This story is fictional and never happened. Any resemblance to actual happenstances or characters is coincidence. At least, I've been advised to say that if I decided to write this story.
Like most heterosexual males, I have a fantasy woman. I started with a real woman and modified her appearance to create my fantasy woman. The woman I used as the model for my fantasy woman is a rather well known and highly sensual actress, whom I will call Pam Brown. Like most men, I know the odds of my meeting Pam is somewhere between slim and none.
This story is about my meeting the actress I used as the model for my fantasy woman, and the entertainment I arranged for her and the paparazzi that followed her. To be truthful, I don't think the paparazzi enjoyed my idea of entertainment. I suppose that some background information is necessary before getting to the fun part of the story.
Most people just call me Jack. The adjectives accompanying Jack are not always nice. I am an overweight man in my late 40's who is afflicted with pattern baldness. I regret losing my hair, but refuse to wear one of those ridiculous toupees. I also hate to admit it, but my belly is bigger around than my chest. That looks especially bad on a man as short as I am. Someone once described me as a beach ball with arms, legs, and a soccer ball for a head.
I normally don't get second looks from attractive woman. Yeah, most men with my rather unattractive physical characteristics aren't babe magnets. I don't claim to be a babe magnet, but I do attract more women than you might expect.
My ego likes to think the main reasons for that attraction is my personality and that I am a Mudder, although being a very wealthy man may have something to do with it. In the vernacular of my associates, a Mudder is a person who enjoys driving their vehicle at high speeds around a muddy racetrack filled with obstacles (i.e., a muddy obstacle course for vehicles driven by crazy people). A couple of my women occasionally ride with me during practice and they become highly aroused by the excitement and danger.
Some years ago, I planned to purchase a rural home in my preferred retirement area. Before I left my old community, I went into my doctor for my annual physical and he did his normal exam, which included some blood work. He told me that my blood work indicated that I had developed a serious medical condition and needed to live close to a hospital. Based on his advice, I purchased a home within the city limits of my current town.
After moving into my new home, I established myself with a new doctor. He obtained my medical records, and that is when I learned that the lab that tested my blood made a mistake. The lab mixed up blood samples. This irritated me very much for I would have preferred living on an isolated ranch. Life shits on me frequently in all areas of my life, and this has contributed to my being an angry and bitter man.
My home is a large property near the downtown area that backs onto an alley. My garage and some additional off street parking is at the rear of the house and accessed by the alley. The town's main industry is tourism, which means parking can be very difficult to find. After moving into my house, I learned that people would pull onto my property and park in the open area where I park my car. I would come home to find my uninvited guests had filled up my parking spaces. These inconsiderate assholes forced me to go find another place to park my car. The first few times this happened, I was upset, very upset to be truthful.
After consulting a lawyer, I implemented my solution. I installed a wrought iron fence around the rear of my property with a remote controlled, sliding gate. I also installed a video/audio surveillance system that monitors the property and the interior and exterior of my house. I posted the usual signs regarding private property, no trespassing, and no parking. I had my lawyer prepare a special sign for the video/audio surveillance system. The surveillance system sign gives me the right to video tape and record the audio of anyone who comes on my property or inside my house. In my state, the wording of the sign gives me the right to use the recording as evidence in a court of law and it gives me all rights to the resulting video and audio.
On two occasions, my surveillance system recorded men who appeared to be attempting to break into my home. I provided the police with copies of the recordings, but according to the DA, the only crime proven by the tapes was trespass. I think there was an obvious case of attempting to break-in, but I'm not a lawyer. The authorities didn't find the perps, so perhaps the DA felt they were transients and not worth pursuing beyond the city limits.
My main irritation was people parking on my property without permission. I decided that if someone ignored my personal rights and took advantage of me by parking on my property, I would make them pay for their lack of respect. One of my deficiencies is a failure to play nice with people who upset me.
I had one additional sign made and posted on my property. The title was 'CONSEQUENCES'. The sign provided a person parking on my property with the following options:
1) My notifying the police and having them issue a citation to the violator for trespassing on private property.
2) The violator paying me a parking fee of $250 in cash - no checks or credit cards accepted.
3) The violator engaging in sexual intercourse with me. (Note: This option is only available to females who are at least 18 years of age and attractive to the property owner.)
If you are thinking I become vindictive when my rights are violated and willing to take advantage of someone, you are correct. As I said, I don't always play nice.
I discovered that if I pulled my car out of my parking spot and left the gate open, I would often find at least one car parked on my property when I returned. After parking, I would close my wrought iron gate. If there was no space left for me to park, I closed the gate and looked for a different place to park my car. After entering the house, I would check my surveillance recording.
Usually my trespasser is either a man or an unappealing woman. For these people, I give them the choice of the first two options on my Consequences sign. If the violator is an attractive woman, I also offer her the third option. The number of women who select the third option is surprising to me. Since the cost of a citation is considerably more than my parking fee, I make a lot of money off people who park on my property. Sometimes they give me a lot of pleasure in bed.
One of the things that I don't point out to the women who select the third option is that I videotape their activities while they are inside my home. The surveillance system cameras in the master bedroom have a good view of my bed. I have made and kept a number of recordings of myself having sex with some very attractive women. So far, I have retained those recordings for my personal viewing pleasure. Some of the local women have learned that I videotaped our encounter. A few of these women are now regular lovers. I prefer to believe the reason for our continuing relationship is they enjoy having sex with me. However, they may fear that I will make the recording public. I never stated or implied that I would do such a thing, but fears are often irrational.
I want to make it clear that I don't rape the women that choose the third option or force them to do something they are not willing to do. For some reason, being in bed with a stranger appears to set them free sexually. When I suggest something sexual that is beyond normal missionary sex, they act as if shocked by my suggestion. Their demeanor is that of someone who is reluctantly complying with a demand; but physically, they do so in an extremely eager, willing, and energetic manner. I'm not sure who gets the most enjoyment out of my suggestions. If you are one of these women, please be aware that our sexual interlude is not going to appear as a future story, and I am not going to post the video to the internet. I accept that I am a self-centered asshole, but I'm not a scumbag.
The day I met Pam, I ate breakfast then made a quick trip to the grocery store. For some reason, I forget to shut the gate when I'm horny. When I returned, I closed the gate for I saw four cars parked in my off-street parking. The area was full, so I went and found another parking place.
I think you can imagine my irritation at once again having my rights violated forcing me to deal with the inconvenience of having to find somewhere to park my car. I also received a pleasurable surprise when I played the surveillance tape and saw Pam, the model for my fantasy woman, getting out of a car. Men, who were well equipped with a variety of cameras, got out of the other three cars. Yeah, they looked like paparazzi to me.
Before I go much further, I should explain that my fantasy woman is a short, sultry redhead with a B-sized bust. Pam is tall with chestnut hair and a large bust. I like all types and sizes of women, but prefer short women with trim figures and small busts. I started with Pam, made a number of minor changes to her appearance, and ended up with my fantasy woman, who looks nothing like Pam. I don't understand it, but in my mind, there is a strong link between my fantasy woman and Pam. I must be weird for they look nothing alike, but they are interchangeable to me.
My imagination kicked into gear when I saw Pam and thought about that third option on my Consequences sign. Reality set in quickly for I knew she would either pay my parking fee or accept the citation. After all, what rich, highly sensual babe who could have any of Hollywood's young, handsome, macho men in her bed would choose to spend the afternoon in bed with me?
About 20 minutes after I finished viewing my security tape, my doorbell chimed. Glancing out my window, I saw Pam and a large group of men with cameras. Opening the door placed me face to face with Pam, "Yes, can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm parked out back and your gate is closed. I was hoping you would open it so I can leave."
"I'm sorry, but that is not possible right now. Please come in and I'll explain why."
Pam came into the house and the men started forward also, but I held up my hand to stop them.
"If any of you gentlemen own one of the cars parked in my backyard, I will speak with you in the alley after I finish talking with Ms. Brown."
I closed the door in their faces and turned to Pam, "Please join me in the living room."
Once seated, we introduced ourselves. I was actually pleasant to her considering the circumstances.
I asked Pam, "Did you read the signs on the fence, before parking on my property?"
"No, I was in a hurry to ditch the paparazzi. However, I did read them when I returned and found the gate closed. I apologize for any inconvenience I caused you."
My personal opinion of the paparazzi is that they are intrusive, abusive, self-centered stalkers who are lower than whale shit. Thus, I am inclined to be lenient and nice to someone who has to endure them.
I explained to Pam, "I have a problem with people parking on my property, especially when they leave no space for me to park. I don't like the paparazzi. Their parking on my property makes me livid. I'm going to call the cops and have them cited for trespassing. I can't open the gate for you, until the cops have finished writing the citations."
Pam looked at me with a funny smirk on her face, "And what about me? Are you planning on offering me your third option?"
"No, you deserve to be cited also, but I'm not gonna do that. I am a big fan of yours, so if anyone asks, you had my permission to park on my property. In the future, let me know you're in town and you can use my parking. Excuse me for a few minutes, I need to call the police and talk to the men out back."
I called the police and reported the trespassers. The desk sergeant told me that I would have to wait at least 45 minutes. The police units were busy downtown with two major accidents.
I went out back and talked with the men parked on my property. I let them know the police would arrive in about an hour to cite them and then I would open the gate so they could leave. They protested my actions and made excuses for their parking on my property. They tried to make me believe that they could violate my rights because they were part of the news media. I'm not sure what made them the maddest; my closing the gate or not offering them the second option on my Consequences sign. I was also curious about what they would say when they learned that Pam wouldn't be cited.
I went back into the house to talk with Pam and wait for the police. As I came into the living room, I noticed that she was looking at my Mudding trophy and the photo of my truck and me.
"I'm sorry Pam, but the police are delayed by an accident. It will take close to an hour before I can open the gate."
"Okay, I guess I'll just have to wait, but I would really like to avoid the paparazzi. Do you mind my staying inside with you?"
While looking at the trophy and picture on my fireplace mantle, she said, "I was just admiring your trophy, and I don't think I've ever seen a truck like that one."
"Yeah, that's my mudding truck. I race it at our local mud racetrack. I get to keep the trophy for a year, since I won last year's Altered Vehicle race. Have you ever seen a mud race?"
"No, I don't recall ever hearing anything about that type of racing."
As I got my photo album off the bookshelf, I said, "Well if you're interested, I have some photos of mud racing that you can look at until the cops get here."
"Sure, it beats just sitting here doing nothing."
As we sat on the couch going through the album, I showed Pam the photos of me and the other drivers driving our trucks on the local racecourse. I explained that we drivers referred to ourselves as Mudders, and told her about mud racing. I could tell that Pam was curious about mud racing. Pam is actually a nice person and I wanted her in my bed. If she is the danger freak I suspect, a couple of laps around the racecourse will leave her in the right frame of mind for a sexual romp.
"If you have time and are interested, I would be happy to take you out to the track and we can take a couple of laps around the course. It would give you a chance to see what the sport is all about from the driver's perspective."
"That sounds like fun. I need to meet my friend Janice after she gets off work, but can call her and let her know I might be a little late."
She called Janice and let her know about her change of plans. She explained our side trip and that she may not get to Janice's place until after she got off work. They talked for several minutes about their plans for the evening.
I'm friends with Tom Clark, the owner of the racetrack, so I called him while Pam and Janice were talking.
"Hey Tom. Pam Brown parked in my backyard today along with three cars of paparazzi. I called the cops on the paparazzi but I'm letting Pam off the hook."
"Are you shitting me Jack?"
"No really, she's sitting here in my living room right now. Anyway, she noticed the trophy and a photo of me on the racecourse. We got to talking about mud racing while waiting for the cops, and I offered to take her for a couple of laps if I could arrange it with you."
"You may not know it Jack, but Pam Brown is one of my favorite actresses. I'd be glad to open up if you'll introduce her to me. Hell, I'll even stick around and make sure you're ok while on the track. I'll leave the gates open for you, and by the way, the track is real muddy what with the rain we've had the past couple of days."
A muddy track made me smile, it sounded like ideal mudding conditions.
"Sure thing Tom and maybe we can get her to have dinner with us afterwards. I'll call you on the CB when we're on the way." Cell phone reception in the control room is poor, so drivers usually talk with the control room on CB.
Pam was wearing street clothes and sneakers, so I got her one of the jumpsuits I keep on hand for my lady friends and a helmet. If we got out of the truck while on the racecourse, we were likely to get very muddy.
The police arrived a few minutes after we finished changing clothes, so I locked up the house and we went out back. Three citations later, I opened the gate and the paparazzi pulled their cars out of my yard. While the police were writing the citations, I was thinking about our trip out to the racetrack. I suspected that the paparazzi would likely follow us to the racetrack and probably onto the racecourse.
Tom wouldn't be in the control room yet, so I called him on my cellphone, "Hey Tom, I got to thinking. The paparazzi following Pam will probably follow us out to the racetrack and onto the racecourse."
"No problem Jack. I have signs posted all over to warn people about trespassing and to protect me from lawsuits."
Tom told me his opinion of the paparazzi, which was similar to mine. After his brief tirade, Tom let me know that if they went anywhere other than the parking area, then he would be calling the police. He told me he was going to alert the County Sheriff's Office, so they would be ready for an immediate departure when he called.
After the three cars pulled out of my yard, I opened my garage door and drove my mudding truck into the parking area. Once I shut the garage door, I helped Pam into the truck and showed her how to fasten and adjust the 5-point, seat belt. Getting a 5-point seat belt properly fastened and adjusted to fit a very busty woman can be a rather intimate process. The modifications I made to my truck, while street legal, aren't what one normally sees on a vehicle going down the street. What with the attraction of an unusual vehicle and Pam in its passenger's seat, eight cars of paparazzi followed us out of town.
Feeling the way I do about the paparazzi, I decided that I would make no effort to prevent them from following me onto the racecourse. I took my time driving to the racetrack, so it would be easy for the paparazzi to follow me without getting lost.
Enroute, I called Tom on the CB, "Tom, the paparazzi are following me, and when I get there, I'm going to have some fun. I'll go straight down to the meadow, and they will probably follow me."
"If they follow you Jack, then they will end up stuck down there."
"Yeah, and you will make a lot of money hauling their cars back up the hill. Not to mention the storage fees you'll get if they leave their cars with you while they are in jail."
When we finished laughing, Tom said, "True. I suppose I should give you some kind of a finder's fee."
While Pam and I drove to the racetrack, I told her a bit about my truck's modifications. The truck is equipped with an oversized diesel engine, a beefed-up drive train, and a watertight seal system for the passenger cabin. I also modified the air intake, electrical system, fuel tank, exhaust, drive train, and suspension. The most startling modification was the Mattracks® Track Conversion System. If you are not familiar with this product, imagine a pickup truck that has its four tires replaced with four independent sets of tank tracks. Combine all of the modifications with a 4-wheel drive pickup truck and you have a vehicle that can go almost anywhere.
Sure enough, the rear entrance gate was open and a convoy of eight cars of paparazzi followed me though it without pausing.
"Hey Tom, I just entered the back lot and the paparazzi are right behind me."
"Sure thing Jack. I could see you and the cars behind you approaching the racetrack from the control room." Tom was watching us from the main control room, which is at the top of the stands near the back lot entrance.
"I'm going through the racecourse gate now and it looks like they are all following me like baby ducks following their mama."
"I can see you from here and I'm calling the Sheriff's office now."
Tom's racecourse can be very dangerous. In our county, trespassing on the racecourse is a more serious crime than trespassing on private property. The Sheriff doesn't want his department sued by a trespasser for failing to respond to one of Tom's calls in a timely manner, so Tom always got an immediate and quick response. It helps that the Sheriff Department's office and vehicle yard is just a couple of miles down the road.
The paparazzi were tailgating each other and me. The Sheriff's Deputies were on the way to the racetrack. Everything was in place and the fun was about to begin.
Tom's racetrack includes the racecourse, two control rooms, viewer stands, a parking lot, the back lot, and six buildings. The racecourse is a dirt track built in a natural bowl. Only track officials, race drivers, and their crews are authorized entry to the racecourse. To gain access, you pass through the racecourse's entry gate, and then drive down a dirt road that passes through a narrow cut in the hill. The dirt road starts out as a slight downhill slope. Once in the cut, it gradually begins to steepen, and then suddenly drops off to become a long, straight, steep descent that ends in a meadow. The meadow has the Start and Finish Lines, and it serves as the staging area for the drivers.
The racecourse itself has obstacles that a driver has to get through or over to complete a single lap, and most of the races are multiple laps. The obstacles include water and mud holes, a log hazard, dirt moguls, rolling hills, a hill climb, and a steep switchback descent. The hill climb and switchback decent are the two most dangerous obstacles. The rolling hills, log hazard, and dirt moguls are the hardest on the vehicles and drivers. If a driver takes these obstacles too fast, it can wreak havoc on the driver and the vehicle. Tom has towed more than one car off the racetrack due to these three hazards, and several drivers needed treatment for whiplash injuries.
As we passed through the racecourse's entry gate, I saw that last night's rain left the dirt muddy and slick. I knew that once the drivers following me entered the cut, they had to go all the way down to the meadow. The cut is too narrow to turn around, and with the slick muddy surface, it was too steep for them to back up their cars. An exceptional driver might be able to back their vehicle up the slope, however, I doubt such a driver would be tailgating the other drivers and me the way these morons were.