Chapter 44: Fencing

In the morning, Cheryl was a bit more meek than usual. She knew she had been too loud, and I had likely heard her getting off. I was happy to see a teen who had also put on her light pajamas. The satin green pajamas were rarely seen as she usually slept in one of my T-shirts. And even then, it was a crapshoot if there would be anything under it. When I saw her, I was sure it was an underwear day. There were panty lines under the light material covering her cute little ass.

A bra would have been a bridge too far. Her tiny breasts didn’t need the support first thing in the morning. And she didn’t mind her hard points poking out the fabric of the pajama top. I got the feeling she liked the silky feeling of the fabric rubbing over them, keeping them hard.

Cheryl, while not thrilled to be up and dressed in her pajamas, put on a smiling face and asked, “What is on my agenda today? Now that I don’t have to work in my bikini.”

“Oh, feel free to put it on if you want to. After all, it is paid for,” I replied.

“Thanks ... No, I am tired of being bug food,” she said. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to go swimming. And I was even going to wear my regular suit.”

“Keep hoping. If we get done with putting the posts around the garden and building a gate to get in. Then we have to put barbed wire on. Once all that is complete, we can discuss going swimming,” I told her, crushing her hopes.

“We’re never going swimming today. And why do you want to put a fence around the garden today? It isn’t a garden; now it is just tilled dirt. So we could wait until next spring to finish it.” Cheryl suggested.

“Firstly, in the spring, the ground will still likely be too frozen to dig in. Secondly, there is still time this year to get in some beets, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, and some spinach. Lastly, the deer will eat them off before they are two inches tall.” I explained.

“And that is a problem?” Cheryl asked sarcastically.

“Only if you want to eat,” I replied.

“You could always shoot the deer. I like sausage. That is what you do with deer meat, isn’t it?” Cheryl asked.

“That and burgers and steaks. But it isn’t deer season. And I would prefer not to have trouble with the game warden.” I answered. “We will have to put out some rabbit traps, as well.”

Being a little shit, Cheryl said, “So we get to eat Bambie’s mom or dad and Thumper, too. Disney must hate you.”

“I guess, but we don’t eat rabbit before November,” I informed her. “We will let them go just far away from the house until then.”

“Can I keep one for a pet?” Cheryl inquired.

“You want to eat your pet in the winter?” I parlayed.

“No! I couldn’t do that,” she answered.

“OK then, no pet,” I said quickly. “Let’s get breakfast and get to work. Maybe we can get it all done and go swimming or at least get it all done today and swim tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Do you want me to make you eggs and bacon again today? Even though I am no longer being punished.”

“No ma’am,” I said. “I don’t want you to get bacon grease on your pajamas. Which, by the way, look really nice. You should wear them more often.”

“They are nice and soft,” Cheryl replied, rubbing her hands over her stomach and unthinkingly up over her tits. Before she stopped herself, she squeezed the small orbs. Only to quickly move her hands away when she realized what she was doing. She looked a bit embarrassed by her actions. Had it been intentional, she would not have had the blush she developed.

“So how about you go change into work clothes? And keep those nice and clean. So you can continue to wear them all week.” I suggested as I went into the kitchen.

I made oatmeal instead of eggs and bacon. Cheryl groused a bit as she came back after changing into work clothes. She sat down in her shorts and one of her school T-shirts. Breakfast was quick, and we headed out to finish up the posts.

Cheryl let me do most of the digging of the last 4 post holes. When they were done, I said, “I have to go into town to get concrete and barbed wire.” Do you want to come with me? I will get you a chocolate shake if you do.”

Cheryl looked at her attire. It had dirt all over it and on her exposed skin. “Can I go change first?” She wondered.

“No, we are just coming back to do more work. So it doesn’t make sense to change clothes.” I informed her. “But it is fine if you don’t want to go. It will save me the cost of a shake.”

“Fine, I’ll go just for the shake.” She said, brushing off more of the dirt from her shorts. She did the same thing to her T-shirt but avoided her tits and the nipples that were poking out the fabric.

She rode into town with me. At the hardware store, she said, “I saw a friend from school. Can I go talk to her instead of going into the hardware store? I won’t be much help in there. But I can go get us the shakes for the drive home.”

“Sure, but I want no mishaps like with the bikini. Two regular chocolate shakes. And if you want to get one for your friend. You can have them while you gossip,” I said, figuring she probably needed a friend to talk to since Helen would be gone for ten days.

“I don’t gossip. You would get mad ... I mean upset with me if I did,” she replied, showing she had learned much over the months.

I handed her a ten; “I expect some change.” She ran off in the direction of a petite five-foot-two-inch brunette that had bleached her hair blonde. She had deep-set brown eyes and a long Roman-type nose. With her C-cup tits and tight ass, she was a teenage boy’s wet dream. She was a thirty-year-old’s wet dream as well, though I would never admit as much to Cheryl.

I finished shopping and had put everything in the back of the station wagon, and Cheryl was nowhere in sight. I found her still at the restaurant in an animated conversation with her blonde friend. As I approached the two, I heard Cheryl say, “Hush, I don’t want John to know.”

Her table mate said, “You do know he is so hot. All the cheerleaders want to fuck his brains out.”

“He is mine,” Cheryl said, her hackles up.

“That’s fine. We don’t want to be his girlfriends. We just want to fuck him and maybe suck his dick while he eats us.” The blonde, and evidently also a cheerleader, said quietly. But loud enough that I could hear what I probably wasn’t supposed to.

Cheryl was also a hair too loud, “Not until I do. Then, I’ll consider it.”

“Well, hurry it up. Do it for the squad.” Was the last thing the girl said to Cheryl, in a whisper. She got out of the restaurant booth and said, “Think about it,” she said back to Cheryl in a full voice. To me, she said, “Thanks for the strawberry shake, Mr. Wick. It was sweet of you. And I hope all of you is always that sweet.”

It was a strange thing for her to say. Still, I said to the fit girl in a bodysuit and leggings, who could have been out of Olivia Newton John’s “Physical” video. “It was my pleasure.” I watched her ass bounce as she bounded out of the restaurant.

Cheryl smacked me on the hip after seeing me ogling the girl’s ass as she left. “That is SS. Since you were too busy looking at her tits and ass to ask her name.”

“SS?” I asked. “That is a strange name.”

“It is not her name. It is just what everyone calls her. It is short for Susan Sampson, or super slut. She is fine with either meaning,” Cheryl explained.

“Super slut? And she is OK with that?” I was incredulous.

“Yes. She knows most of the school knows she has had sex with pretty much the whole football team. In fact, she did the whole offensive line at the same time. Granted it is only three guys but after they opened a hole for the running back in an overtime win last year she wanted to congratulate them. Afterward, they told the whole school. But she didn’t care. She is the daughter of the preacher of Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church. She is not really big on the sixth commandment, ‘Thou shall not commit adultery.’ First off, she says it isn’t adultery because she isn’t married. She says it is just having premarital sex and giving in to lust. Which she says is not as bad as breaking a commandment. After all, the Bible also says, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’ Still, somehow she has not ended up knocked up, which with all the sex she has had should qualify her for sainthood. It has to be a miracle she hasn’t ended up preggers. So since the football team, she has been called SS. Her preacher dad doesn’t know about the Super Slut thing, so he thinks it is cute. And if he did know, I doubt he would believe it. She claims she can do no wrong in his eyes,” Cheryl explained.

“I see, and what were you two chatting about so intensely when I came in?” I asked, being nosy.

“Girl stuff,” Cheryl replied evasively.

“Got it,” I knew I was not going to get a straight answer even if I pried. “Let’s get me my chocolate shake and get back to work.”

“How about we get your chocolate shake and go swimming instead?” Cheryl countered cheekily.

“So what were you two talking about?” I said as a way to put an end to the thought of swimming until the work was done.

Cheryl understood what I was doing and said, “Fine, work it is.”

I was drinking my shake and headed back with Cheryl in the passenger seat when Sheriff Crawford turned on his flashing blue lights. When I was on the side of the road, he casually strolled up to the car. I had the window down before he got to the door. “How are you doing, Mr. Wick?”