How I Learned to Enjoy Life in Little Beaver Creek, Georgia
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2018 by Turo69

Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2 - The tales of Jonathan Thomas, a British journalist, traveling in the United States. His experiences, misadventures, coupled with a healthy interest in the fair sex, and his observations make for a fun read. While there are some sexual adventures and themes, it is not primarily a sex story.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Humor   Science Fiction   Aliens   Spanking   Anal Sex   Oral Sex   Safe Sex  

Carefully walking back to the Inn, I was greeted by Helen who said she had some maid duties on the few apartments rented for the next few hours and perhaps I’d like to take her to the cafe for dinner tonight. She further explained that in the off-season she did most everything around her Inn herself to save expenses even if she really disliked hoovering unless she could do it naked. Now that’s a sight I’d love to see! After being assured that the Wifi was up and available, I agreed to dinner and headed back to my room to fake my travels update. I spent the next hour or so piecing together my thoughts and reflections on the last several weeks, filing in with my imagination as I saw fit. I sent it off to my publisher and took a nap while waiting for Helen to finish her chores and freshen up. I didn’t set the privacy lock and again woke up to Helen’s oral ministrations. She was starkers again and was very through, swallowed, and made certain that she didn’t miss a drop. A guy could get use to that wake-up service! When I attempted to reciprocate, she said to hold my horses. I guess that means to wait.

She had a four wheel drive Jeep which made our passage to the diner much nicer than being on foot. This evening Betty was on duty. She was an older version of Cindy Sue, same big baps and smile, it turns out Cindy Sue was her daughter. The “special” tonight was a meatloaf with a baked potato and some tinned beans, basic, filing, and tasty. Perhaps I could write about some of these meals to fill out my stories. I paid the check and Helen accompanied me back to my room for some more of her hospitality. This evening’s funfest was more of Helen’s mouth on my cock. It seems she really likes that and who am I to complain? I did spend some time between her legs almost drowning in her juices, and after a vigorous shagging, I was knackered out. The morning began again by being awakened by Helen’s very talented mouth and throat. I guess she stayed overnight but I couldn’t prove it as I slept very soundly. After we were both sated, she mentioned that there was a message from my car hire agency back at the office so I guess at some point she had left my room. She slipped on her dress and shoes and was back in a jiffy with the note. It seems that the cell service had been restored and I was able to return the call using my own phone. I got a recording, left my number and disconnected. Oh well, off to breakfast at the diner for Helen and myself. I really don’t mind picking up the cheque for the service she was providing.

Things are not always simple. After returning to the inn, the rental agency returned my call. They had been in contact with Travis at the station and he did not present a cheerful report on the condition of the rental. The agency said they would have an inspector out to examine the car within a couple of days to ascertain whether I was as fault, and to arrange for a repair or replacement shortly thereafter. I’m certain that I was not at fault but I guess I was stuck here for a while. I suppose there are worse places to be stuck as Helen was great entertainment, and if you discount Billy Bob’s stories which while interesting were very bizarre. Thus begins day three of my adventures in Little Beaver Creek, Georgia.

I called the county highway office to enquire as to the condition of the roads. I listened to a recording giving a little encouragement that today would be better but not quite perfect. BB had mentioned that once you were off the main highway, many of the county roads did not have tarmac but most were simply improved gravel lanes. I had hoped to travel around using Little Beaver Creek as my base until my car rental issue was sorted out, but didn’t really trust Travis’ loaner. Perhaps I could avail myself of Helen’s Jeep. It would certainly be more reliable and safer on these backroads. Helen was agreeable provided I could bring back the station loaner for her to use in an emergency. As it turns out she also had a more reliable map than the tourist map from the station. We sat down in her kitchen and mapped out my day. I told her that I’d bring back dinner for both of us for her kindness. With her morning and evening services, I was coming out way ahead considering that I had been running very low on nookie on any regular basis.

I headed up to the local diner where Cindy Sue greeted me like an old friend. I just wanted a sandwich for the road, so she poured coffee in a traveling cup, gave me a menu and a generous eyeful of her chest. I think I’m starting to fall in lust with Little Beaver Creek. After getting my order, I drove across the road to fill up the Jeep. BB was on duty this morning and recognised Helen’s Jeep. He gave me a leering smile, a wag of his eyebrows, and proceeded to fill up both the tank and the auxiliary petrol can affixed to the passenger side. Considering I knew so very little of the Jeep, roadside services, or where I was really headed, the extra 5 gallons, almost 19 liters, might come in handy. I parked the Jeep and drove the loaner back to the Inn. Helen stuck out her “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and we headed back to the station. She kidded me that that sign was getting used a lot more frequently since I showed up.

I was soon heading back down the highway to the county seat in hopes of finding something more interesting than Billy Bob’s favorite fishing hole. I had hopes that Helen’s directions were reliable but wanted to keep a close watch on where I was headed and what I could expect if and when I got there. My other hope was that the county roads were both reliably marked and consistent with the map. I really missed the roadways of the northeast. My own road atlas was accurate and easy to follow in the more populated areas. Now I was flying by the seat of my trousers, so to speak.I set out heading to the county seat once again to get my bearings and some more suggestions. It turned out that all county services were in one building and very short staffed. According to his nametag, Cletus was on duty behind the counter at the multi-purpose tourist information, road conditions, and services complaint desk. When I told him what I wanted, he gave me a blank stare and asked why I wanted to wander around their county? I then proceeded to give him a brief thumbnail explanation as to why I was there. Guess what, he’s a cousin to Cindy Sue and Betty. Is this place just inbred or are there some other bloodlines that I have yet to discover?

With a bit more information than when I started out, I headed down the main street of the county seat to the site of first sawmill in the state. I was less than underwhelmed. Perhaps if there was something other than just a sign on the side of the road and a bit of the old foundation, it might have made some sense to send me here. My next stop was a general store that claimed to be the largest in the three adjoining counties. Well, it was a general store and it seemed to have everything you could want on a daily basis so it was interesting but was not really otherwise noteworthy. Perhaps I had set my sights too high for the area. I took a few pictures to enclose with my article and hoped that this would help stretch out my jottings. I was hoping that somewhere there was something, anything, truely worthwhile for the magazine readers. I could only stretch the truth so far in case anyone actually read my articles and followed my travels in person. I ventured further down the road not knowing what to expect. There was a sign directing people to the local tip but, maybe I’m being too harse, it seem that most of these residents just used their own property for that purpose. There also seemed to be many old cars either just sitting around under a mound of weeds or up on cinderblocks. I wonder if they have any auto breaker yards or do people just salvage around?

After almost 15 kilometers there was still nothing, just more countryside and a few side roads. I was almost tempted to take a side road but was still learning the idiosyncrasies of the Jeep and didn’t want to tempt fate. This was beyond boring and I didn’t have a clue where to venture next. I made an about turn and headed back to the general store in search of provisions for tonight’s dinner with Helen. Some arsehole came flying off a side road and made me swerve to avoid him. I did everything in my power to maintain control of the Jeep and to avoid a road rage incident since most of these pickup trucks seemed to have a rifle across the rear screen.

 
There is more of this chapter...

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.