B.J.Jones the Story of My Life - Cover

B.J.Jones the Story of My Life

Copyright© 2012 by jballs

Chapter 249

Ex-Military Sex Story: Chapter 249 - This is the story of the life of Roberta Josephine Jones. Shortened to BJ by her friends. From the battle fields Afghanistan with the Marines, loss of her life time friend, with flash backs to her wild youth. After the Marines she must find her way in the world. The early chapters of this story includes incest, les,rape and other adult themes. I plan for this to be a multi-part serial. This is my first attempt at writing. Much of the sex is in the early chapters changing to action and drama.

Caution: This Ex-Military Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Nudism   Slow  

Kelly, Mark and three security guards were waiting at the main gate as the dealer unloaded the Gator. I sent one of the day guards to pick up the supply's we needed while we were waiting on the Gator. The tools for the job were gloves, wire cutters, box cutters and several cans of black spray paint waiting to cover all the odd color over spray that was on the fence.

I had left Marcy, Jenny, Lorrie and Cindy in the security office to check on business at home and catch up on e-mails. Jenny was going to transcribe her notes from this morning onto the electronic system.

As I started removing the first cardboard poster I instructed my crew, "Pull everything off the fence and cut it up into small pieces to fit in the dump body and touch up the paint as we go."

The place was a real mess. There was a line of posters on the fence and dozens of empty spray paint cans all over the grass. We had our work cut out for us. I wanted to be in the air before dark.

The first load of cardboard posters was on its way to the dumpster with one of the day crew sitting on top to keep it from bouncing out. We used the time to pile up the empty cans and continue to take down more posters, and also touch up the fence paint.

As we started the clean up there had been a few artists, 'I was told I needed to be more politically correct' along the fence when we arrived but they had quickly gathered their things and left.

The Gator had just returned and we were stacking more in the dump body when a new group started our way.

Now there were several different ones headed back. The original group had been a mix of men and women. This group was all men and larger, and definitely not the same nationality as those that left. Instead of heading to a spot on the fence they came straight at us.

I wondered if this was part of the group that the agency was watching. The men had full uncut beards, the Arabic head scarf that they liked to wear to display the sect they belonged to and the black hood rolled up on the top of their head.

Another thought that came to mind was they never did anything on an individual basis. If you had the stomach to watch the gruesome videos they posted, one person beheaded someone and twenty more were with guns to put on a big show. All of them had their face covered with the black hood that ultimately showed the coward's that they really were.

IN Russia during the Stalin era, Hitler's SS troopers and the Emperors soldiers didn't hide behind a mask when they committed mass atrocities. They believed in what they were doing and were unafraid to be seen.

Today the men hid behind masks, used women and children as shields or forced them to be suicide bombers and needed a chanting crowd to give them courage.

The group was finally standing in front of me. One was in front with the other three standing behind him. "What do you think you are doing?" the one standing in front asked.

"I am cleaning the trash off my fence," I replied. One of those standing behind him began speaking in Arabic. I understood everything he said but was going to wait for the interpretation before I responded. Play dumb in other words.

"Fence is public property, college is public property. How can you say you own fence?" he replied.

"The college is a private corporation; the students pay a fee to go there. Anyone can go to the classes at the college if they are qualified and pay the tuition fees," I said then added.

"My company is in charge of student safety. I paid to have the fence installed; it is my fence. It was a very expensive fence, nice historic wrought iron. Posters and spray paint make it look it look like dog feces. I will not have my fence looking like that."

The man behind him listened to his explanation and then gave him a long statement to counter what I had said as we continued to pile the posters in the Gator dump box.

"You are woman - you cannot own fence. We are a minority here and we have minority rights - you cannot stop us from using the fence," he said.

I responded by saying "Everywhere you are a minority you beat the minority rights drum with a passion. Everywhere you are a majority there are no minority rights at all."

Then continued by saying, "I own the fence; do not put posters or paint on my fence. You have plenty of places to hang posters and paint in the development you just came from." Knowing they were Arabic and their customs and then just too really piss them off, I added: "If you deface my fence any more I will drape swine entrails over your doorways and swine blood on your door steps. You treat my property with respect and I will do the same with yours," that statement was a major insult and a harsh warning. I was prepared to fight after I made the statement.

I thought the interpreter was going to have a heart attack or else he was in the process of crapping himself, "I cannot tell him that, he will be furious!" he replied.

To his dismay and surprise I stepped to side and repeated what I had said, this time in his Arabic language to his leader.

After a long silence and desperate fear in the expressions of the interpreter, the leader stepped to the front and said in broken English and finally in Arabic.

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