Chapter 5
(Mg, Fm, MM, inc, inter, exhib, voy)
Frank lands a job in the resort town with Evie's psychic help and learns Bannunu history...
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
Warning: This is just a story. Please do not try this at home.
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 group sex, bisexual situations, 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.
Tuesday, June 15, 1976
I slept until nearly 8 o'clock. There was a knock on the door while the coffee was brewing. I opened the door to find a tall handsome black man standing there. For a moment, I thought it was Jim Brown. He was wearing blue Bermuda shorts, knee socks, and an emerald green blazer with a blue and green shield shaped patch on the left breast pocket, with the words:
"You must be Rick," I said. "What's up?"
"Charlotte told me that you're an early riser, and I wanted to catch you before you went off in search of a storage locker."
"I'm two cups of coffee away from doing just that."
"No need. You can use the resort's storage facilities. I'll get a couple of laborers to give you a hand."
"Coffee?"
"I've had my two cups. And the ladies might not appreciate my presence when they wake up."
"Neither of my girls -- pardon the male chauvinist term -- can be accused of shyness."
"I have to get to the office. I can't expect my PSSs to be punctual if I'm not."
"Public Safety Specialists?"
"I try to use terminology that distinguishes my personnel from rent-a-cops. My people are happy, and the Cavenders are happy."
"Cavenders?"
"Fred and Francis Cavender, the resort owners."
"Freddie?"
"Fredrick Cavender Junior. The heir. They're hoping he'll take over the operation after he graduates from college four years from now."
"Do I detect a note of dubiousness?"
"I do not discuss my employers' familial relationships. If you detected a note of dubiousness... Is that even a word? It was in your imagination."
"I confess to having a vivid imagination."
"Charlotte tells me that you were a cop for a few years before getting into journalism."
"A little over two and a half years. It was great training for being a reporter, since cops have to write a lot of reports. It also honed my interviewing and investigative skills."
"I did it for nearly four years. Three years on patrol, nine months on robbery. I never really fit in. I was never one of the guys."
"You lacked the gang mentality too."
"Yeah. The gang mentality. Us against the world. All for one. One for all. And fuck everyone else," he said. "I better get going. Call my office when you're ready."
Evie got up as I finished my second cup of coffee. I called Rick's office, and told him one helper would be all I needed. Two young men showed up at our door less than five minutes later. Less than 15 minutes later, we were finished unloading.
I returned to the room. "I'm going to find a U-Haul place to turn in the trailer."
"And go to the newspaper to get the job," Evie added.
"Yeah. Right."
"Put on a suit. You always wear a suit when you do newspaper stuff."
"Nobody else in the business wears a suit."
"Do it for me. Pul-eeze, Dad-dy?"
I suited up, and gathered up my resume', letter of recommendation, and my last week's newspapers. Evie insisted on wearing her bikini. Since I had no expectation of being hired, I didn't object.
We dropped the trailer off and got directions to the newspaper office, which turned out to be an old fire station built in 1896. The printing press and two Linotype machines were in the bay.
"May I help you?" the elderly receptionist asked.
"My daddy's wants to be the managing editor," Evie said. "He's the best. He was a one-man editorial department at the La Salle Observer."
"Then he'll want to go upstairs and see the publisher, Mr. Nathaniel Boudreaux."
We climbed the stairs. Mr. Boudreaux's office door was open. Evie walked in and gave the same spiel she gave the receptionist.
"And who are you, sexy young lady?"
"Evangeline Harris."
"My agent," I laughed.
"Why should I hire your nattily attired client?"
"Show him, Dad."
I handed him my resume, and Steve's letter.
He read them, looked at me and muttered, "Holy shit. Un-fucking-believable."
"Show him last week's papers," she said, taking the papers from me and handing them to him.
"Let's go downstairs," he said. "Call me Nate."
"Can I slide down the pole?" Evie asked.
"Not in a bikini. Skin doesn't slide. It catches and burns."
Realization struck. He was hiring me. "We haven't discussed salary."
"We'll pay you 10% more than the Observer, and we have group health insurance, and profit sharing. "
"For a weekly?"
"You didn't know!?!"
"Know what?"
"We're going daily. I assumed you heard it through the grapevine somehow. Ads will appear in trade publications tomorrow," he said. "You really didn't know? Why did you come?"
"Evie made me. She's been bugging me since Friday to apply for a job here."
"Friday? That's when Lem convinced us to go daily, so we could get national advertisers. We needed an experienced M.E. to guide us through the transition. And you appear like magic. Poof! Like a genie out of a bottle."
We turned and stared at Evie, who grinned broadly and giggled.
"I don't fucking believe it," I muttered.
"Fucking believe it, Daddy."
"Your agent is a naughty girl," Lem said raising an eyebrow.
Looking directly at the growing bulge in his crotch she said, "You like naughty girls. I can tell."
He looked at me. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
"Yes, honey. I love naughty girls. And I especially love naughty girls who talk dirty, and wear string bikinis, exposing a lot of sexy flesh. Most fathers wouldn't allow their daughters to wear something so skimpy."
"We're on vacation. And Dad said I could do anything I want to do while we're here."
"Anything?"
"Anything, as long as I obey the golden rule and don't do drugs and alcohol. I wouldn't do any of that shit anyway."
"'Anything?'" he asked. "That's an awful lot of freedom to be giving a naughty sexy preteen daughter."
"My Daddy loves me being his naughty daughter. Daddy gets off to me being naughty... very very naughty. Don't you, Dad-dy?"
"Yes, baby. I do. You know I do."
Nate cleared his throat. "I must warn you before we go downstairs. You have found yourselves in the midst of a pedophile family. We are all little girl lovers, including my mother, who greeted you when you entered."
"Family?"
"Momma, Abigail, is our receptionist, secretary, and society editor. Solomon is our typesetter, and Lemuel is our ad salesman, and outdoors editor. Lem's son, Dwight, will be our sports editor. He just graduated from the University of Houston with a B.A. in journalism. I don't know what Dwight's sexual preferences are. He may be gay."
He led us downstairs, where he introduced us to the family. He handed my resume to Lem, who read it and handed it to Sol, who read it and handed it to Abigail. After Lem passed the resume to Sol, Nate handed him Steve's two page, single spaced, letter of recommendation. As he finished reading each page, he handed it to Lem, who handed it to Abigail.
"Damn!" Abigail exclaimed. "He's fucking perfect.
"Did it hurt, Frank?"
"Did what hurt?" I asked perplexed.
"When you fell from heaven."
"The only reason Frank came to us was because the sexy little thing here bugged him to come. He had no idea we were going daily."
"Is that true?" Abigail asked.
I nodded. "She seemed so certain that y'all would hire me. Bongo Joe has convinced her that she has psychic powers and can make things happen. It seems like he's right."
"You know Joseph?" Abigail asked.
"Yes, Ma'am. We met him on a little island in the lagoon. We've been there three times. You know him?"
"We've been friends and lovers for a very long time. He visits me from time to time," Abigail said. "He visited me Monday night. After we made... after we fucked, I told him about the Press going daily. He said that he knew, and that it would happen sooner than we imagined."
"How long have y'all been fucking?" Evie asked.
"Since we were 8 years old. I wandered into the palmetto jungle and got lost. This naked nigger kid appeared out of nowhere, and helped me find my way home. He saw me staring at his dick, and asked if I wanted to play with it, and I did. After that, whenever I wanted him, he was there."
"Nigger!?!"
"It was just a word back then, like negro or negra or colored. The difference was in how you said it. Calling one of them 'Black' was derogatory back then. Times change. Things change."
"You love him."
"Yes. You do too."
"Do you have psychic powers?"
"I did. Until my first period."
"What could you do?"
"I could hear people's thoughts. And, sometimes, change people's minds. Mental telepathy. It freaked some people out. I had a fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Foxx, who was a fundamentalist Christian. She kept me after school and tried to perform an exorcism. She thought I was demon possessed. I just smiled, and told her that she and her preacher should quit committing adultery. I convinced her that he was the one who was possessed. The next Sunday, during the morning service, she stood up and confessed to the adultery, and told the congregation that the preacher was possessed, and they all performed an exorcism on him."
"That must have done wonders for his career," I laughed.
"Actually, it did," Abigail said. "He became a popular revival evangelist, traveling around the country telling about his experiences as a demon possessed preacher. He told about all of the women and young girls he seduced. He was demon-possessed, and lust-obsessed. I attended one of his revivals in a football stadium. Everybody left that stadium horny. You could smell the lubricating pussies and leaking precum. And you knew they were going to be guilt-ridden for being so sexually aroused by the preacher's past depravities."
"Anything else?"
"I knew my father wanted to fuck me, and I let him know I knew, and that I wanted it too. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that Nathaniel's maternal grandfather is also his biological father."
"But you couldn't make things happen?"
"I could be almost invisible by directing people's attention to someone else. Or get them to do what I wanted them to do. But not against their will. I couldn't make anyone do anything they didn't really want to do. I could loosen inhibitions."
"And you lost it with your period."
"I knew I lost it. I felt it draining away with the blood flow."
"Did you ever worry about Bongo Joe making you pregnant?" I asked. "A white woman having a black baby back then was a scandal."
"Joseph says the Banunu People can only impregnate Banunu People. There are no hybrids."
Evie said, "Joseph made himself pregnant."
"I know," Abigail said. "I spit his semen into his vagina."
"Y'all knew about this?" I asked the brothers.
"She's told us stories," Nat said. "But..."
"But, they think their mother's a crazy old woman who has very strange vivid dreams."
"None of us have ever met or seen Bongo Joe," Lem said. "We grew up here. We left to go to college, then became typesetters for major dailies. Then, three years ago, the papers switched to computers and sold the linotype machines. We bought two of them, came home and bought the weekly. We have the only printing press on the island. The Palmetto City Sun has one, but they don't do job printing."
"Are y'all married?" I asked.
"They're all married," Abigail chuckled. "To very very blonde socialites. Spoiled rich bitches. My boys married into rich families. Their families' fortunes came from rum-running, prostitution, and gambling during prohibition and the depression. Emerald Isle Resort was a playground for the wealthy."
"Like Galveston," I said.
"Unlike Galveston," she laughed. "Galveston was on the map. It was well known; Sin City USA. Isla Esmeralda wasn't on the map. It was known only to the very rich. Galveston had something to offer for everybody... all classes. Emerald Isle Resort was restricted to the leisure class, who didn't want publicity. Their names were not known to the general public. Like those today who can afford to pay to keep their names off the Fortune 500 list."
"You were here?" I asked.
"My father was a black jack dealer and croupier. My mother was a courtesan."
"The resort is definitely middle class now. What happened?" I asked.
"The stock market crash in '29, the repeal of prohibition in '33, and Angus Drumph in '36."
"Angus Drumpf?"
"He was the general manager. The rumor was that he was embezzling funds. He disappears, and Fred Cavender is the general manager. He had been hired a couple of years earlier as the chef. It's rumored that he found out about Drumpf 's embezzlement, and went to the O'Mafia."
"O'Mafia?"
"Three families controlled the liquor, gambling, prostitution, and drugs; the O'Briens, O'Malleys, and O'Tooles. Drumph had let the place go to seed. He was pocketing the maintenance funds. Fred talked the O'Mafia investing into sprucing the place up. He then invited some travel writers to the resort. The O'Mafia made certain they didn't lose any money at the gambling tables, and were accompanied by the best courtesans... my mother being one of them. They were told of the resort's past glory days as the playground of the ultra wealthy. Emerald Isle Resort was 'discovered'."
"Y'all have written stories about this. Right?"
"Oh, no," Nate said. "The O'Mafia is off limits. They're the Isle's leading families. They're all totally legit now."
"What a great fucking story. Probably have to do it in a series. I could probably make it a five parter. Publish the first one on a Friday, and have their mouths watering for Monday's paper."
Abigail laughed. "If you do it, I have a copy of a Dallas PD mug shot of 17-year-old Francis Cavender arrested for prostitution. She was helping Fred get some convention business. I heard she sold pussy to keep the place afloat during the hard times."
"No shit?"
"I shit you not."
"Do you people have any idea what this would do for circulation. Hell! AP and UPI would pick it up in a heartbeat. TV stations would jump on it like flies on shit!"
"He's right!" Lem exclaimed. "No struggle building circulation. We could probably kick the Sun's ass."
"The O'Mafia will sue us. The Cavenders will sue us."
"They can't sue us for telling the truth. I'll have to tie down verifiable facts," I said. "Maybe I can't. But I'd like to try. It may take me months or a year or more to nail it down."
"I think we should let him go for it," Abigail said.
"Write it up, Abigail. Everything you know. Everything you've heard: rumor, gossip, speculation. I want that mug shot."
"If you really want it to happen, Daddy," Evie interjected, "it'll happen."
We all looked at each other.
"Holy shit!" Sol exclaimed. "It's going to happen."
"Joseph says that fucking increases my powers. Fucking charges me up."
Abigail said, "I'll lock up, and join you upstairs."
The brothers took turns fucking my naughty daughter. Abigail and I took turns cleaning out her cunt after every fuck. Each man took three turns before watching daddy and daughter fuck.
"This has to be the luckiest fucking day of my life," Nate sighed.
"I second that emotion," Lem laughed.
"I third it," Sol said.
"I'll make it fucking unanimous," Abigail said.
"Let's get back to the resort and tell your mother what's happened," I told my promiscuous daughter.
Evie hugged and kissed each brother passionately, then hugged and kissed Abigail.
"Bring your naughty daughter with you when you come back," Lem said.
"When do you plan on making the transition?"
"July first," Nate said.
"Cool!"
Charli was sitting on her bed, sipping wine when we returned. "We need to get some more of this stuff. This is the last of it."
"Dad got the job."
"On a weekly?"
"They're converting to a five day afternoon daily," I explained.
"Damn!" she laughed. "We're rich. We have the money from the sale of the house. We're getting the second week of vacation money refunded. The cabin rental is dirt cheap."
"The money from the house goes into a trust fund for the kid."
"How's Freddie?" Evie asked.
"Freddie's angry. He walked in on Eddie and me fucking."
"Who's Eddie?" I asked.
"The room service waiter who brought me brunch in bed. We've been flirting for a couple of days. When he came in to get the food cart, I lifted the sheet up and showed him I was naked. He dropped his pants, and was on me in a heartbeat. Freddie walked in as Eddie was cumming. The look on Freddie's face gave me an orgasm. His last words to me were, 'You slut! You fucking slut!' and he stormed out. Eddie's worried that Freddie might have him fired. Freddie's the owners' son."
"Let's go see Joseph," Evie said.
"See if he has more wine," Charli said. "Eddie said that if he does get fired, I was worth it. I told him to come back off duty. He said that employees can't be on campus off duty, unless they're the invited guest of a registered guest. And he gave me an invitation card to sign. I invited him to have room service supper with me. So it would be nice if y'all found somewhere else to be between 6 and 8-ish."
Joe wasn't on the island when we arrived. Evie called to him, and got no response. "Can you make a fire, Dad?"
I had quit smoking years earlier and didn't carry a lighter or matches with me. "It's been a long time, Babe, since I was a Boy Scout. I'll try. But, I don't promise anything."
I found storm debris on the highest part of the little island, and some dead dry grass. I used my pocket knife to make a fire drill out of a fairly straight 12" long stick, and a base plate out of a broader piece of wood. I placed the dry grass and fine shavings on the base. I twirled the stick between my palms, starting high and moving down, again and again. A fine tendril of smoke appeared.
"You're doing it, Dad. You're doing it."
"As soon as you see some red ash, blow gently on it."
She did, then squealed with delight when a tiny flame flickered. I piled more fine shavings on it, and they caught. Then needle sized twigs. Then larger and larger twigs. Soon, we had a small fire going.
"I did it!" I exclaimed. "I did it. I haven't done that since I was 13 years old."
We hugged and kissed and next thing you know, we were fucking. Joseph appeared as we orgasmed.
"Joseph! Dad's going to work for Abigail's newspaper!"
"Yes. I know."
I asked, "Do you know anything about the history of the resort and the O'Mafia?"
"I know everything. My people were here before the resort and the O'Mafia. My people arrived here on August 20, 1600 on a Spanish slave ship that was blown here by a hurricane and ran aground. The Spaniards left in long boats, and left my people here to die. But we didn't die. We survived and thrived. No white people settled on the island until 1847, when Irish soldiers deserted from the United States Army that invaded Mexico.
"You know about the Cavenders?"
"Yes. Young Freddie was conceived on this island. I drummed while Fred and Frances danced and fucked."
"I want to..." I began.
"You wish to tell the true history of the Emerald Isle Resort in the newspaper."
"Yes."
"I will assist you. Some of my people have assimilated, or appear to have assimilated into the white culture as servants, menial laborers, and concubines. They are in all of the households of the wealthy, and in some households of those who wish to appear wealthy."
"What's the difference between a concubine and a courtesan?" Evie asked.
"A courtesan is treated as a social equal, is lavished with gifts, and accompanies her lover in public. A concubine is barely above slave status, and, in some cases, is a slave."
"Isn't that kind of... you know... degrading, to have to let some dude fuck her."
"Fucking is not a no no among the Banunu," Joseph laughed. "We love fucking. We fuck at every opportunity. The Banunu, serving as concubines, can return to the jungle at anytime she or he wishes to, and the white man or woman she or he serves will never find her or him."
"The jungle?" I asked.
"The palmetto jungle is a quarter to a half mile wide, and covers most of the bay side of the island, except for the resort's yacht basin on the north end, and the ferry landing and fishing fleet on the south end. It can't be developed. It's been declared a nature preserve, managed by the Texas Nature Conservancy."
"Your people have a village in the jungle?"
"The jungle is our habitat. We neither build nor destroy."
"What about shelter?"
"The jungle is our shelter."
"We consider our necessities to be food, clothing and shelter," I said.
"Food is our only true necessity, and it is plentiful."
"You hunt? Trap?"
"We eat nuts, fruit, berries, roots, shoots, slugs, snails, grubs, worms and insects."
"Bugs and worms!?!" Evie squealed. "You eat bugs and worms!?!"
"An excellent and plentiful source of protein."
"You're telling us that the jungle provides all of your needs."
"Yes. It always has and always will."
"You just wander and graze?"
"And play and swim and fuck."
"Entertainment?"
"Talking about and acting out your people's soap operas. The endless pursuit of things. Sitting in front of a television set to forget about their meaningless lives. And the so-called entertainment is violent. Your people get some kind of vicarious thrill out of watching 'good guys' killing 'bad guys'. When the real bad guys are the wealthy people who are depriving the poor of needed sustenance. And your people support the bad guys by paying for the stuff they buy. Paying on the interest long after the stuff is worn out, broken or discarded for better stuff. The people they owe the money to are the bad guys."
"You eat bugs and worms. Ewww."
"People who don't eat bugs have to work for a living. They become greedy and stingy and acquisitive. They claim land, and protect it. They kill to protect it. And when the land they claim isn't enough, they take other people's land. They become slaves to their possessions. They are possessed by their possessions." he said, then looked at me. "You bought a house. Did you not?"
"Yes. We just sold it."
"Did you ever really feel like you owned the house, or did it own you."
"It was a trap. A prison. I was its slave. There were mortgage payments, insurance payments, property tax, utility bills, homeowners association dues. Mowing the goddamned lawn. I hated that house."
"The more you have, the more you have to worry about. The Banunu People have no possessions. We own nothing to worry about. We have no desire for property. We don't worry about having enough, because we know we will always have more than we need. The freedom from worry makes us free to have fun."
"But you have no art, no literature, no culture."
"Our culture doesn't require permanent works of art. We draw and paint and sculpt. There are no caves to preserve our drawings and paintings. We sculpt in sand and mud and clay, and we enjoy it while it lasts. We don 't take it seriously. We're not obsessed with art. People who are obsessed with their art become slaves to their art. It ceases to be fun. We dance. We tell stories. We laugh, and play and fuck a lot. We have no need to escape through alcohol, drugs, or television."
"What about the prickly pear wine?"
"We don't drink it. It has a very low alcohol content. The effect comes from the mushrooms fermented with the prickly pear juice. It expands the consciousness of homo sapiens. It is our gift to a select few. The wine and psilocybin free people to be themselves, and quit being the person they think other people want them to be."
"It freed me to be a fucking slut," Evie giggled.
"You have been a fucking slut for more than two years," Joseph laughed. "Most of the children who knew you, and the men who fucked you, knew you were a fucking slut, and knew you were proud of being a fucking slut. The wine freed your father to accept, appreciate, and enjoy your sluttiness."
"And it turned Mom into a slut."
"No. It freed her to be who she really wanted to be, and to enjoy you being who you are," Joseph said. "Your society sees disillusionment in a socially negative light, when it should be mentally and emotionally positive. Instead of feeling disappointed or dismayed, the disillusioned person should feel joy. He/she should feel free... freed from the illusion."
I laughed, "Jesus said, 'You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free.' Gloria Steinem said, 'The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.' It pissed me off."
"Suck Joseph's cock, Daddy. Suck his cock and finger-fuck his pussy."
Without giving it a second thought, I was on my knees, taking Joseph's hard 6" cock into my mouth. I did for him what homosexuals had done for me. And I had received a lot of blowjobs in my life. He grasped my head and fucked my mouth. He lasted a lot longer than I imagined he would, and longer than I would have lasted. After he came down my throat, I tongue-fucked his cunt, causing him to cum in my hair.
"That was truly astounding, Frank," he said breathlessly. "You must have had a lot of practice."
"That's my first time as a sucker. I've been the suckee innumerable times since I was 17 years old... public restrooms, gay bars, bath houses, adult movies."
"I feel obligated to return the favor."
"I don't require reciprocation."
"I 'want' to suck your cock, Frank."
He did. And it was the absolute best blowjob I had ever experienced.
"That was fan-fucking-tastic, Joseph."
"The Banunu People are congenitally ambisexual."
He gave us another gallon jug of wine, and we left.
We returned to the resort at 5:30. Eddie was knocking at the door as we approached. Charli opened the door, wearing the translucent pink peignoir with nothing under it.
"I need to get a dress to go to the restaurant," Evie said, making the horny teen aware of our presence. He turned, saw me, and looked like he was going to faint.
"Eddie," Charli said. "This is my daughter, Evangeline, and my very very understanding husband, Frank. They're going to go away for a few hours. You have nothing to worry about."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eddie," I said, shaking his hand. "We need to take a quick shower, and we'll be gone."
Evie and I showered together. She rinsed out her bikini and hung it on the shower rod to dry. She put on a yellow wraparound dress. I got Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and Mexican sandals.
"Eddie?" I asked. "Where's the best place to get a good chicken fried steak?"
"O'Brien's. Riley and Main Street."
"We should get back between 8:30 and 9," I said. "Have fun."
"Have a lot of fun," Evie giggled naughtily.
"We intend to," Charli said.
O'Brien's menu offered TexMex, Yankee, and Southern cuisines. I ordered the chicken fried steak. Evie ordered the chili cheese burger. Both were superb.
Lemuel Boudreaux, the newspaper owner and his wife, Florence, entered as we were being served, and joined us at our table. Lem motioned the man behind the cash register to join us.
"This is Frank Harris, the new managing editor I told you about. Frank, this is Liam O'Brien, the owner of this fine establishment, and a direct descendant of one of the city's founders."
"From what Lem told me," O'Brien said, "I expected you to be a lot taller and handsomer, and maybe wearing a cape."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"And this lovely young lady must be your forceful and sexy agent."
Evie extended her hand, he kissed it.
"Duty calls," he said, as customers approached the register.
After the customers checked out. He got on the phone. After a brief conversation, he returned to our table.
"Uncle Sean would like to meet with you at 10 tomorrow morning at his residence, if that would be convenient."
"I'll be there."
"Uncle Sean is a very formal kind of guy... old fashioned. I would recommend wearing a business suit."
"I'm kind of old fashioned that way too," I replied.
"Dad always wears suits when he's doing newspaper stuff."
Liam cleared his throat, and said in a near whisper, "Uncle Sean would like for you to accompany your father."
"Cool."
"He wondered if you could wear the shiny blue string bikini he's heard about."
"Iridescent indigo," I corrected.
"I don't want to wear nothing else while we're here. It was getting a little funky. So I rinsed it out and hung it to dry. And I didn't know if you'd let me wear it in your restaurant."
"You can, if you wear a cover over it. The Beach Boutique has some very stylish, and not too opaque covers," he said before returning to the register.
Lem's wife, Florence, went to the ladies room.
"Did you tell Liam about the fucking?" Evie asked.
"No. I didn't even hint at it," Lem replied.
"Does your wife know?"
"Hell, no!"
"Who's Uncle Sean?" I asked.
"He's like The Godfather of the O'Mafia. The oldest surviving original."
"He doesn't know about the fucking?" Evie asked.
"I haven't talked to him. Liam is the only family member I've talked to. I just told him about your spiel and the barely there bikini, and the fact that you know The VooDoo Dude, and he says you have psychic powers, and you made your father apply for the job."
I laughed, "The funny thing is, I would not have brought her with me if I thought there was a chance in hell of getting hired. And if I was really trying for a job, I certainly wouldn't have let her wear the bikini if I had brought her with me."
Florence returned to the table.
"When you meet the old man, do not, under any circumstances mention the O'Mafia. They hate that. They are all fine upstanding citizens, community leaders, and public servants. They prefer The O'Family."
"We only act offended in public," Florence said. "The younger generation refers to the old men as the O'Mafia."
"Florence was an O'Malley. Her mother was an O'Toole. She, her older sister and a cousin rebelled, and married us Coon Asses."
"Acadians," Florence said haughtily. "Don't be crude."
"They like to pretend that we're descended from French royalty, not criminals who were run out of Canada, and hid in the Louisiana swamps."
"What is your lineage, Frank." she asked.
"I really don't know, and don't care. From what my parents told me, there's a mixture of Scots, English, Cajun, Irish, Choctaw. I'm a mongrel."
"You have Indian blood?"
"One of the so-called civilized tribes. Farmers. Bor-ring."
We finished eating, and the busboy cleared away the dishes and utensils. Liam came to the table announcing, "The apple pie is fresh out of the oven."
"I cannot pass up fresh apple pie a la mode," I said. "One for me, and one for my date."
"I have to go to the girl's room," Evie said, turning in her chair and getting up. The wraparound dress partially unwrapped below the waist. Liam's eyes saucer sized at her prominent prepubescent pudenda.
"Oops," she giggled, looking at Liam and pulling the dress back into place.
I couldn't actually see her pussy. Florence was sitting in a position where she couldn't see. Liam and Lem were the only eye witnesses to the exposure.
"Lem tells me that you want to do a history of Isla Esmeralda and Emerald Isle Resort."
"From what I've heard, it's a fascinating history," I replied.
"It is. I don't know if anyone wants to talk about the bad old days. The O'Family has gotten so damned respectable. And uppity, like my cousin, here," he said, looking at Florence.
"I am not uppity."
"You are a snob," Liam pressed.
"I am not! Tell him, Lemuel."
"She's a snob," her husband said with a smile.
"She wishes she could have lived in the Roaring '20s when the lower classes knew their place and stayed in their place and kissed the upper classes' asses." Liam laughed.
"You're so crude," huffed Flo.
Evie returned to the table, and nearly exposed herself again sitting down. She knew what she was doing. It was a split second strip tease. I saw the disappointment in Liam's eyes. She smiled seductively at him.
I'm a terrible father. I wondered if she would seduce sources for me.
Liam said, "I can tell you stories, but they're all hearsay... stories I heard from people who heard them from someone else. And I will deny ever saying a word to you."
Florence left the table to greet some friends who entered.
"I'm ready to go, Dad," Evie said, turning in her seat, deliberately exposing her fat pussy to Liam, Lem, and the busboy who was clearing the table. She acted unaware of the exposure.
"The chili cheese burger and the apple pie were delicious, Mr. O'Brien," she said before looking down, giggling, and covering herself.
It was a little after 7:30 when we left the restaurant. "What do you want to do now, Babe?" I asked.
"I wanna fuck, Daddy."
"It'll be at least an hour and a half before we can go back to the room."
"I wanna fuck in the back seat."
"It's not even dark yet."
"Find a spot where we can drive into the jungle."
Less than a mile out of town, I saw tire tracks leading off the main road into the palmetto. I followed it to a barely concealed illegal dump site. We got onto the Bronco's back seat, with me on my back, and her straddling me.
"You showed Liam, Lem, and the busboy your pussy. Didn't you?"
"It was an accident, the first time. I didn't mean to. But I loved the looks on their faces when I did. So I 'had' to do it again. I love having men look at my pussy. It makes it feel all tingly, like they're touching it with their sight."
"You teased him when you came back."
"Un huh," She giggled. "You like it. Don't you. Daddy? You like me being naughty and showing men my pussy."
"Yes, Baby. I love it! I know I'm a terrible Daddy. But I love it when you're naughty."
"I changed my mind about wearing the bikini all of the time. I want to wear short dresses and skirts and culottes so I can flash my pussy."
"Fine with me, baby."
"Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck your naughty daughter!" I bucked and she bounced.
"God! I love fucking your bald pussy," I said while she fucked me.
We got vocal. Very vocal and very nasty.
We came simultaneously.
We realized we had an audience. Naked black kids surrounded the Bronco. They ranged in age from toddlers to teens, with the toddlers on the bigger kids shoulders. All were watching us fuck. Then, as if it was the natural thing to do, they had an orgy right there, and we joined in. Mostly, I ate little girls' pussies. Evie fucked and sucked cocks. If sex increased her psychic powers, she was supercharged that evening.
Charli and Eddie were still in bed when we entered the room. "I said we'd be back between 8:30 and 9. It's 9:25."
"I told Eddie about you and Evie walking in on me and Freddie fucking, and Freddie freaking out. The idea of my husband and daughter walking in on us turned him on."
"Your wife is a fantastic fuck." Eddie said.
"Yes. She certainly is. Have you had much experience?"
"Yes."
"He's been fucking women tourists since he was 14."
"No shit? That's amazing."
"A friend of mine told me that his big brother would hang out on the beach with his surfboard. A woman said that she wanted to learn how to surf. He taught her and fucked her. So I started hanging out. I'd help women carry coolers and stuff onto the beach. Chase hats and stuff that the wind blows away. I make sure they can see my hard-on pooching out my Speedo bathing suit. I get a lot of pussy that way."
I shook my head and chuckled, "The only action I got between the ages of 14 and 17 was my fist. I fucked it several times a day. I envy you."
"Are there any 14-year-olds hanging out on the beach now?" Charli asked with an evil gleam in her eye.
"My brother Jason just turned 14, but he's really shy."
"Maybe you could introduce us."
"When I say, 'shy,' I mean really shy. He gets all tongue tied around girls."
"Maybe I can cure him, and he'll become a stud, like you."
Eddie continued, "Charlotte said it would be cool for me to tell you about all of the women I've fucked. I've had a couple of husbands watch me fuck their wives. One of them kind of creeped me out. Gave me the willies. And his wife kept bad mouthing him the whole time we fucked, and telling me how lousy he was in bed. The other one was pretty cool. Most of the women I fuck are here alone, or their husbands are out deep sea fishing all day on one of the charter boats."
"What age range do you fuck?"
"Mostly, they're like in their 40s and 50s. Charlotte's the most beautiful one I've ever fucked. And the hottest. She says that y'all are going to live here. She's going to be a rent-a-cop, and you're a newspaper dude."
"Yep."
"She says that you're going to do a story on the O'Mafia."
"I'm going to try."
Charlotte said, "Eddie's the O'Mafia's God Father's great grandson."
"Uncle Sean?" I said. "I'm supposed to meet him at 10 o'clock in the morning."
"He wants to meet me too," Evie said. "And he wants me to wear my string bikini."
"No shit?" Eddie asked, getting out of bed, and walking to the bathroom.
"Woah!" Evie gasped, looking at Eddie's swinging cock.
"That's not a full erection," Charlotte said. "That fucker's more than 9 and a half inches."
"He could be a porn star," I said.
"That's his ambition," Charlotte laughed.
"Do I have to go now?" Eddie asked, coming out of the bathroom and stroking his cock.
"No," Charli said. "You can spend the night if you wish."
"The resort doesn't have any rules prohibiting fraternization with guests?" I asked.
"No. The Cavenders kind of encourage it. If a guest or guests invite us to eat with them or go on some activity, we have to have them fill out the invitation card. We can't ask to join them, or, you know... come on to them. It's okay if they come on to us. Some of the girls have regular sugar daddies. I have a couple of sugar mommas. The Cavenders don't officially condone it. But they don't actually prohibit it, unless they catch you actually hustling. If they catch you hustling, you're gone for good. Banned for life."
"Mom came onto you?"
"She started the flirting."
"I did," Charli giggled. "Before y'all went to the airport."
"Do you have sugar daddies too?" Evie asked.
Eddie blushed brightly and shook his head in adamant denial.
"Liar," she giggled. "Admit it. You do men tourists too."
I said, "I had gay men coming on to me when I was your age. I've had blow jobs in public restrooms, gay bars, bath houses, adult theaters."
"Be honest, Eddie," Charli said. "Honesty turns me on."
"When I started hanging out on the beach, it was men who first came on to me. I didn't care. I just wanted to get my rocks off. So, yeah. I have two sugar daddies."
"You whore!" Evie giggled.
"I am not a whore. I am a gigolo. They don't pay me money. They give me gifts."
"Like what?" Evie asked.
"I have a Harley, a Mustang, a jet ski, designer clothes. I usually sell the jewelry they give me."
"Wow!" Evie said. "I think I'll become a courtesan."
My immediate visceral reaction was negative. There was no way I wanted my little girl to be a whore. Then, my cock got hard thinking of her being showered with gifts, and living in luxury, because of her pussy. "You can be anything you want to be, Baby, as long as you stay in school long enough to get a bachelor's degree at least. Preferably, a masters."
Eddie said, "I'm majoring in theater at Isla Esmeralda College."
I thought about it, and said, "I would think the O'Famlies are wealthy enough that you wouldn't have to hustle."
"The old men don't want the kids to have it any easier than they had it growing up. We have to start at the bottom of any of the family businesses. We're not treated any better than the non-family employees. In fact, they're treated better than kin. And, I think they're encouraged to give us a hard time. I'm treated much better here than I would be at one of the O'Family restaurants, motels, or fishing boats. Most of the kids who go off to universities never come back. They graduate and get jobs in the real world."
"You have to put yourself through college?" Charli asked.
"Oh no! The family would pay my way, and provide room and board, and tutors, as long as I maintained a minimum three point oh average."
"What's a three point oh?" Evie asked.
"That's a 'B' average," he explained. "You're allowed to drop below that one semester. If you drop below that again, you get no more family support. You're on your own."
A 'B' average?" Evie said. "That doesn't sound so tough."
"I love partying," Eddie said. "I hate studying."
"He lost his lovely hard-on," Charli whined.
"School ain't a big turn-on."
"Suck it, Mommy. Make it hard again."
His flaccid penis grew to a full-blown rock-solid 9 ½" erection in a second.
"I never had a daughter tell her mother to suck my cock before. That is so fucking hot!"
"Suck it, Mommy. Suck Eddie's huge fucking cock." Evie took the dress off and finger fucked her cunt.
I got naked.
Charli took Eddie's phallus out of her mouth long enough to say, "Suck your Daddy's hard cock, Baby. Suck Daddy's cock.
"Fuck our daughter's mouth, Frank."
After the little orgy in the jungle, I was pretty much fucked out. My dick was tender.
Eddie came quickly.
"Kiss Mommy, Daddy. Taste Eddie's cum in your wife's mouth."
Eddie got hard again.
"Fuck my Mommy, Eddie. Fuck her good. I wanna put your big hard cock into Mommy's hot cunt."
They were still fucking when I fell asleep. I was exhausted.
In Chapter 6 Frank & Evie meet and orgy with the O'Mafia...
The only way to know if anyone is reading is for them to send in a comment, If you liked this story (or didn't like the story) your comments will be greatly appreciated by the story's author by using the form below. If you wish to remain anonymous, just leave the Email and/or Name box blank. Thanks!
Or... I will respond to all critiques, comments, compliments, and/or complaints sent to my email [email protected]