked doggy style. I got underneath her in a 69 position. She sucked my cock, and I licked her clit while he rammed his 6” cock into her juicy cunt. He went too far on the backstroke once and pulled out. On the forward stroke, it went into my mouth. I gave it a quick suck before guiding it back into Evie’s cunt. He humped faster and harder as his orgasm neared. Again, his cock slipped out of her cunt and into my mouth. He ejaculated, and I swallowed it all.

“That was fucking wild, Man," he exclaimed. "I never done anything like that before. That was hot!”

Then looked at his watch. “Shit! I gotta get home, man. My wife’s gonna wonder where I am.”

“Unhook the trailer, put your bike in the Caddie’s trunk, and I’ll drive you home.”

After dropping Juan off, I loaded all of the furniture on the flatbed, and tied it down securely. I boxed up the kitchen stuff, and put it in the trunk. Charli’s clothes and shoes filled the back seat area to the roof. I wasn’t a clothes hound. I had three pair of jeans, four sport shirts, six dress shirts, three three-piece suits, a pair of black western boots for dress, a pair of brown loafers, canvas deck shoes, and flip flops.

I was the only newspaper reporter I knew who still wore suits to work. I dealt mostly with public officials, business people, professionals, and cops; all of whom wore suits or uniforms.  And I liked wearing suits. I looked good, and felt good in a suit. JC Penney suits fit me like they were tailor made.

By the time we finished loading up, I was exhausted. I ached all over. I dozed off, soaking in a tub of hot water. Evie made sure I didn’t drown. After getting out of the tub, I realized we would have to sleep on the floor, without covers.

“Let’s check into a motel,” I said, putting my sweaty clothes back on. I called our room at the resort, and got no answer. I made Evie put a dress on over her bikini.

We checked into the nearest motel. It was old and cheap, and not well maintained, but I was too tired to care. The desk clerk leered at Evie, and gave me a knowing grin when we checked in. I had to use a payphone to call the resort, because the room phones were only for local calls. Again, there was no answer in the room. I left a message at the desk, giving the motel’s number and the room number 13.

Evie woke me, holding the phone’s handset. “It’s Mom.”

“Hello? What time is it?”

“A little after one.”

“One?” I looked at the window. It was dark outside.

“While you were fucking around," she said, "I got a job, and a place for us to stay.”

“A job? A place to stay?” I was in a fog.

“I went to Captain Cook’s Cafe because they had all you can eat butterfly shrimp for $5. Freddie was drunk, so I didn’t take him with me. After eating, I left, and a drunk asshole followed me and grabbed me in the parking lot. I did a hip throw, stomped on his right hand and kicked him in the nuts.”

“Hip throw?”

“I didn’t tell you? I’ve been taking jujitsu lessons.”

“No shit?” I was awake.

“Anyway, Rick Diamond, the chief of security at the resort, saw the drunk follow me out, so he followed him out, knowing that he was up to no good. If I hadn’t been able to take care of myself, he would have taken care of the guy. After he saw me take care of the asshole myself, he offered me a job. He says there’s a two bedroom cabin available in the jungle.”

“In the jungle?”

“That’s what they call the employee’s compound. So, after our vacation’s over, I have a job.”

“I’m having a difficult time visualizing you as a rent-a-cop.”

“Security doesn’t wear cop type uniforms. They wear blazers, with the security patch on the left breast pocket.”

“Rick says that with the blazer, no one knows we’re unarmed.”

“Is Rick trying to get into your pants?”

“Are you trying to get into my pants, Rick?”

I heard a deep-throated laugh. “I don’t do employees or prospective employees. If you should decide that you don’t want the job, then I would go for it in a heartbeat.”

“Talk to my husband.”

“Hello, Frank.”

“Hi, Rick. I don’t remember seeing a Captain Cook’s Cafe at the resort.”

“It’s about a quarter mile off campus. I was off duty, taking advantage of the special. I saw the drunk at the bar, eyeballing Charlotte. When she asked for her check, he paid his bill, and waited for her to leave. He followed her, and I followed him. I got there in time to witness a perfectly executed hip throw. I went back in and told them to call the police. She filed assault charges, and I gave my eye witness account.”

“And you offered her the job.”

“I was joking, actually. I heard her tell the cops that she was a service representative supervisor for the cable company. So I didn’t really expect her to be interested. Honestly, I was shocked when she got excited about the possibility of working security. Then she told me about your daughter wanting to live here, and you losing your job, and deciding to move here. I do have an opening, and the EEOC wants me to hire more women.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“I can’t pay her anywhere near what the cable company pays. But she says that y’all can make do. You might want to check with our PR department. They could use someone with your experience, if they have an opening.”

“The thought of being a public relations whore makes my skin crawl. Ewww! I would rather dig ditches, or clean porta potties.”

“When will you be coming back, Honey?” Charli interjected ending my conversation with Rick.

“I have stuff to take care of tomorrow. We’ll probably head out around seven or eight to avoid rush hour traffic. That should put us there sometime between 1 and 3 AM Tuesday.”

End of Chapter 3

In Chapter 4 Frank and the mailman get preteen nookie...

LINK TO CHAPTER 4

Link to other stories by Earl DeVere

RETURN TO TORRID TALES OF THE TABOO


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I am a 75-year-old retired print journalist (as opposed to broadcast). My stories all take place between 1955 and 1985, when porn wasn’t as easily available as it is today. The stories are all products of my fertile imagination. Many of them are based on unrequited desires from my past. I have lusted after little girls since I was 12 years old, and an 8-year-old neighbor girl had a crush on me. The fear of being caught and ridiculed stopped me from taking advantage of the situation. The same fear prevented me from fooling around with my sexy daughter between the ages of 8 and 12. Tweens turn me on, because they want to be seen as sexy. They try to be sexy and seductive. At around the age of 8, and sometimes sooner, that girls start competing (consciously or unconsciously) with their mothers for Dads’ and other men’s attention and affection.

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Earl de Vere