Second Chance
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Chapter 18
DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 18 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.
Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Consensual Science Fiction DoOver Incest Mother Son First Oral Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Petting
I felt the bed move early the next morning and dragged my eyes open to see who was joining me. Tabitha was just finishing disrobing. She crawled under the covers to cuddle before informing me as to her purpose in waking me up.
"Carlisle and I are having a dinner party tonight. It is a very small gathering to introduce people to Daniel's new boss, and we hoped you'd like to come over and meet some of our friends. There will be one or two people of real influence at our little mixer. Don't worry about being hit up to invest in Costa Rican rubber futures or flying beds from Canada. Daniel was given very blunt orders that he and his boss are not to bother you about investment opportunities or try to hustle any of our friends.
"The truth is, if people like his new boss, they will automatically throw him some business. It's how we all are with our loved ones. If the first try is successful, he will find more money available to work than he ever imagined.
"If not ... Oh well.
"Now," she said forcefully, "Let's see about the status of your reward..."
Tabitha loved sex.
She loved being on top, and she loved taking it at her speed. I'd discovered that Tabitha was fifty-seven and had a very healthy attitude about sex. She liked it, liked initiating it, and liked the results when it was good. She liked it so much that she got wet long before I started foreplay and stayed wet throughout.
I was happy to let her set the tempo and go with the flow. The result was rather pleasant for both of us.
Seven o'clock found me walking over to the mansion, dressed in my best casual evening clothes. Tabitha greeted me as I came through the front door. She latched on and accompanied me to the party in their great room. As soon as she saw me, Janice ran over and clung to my other arm, making sure all of their friends got to meet the young hero who saved their baby.
I was part way through meeting the guests when a woman, about forty years old and dressed as if she was attending a Cabinet meeting, grabbed my wrist and exclaimed, "You're Kevin! You're the boy that got shot trying to save the President, right?"
I smiled and tried to let it slide, but she insisted, and I admitted that I was Kevin Townsend. She shook my hand, touched my head to feel the scars, and said almost reverentially, "I was there that night. I saw you attack the gunman, and then I saw him shoot you in the head. It was the worst thing I've ever witnessed.
"I still have nightmares. I can't imagine how bad yours are.
"Thank you for what you tried to do. It was amazingly brave."
I think that she could see how uncomfortable I was talking about getting shot and let it drop. But as she circulated, I could see her pointing me out and telling the story. If it kept up, I was going to have to quietly slip out and go home.
A short time later Carlisle Kirby came to me and asked me if I minded meeting some friends of theirs. I was pleased to have an excuse to leave the great room and the buzz building about me, and followed him into a spectacular study. The high ceiling was all oak, as were the walls. Two walls were covered with bookcases, and the sofa and loveseat were that red leather that looked so soft, you wanted to lie down and go to sleep on it.
Scattered around the study were five other men, all about Carlisle's age, watching me like a hawk examines a field mouse. Carlisle introduced me to each as the young man who dove into the cold water and saved their grandchild. He was effusive in his praise, and it made me feel like an imposter, because I wasn't anything like the hero he was describing.
"Chet, this young man, already terribly injured from a talking a bullet for John Gray, charged across our back lawn, dove into that black, icy water, and grabbed our baby Kimberly, just before she would have disappeared beneath the lake. He literally saved her life right before our eyes.
"If you could have seen the blood from hitting his head on the dock as he dove over, and been here when we carried him into the house, you would have sworn he was already dead. It was like some kind of miracle. He started to breathe, and then opened his eyes a little while later. If the doctor hadn't been available, he wouldn't have lived until the ambulance arrived.
"It was amazing..."
Having heard that story one too many times, I said, "Thank you for that, but I'm sure your friends didn't come out here to listen to tales about me."
It didn't work. The first man that Carlisle introduced, Chester Admanson, said, "Kevin, you are wrong, son. The six of us are here to talk with you about something very important. Your, 'special' circumstances give us hope that you would understand what we have to discuss, and I hope you'll listen with an open mind until we're done explaining the whole thing."
"Of course, Mr. Admanson," I said respectfully. "I promise you my full attention." Then I looked around, took a seat on a leather chair and waited. Carlisle excused himself, after exchanging an approving glance with Chester Adamson.
I could tell that Chester liked my answer. It showed the right balance of respect and humility.
"Kevin," he began. "We know you have a tremendous natural inclination to support and defend your country. When you attacked that madman, you did what millions of us wanted to do. The difference was, you did something instead of thinking about what you could of done, later.
"There are far too many people in high places that use their political power for illegal and very damaging things. They sometimes arrange for people to get assassinated, say, on the floor of Congress, or have bad accidents that change the makeup of crucial committees of government.
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