Chapter 1

I don't know why I was actually for Barak Obama, but I was. It didn't seem like it was something I should do, but if anyone asked I spoke up and told of my support. This didn't make me too popular in my small North East Texas hometown, but what the hell, I was never very popular anyway.

I'll admit it. I wasn't well liked in my own hometown and it was a small one at that. It must have been something about the way I didn't mind speaking my mind. Hell, now that I was in my thirties and getting old enough to go down and pal around with the spit and whittle club at the drugstore I even got the cold shoulder from the old men down there.

At first I thought it was because my favorite chaw wasn't a chaw at all, but a dip, of Skoal. They were all using regular pouch type chewing tobacco to generate the spit they were putting out. I learned later it was my political leanings that made me spitter non grata. You see I wasn't around when blacks were called nigger, even to their faces and the schools were integrated in our town when I was in the sixth grade. Most of the old spitters and whittlers hearkened back to the way things used to be, where black people were treated like lower class citizens if like citizens at all.

I never tried to argue things out with them on this matter since I knew it would do no good. The only cure for this societal malady was time. Time enough for two or three generations of old folks to pass on and take their hate with them, to hell.

I wasn't acceptable in other ways either. I wasn't a hide bound democrat and not much of a republican either. The good things our government did for us were overshadowed by the shit they passed down. I knew it and I didn't like it and mostly I didn't keep that to myself.

Oh, I'd joined up when I was eighteen and let them ship me to the fuckup in Southeast Asia. And I definitely got notice for that on the bench where we spat and whittled, but then again many disapproved of the way I berated the Presidents and others who had presided over the war.

Still, I didn't give a shit. The spit and whittle club didn't have enough members to fill all of the benches allowed for our meetings and when I wanted to spit and whittle I sat my ass down on any available spot, put a dip between cheek and gum, pulled out my knife and gave whatever piece of wood I'd brought along the business.

Still, I didn't fit in exactly and I knew it. My visits now a days were mostly to let the old bastards know they couldn't run me off. Besides, it was a good place to sit down and catch my breath before I made my way inside Miles Drug to have a cup or six of coffee. Of course there were more old men to get into it with inside, but at least they weren't openly hostile to me, and besides, they could argue better.

I might have grown up to be a ner-do-well if not for my family, but I didn't. When this little town got started my Grandfather decided to move his family up from Conroe Texas and start a sawmill here in the piney woods of North East Texas. One thing we weren't short of up here was Yellow Pines.

He built a big mill in Bivins Texas and it just so happened a couple of World Wars came about and timber was needed badly. Of course he got rich and he even ended up owning a reasonable fraction of the land in Cass County. People were suspicious of selling the timber off their land to lumbermen at the time so they sold off the acreage instead. It wasn't my Grandfather's business to tell them he'd have paid as much or more for the timber than he did for the land. That doesn't even mention the fact that mineral rights almost always came with the land at that time.

Mineral rights weren't a big thing then. Nobody was paying much attention to the black gold just below the surface. In fact it didn't catch on really well until the oil embargo the Arabs tried to get going.

My Dad paid one hell of a lot of attention to the mineral rights later on. The big mill in Bivins had shut down shortly after WWII was in the books and one of my uncles had built a sawmill up in Atlanta Texas. My father had never liked sawmill work, so his job at the Bivins mill had been mostly in the commissary. In other words he ran the company store.

After the big mill in Bivins shut its doors or gates or whatever, my father bought a building in downtown Atlanta and started Grogan Supply Company. It grew from there. He started with one building and kept expanding until he owned half a block, even buying a used bank building when the bank moved on to bigger quarters.

He grew his one building hardware store into a department store with dry good, furniture, ready to wear, and finally GE appliances and of course television sets when they came along. He made a good living and he needed it. What with one daughter and three sons he gathered up some outgo to match and sometimes exceed his income.

Of course the details got to be too much for him to handle and he had hell finding good managers. Oh well, the mineral rights had started kicking in along about the time the big department store started having trouble paying for itself and so he fudged and used oil money to keep the store going. What the hell, it was his money, and if he wanted to spend it keeping the store afloat so be it.

Even all that was winding down by the time I came back from my paid vacation in Vietnam. Of course with the shitstorm that blew up over the war I wasn't welcomed home as a hero, even though I had several medals for my actions. I hadn't done anything as exciting as one of my uncles who had been a sailor on the Helena and had been aboard when she was shot out from under him.

It didn't matter to me though. I slipped right back into down home life and took over the running of my Dad's lumberyard. It was one of the best moves of my life, even on top of what it taught me about selling consumer durable goods.

Not long after I took over I noticed that I didn't have any way to know what was gong on with the money. I lobbied for and got permission to hire a girl to keep up a set of books for me on site. She could set up just a couple of ledgers to let me know what I was spending and what I was selling.

This was a much bigger deal than even my Dad knew, even though he could easily see I needed the figures. Hell, I needed the pussy too. There weren't any places to meet women in our town, at least there weren't after you had left high school.

There were some bars just across the state line in Louisiana, but I wasn't looking for a barfly. I wanted to get hold of a girl I could fuck early and often and with this new slot to fill I intended to get a girl with a slot I wanted to be able to fill myself.

Terri had just graduated from college, or from the local junior college anyway. She didn't have the money to go off to a larger school and she planned to work for a year or two to try saving up enough. Hell, did I have a deal for her.

She hadn't had any bookkeeping courses or experience, but she could add and subtract and she had neat handwriting. She also had a nice figure, a pretty face, and she wore tight jeans.

I left her alone for the first week, even though we were cooped up in the office together most of every workday. We'd seemed to get along well, and toward the end of the week she mentioned she had just broken up with her high school sweetheart. I asked her out for Saturday night to celebrate her first week with us.

She wasn't long out of school herself and she still lived with her parents. I had to go inside to meet them when I picked her up and her Dad said the strangest thing to me.

"Terri is old enough to make her own choices now. A couple of years ago I'd have told you she had to be in by midnight, but she's grown now and she only has to be in when she says she does," he told me, and I noticed it was out of earshot of her mother and Terri.

What the hell? I wasn't planning on keeping her all weekend anyway, although if I got lucky I might want to.

I took Terri to Texarkana to eat at a nice restaurant and then we went to see a movie. I wasn't a complete dummy so I picked a real tear-jerker where the girl's sweetheart got killed in the end.

We were out of the movie just at ten and so I headed back to my small house with her, planning to watch the news or something else on TV for a while. Terri had other plans.

As soon as we sat down, with her nearly in my lap, I knew she wanted to kiss and play around a little. Five minutes later I knew she wanted to play around a lot.

She was a good kisser and I got into it so I almost didn't notice when I moved a hand up to pet one of her titties. She didn't exactly go wild over this move, but she did turn up the heat and started playing with her hands in my hair and then started kissing around my face, neck, and ears.

I returned the favor, and then made a move to unbutton the buttons down the front of her short dress. She didn't bother me about it and I soon found out something I should have paid attention to already. Terri was braless and when I reached I found naked titty to peruse. I didn't quit until I had both her nipples standing tall.

What's a young man to do? She'd given me free rein on her tits and so I took a chance and let my hand fall to her knee. When I slid it up between her thighs she helped out by spreading her legs a little and almost before I knew it I was petting her pussy with nothing between it and my hand but a sheer pair of panties. She was still kissing me hot and heavy and she'd even started moving her ass a little as if to press my hand against her cooter more firmly.