Chapter 3

As it turned out, the female postal inspector was a recent widow and her getting humped from behind experience in the back room of my one-man operation Post Office was the only orgasm she had gotten in the last several years.

Her first name was Mercedes, just like the German-made foreign car.

At first, I thought she was joking but she told me,

“My mama had a boyfriend that had an old beat-up one and she told me I was conceived in the back seat in the best fuck session she ever had the good fortune to partake.”

I found out she didn’t have a real daddy because the boyfriend prick had run away out to California wanting to get into the movies as a stunt man and got himself kilt jumping off a balcony onto a skittish horse that trampled him right on the ground with no bad intentions at all.

That generous hipped lady moved all her stuff from the big city up to my little Post Office and started cooking all my food getting me all fatted up like some calf getting readied for the last trip to the stockyards. I didn’t much object to her bossy attitude because she could fuck like a professional whore when she got behind a closed door and lost her ladylike ways. She was like some sort of frugal bitch when it came to spending money and that’s a fact, but I didn’t really care, because I never set much store in cash and such things. That was probably why I spent most of my adult life poor as a church mouse and never missing the things I didn’t have.

I made the mistake of confiding in her the story about Amy, my pig-tailed little teenaged nymph, her dark-riding female imp with the orange hair, and her older sister Misty with her unfortunate hump-back and a sweet ass that sent shivers up my spine when she bent over for taking it from behind like a good little girl. Make no mistake that Misty was a foul-mouthed female making all kinds of threats and curses when she was “getting it”, but she was all sugar and spice inside where it really counted and her scent was like flowers in the early morning dew.

After that, Mercedes pestered me until I was plumb wore out to take her with me the next trip I made up to that deserted hollow to meet the trio of strange females with feminine favors that made me all horny and wild whenever I drew near.

We took the Jeep up the gravel trail and across the gentle stream carrying the cold mountain water to the corn fields in the valley. The sun was sort of hazy that morning, but I didn’t pay it no “never you mind” because that was kind of normal at this time of year.

The smell of a wood fire was in the air and I hoped that the Forest Ranger boys were on the stick watching out for signs of a wildfire. The last thing I wanted was to get caught with my pants down in the path of a forest fire that traveled across the top of the tall trees like some high-wire magician with tricks up his sleeve. I had seen the charred bodies of lots off forest animals caught that way and I didn’t want to be a human victim of the same type of carelessness.

You might think that I took Mercedes along with me against Post Office regulations because she was generous with dishing out a nice blow-job before I could even get out of bed.

I assure you that were not my intention at all.

I was sort of curious to see what Mercedes would make out of my trio of female companions out in the wilderness. I think that at that point, she was thinking they might be a figment of my fickle imagination or some hallucination that had taken hold of me in my pathetic loneliness of the isolated job.

A little wisp of smoke was snaking up from Misty and Amy’s tiny cabin and the pair of shiftless hound dogs barely raised their lazy heads up on the wooden porch. They were about the most useless dogs I had ever seen when it came to guarding human life or personal possessions, but they sure did do a bang-up job of chasing down any sort of out on the trail during hunting season.

Misty was trudging up from the nearby stream with a yoke of water pails over her hunch-backed shoulders. I was beginning to understand where her muscular spine had gotten a sort of curved look over the years if that was the way the girls was getting their water supplies the hard way.

The useless well had played out back in the past when a bad storm had hit the Hollow with some lasting damage changing the water table permanent-like and bringing down all sorts of ancient trees with familiar land-marking benefits. The landscape had changed but the common folk hadn’t changed their ways none at all. What was good enough for her grandmother was good enough for Misty and I guess that applied to me as well.

Mercedes was plumb transfixed by the tableau and she never even commented on the fact I was loving up her backside with my inquisitive hand because she was downright accommodating to me in that way ever since we had become ass-hole buddies.

Misty spied us in the distance and she shouted out to Amy that,

“Get your lazy ass out of bed, sis, we got company!”

I noticed that she made no reference at all to the unidentified orange-haired imp that rode Amy’s shoulder with contemptuous disregard for humankind perceptions. I had long since suspected that Misty ignored the presence of the thing as something best left ignored because it might lead folks to thinking one was a bit queer in the head like them poor souls down at the State Home for the Feeble-minded and misfits that most folks avoided like the plague like their afflictions might rub off on them like some dread disease one read about in the National Geographic.

We had to hop over the damaged wooden fence erected to keep the goats inside their compound and I warned Mercedes not to bend over without checking in every direction because there was a Billy Goat with a nasty temper that would use her backside as a bulls-eye for his battering blunt head. I sure didn’t want that particular region of her anatomy damaged in any way because I had come to depend on it or my nocturnal entertainment in the midnight hours.