The characters and events in this story are purely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2002 by K.A. Moulton

I hope my laughing doesn't make him feel ashamed. I can't help it. When everything feels right, when everything looks so perfect to me, I get to laughing; not because anything's funny, but because I feel so incredibly happy. Henry's a good lover. He is so skinny, he can't swim, and he's so awkward sometimes that I feared he might've been one of those ten-second men. What a relief.

I guess you could say I got a knack for picking the gifted ones. Best part is though, he could sure take pain when I gave it. I never meant to hurt him at all. I'd never do that on purpose. Something tells me he just doesn't like the soft, silent, hourglass-type women, "cause more than anything, he reacted to my muscles. The more I saw how excited he got by them, the more I gave him 'not that I really have much of a choice in that. There's something that happens to me when the right man, in the right spot, with a very fixed-like focus and good rhythm, touches the most sensitive places. I can feel the blood rushing into all of my muscles, and they get harder. For instance: When he went down on me right there on the soft, cool earth, just as the sun set and the crickets began to fiddle, my heartbeat burst out from my chest and into every part of my body. It was like I felt my pulse coming up into my arms, my stomach, my thighs; all the way down through my toes and out of my fingertips. Even my hair felt electrified. During very good sex my muscles just start flexing and getting harder until they feel like they're actually growing, even though they don't really. It takes a good deal more than love-making to get them as big as mine.

But I kept watching his eyes, those big green eyes, beneath that smart brow and how his breathing changed when I flexed certain parts of my body. The other fellas I've been with were always aroused in that usual gorilla-dog kind of way; nothing like Henry. He made me feel like a goddess, with pretty words whispering in the moonlight and a feeling that he was doing more than having sex with me, more than making love or having a good time. He worshipped me.

To say Henry passed the endurance test is a lot like saying Lucille Ball has a sense of humor. He got me so giddy and excited I wanted to take that penis of his into my mouth. I'd never do that during the first time with any man. Sure makes it hard to wait for the next though. Anyway, I can't understand how Henry can just appear out of nowhere with a handful of daisies like he does. When I came for the third time and drained every iota of energy from him, he got up, sort of hopped into some brush 'it was almost pitch black out- tripped over a root and fell butt-first into the reservoir. I was laughing silly. It took a second, but I got him to laugh too after he realized the water was only a foot deep. I grabbed his left hand, pulled him out, then he lifted up his chin with a big smile and handed me about fifteen sopping-wet little wild daisies. I just love that. But it was when he said, kind of shivering;

"Claire, you've ruined the Earth for me. Nothing will ever be as sublime as it was before. I just look at you and realize it's not a fair shake to the rest of creation. You are the most beautiful part of this world."

-that something changed inside me. My heart has never felt so. I don't think this body of mine has ever responded like that to another man's touch. It was like there was some kind of music flowing through my muscles every time he grabbed a handful. I guess I've always felt real in-touch with my body, but he was stroking and kissing and drawing something out of me that I've never given before. I had to make love to him once more before going to sleep.

I could tell that he'd never felt a flower quite like mine before. I just love doing that. When I discovered this thing I can do with it, oh somewhere around my late teens, I guess you might say I practiced with it until I could control the rhythms and shapes of sex as well as any good race car driver can control the road. It's something a girl gets a feel for, but then, I don't really know any other women who can do it that well. Girls talk all the time. Any time I bring that up in girltalk, I seem to get a real quiet audience.

Not much sleep was got. We managed to get thirty-four dollars richer before sunrise.

"Course I feel bad about the whole thing. What'm I s'posed to do? I know Trixie and them boys are gonna be the worse for it, but I ain't a charity; not no more, anyhow. Had to go clear down the hill and over Troha creek to their house on account of that son-of-a-bitch unplugging the phone. I told myself I wouldn't but I had to try and call at least once. By the time I pulled into their drive, I was hot as a kiln and Yates just sitting their with his feet up on the porch rail bouncing that pong paddle on his knee, smoking his pipe and grinning like a drunken alligator.

I could see Trixie poking her nose out from the kitchen window. She knew right away I wasn't there to chew fat. You could tell by her face that morning had already been a whole day's worth of trifles.

One minute I'm holding her there naked and dreaming, the next I hear her giggling beside the truck. I yanked my jeans on and stumbled to see what she was up to. Claire had a fat man pinned up against the side of the cab, holding his wrists up high on his back. I could tell he was in pain by the way his head shook. I could tell he was drunk by the sound of his pleas. "I wondered when you'd get up," she said, still totally naked and giggling, "We got a couple of good old boys here who want a lathe." I saw then in the foreground another man, much bigger, with his wrists and ankles taped, laying on his back. He was unconscious. Both men had at least fifty pounds on Claire apiece. "You didn't tell me this thing was for sale, Henry. How much are we selling it for?" The moonlight carved into her powerful buttocks as she pressed up against the man. Her muscular back widened and separated all over with french curve shapes. She was standing on her toes, bracing the man with her legs.

It's been sold, I said; Sheriff agreed to buy it yesterday afternoon. I checked the man on the ground. He was horse shoe bald with a quarter-sized lump on his head. His breath smelled like sour mash.

"So how much are we renting it out for? These fine men here have only been using it for ten minutes." She tossed him a good five feet towards the back of the truck and pointed to an old Ford pickup on the side of the road. The tailgate was open and the lathe sat on the ground behind it, upside-down. "I think we only rent it out for the day mister-I'm sorry what did you say your name was?" Claire rubbed one of fist with the other.

"Didn't," he half-belched and tried to get up.

Claire smiled at me and crouched over him, then reached out and grabbed a fistful of his groin. "You sure," her hand twisted a little, "you two didn't introduce yourselves to me a couple minutes ago?"

The man grunted loudly and gargled a few incomprehensible things. "Louis!-Louis Rossman!" He gasped as she held her grip. "That there's Kenny Potts!"

She released his testicles. I kneeled beside Kenny Potts who was moaning and coming-to. Well Mr. Potts and Mr. Rossman, I proclaimed, this fine lathe rents for fifty-five dollars a day, cash only. I asked Claire if she was okay. She nodded, but I could tell that her hand was in some pain.

Claire folded her thick forearms over her breasts and smiled. My, my, did she ever look intimidating, and beautiful. "Sorry you didn't get more use out of it, boys, but we've really got to get it to the Sheriff 'unless, of course, you'd like to ask him if you could use it for another day?" Kenny Potts began to roll around me and struggle.

"Huh? You ain't getting' no fifty bucks from us!"

Claire reached into the cab and slipped into her coveralls. I thought it was cute the way she pointed her toes and zipped them up, her pinky finger extended. She stood over Potts. "That's fifty-five."

"They gone try and rob us, Kenny!" hollered Louis. "I ain't got no money on me."

Potts sounded desperate. "You ain't getting' nothing. We gone tell the Sheriff you tried to rob us."

Claire was laughing again. So you big boys are going to explain to the police, I said dead serous, that you got blind drunk, caught a three-hundred-pound lathe down by the reservoir in the middle of the night, and were beaten-up by a naked woman and robbed by a skinny boy like myself, with no weapons?

"I'll do it for them," said Claire, "here, I'll tie Mr. Rossman up and you can keep an eye on them while I drive over to the police station. Sound good?" We both nodded. She started to get into the truck. Both men looked at each other and came to what little there was of their senses. After agreeing to pay the rent, we untied them while Claire held onto their truck keys. She made it clear that she'd make sure they did everything they were told, holding a long tire iron in her hands. I found a loaded shotgun in their truck. I do wish I'd seen how she got them back to Chance's truck. She could've been killed.

We made them re-load the lathe into the bed and get the money out of their truck. Both men were so drunk and beat-up each took turns dropping the machine twice before they finally loaded the thing. They only had thirty-four dollars between them, so I careened the shotgun and Claire tossed the keys into the reservoir before we left. When we drove away I looked back and saw them pushing each other. Louis threw-up on Kenny just as the sun began to break the treeline.

I stay right here. Earl said so. We got no business being in the way. That's all he said. I got Granny's ticker. She told me when I's skeered to let it tick-tock-tick-tock and pretend it's like that picture of Big Ben she showed me and that I could be a giant man who ain't skeered of nothin'.

Bacon smells good.

I want to climb the tree in front and if I'm the world's giantest man, I could even climb Big Ben or the Empire Skate building like King Kong if'n I like, so that tree ain't gone be nothin'. His face gets awful red when I pretend. He don't like pretendin' -says it makes me look like the retarded boy up the road.

Bacon don't smell like that.

I stay here. Quiet here. He don't come up. Only Mama come up here. She gave me this lock. I got my own key so's he can't get in here when he gets a mind to. It's mine. He ain't got one. It goes on the outside when I ain't using it and on the inside when I do. That all down there ain't gone make me put this key in. I stay right here.

It hurts. It's been worse, I know, but it still hurts.

Boys better shake them rugs good like I said. Gibby, every time he gets done shakin' them rugs he got so much dust on his face, I got to wash it twice "fore I can see it again. He always smilin'. His brother Earl forgot how to smile like that.

How'm I gone get a job looking like this? I guess I could go back to the peanut butter factory like before me and Roy got hitched. He don't like me working ' says a wife ought not be doing nothing but take care of her family at home. I understand, Roy's got to make hisself feel like a good man. I always tried real hard to make him feel that way. He gets mean a lot. That makes it hard. It would be good at the factory. I wouldn't be stuck in this house all day having nobody to talk to. The boys could get over to see their Grandma more. I'm sure she wouldn't mind watching them, and Earl is at school almost all-day. Gibby ain't no trouble "tall. Oh, God, does this hurt.

He gone sleep soon enough. I can't make a whistle, it hurts so. Make supper proper, wring-out them shirts, get the boys tucked-in and fetch some extra ice from Haddy; let him watch that TV, feed his belly so much he can't keep his eyes open; then I can cut off this mess he made. I just wish he would go to bed.

Mr. Chance went and gave me that knowin look, is all he did. He ain't said nothin about it all morning. I gone have some news for my wife, sho'nough. She gone be able to get herself that washing machine she seen at Quincy's. Maybe I get it for her, with a bunch of chocolates too! She got four more months "fore the baby come, and a washing machine can't come too soon with that. I guess I get her a better stove to go along with that icebox I got her last month while I'm at it. The Missus got the gift for cookin'. She don't let me go hungry, ever. I love that woman more than the night got stars.

I reckon them two ain't gone make it in "fore supper. But that's okay, it been a day to make all the demons of Hell nap away the heat, by God. Ain't no kind of day for no work, no-how. Shoot, Chance ain't even flipped the compressor on. He know it the Lord's spell to enjoy. I bet it ain't gone last all day. They some wickedness in the air.

I'm tell Mr. Chance I head on up to Haddy's. He knows what I be doing, so it ain't nothin' by him. He prob'ly feel better about the whole thing if'n I did, anyway. Ain't no tellin' what's happening in that house. I don't study on bad opinions of folks too much. It ain't no good what most people say about others. They always got somethin' they ain't tellin' "bout the other person's side of the story. But it sure is hard to reckon Yates' side of any story. I get on up there "fore them younguns get home from school.

I do think I love this man. He insisted on getting some ice for my hand, even though I experience worse pain working on cars all the time. Then he bought a hot water bottle and took turns icing and keeping my hand warm with his own. I'm righty, so it's not a big deal anyway. I sorta surprised myself. I didn't think I could punch that hard with my left. Fact is, I think that's the first time I've ever socked a man in the face, let alone two men. I really enjoyed overpowering those boys. Even now thinking about it turns me on a little.

My hand felt better after about an hour, thanks to Henry. We stopped at a little market in Shelby; probably the only market in that itty-bitty street corner of a town, and bought some apples, soft rolls, orange juice and a big picnic blanket for breakfast. We just watched each other and ate beneath a big silver maple, not saying anything. It was a very sweet moment. He knew that I was thinking about something he hadn't thought of, but he never asked what. We simply looked into each other's eyes and listened to the birds, then made our way back home.

I pulled the truck over when we came to Troha creek. I was feeling as comfortable with Henry as anyone I'd ever known after going through all that in just a single day. Maybe I felt more comfortable with him than anyone ever. I wanted to have that feeling again; the excitement I had after taking care of those men back near Chillicothe. But I didn't want to hurt Henry. Bart Riggle half-built a bomb shelter about a hundred yards away from the creek. He stopped working on it over ten years ago after his wife died. Now it's all overgrown with wildflowers and grass, so nobody knows about it. Even Bart's old house is gone now. I used to go there sometimes to be alone when I was a kid. We held hands as I led him in through the flush doors, which still opened easily enough to make me think someone else had discovered it. Nothing had changed inside. The ground was still only half-cobbled in red brick at the top section of the shelter, with a six-foot wooden stair leading down to the clay floor. It wasn't as damp down there as I remembered, which was good. So I spread the blanket out on the ground and told him to undress. I kept my clothes on, making him very curious. He laughed in a slightly nervous way and asked me what I had in mind. I told him to just remove his clothes and be quiet, it was a surprise. He was already becoming aroused and I enjoyed watching that thick penis lengthen and rise up between his thighs. I pulled him closer, teasing him with my tongue, but only for a minute. I wanted it in my throat. I worked fast, locking into a smooth rhythm that I knew would make his head spin. I definitely enjoy a blow job with a nice cock. But I had to sort of hold back some so I wouldn't spoil the surprise. Course, he thought the blow job was the big surprise. After only a few minutes I removed him from my mouth, told him to turn around and lay down between my knees. He was so excited that his entire body was shaking. I'm not going to hurt you, I whispered in his ear, I want to see what really excites you.

Then I stripped off my shirt and pressed my breasts against his back. My stomach rippled beneath him.

"Hey, darlin' I like that. You sure I'm not too heavy?"

I laughed and pulled him up a bit further. I have no idea why men have to ask such stupid questions. I took each arm and flexed my biceps around his head, about his face, then into his mouth one at a time, filling them with blood. His cock stood right back up against his belly, pulsing and looking like it would break open from the pressure. He made sounds as if I'd been stuffing stew dumplings into his mouth, and I could feel the suction of his lips and tongue. That's when I told him to get ready: I wrapped my left arm around his neck. It's very thick, and he had to stretch some so it would fit. I wasn't really choking him, only applying enough pressure so that his head was completely locked in muscle. I felt so happy and excited by his moans, that I started laughing again; giggling, actually. I really couldn't help myself. I took his thick cock into my right hand and began to slowly pump, letting him see all the muscles in my arm at work; all the thick and thinner veins making a web beneath my skin. As I began to pump his shaft faster, I applied a little more pressure to his neck, and asked him if he was okay. Then he started laughing, "Yeeehahhaha!" Now I was asking the stupid question. His hips were bucking up and down, making it difficult for me to keep rhythm, so I pressed him back down onto the blanket and pumped faster. I asked him if he liked to feel the power of a pretty woman. That was another stupid question, but I knew it would excite him. I told him to watch my big, heavy arm as it worked his cock; feel the roundness of my left biceps as it pressed into his throat; told him about how it feels to be strong and feminine and worshipped by him; whispered about they way all of my muscles twitched when I look at his naked body. Now I was pumping so fast that my hand looked like two or three hands had a grip on his cock. I felt his entire body stiffen, watched his toes grab at the blanket, and gaily listened to the sounds of a man completely out of control when he came. His penis must have shot enough white for three men. I've never seen so much come.

After he caught his breath, he said it.

I'd like to get lunch some time today.

Trixie asked for it. S'what, I tell her, we gone get by just fine. So she starts with that runnin' her hand through her hair and stomping "round the kitchen baloney she does when she knows to shut up. I was just here in this chair, lookin' out the window and eatin' some eggs she fixed. Fuckin' never can get that bacon to be done at the same time, and can't seem to keep toast from getting cold, that woman. I told Earl and Gibby to git out while I eat. I can't hardly stand them kids jawing away when I'm tryin to git breakfast in me, "specially on a damned morning like that.

So what does Trixie go and do? She figures she ought to speak her mind about it,

fool bitch.

She starts sayin' about how I got no business getting fired from the Garage, an how I ain't never gone hold no good job fer more'n a few years or a few months and how all I do is spend money on my own self getting liquor or-hell, I can't rightly recall what she was sayin'. When I saw that bacon grease catch afire, and heard that goose horn of hers bouncin offa the kitchen walls, and them kids going in and out of the room like that, I just couldn't take no more, so I stood up and punched her in her gut good. She still kept runnin her mouth, so I got her one across the face, this time real good, so'd she shut the hell up. What happened next was just plain bad luck. When I cracked her across the cheek, she kinda fell backways into that smoking grease-lit her entire head on fire. I saved her by runnin her face and hair under the sink. She gone be fine. I call a doctor after lunch. Boys din't see what happened. It ain't nothin but a little burn on her nose and chin, and her hair'll grow back soon enough. It ain't like I shot her or nothin.

Got-damned malt wheat is what I ended up having for the rest of breakfast. She done burnt the last of the bacon. I sure wouldn't mind lookin at some TV in peace for a change.