Second Chances
Copyright© 2025 by ahorsewithnoname
Chapter 8
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Is it possible for a reformed Hollywood porn star to reclaim her life in small town America, and get a second chance? Possible, especially when it's with the local sheriff, who has some issues from his past. After a chance meeting, their relationship nurtures and grows, hitting some bumps but moving forward to the inevitable climax. It's an erotic story, but more of a true love story. You can read a bunch of reader's comments for this story at Bookapy.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Masturbation Oral Sex
He did have a potentially disastrous moment at the grocery store. She was in the fruits and vegetables section picking out some bananas, comparing sizes, and he was going to sneak up behind her when an older woman approached and asked her if she was “the woman who did porn.” Rob had frozen in his tracks, unsure of what he should do.
Making a split-second decision, he backtracked into the bakery and partially hid behind a stack of ciabatta rolls, watching it play out. Carrie politely answered “No,” put the larger bananas in her cart, and continued “that isn’t me anymore.”
The woman started to say something else, but Carrie just moved on, not rudely, but as a matter of course. Rob was proud of her and happy with her.
Well, at least until she ripped him a new one about his office decorations. She had started bringing him meals she’d cooked for him when he had to work a couple of nights a week handling dispatch. Technically, as sheriff, he didn’t have to do it, but he felt it was only fair to share the burden with the other employees.
It was the first time that she’d visited and she tore into the place, calling his office “ugly”. It was a sheriff’s office, he thought to himself, it doesn’t need to look like some swanky Park Place office. Nevertheless, he listened to her and talked and agreed.
She bitched about the linoleum, the desk, even the plaid curtains took a few shots across the bow. Still, he went along with her plans. She talked about fixing up the place herself. Inwardly, he shrugged. Outwardly he applauded her efforts. If it made her happy, he was all in.
So twice a week when he worked nights she’d stop by, bringing food and usually something to decorate; a rug, some plants, and, hells to the yes, some new curtains to replace those plaid curtains. He did have to admit the place looked nicer. He just hadn’t given it a thought before her.
Sunday dinner. He knew it was inevitable. He knew all about the tradition, having turned down invitation after invitation from the townsfolk. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of home-cooked meals.
It was because if he did it for one, he was going to have to do it for all or word would get out that the sheriff was playing favorites, and that would never do.
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