For the next visit, I arrived a little earlier, hoping to see the place with some daylight remaining, but of course, the sun also set a little earlier, so I caught the tail end of twilight. The place still looked gloomy and then my headlights fell on a gutted deer hanging from a crossbeam between two poles. I had neighbors that hunted when I was growing up and I had seen their dead deer, so it didn’t bother me. I got out of my car and stood next to it with my headlights shining on it. I caught the scent of its blood. I’m told this is nauseating to some people, but it brought back arousing memories of watching the buns and biceps of the boy next door while he skinned a deer in their garage. I had a crush on him and I was creaming my jeans, but he never noticed me. I felt a twinge in my pussy as I remembered that. Suddenly I sensed a presence beside me that wasn’t there a moment before. I looked and was startled by a tall man dressed in camoflage from head to toe and carrying a bow.
“Celeste, it is good to see you. You are early.”
Mr. B removed a hat and facemask and I was stunned at the difference in him. His hair was cut, his face was shaved and most surprising was that he was grinning! He looked 10 years younger.
I suddenly got a little shy because his attractiveness had increased so much, so I resorted to talking business. “You already have one deer and you were hunting another?”
He looked a little hurt at that and he said, “I have neighbors who will go wanting if I don’t share with them, although probably they will only go wanting for beer money.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. B. That probably sounded a little judgemental or something, but I’m really just surprised that you had the energy to even get this one. I have no problem with deer hunting.”
“Ah”, he said. “Yes, my energy level has dropped considerably, but the neighbors have a youngster and I want to make sure she is well fed.”
“Oh, so you have a girlfriend already?”, I chided.
“No, she’s not a girlfriend. She’s not even old enough to vote and I never date a woman who is younger than… How old did you say you are?”
I looked into his smirking face and smirking back said, “Funny Mr. B. And we are not dating.” I realized how ridiculous that sounded coming from someone who had worn a dress and more makeup than normal to this, er… session, but I said it as light-heartedly as I could muster. “And I’m almost 28.”
“Well, perhaps we should go inside. I do hope you will bend your rules a little and have dinner with me tonight. It’s venison stew. I know that you stop here on your way home from work and you must be hungry. I don’t think it would be unprofessional to have dinner with a client.”
I guess that I should have realized that he was courting me or wooing me or whatever but that whole notion is so antiquated, especially considering we had already had sex, that it flew right over my head. Or maybe I should blame the deer blood for making me accept. Soon he was out of his camo and back into jeans and a flannel shirt. His cabin still looked the same, but I noticed that weights were now evident next to his sofa and the buttons on his shirt were not as obviously overworked. The twinge that I had felt earlier was now a growing yearning.
We had dinner by candlelight. It was an excellent stew with homemade sourdough bread and a glass of hearty red Zinfandel. I did not realize how comfortable I was becoming around him until he brought up the subject of his energy level again.
“It faded fast on the fourth day after the injection. Your uh, panties did nothing for me after that. My gumption now is all from discipline rather than desire.”
“Mr. B, is it possible that you have Seasonal Affective Disorder? I mean this place is sort of dark and dreary.”
“Dark and dreary? Celeste, you have only been here twice and at night both times. And it’s almost Winter! You must see this place in daylight. I’m not a big fan of city lights, but I don’t spend my days in the shadows and I don’t think my depression comes from a lack of light. Seriously, you must come and see me in the morning sometime.”
“Well that might happen, because I’m cutting your dose in half and that probably means you’ll need two per week. That would put your next injection this Sunday.”
“Good, it’s settled then. Bring your children and your mother. It’s supposed to be sunny this weekend and it will be like a trip to the playground for them.”
I don’t know where he spent his youth, but I couldn’t imagine a playground so lacking in play.
“Well, I’ll think about that. Perhaps if I see it in the daylight first I’ll be able to sell it better for the next time. In the meantime, maybe we should try this new dose.”
I gave him the injection then I started to look around the cabin as he washed the dinner dishes. They say that you can tell a lot about a person from looking at what he reads, so I perused his bookshelf. I quickly saw that I had underestimated him in too many ways. His books ranged from Principles of Particle Physics to Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance to The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. I’d read the latter two and none of them seemed likely to reside on the bookshelf of many yokels. And don’t think I’m stereotyping. I meet a lot of yokels at the clinics and most of them would struggle through a John Deere tractor owner’s manual. Mr. B was a mystery man and I like mysteries.
When I sensed him completing his tasks, I went over by the bed. The half dose didn’t seem to be affecting him, so I removed my dress and waited for him to notice me. When he did, he seemed surprised and not real enthused yet. I asked him if he was feeling a boost yet and he said it was nothing at all like the last time. He came over to the bed and began to undress. He seemed almost shy as he removed his boxers and revealed his limp dick.
“It’s definitely not like last time,” he said.
“Don’t worry Mr. B. This is like bracketing. We’ve discovered how much is too much. Now we might have undershot, but it’s important to see what results we can achieve with this dose, unless that’s too much of a financial hardship?”
“No, don’t worry about the money, Celeste. I can afford whatever it takes to feel half as good as I felt when I woke up the next day after that overdose.”
“Good, then please lie down and let me see if I can charm that snake.”
It took a while, but my hand did bring him to fully erect.
“It’s a little trick I learned in a martial arts class. You can’t do it slowly, because it takes a strong back. That’s one of the few things I have that’s still strong. But it goes like this.”
Suddenly I was on my back again, but this time I wasn’t scared and he didn’t immediately plunge back into me. He eased his cock into my wet pussy and started to thrust in long deep thrusts. I felt a second orgasm building and I smiled as I let that become clear to him. We came together and this time he didn’t go lights-out on top of me.
After we had resumed normal breathing, I told him that I think we might have to boost the dose a little, but to let me know how well his energy level held up. Then I told him that I would see him at noon on Sunday, but that it would be just me.
“As you wish, Celeste. You might want to wear warm clothing. You look beautiful in a dress, but jeans and a thick jacket or maybe even a coat might be required.
Chapter 3
He was absolutely right. When I drove in on Sunday, the clear blue sky and bright sun revealed the beauty of his homestead. There was smoke rising from the chimney of the house and off in the distance I could see the hill that I think I called the doctor from. It had a picnic table on top and a grassy slope that looked like it would be perfect for sledding when the snows covered it. Beside it was a lake. Much nearer, on the grass beside the house, there was a fenced yard with playground equipment inside. Parked in front of the house, there was a two-person golf-cart thingy that I’ve since learned was called a UTV. When I got out of my car, Mr. B opened the door of the house.
“Celeste. Welcome. The tour begins here.”
He showed me around the house and it was wonderful. It was tastefully decorated in the front and had fun rooms in the back; clearly designed for raising children and for elegant dining and entertainment. The presence of his dead wife was clear in the furnishings, but not to the point where I felt Mr. B was voiceless in their selection. He had something roasting in the oven and said it would be ready when we got back.
“Back from where?”
“So many things to see.” was all he replied with.
We climbed into the UTV and he drove us first to the horsebarn where he had two horses and two ponies. From there we went up the trail to the top of the hill.
“You own this whole hill?” I asked.
“Yes and the 600 acre pond down below it and that field over there and those woods over there and…”
“Now you’re just showing off,” I said with a smile.
“It was my grandfather’s place. It’s four square miles in a 2 X 2 square. It’s a little slice of Heaven on Earth. He outlived my father and that’s how I inherited it. All the men in this branch of the B line have the heart defect and all the women are carriers. I am the end of the line. I don’t want to pass these bad genes on.”
“I’m impressed. It looks like a wonderful place for your stepdaughters to be raised. Oh sorry, I hope that wasn’t a sore subject.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just sorry that the next owner will probably call it some silly name like ‘Buck Meadows’ and then develop it into a golf course and build cookie-cutter McMansions on it.”
“That would be a shame. Do you have a name for it?”
“Well, Grandpa called the cabin Camp Goaway, but Shelley called it Camp Paradise. I’ve always been partial to that.”
We returned to the UTV and he took me on a series of trails through all four of the square miles. He showed me fields that were leased to farmers and an area where a logger had recently conducted a sustainable forestry cut. I was impressed with the breadth of his knowledge and happy to hear him say that he was trying to be a good steward of his lands for the sake of future generations of people and wildlife. He stopped twice and used a chainsaw to clear fallen trees from the trail. We returned to the house and entered just in time to hear the oven timer chime.
Dinner was a roast with potatoes, carrots, a homemade nine grain bread and of course, a fine red wine, this time a Petit Sirah. He served it in the dining room of the house, but we returned to the cabin when it was time for his next injection.
I was surprised that it had taken this long for the topic of his health to be mentioned, but I had been observing him and I could see that his enthusiasm for life was at least partially manufactured. I was hoping this time we would have better results. “How have you felt?”
“To be honest, Celeste. I need more juice. It has been a struggle to avoid lethargy.”
“Be patient Mr. B. Your hypersensitivity is something that probably won’t go away, but we can adjust if there are setbacks and we stay committed to finding a happy medium.”
After the injection, it felt odd undressing in front of him in the daylight, but it also felt comforting. He finally got to see my tattoo on my shaved bare pubic mound. I guess it was too dark the first time after I shaved my curly dark muff. He laughed. “A snake charmer. That is a good logo for you.” I never really thought of it as a logo, but I guess not every dumb thing you do when your best friend parties too hard with you turns out bad.
Our sex had become lovemaking with an edge. He was rough this time; not like the first time and very satisfying, but it was clear that his aggression might be a problem for women his age. He liked this level of energy and I told him that if he remained satisfied after two more injections, it would be time to find a young woman who could commit to him for twice weekly injections.
To be continued…
