Chapter 1

Louis Dega and Henri Charriere discuss what for them will be their final escape attempt:

Louie: “Will it work?”

Pappy: “Does it matter?”

Papillion, Nebraska, 1974. Nebraska Hwy 370.

“We’d just passed the water tower upon which had been painted a butterfly in honor of the motion picture “Papillon” and were headed back to Omaha.

We’d spent the afternoon at a carnival there in Papillion. It’d been a good Sunday. The sun was beginning to set, the moon fixing to rise. A full moon, no less.

“It’s a full moon tonight, Cully.”

She’d informed me as we’d headed out after mass. Girl in the pew is an adorable sight. Praying intently: eyes closed, hands clasped in traditional prayer motif, her lips moving, but, no sound emitted.

Then, she’d lower the kneeler, wave me up and we’d kneel together.

“What do you pray about, well actually for, youngster?”

“My parents and sister. You, Cully, I pray for you and I pray for us, that we will always be together, that our love and light will never weaken and die.”

That answer was more or less what the answer always was. Always.

Afterward we’d stop and pay our respects to Father Bob. I think Girl had a thing for him.

“Cully, don’t be disrespectful. He’s our Priest.”

“He’s still a man and you have an affect on men. Devout or not. I see, Girl.”

And the Father, bless his heart did act up a bit around her. I didn’t grudge it. I’d shake his hand, she’d hug him, tight, and we’d go on into the church hall and have donuts and coffee. Always fresh, always free.

“Cully, roll down the sun-roof, I’m hot.”

I had the A/C blowing, but, didn’t hesitate and cranked it open.

“I’m still hot.”

Girl’s dress had ridden up on her tanned legs and thighs. Her tan lines accentuated her bottom and her front, but, especially her snow white bottom.

I was watching her thru my peripherals.

She purposely nudged the dress hem up on her thighs then turned to me.

“I said I’m hot, boy.”

Uh, oh, I thought to myself. She was in a mood. She could be moody, an Irish girl and all.

“Take a sip of your pop.” We’d each got a fresh fountain drink before we left the carnival. Also some Carmel corn for later.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I masturbated, Cully-boy?” She’d purposely went hard on the (boy).

“Are you okay, puddin-head?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question, Dale.” (Dale) too came out a tad harsh.

“I’m going to masturbate whether you let me, or, not. How do you like that answer?”

“Suit yourself.” I checked the rear view. A steady stream behind me, the two lane keeping all in check.

“I say I’m hot Cully, and I’m sick of these panties!”

They were off and thru the sun-roof before I could blink. I cringed, but, braved a look once again thru the rear view. Thankfully they’d blown on to the shoulder. I did not brave meeting the eyes of the driver behind me.

“That’s better. Cully-boy, look.”

She’d brought her dress up past her waist.

“Look, boy, my thighs are tan, but, my beaver is white. Look, Cully, look.”

She rolled a bit to the door “My ass is pure white.”

“Girl, take ‘er easy.”

“Which do you prefer, Culburn, (beaver) or (pussy), or, (snatch)?” I wasn’t about to answer.

“You guys are all alike.”

I leapt at that remark.

“Girl, you told me not three days ago that I wasn’t like most guys, that I was different. Remember? That I was special and that you loved that about me.”

“Oh, yeah. I do remember that.” I saw her brow furrow.

“Now, pull your dress down.”

“No! I’m going to masturbate. And you can’t stop me. And don’t you even try, buster.”

I lifted from the steering wheel and flattened both hands in surrender.

“I’m going to think about us fucking when we get back. I want to fuck, Cully. Fuck. Yes, fuck. I like that word.”

She put her hand in it.

“Guys say it all the time. I’m saying it now. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re gonna fuck me when we get home and not just once, but, at least twice and I fucking mean it, Cully. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Her hand was moving like a jack-hammer.

Her left hand moved and gripped my thigh, her nails digging into my skin thru my favorite corduroys, gray.

Girl ignited in orgasm. Her screams pure and abandoned.

“Oh, my God, that felt wonderful. I needed it ... You were fucking me. I was on all fours with my white ass in the air. You were long and hard, your little sack twirling about. I could feel it twirl.”

She giggled.

Never too distracted to bust a ball. She was adorable.

“I hope I didn’t hurt your thigh, boy. Are you okay?”

“Sure, I’m fine.”

“Are you hard?”

She reached over.

“Yeah, you’re hard. I should jerk it off it and throw that thru the roof.

“Cully, I need something to shove in my beaver. You got anything? I’m gonna go again. And you ain’t stopping me, boy.”

It was a rhetorical question. She’d already found something.

“I’ll use this hairbrush. I need something to fill my little beaver with. I need something bigger, but, that’s in your fucking pants, so, that’s out. How bout a pop bottle, you’re always drinking those glass Cokes. Where’s an empty, big shot?”

“You are not shoving a glass bottle up in there and I mean it, damn it.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get over-heated, Cul, or, you’ll be over here with your panties down, off and out and your feet up on the dashboard.”

She planted both feet low on the dash, slunk down in her bucket seat and inserted the round end of the brush into her vagina.

Her mother, my mother-in-law by law pulled me aside remarkably soon after our wedding mass and before we headed to the reception. Yanked on the sleeve of my Air Force uniform.

“Cully, son,”

She stopped and looked to the heavens.

“Son, just be careful with Girl. She’s a little high strung at times. Strung very high, yes, that’s it. Try and not get her started crying because once you do that it’s very difficult to get Girl to stop crying.” (I’d found that out, by God).

“She’s a might frightful truth be told.”

Whatever that meant. I waited for more, but, confirmed she’d finished. So I went:

“Sure, uh, Mrs. Robi ... I mean, ma.”

“You’re welcome, Cully.” Gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Good luck, sweetheart.” Turned loose my arm-stalked away like an old Gypsy woman.

Left hand she wrung that brush in and out. Right hand wrung her clitoris.

“Oh, fuck, Cully. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She bellowed, top of her lungs.”

Faster and faster each hand raced.

‘FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!” This scream a mirror image of the initial spending.

I either imagined she leaned over and tried to bite me, or, didn’t imagine it. I did, I imagined it.

“Get me home, spread me wide and fuck me, boy. I need a hard cock. Any will do. Yours isn’t handy. Get it handy, Cully. Tromp on that pedal.”

Traffic had slowed at about the midpoint.

“Looks like an accident ahead, Girl.”

“Both my bucket and your bucket are slippery, Cully. I’m leaking love juice all over it, honey. My whole crotch is soaked. My bottom too. Stem to stern.”

“Can I masturbate one more time, Cully? Por favor, Senor’?”

I kind of enjoyed being the level headed one for a change of pace. Usually it was her trying to talk me down from the heights of danger:

“Cully, you’re not doing that.”

“Cully, put that BB gun back. We’re not buying it.”

“Cully, we’re taking that sling shot back. And I mean it. I told you no.”

“Cully, you’re not going there.”

“Cully, now no. And I mean it.”

For probably the first time in our marriage I was in the right. It felt good.

“Cully, look!”

Momentarily lost in my reverie I found she’d lowered the top of her dress and her breasts were exposed.

“Cully’s not a tit man. Cully’s not a tit man. Cully’s not a tit man.” Sing song/Sing song.

“You only married me for my butt. That’s all you care about, isn’t it? You lusted over it the moment we met and since. I caught you looking at it from day one.”

Then a final refrain: “Cully’s not a tit man.”

She grabbed a hand off the steering wheel.

“You can spare this, we’re going what, about ten miles per hour?”

She dug it in and set it right. She was accurate, it was sopping in there. She moved it about.

“THERE! Right there, boy. I’m going twice, that’s two times for you Air Force boys, so, just stay in contact where your baby set it and don’t lift off it, ya fucker, you. Stay the course and I’ll turn your ass inside out back at the house.”

And one more time so I wouldn’t forget: “I’ll move---you stay still! Go!!!!!!!!!”

Once I got the hang of it, not a problem, though upcoming circumstances made it anti-climatic. She grabbed my hand with her left and we road it like a bolt of lightning. She knew her capabilities and blew thru those two climaxes as if on fire.

Girl’s screams at release were majestic as she writhed thru them consecutively.

By then I’d cleared the accident, cut the A/C, and was flying thru the night, tipped the trip wire and opened the next two barrels in the straight line Six Pack of that Road Runner. It was like we’d been launched off the catapult. It always starved itself for oxygen when I performed that stunt---not-this-time. The weather had cooled just enough to retard that starvation and the speedometer was buried. Now it was Girl in fright and Dale in maniacal flight.”

Sobered: “Cullyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“Ssssssshhhhhhhhhh, Girl.”

The flashing blood red lights mixed with lunatic white in a haywire machination caught me about ready to trip the final two barrels. I’d reached, but, had not made contact with the designated toggle. I’d been there, once, with my brother, in Cleveland, and we’d come this||close to rolling the damn thing. We’d still be tossing and turning if not for our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Tommy, he had arrived.

“Girl, get dressed.” But, she was almost there.

“I don’t have a brush, but, I have a comb.”

I reached for my wallet, extracted my license and military ID card.

“Cully, oh, goodness. How fast were we going?”

She’d included herself at “we.” I hated to tell her for a myriad of reasons.

“At least 110.”

“Cully.” A sense of calm emanated from her voice. She clutched my hand.

“Tell the truth, Cully. Whatever you do.”

“Yes, Girl. Here he comes.” Ah shit, he’d pulled his piece.

“Girl ... he’s pulled his gun out.”

“Stay calm, Cully. It’s a felony. He has to, baby.”

I rolled the window down. From the driver side rear bumper he shot a beam from his flashlight into the front seat area.

“Keep your hands at ten & two, Cully.” I obeyed. She set hers on the dash.

I heard his footsteps. “He’s coming up.”

He stopped just before the door pillar. “Turn it off, sir, left hand ... Now. Slow, sir.”

I obeyed and returned my hands to the wheel. Without the glass packs the silence was deafening.

“Just you two, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re married, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have either of you been drinking tonight?”

“No sir.” In unison.

“Stationed at Offutt?”

“At SAC Headquarters, sir.”

“Rank?”

“Staff Sergeant.”

“Good evening, sir, Missus.”

I kept my mouth shut.

“Good evening, officer.” That voice.

“Sergeant, are you out of your mind?”

“I need it examined, sir, yes.”

He holstered it, but, left the leather hook dangle.

“I’m going to square the window. Leave all four hands where they are. Is this command fully understood?”

“Yes, sir.” In unison.

“I am Sergeant Tommy Gentile of the Papillion Police Department. My badge number is xxxxxx.

He leaned in a bit, spied Girl. “Good evening, Missus, are you married to this man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Your driver’s license, registration and military ID, now.’ I started to reach.

“No, the Missus. I don’t trust you right now, Sergeant.”

“Girl, in my lap are the ID’s. The registration is in the glove box.”

“Yes, Missus, you may open the glove box.” She handed over the three required pieces.

He looked it over. I remained frozen.

“One-sixteen if you’re interested, Culburn.” I closed my eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Can I trust you two to remain here in this rocket ship while I take care of business, or, are you going to bug out as soon as I sit down in the cruiser? Just the truth, son, Missus.”

“I promise, Sergeant Gentile. I give you my word.”

Girl: “Tommy, (that voice) may I go back to the cruiser with you? I’d like to explain a few points of interest that I believe may be of importance. I swear to you, Tommy, that Cully will not budge.”

“Tommy?” I said to myself.

“Yes, Missus. Come along.”

“Culburn, I’ll take you at your word and your wife’s guarantee. Remain here. For all of our safety you will leave your hands where they’re at until we return. Understand, Sergeant?”