THE VOODOO DUDE

Chapter 8

By Earl DeVere

(MMF, voy, Mg oral, Mggg exhib, Mgg)

Frank surprises Freddie, watches him fuck Charlotte, Nyoka introduces herself, Frank offers his wife as a boy's birthday present, and little girls at daycare are introduced to Frank's magic tongue...

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.


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.



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Friday, June 18


I awoke before sunrise with the urge to have my first cup of coffee in our new jungle cabin. The only other human I saw on the way was a security agent. I waved so he could see my color coded wristband, and know that I was a registered guest. He waved back.

Only the unlatched wood framed screen door was closed. I went in and set up the Mr. Coffee. The machine was expensive, but worth it for a caffeine addict like me. Drip-O-Lators were a pain in the ass, and percolators burnt the brew.

I was pouring my second cup when Freddie somnambulated from the bedroom to the bathroom. I heard his urine splash in the toilet's water, the water running in the sink as he washed his hands.

He came out with his erection in his right hand. He froze when he saw me sitting at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Freddie. Have a cup of Java with me."

He looked at the door, with his fight or flight reaction telling him to flee.

"I want to thank you for fucking my wife."

Surprise and curiosity replaced fear. "Huh!?!" He realized he was still holding his now limp member, and dropped it like the proverbial hot potato.

"Pour yourself a cup. Have a seat. Let's talk."

"Let me get some clothes on."

"No. I'll take mine off." I undressed while he poured a cup, and doctored it with a splash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar. I resisted the urge to berate him for adulterating the taste of excellent Community dark roast coffee.

Freddie sat at the opposite end of the table. He glanced at the door, tensed and ready to run.

"Thank you for fucking Charlotte and turning her into a slut."

He shook his head, certain he was dreaming, and trying to wake up.

"You make her feel young, and she's at the point in her life where she was beginning to feel old. Thirty is a terrible milestone for women, and for some men. The mere fact that you were obviously attracted to her made her feel younger. Now, she's convinced that young cum is the fountain of youth. The excessive concentration of testosterone in pubescent semen stimulates whatever it is in a woman's physiology that rejuvenates her body and mind."

"Huh?"

"Yes, it's crazy, but it makes her happy. And maybe there's even some truth to it... some basis in fact," I said. "I don't care. It makes her happy. If Charlotte's happy, I'm happy. Evie's happy. Everybody's happy. So you should enjoy yourself when you're with her, and don't be unhappy or get upset when someone else is making her happy."

"That is the weirdest and craziest shit I've ever heard," Freddy said shaking his head.

"Go fuck my wife now. Wake her up with your young hard cock, fill her hot cunt with your young cum."

"I cannot believe this. This is so fucking hot," he said, abandoning his coffee and rushing to the bedroom, youthful erection in hand.

"What the... Oh, God!

"Yesss! Fuck me, Freddie. Fuck me."

"Fuck her, Freddie. Fuck my wife. Fuck her with your teen cock. Fill her cunt with your young cum."

"Oh, God!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Oh, Jesus! Yesss! Fuck me, Freddie. I want my husband to watch you fuck me. I want him to watch me suck your cock!"

"I love it, Babe. I love you being a fucking cock-craving slut."

"I am! I am a fucking slut! I love being a fucking slut. I want cock and more cock. I want to fuck and suck cocks!"

Freddie grunted and groaned and humped frenetically, before ramming his cock in hard to the hilt, and emitting a long loud moan, and collapsing on top of my wife.

I rolled him off, and buried my face in her crotch, hungrily lapping up hot semen.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!  Eat me, Frank! Eat my pussy. Eat Freddie's cum. Eat my young lover's cum out of my cunt."

I gave her a screaming, body quaking orgasm.

After recovering, she looked at her young lover. "He's hard again! I think it's grown!"

"Suck it, Charlotte. Suck your young lover's hard cock. Suck it dry!"

Freddie didn't last as long as I thought he would, after having just ejaculated in my wife's cunt.

I was French kissing Charlotte when he said, "I have to go to work."

Charlotte sighed, "That was so unbelievably hot! Thank you! Fuck me!"

I slowly slipped my phallus into her vaginal sheath at a high angle, so it rubbed against her clitoris, and moved my hips in a grinding motion, gradually picking up speed, ramming in hard and fast, and slowly withdrawing, until I lost control and just pounded mercilessly until overcome by orgasm.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Holy Shit!!! Jeeesus Chriiist! Fuuuck!"

Before she could recover from her cum, I went down on her again, greedily devouring my own semen like a man dying of thirst.

She finally pushed me away. "No more! I can't take it anymore. It's sooo sensitive!"

We lay in silence for a while, breathing heavily.

After regaining her breath, she said, "I don't remember you being that good before."

"You never gave me the chance. You always acted like you just wanted me to get it over with. You acted like you didn't enjoy sex."

"I was afraid to let you know how much I liked sex...  fucking. Afraid you'd think I was a slut, not a nice girl."

"Nice girls can love sex."

"I was raised believing that women aren't supposed to enjoy sex. They were supposed to submit to their husband's desires."

"That sucks."

"I can't believe that I've deprived myself of 12 years of good sex."

"Deprive yourself no more."

"I still want young men. Boys. It makes me feel so young."

"And I want you to enjoy feeling young. I want you to be a boys' slut. I want you to fuck all of the boys you want to fuck. I want you to have all the fun you want to have."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"One: Because I Love You. Two: Because I'm a fucking pervert, and you let me fuck our daughter, and eat prepubescent pussy."

"I cannot believe what a slut Evie has become. And, I can't believe how much it turns me on knowing that our 11-year-old daughter is a fucking slut; knowing that men are fucking her."

A jug of Bongo Joe's prickly pear wine sat on the kitchen table.

"I'm going to the Oleander City Mall on the mainland to shop for boots," Charlotte said. "Rick recommended wearing western boots on the job. He considers them essential weapons for unarmed security agents. You want to come along?"

A disgusted look was my reply. I loathed shopping, and she knew it. I enjoyed browsing flea markets, but detested stores. "I'm going to find a barber shop, and get a trim. Then, I'll wander around town on foot. If I'm not here when you get back, that's probably where I'll be."

Evie, Electra, Brother George, Wild Man and Wanda the Welder filed into the cabin.

"The Rev, Wild Man and Wanda are going to live here too," Evie said.

"We're going to shack-up together, and be beach bums," Wanda chuckled.

"I am going to revel in openly living in sin," Brother George said.

Wild Man said, "Me and Wanda are going to get a welding rig and cutting torches, and try our hands at pornographic metal sculpture."

"Erotic, numb nuts," Wanda interjected. "Not pornographic."

"Whatever."

The Rev said, "The front desk manager is going to rent us the garage apartment behind his house. He was eye-balling Wanda in her bikini, and I invited him to join us in our debaucheries."

She did look hot for a woman her age.

"The Rev could afford a big fancy beach house with his retirement benefits," Wild Man said. "Two month's salary, and ten percent of the church's gross receipts."

"That includes the income from the church's investments as well as tithes and weekly offerings," The Rev explained.

"What are you going to do with all of that money?" I asked.

"I haven't decided. Something that will help people in need. Anonymously," The Rev said. "I haven't done a good deed since I was a Boy Scout. Even then, I did what I did for recognition or reward."

"You comforted the sick and dying," Wanda said.

"Yes, in the fervent hope they would remember the church in their will. Many of them left everything to the church, and nothing to their children and grandchildren. The money they left the church could have given their grandchildren a college education, or could have been used to set up scholarships, or provided health care clinics for the poor," The Rev lamented. "Instead, it was invested in municipal bonds to line my pockets."

"You were just a con artist," Charlotte said.

"Yes," The Rev laughed. "Don't you realize that religion is a con. All religions are confidence games. Anyone who takes your money on the promise of intangible rewards is a con artist. New Age spirituality is a scam. Enlightenment can't be bought and sold. Look at the expensive new age books. Large print, lots of white space and artwork. Reduce it to single spaced 10 point type, take away the art and white space, and you don't have enough information to fill both sides of an 8 ˝ by 11 trifold pamphlet. New Age gurus run an even better con than I do. They don't have to have buildings to maintain. Transcendental Meditation is a pyramid scheme, like Amway and Avon, except that there are no tangible products to sell. There's no money in selling the product. The money is in conning people to sell the product for you."

"Do you have any spiritual beliefs at all?" Charlotte asked.

He thought for a long moment before saying, "Regretfully, none."

"Then why change your ways at this late stage?" I asked.

"I've been told that doing good feels good. I want to feel good."

Charlotte said, "I'm running over to Oleander City to do some shopping. Anyone want to come along?"

Everyone went along, leaving me alone. I poured another cup of coffee, and was sipping it when a little naked black girl appeared at the door.

"Good morning, Frank. I'm Nyoka. Remember me? You ate my pussy at the dump."

I ate several prepubescent pussies at the dump orgy, but I definitely remembered Nyoka. She was the most excited and appreciative of my victims. "Yes. I remember you very well."

"Joseph said that you might want some company," she said, taking my cock in her mouth and sucking. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old, but she performed fellatio like a pro.

Before I could ask where she learned to do that, she said, "We nurse on teats and cocks from the day we were born."

I ejaculated. She swallowed every drop. Then she sat on the table before me, spread her legs and said, "Joseph said that you might enjoy some little girl pussy for breakfast."

I did, indeed, enjoy breaking my fast with prepubescent pink and black pudenda. After I gave her several orgasms, she gave me a deep soul kiss.

"Call my name whenever you need me, and I will come," she said. "I am your jungle girl." Nyoka hopped down from the table and walked out.

I dressed in sandals, shorts, sports shirt, and Panama hat, and left the resort through the employees' gate, where I introduced myself to the young gate guard.

"Charlotte's husband?"

"Yes."

"Welcome to The Jungle, Mr. Harris."

I wandered around downtown until I found a barbershop. There were customers in the three barber's chairs, and two more awaiting their turn. I took a seat, and picked up the latest Sports Illustrated bathing suit issue.

I'm an eavesdropper. Wherever I go, I listen in on other people's conversations. Over my years as a newspaperman, other people have unintentionally given me useful information. I can also read upside down; a useful talent when I'm standing in front of some official's desk. Spying was a big part of my job before I burnt out on investigative reporting.

One of the waiting customers was convinced that the O'Mafia had totally given up its criminal activities. I looked at the barbers' licenses. One was Timothy O'Malley. I would later learn that Timothy was a bookie. While the O'Mafia was no longer an organized criminal organization, some of the descendants individually, and against family wishes, engaged in illegal activities. If you smoked pot on the island, it, in all probability, came from an O'Family member.

Other than arrests for fighting, public intoxication, and traffic violations, the family was clean. Without a verifiable criminal record, I couldn't report on the known criminal activities. I could report on the 'possibly apocryphal' rumors without naming specific family members.

I was the sole customer left in the shop when I got into Timothy's chair.

"You're not using the resort's barber shop?" he asked, looking at the resort wristband.

"As of noon, I'm a permanent resident of Isla Esmeralda."

"And, what will you be doing as a permanent resident of our fair isle?" Timothy asked.

"Editor of The Emerald Isle Gazette."

"You're the asshole who's going to rat on my family," Timothy said good naturedly. "I've heard about you."

If he heard about me, he knew the O'Patriarchs were cooperating.

"Can you recommend a good body guard?"

"I guarantee you that nobody on this overgrown sandbar is going to fuck with you."

Then to one of the other barbers, Ralph, asked "Have you decided what to give your kid for his birthday, Harry?"

"No, I haven't. It's Ronnie's 13th. He'll be a teenager. It should be something that signifies a big change in his life."

Ralph said, "My father got me a hooker for my 13th birthday."

"Any of y'all know any hookers?"

All eyes turned to Timothy.

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"My wife might help you out."

I was instantly the center of attention.

"Shit! Did I say that out loud?"

Three heads nodded.

"Well, what the hell? My wife is convinced that teen cum is the elixir of youth."

"And you're OK with that?" Timothy asked.

"Charlotte's happy. I've never seen her so happy. If she's a happy woman, I'm a happy man."

"Do you have a picture?" the soon-to-be teen's Dad asked.

I had a photo from the previous summer of Charlotte and Evie on the beach, wearing two piece bathing suits.

"That's Evie?" Timothy asked.

"Evie?"  Ralph and Harry asked.

"Frank's daughter. She's the talk of the town. Uncle Sean's madly in love with her."

Harry said, "Getting back to your wife. Do you think that she'll really go for it?"

"Indubitably. When's the kid's birthday? Charlotte will be working Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights."

"Next Friday."

"Then, Thursday night would be perfect."

"Don't you have to ask her?" Harry asked.

"No. I'll call the shop when I find out what my phone number is. The phone will be installed Monday morning."

"We're closed Sunday and Monday."

Harry gave me his home number. "Call between noon and four. My wife will be at the spa. She's a masseuse."

"She can massage my love muscle," Ralph said.

"You'll have to help her find it," Harry laughed. "Take a pair of tweezers with you. I don't think they have them at the spa."

Two more customers entered as Timothy finished trimming my hair.

*****

My wanderings led me to a city park with a generously equipped playground. A plaque stated, "The land and equipment for Esmeralda Park was generously donated by the O'Malley, O'Toole and O'Donnell Families."

"Evie's Daddy!" a girl squealed.

A woman sitting on a bench on the other side of the playground, looked up, her eyes bright with curiosity. There was the hint of a smile before she put on her poker face.

I looked up and saw 8-year-old Lizzie. "Hi, Evie's Daddy!" she called, waving enthusiastically.

"That's him?" another girl asked.

"Really?" another asked.

Lizzie ran and leapt into my arms. "Where's Evie?"

"Over on the mainland, shopping with her mother."

She whispered in my ear, "Does her Mommy know that you let Evie do any fucking thing she wants to do?"

"Yes, she does."

"That is so cool! I wish my parents would let me do any fucking thing I wanted to do."

The two girls with Lizzie followed her, but stopped about ten feet away, staring.

"Who are your friends?"

"Francine," she said, pointing to the plump redhead. "And Ezzie," indicating the raven haired slender one.

I dropped down to my right knee. I didn't intentionally expose my penis. If I take a knee, it's always the right one. My dick always hangs down the left leg of my pants. My shorts went down to almost mid thigh. Kneeling on one knee pulled the leg up a little bit. I was certain the woman on the bench could see it. Francine and Ezzie were too close to see up the leg.

"Are you going to introduce me to your pretty friends?"

"This is Evie's Daddy. Uh...Mr. Harris. Right?"

"Right. But I like being called Evie's Daddy. I am pleased to meet you lovely young ladies. Ezzie is the nickname for…?"

"Esmeralda," she giggled. "Like the island."

"Such a lovely name. Would it be all right for me to call you Esmeralda. You're way too beautiful to be called Ezzie."

"It'll be OK," she giggled and nodded. Then she leaned close and whispered,  "Lizzie says that you let Evie do '*Any Thing* she wants to do. Is that true?" The naughty tone of her voice when she said 'Any Thing' gave me an instant erection, and my glans peeked out from the hem of my shorts.

Francine saw it and muffled a giggle with her right hand. Esmarelda saw it and grinned broadly.

The woman got up from her bench, and strode toward us, her poker face struggling to keep a smile repressed. I acted unaware of my exposure. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Evie's Daddy."

"Who is Evie?"

"My daughter."

The woman pretended to be unamused. "I assume that you have a name other than Evie's Daddy."

"Frank. Frank Harris," I said, smiling, standing and extending my hand for a handshake. The act of standing made the hem of my shorts lower, covering my cockhead. But the bulge became more obvious. "And you are?"

"Lizzie's Mommy," she said.

"Your daughter is way too alluring to be called Lizzie. With a name like that, she could become an axe murderer. Elizabeth, like Elizabeth Taylor. Or simply Liz."

"I like Liz!" Lizzie proclaimed. "What does alluring mean?"

I said, "Very attractive. Charming."

"And tempting?" Lizzie's Mommy suggested. "I read romance novels."

I looked from her to her daughter and back. I smiled and nodded. My hard-on got harder, and the very tip of my cockhead peeked out from under the shorts. I'm not certain it was visible to Lizzie's Mommy, but the girls could see it.

"Would you girls excuse us for a while, I want to talk with Evie's Daddy," Lizzie's Mommy said, leading me to the bench.

"I understand that you…"

I interrupted. "Let's not beat around the bush. You have obviously heard your daughters talking about me and my daughter. Tell me what you've heard."

"I'm a desk clerk at the resort. Not only have I listened to my daughters, I overheard three firefighters talking about Evie and her Daddy after they checked out, and were waiting for the valet to bring their car around to the lobby driveway."

"Since you haven't reported me to the authorities, I am assuming that you don't violently disapprove of my parenting skills."

"My daughters don't know that I've bugged their rooms. My husband doesn't know," she said, checking to ensure the girls weren't in hearing distance. "I worry about drugs. I hear that middle school kids are using them. Pills they steal from their parents' or grandparents' medicine cabinets. Shit they get from older brothers and sisters."

"I understand. In fact, that's one of the no no's I've laid down."

"So I heard. The Golden Rule, no booze, no drugs."

"And I am strict on those points."

"You allow her to…"

"I believe 'Fuck' is the word you're looking for. I loathe euphemisms."

"Yes. You allow her to fuck anyone she wants to fuck."

"Yes. Not only do I allow it, I get off to it. I love to watch men fuck my daughter. I love to watch her suck men's cocks. And, I'm getting off to telling you how much I love my daughter being a slut."

The girls were staring at us, giggling.

"Sexy little Liz and her friends are staring at my hard cock, as we speak. They obviously like looking at a man's cock. And, I like having little girls look at my cock," I whispered in her ear. "How do you like knowing that your nearly nine year old daughter likes looking at a man's cock?"

She chuckled, "I've known that for a while. I've heard them talk about flashers. If they hear about one, they go looking for him."

"Your husband doesn't know."

"My husband," she sighed. "My husband is a long haul trucker. He's sometimes home on weekends. He loves the road. I think he may be queer."

"Why?"

"I went into his tractor once looking for something. I forget what it was that I was looking for, and found a Bears Magazine. It wasn't about bears. It was about hairy men. Art is a hairy guy. A husky hairy man, like the photos in the magazine. Husky hairy men sodomizing and sucking each other."

"You don't seem to have been too traumatized by the discovery."

"Now, I don't have to feel guilty about being a lesbian."

"You know, I frequently feel like I'm a lesbian trapped in a man's body."

"You do?" she laughed.

"Yes. Especially around alluring little girls. My tongue gets an erection."

"Suzie and Angie have eaten each other."

"No shit?"

"They were just experimenting. Exploring. It doesn't mean they're lesbians. I'm pretty certain Suzy isn't."

"Her and Mr. Thomas."

"What!?!"

"Oh, shit," I winced.

"What about her and Mr. Thomas?"

"Damnit," I muttered. "I assumed that you knew."

"Her English teacher?"

"You're not going to file charges or anything, are you? You're cool about me and Evie and her men friends. I'm pretty certain Mr. Thomas is Suzy's one and only."

She was silent for a long moment, before sighing deeply. "She's got good taste. I can't really disapprove of her choice. I went for macho, and look what that got me."

"He's married, and has a daughter, Allie. She's in Angie's dance class."

"She knows about her father and my daughter?"

"Nope. Not unless she found out since I last saw them. We met them on the lagoon. We were going in. They were coming out. We were naked. They weren't."

"Are y'all through talking yet, Mommy?" Liz asked, with impatience dripping off each syllable.

"Yes, Lizzie. Liz. He's all yours."

I returned to the girls and dropped to my right knee. My cockhead and about a half inch of cock protruded from the hem of my shorts. Liz's Mommy pulled a bodice ripper out of her purse, and pretended to read.

Francine whispered, "Do you really let Evie do *Any Thing*?"

"Yes. I'm certain that Liz has told you; if Evie wants to fuck, I let her fuck. And Evie wants to fuck. Evie wants to fuck a lot. And, I let her fuck a lot. And my daughter doesn't want boys' dicks. My daughter wants men's cocks."

Esmeralda whispered, "Me and my Uncle Alfredo, and Uncle Juan fool around. They eat my pussy and I suck their cocks."

"A menage a trois."

"Huh?"

"The three of you together."

"Oh, no! My uncles don't know about each other. Uncle Alfredo don't know that me and Uncle Juan fool around. And Uncle Juan don't know that I fool around with Uncle Alfredo. Both of them told me not to tell anybody else, so I haven't."

"You're telling me."

"You're Evie's Daddy. You're cool."

"Me and my cousin Ronnie fool around. But he's only twelve."

"She jacks him off and makes him squirt stuff," Liz giggled.

"Do you enjoy making him squirt stuff, Francine?"

She nodded enthusiastically and giggled naughtily

"Ronnie?" I asked. "Is his Dad a barber?"

"Yeah," Francine said. "You know his Daddy?"

"We met a little while ago, when I got a haircut."

"Do you fuck Evie?" Francine asked.

"Yes, Francine. I fuck my daughter."

Esmeralda asked. "Do you and Evie fuck a lot."

"Yes. We fuck a lot. Evie loves having people watching her father fuck her and eat her pussy."

"I wish that I could watch you fuck Evie," Liz said.

"I would love that," I said. "And I know Evie would love it too."

"Maybe me and Angie and Suzy can watch the next time Mommy lets us hang out on the beach while she works."

"What about us?" Esmeralda whined. "What about me and Francine?"

"I'll tell Evie. She can make things happen."

Francine said, "I heard that Evie's like the VooDoo Dude's student or something."

"Apprentice," Liz said. "Like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia." 

*****

I returned to the cabin, typed up notes on things I had overheard, and underlined the information that might be verifiable. Charlotte. Evie and Electra returned while I double checked the information.

Charlotte modeled her black pointed-toe cowboy boots.

"With the short shorts and halter top, those boots make you look downright trashy," I said. "But a hot kind of trashy."

"How was your day?" she asked.

"How would you like to be a boy's 13th birthday present?"

"You're joking."

I told her all about the barbershop conversation.

"That is so hot!"

"Don't get your hopes up too high. The kid could back out."

Charlotte was also excited about her new job, and said that she had to get some sleep before her shift began at 7.

I told Evie and Electra about Liz, Esmeralda and Francine wanting to watch us fuck.

"We can have a slumber party here, and invite them all. That would be so fucking hot. Having all of my friends watch you fuck me. And other men too. I want my friends to watch you eat my pussy after you watch other men fucking me."

"I want all of your friends to know how much I love tasting other men's cum in your pussy and mouth."

"And I want them to know what a good pussy eater you are, and how much you love eating little girls' pussies, and how good your magic tongue feels.

Electra said, "I'll tell all of my friends in daycare, so all of them will know all about you, and you'll have all the little girl pussy you want."

I told them about Nyoka, my jungle girl.

"Before this weekend is over, every girl on the island will know you love eating little girl pussy, and how good it feels to have you eat their pussy."

I thought about it. "If the kids in daycare know, Frances Cavender will know."

"She knows." Evie giggled.

"It's Friday," Electra said. "She might be there now."

"Let's go see," Evie said. "I want to talk to her."

Frances was sitting at the monitors desk when we arrived.

"Hi, Francey." Evie said. "I wanna volunteer."

"Francy?" Franced repeated. "I love it! It sounds like fancy. That is officially my name from now on. Volunteer for what, Evie?"

"I saw signs on the bulletin boards, saying you need volunteers to help out here at the daycare."

"I was thinking along the lines of adult help."

"I could help with the little ones. I'm good with little kids."

Francy looked at me.

"The first I've heard about it," I said. "She is good with little kids. They adore her."

"We'll give it a try." Francy chuckled. "You can help out with the pre-K and kindergarten kids."

"Cool."

Electra's friends gathered around her, asking about Evie. "It's true," Electra whispered, but loud enough for me and Francy to hear. "Evie's Daddy lets Evie do anything Evie wants to do. Any Fucking Thing. And Evie's Daddy knows that Evie wants to fuck. Evie wants to fuck a lot."

Evie joined the little group, and said, "Tell them what a good pussy kisser my Daddy is. You liked what he did with his magic tongue. Didn't you?"

The little group drifted outside, and more girls joined them along the way.

"Your wife begins work tonight."

"Yes. She's napping now to prepare for the 12 hour shift."

"Has she ever worked nights before?"

"Never."

"You'll be working days."

"I'll be working long hours for the first couple of months, finding my way around and getting organized. Once I get in the groove, my schedule will be very flexible."

"You're going to put out a daily newspaper all by yourself?"

"Not by myself. We'll have a sports and outdoors writer. The Associated Press, an op/ed features syndicate, and press releases will fill most of the pages for me, giving me about a page and a half to fill with local news, features and photos daily. Not a problem."

"May we show Mr. Harris the playground?" Electra asked.

"By all means," Francy said. "Enjoy your tour, Frank."

"There's usually one or two grownups watching the playground," Electra said. "The two women here today spend more time gossiping with each other than watching us."

There was murmuring as we descended the stairs, and the kids congregated around us as we walked onto the playground. "That's the tree house where we do sex stuff. If you go up into the tree house, it means you want to do sex stuff. Other kids watch out for the kids in the tree house and warn them if a grownup is coming."

"Is it okay if I take a look?" I asked.

She nodded her head, and led the way up the ladder.

The house was at least 12 feet above the ground. I climbed up and looked at the building. There were three high 6"x12" windows with mirror film. The center window had an excellent view of the treehouse. The windows to the left and right were for the girls' and boys' restrooms. The center one was the janitor's closet.

Two girls and three boys were in the treehouse.

"It's OK," Electra said. "It's Evie's Daddy." She pulled up her skirt and took her panties off. "French kiss my pussy, Evie's Daddy."

I gave the three honeys each an orgasm before one of the boys whispered, "Mrs. Greenfield's coming."

I wiped my face with Electra's panties before descending the ladder.

"You're Evie's Daddy?" the woman asked.

"Lies," I said. "All lies."

"What?"

"Whatever you've heard."

She laughed. "I heard that you're the new editor of The Press."

"The Emerald Isle Gazette. The name is changing on the first of July, when we go daily."

"I'd like to write restaurant reviews."

"Submit two or three examples of your work, and we'll see."

"Great."

The more local columnists I could recruit, the less I'd have to write.

I returned to the cabin and napped. Charlotte woke me at 6:30. "How do I look?" she asked, modeling her uniform; emerald green blazer, with sea blue polo shirt and trousers with emerald green piping on the outside seams.

"Sexy."

A hefty gray haired man in the security agent uniform appeared at our door. "Mrs. Harris? I'm Hank Ballard, one of the night shift supervisors. You'll be my shadow this weekend. Next weekend, you'll be with one of our senior officers. Then, if you're as competent as Rick thinks you are, you'll be on your own."

She kissed me, and said, "Let's get this show on the road." She radiated self confidence.

I sat at my 1941 Royal Quiet Deluxe portable typewriter on the kitchen table and wrote the story about the change of name and conversion from weekly to daily. I wrote a column, introducing myself, and the story of Evie making me apply for the job, without mentioning Bongo Joe or the bikini. Then, I wrote a teaser about the upcoming multi-part historical feature on Isla Esmeralda, Emerald Isle Resort, the Cavendars and the O'Mafia.

End of Chapter 8

In Chapter 9 Frank & Evie skinny dip with Paul & Allie where Frank photographs the girls nude....

LINK TO CHAPTER 9

Link to other stories by Earl DeVere

RETURN TO TORRID TALES OF THE TABOO


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