Copyright© 2014 by Levi Charon
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Randall is sent to stay with his aunt and uncle while his mom is attending a medical workshop in California. During his stay, he learns that Aunt Rita is suffering from a rare medical condition that threatens her marriage to Uncle Jack.
"I don't want to hear any more arguments, Randall! You're staying with Jack and Rita while I'm away and that's final. Live with it!"
"C'mon, Mom! Jeez, I'm almost seventeen years old. There's no way I need a baby sitter. Why can't I just stay home by myself?"
Janice Turley put the pot she'd been scrubbing in the drain rack and turned to face her recalcitrant son who, at a lanky six foot two, towered over her. "Let's see now; maybe it's because you don't have such a great history when it comes to controlling your impulses. I seem to recall something about a trashed apartment and an empty liquor cabinet when I got back home from last year's conference. Gee, does that ring any bells?"
Randall threw his hands in the air and complained, "Aren't you ever gonna give that a rest? Kids grow up, Mom! Didn't you ever do anything dumb when your were a teenager?"
"Sure I did and my mom and dad did just what I'm doing right now; they put the brakes on my independence until they thought I was grown up enough to make better decisions. So far, I'm not convinced you've reached that plateau so you might as well start packing, mister!"
"Fuck!" Knowing there was no way he was going to changing her mind, Randall smacked the countertop with his palm and turned to leave the kitchen.
"Watch you language, potty-mouth!"
Janice had always been the disciplinarian in the family and Rob Turley, her husband and Randall's father had been the boy's go-to guy for support, someone he could count on to take his side. Usually. But Rob Turley was currently in year two of a four-year stretch in a white-collar detention center for his part in a shady investment scheme.
Everybody who was at all familiar with the case knew very well that he was the least culpable of the traders indicted in the investment scam targeted by the SEC but it's no secret that prosecutors will invariably go for the low-hanging fruit when they can't get their mitts on the higher-ups who are more politically connected. As a result, not only was Rob doing time, practically everything he owned that might have been purchased with his ill-gotten gains was confiscated by the feds.
It was fortunate that Janice not only had a profession of her own (nurse-anesthetist) but that she kept a separate bank account that was out of the reach of the government guys. She and Randall moved away from the exclusive neighborhood a month after Rob turned himself over to the U.S. Marshals to begin his sentence. They did that for several reasons but chief among them were the stares and behind-the-back whispers of people she once thought of as friends and the simple fact that the house, furnishings and automobiles were the property of the Federal Government and would soon be on the auction block.
For a short time, Janice and Randall lived with her brother, Jack and his wife, Rita. They got along well but that kind of imposition can't go on for very long before tensions begin to grow. Within a week of the move, Janice found a position with a private hospital in Omaha then quickly found an apartment for the two of them. They'd lived with their relatives for less than a month.
Now, a year and a half later, Janice was once again financially solvent and they were settled into a relatively normal life. She was recognized for her skills and her value to the medical center and was often sponsored to professional conferences and workshops. That's where she was headed now, to San Francisco for a two-week course on the latest and greatest anesthetic meds and induction methods.
Rita met them at the door. "Hey, guys, come on in! Randall, you get the same bedroom as before so you can go ahead and haul your stuff upstairs."
"Thanks, Aunt Rita. I'll try not to be a bother."
"Pish n' tosh, Randall! You've never been a bother and you know Jack and I love having you here. We'll have a ball for the next two weeks and we'll keep it a secret from your mom."
Janice laughed and cautioned her sister-in-law, "You probably don't know what you just opened yourself up to. My dear son has a tendency to take statements like that literally."
"I'll try to keep that in mind. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?"
"No, I'd better not. Traffic is heavy this morning so maybe I'd better be on my way to the airport. Give me a kiss, Randall." A peck on the cheek and she was off.
As soon as the door closed, Randall asked, "Is Jack around or is he on the road again?"
"He's on his way to St. Louis with a load of something-or-other but he aught to be home by tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you get settled in your room and then we'll figure out what to do with rest of the day."
"OK. Uh, can I ride Sparks?"
"Sure, if you want. But it's already pretty warm outside so don't work him into too much of a lather."
Sparks was Rita's six-year-old chestnut gelding and, Jack excepted, he was the love of her life. His dam was Arabian and his sire was a champion quarter horse and that meant he was all spirit and loved to run. Randall knew that and had no intention of reining him in. "I won't. We'll just trot around the pasture for a while."
Rita smiled knowingly. "Right! Like I believe that. Just make sure you dry him off and give him a good brushing before you let him loose to graze."
Randall grabbed his duffle and ran up the stairs to unpack.
Jack and Rita Glover lived on an acreage about fifteen miles west of Omaha. Janice and her brother grew up on a farm in eastern Kansas and Jack could never get the country out of his system. He tried living in the big city but the pace of life and the noise were just overwhelming to him so he went into hock up to his ears for a twenty-acre patch of land with a small creek running through it. His wife at the time didn't share his enthusiasm for the 'boonies', as she called it and they eventually wound up parting company over that and a few other issues. Jack wasn't sorry to see her go.
He met Rita at a rest stop on I-80 about fifty miles east of Omaha, of all places. He'd been on the road for ten hours and his eyes were starting to droop. He knew it would be too dangerous to continue so he pulled his rig in to get a couple of hours sleep before driving on Omaha and home. On his way back from the john, he heard a woman cussing at her car and stopped to ask if he could help. The car was an old clunker and Jack quickly determined the starter was shot. Of course there was no place to buy a replacement because it was after midnight on a cold November morning.
Jack introduced himself and suggested Rita stay warm in his rig for the night and he'd drive her into the next town to get help in the morning. He insisted it would be no inconvenience and that he didn't want to leave her to fend for herself in the middle of nowhere.
Rita hesitated, giving it some thought. Jack was a tall, good-looking guy and had a smile that made her want to get to know him better but that said nothing at all about what kind of person he might be. She was appropriately leery of his offer but she couldn't see that she had many other options so she decided to chance it. She was pleasantly surprised that Jack turned out to be a class act and didn't so much as make a suggestive remark, let alone attempt to get into her knickers. In fact, he gave her the use of his sleeper cab while he leaned back in the driver's seat to get a little snooze time.
On the way into town the next morning, she told him how much she appreciated his being such a gentleman. He just laughed it off, "A woman shouldn't have to fear for her virtue when she's traveling alone. But the sad truth is a lot of my fellow truckers would be all over a pretty woman like you before you could say 'I'm not that kind of a girl'. Where were you headed, if you don't mind my asking?"
"To be honest, I wasn't headed anywhere in particular. Sometimes I just like to get in the car and drive. I pulled into the rest stop to pee and when I came out, the car wouldn't start. Lucky for me you came along." The story wasn't strictly true but it was close enough. In spite of her little 'quirk', Jack was a man she wanted to leave with a good impression of her.
"Well, I'm happy to be of help. I'm afraid we truckers don't have the 'gentlemen-of-the-highway' reputation we used to so I do what I can to patch that up whenever I can."
"I'd say you're setting a fine example for your peers! So where do you live, Jack?"
"A few miles outside of Omaha. I have a few acres where I raise some veggies, grow some peaches and run a few head of cattle."
"Ah, so you're a farm family."
"Nope, no family, just me. Don't have a wife anymore and we never had kids."
When he let her out at the garage in town, she asked if she could have his phone number, promising to take him out to dinner for being such a Good Samaritan. He was about to graciously decline the invitation but relented when she told him she lived in Omaha and that they were practically neighbors. They were married less than six weeks later.