B.J.Jones the Story of My Life - Cover

B.J.Jones the Story of My Life

Copyright© 2012 by jballs

Chapter 194

Ex-Military Sex Story: Chapter 194 - This is the story of the life of Roberta Josephine Jones. Shortened to BJ by her friends. From the battle fields Afghanistan with the Marines, loss of her life time friend, with flash backs to her wild youth. After the Marines she must find her way in the world. The early chapters of this story includes incest, les,rape and other adult themes. I plan for this to be a multi-part serial. This is my first attempt at writing. Much of the sex is in the early chapters changing to action and drama.

Caution: This Ex-Military Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Nudism   Slow  

I was at my desk at KCC at 7:30 flipping through the emails one after another. Many of them were updates from Mr. Bozman on the progress of the dorm replacement. Apparently he did not trust the contractor because he was now including a series of photographs documenting each day's progress along with daily man hours and materials usage.

Bob Jackson came in with several different morning issues of state newspapers. There were plenty of pictures of yesterday's county news with pictures. The fuel truck and I were in a few on the back pages, but the Feds removing the boxes of records made the front pages.

Bob said, "If you keep kicking people in high places you are soon going to need your own security detail, but I love it. They think they can do what they want and are immune. Someone is going to pay dearly for that mess. At least the girls got some fuel to keep going."

"I wish it was over; this thing is going to get real nasty before it is," I said.

A few minutes later I received a text from Marcy, "I have a fuel retailers license in my hand and Robbie called to say the State Ag Department was there certifying the meter. Jason says that covers all the bases and we are legal for everything."

"Good, I was worried we had missed something," I replied. I spent two more hours on emails and planning for next year's security groups training.

The rest of the day was normal: meetings all afternoon. I needed normal for a while.

With the day over at KCC, I left to go home and begin another one. Things were hopping from all directions at the gym. It took three people to answer all the phones. Every news outlet on the east coast had a different angle on the commissioner's story. Then there were terrorist theories out there.

As I made the turn at the overpass from 213 onto 301 I passed a Toyota Tundra pickup that was sitting on the shoulder. It caught my eye because it had huge tires on it and one of those roll bars behind the cab filled with lights and all full of mud from off-roading; a true redneck truck if I ever saw one.

The truck pulled out behind me; it was not that unusual any more with the aggressive enforcement of the state's no texting and cell phone use while driving.

I was in the right lane going well over the speed limit; everybody did on this stretch of road. The Tundra passed me balls to the wall then after it got a hundred yards or so ahead, slowed down and stayed ahead of me for a mile or so.

Then as we got to an isolated area between Cville and Q-town it started running erratically like it was going to quit or the driver was jigging the accelerator. I moved over to the passing lane to pass it. Whatever was wrong with it stopped and it ran beside me.

Half way between the two towns there is a branch that floods when there are North Eastern storms or tropical storms. The dual bridges are old very old and built during the Great War when 301 was a major materials supply route to Wilmington, Philadelphia and New York. There was one for north and one for the south bound lanes.

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