From Valkyrie@diana.announce.com Tue May 20 20:20:51 1997
Path: news1.infoave.net!news-dc-10.sprintlink.net!news-east.sprintlink.net!news-dc-26.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!news-pull.sprintlink.net!news.sprintlink.net!Sprint!news.magicnet.net!nntp.newsfirst.com!nntp.crosslink.net!not-for-mail
From: Diana the Valkyrie <Valkyrie@diana.announce.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Stories from Kandor twinterr.txt
Date: Tue, 20 May 1997 20:20:51
Organization: Diana the Valkyrie's web site
Lines: 1071
Message-ID: <5lqpn5$nng$9@kronos.crosslink.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: 204.117.94.3
NNTP-Posting-User: webserve
X-Newsreader: Postwoman Pat

Kandor writes stories that might be too violent for some tastes.
If that includes you, stop reading now.

They might also be too sexy for some tastes. Again, if that sort
of thing upsets and disturbs you, stop reading now.

Kandor has been writing stories for a long time; he's a
professional writer, and has stories for sale, and he writes custom
stories for people. All these stories are from my web site,
and although there aren't any more free Kandor stories there,
there are a lot of other stories, some less violent (some more)
some less sexy (some more), but all stories are in the free zone.

By the way, I've completely redone my news software, because it
was making too great a load on the server. Now the software is
faster, slicker, nicer, decodes pictures better, but is only
available to members. Non members can get free access to news 
via their normal ISP.


Diana the Valkyrie, email me at Valkyrie@diana.announce.com  
Web site: http://diana.announce.com
News: alt.amazon-women.admirers 
A hard man is good to beat

 
TWIN TERRORS 

by Kandor 


Don Stenhaus' blood pressure rose with the temperature gauge on his 1988 
Ford Escort. He eyeballed the needle as it slowly bobbed toward the 'H', 
finally getting so pissed off at it he punched the instrument panel, 
succeeding only in cracking the plastic over the gauges that had been 
coffee stained a day or two earlier when a cup lost its balance on the 
dash and tumbled onto the steering wheel, spraying the hot beverage 
everywhere, including the temperature gauge and Don's balls. 

"Fucking car," Don mumbled to himself, and the car, actually, like it 
would help. "Fucking piece of shit car. Fucking piece of shit job. 
Fucking piece of shit life." Ordinarily in a situation like this, Don 
would just turn up the radio, cranking in some oldies station that 
suited the mindset of a traveling salesman in his early 40s. But even 
that couldn't happen today, since the fucking piece of shit radio died 
on him somewhere outside Tulsa, which he dubbed that "fucking piece of 
shit redneck city." It was a God-awful hot August day as Don tooled down 
Route 40 in western Oklahoma toward his next stop somewhere in Texas, 
which he hoped he'd make by the next business day. But it was Thursday 
now, and late at that, with the slant of the setting sun getting more 
harsh as he chugged his dying Escort ever onward. He was giving up hope 
of calling on his account by Friday and wondered where he'd stay for the 
night, and the weekend, from the looks of things. 

"Probably some fucking piece of shit motel," he grumbled out loud, then 
checking the temp gauge one more time, adding "If I make it that far." 

Things hadn't looked good from the outset of this trip. He'd left 
Chicago promising his girlfriend that things would get better, that this 
job, the seventh in four years, would be his last and that he could, if 
he put his pecker to the grindstone, as he put it, make a living out of 
being a feed salesman, calling on midwestern farm stores and selling 
them the latest combination of grain and chemicals and additives that 
were guaranteed to fatten a farmer's livestock while minimizing the 
chance that those eating the beasts would later contract cancer. The 
last part wasn't in the sales pitch he'd spent two weeks learning in the 
conference room of a Motel 6 outside Chicago, but he felt it should be. 
He smiled at the memory of his new sales manager going all red in the 
face when Don offered that unwanted medical prognostication during the 
training. Lorraine had stuck by Don for the last seven jobs and Don had 
no clear idea why. She was a pretty girl for her age, which was roughly 
his, and had a dynamite body to boot. Don looked in the rearview mirror 
for a second and saw a craggy face middle-age man who'd come a long way 
to go absolutely nowhere. But Lorraine stuck by him, despite his asshole 
tantrums, his rantings and ravings about the better life he swore was 
around the next corner, the big account, that really huge fucker, that 
would put him on top, or as on top as a loser like himself could get. 
Even a saint like Lorraine was getting tired of waiting, however, tired 
of hanging around while her boyfriend (she hated using the word 
'boyfriend' when most of her friends her age were using the word 
'husband' or even 'ex-husband) tried to find himself in a beat-up Ford 
Escort, a front floor full of crumpled coffee cups, a seat full of 
badly-folded maps and a briefcase full of order sheets and bullshit. 

She kissed him goodbye when he left Chicago three days earlier, but 
there wasn't much to it, nor to the smile she offered him with her lips 
only. He knew he was on the outs with her and maybe that would be for 
the best. He'd taken up with her right after his first marriage 
dissolved in a haze of booze and accusations, and he knew she pitied 
him. But the pity well only runs so deep when the years stack up behind 
a woman and he sensed she'd soon pull up her pail and head for deeper 
waters. 

He wandered off Route 40 somewhere in Texas and got totally and 
irreversibly lost. He grabbed a fistful of map off the front seat and 
splayed it out over the steering wheel as he drove, reading and weaving 
and thanking whatever God that could look down on him that no cars were 
coming the other way. Or any way, for that matter. He was, he thought, 
shit fucking lost. 

The car was steaming and so was Don, so he pulled over so the both of 
them could cool off. Checking the map, he figured he was somewhere in 
the Oklahoma panhandle, that little strip of land that looks about a 
pussy hair wide on the map but a million miles deep if you're stuck in 
the middle of it with a car that burns more water than gas. He got out 
and popped the hood and jumped back a foot or two when a mad plume of 
steam blasted up into his face. He grabbed a rag from the car and tried 
to open the cap, but it was too hot. He looked over his shoulder; in no 
more than an hour, the sun would set. The really shitty part was that 
the sun on the horizon looked to be the closest sign of life he could 
see in either direction. He knew he'd blown calling on anyone else 
today, he only hoped he could find a place to stay and get the car fixed 
in time to make at least one call on Friday. 

The car wasn't cooling down any, so he got back in, figuring he'd drive 
until it got good and hot again, stop, cool it off a bit, and drive 
again, a stop-and-go cycle that just make take him to where humans 
dwelled. But that wasn't going to work, either; he cranked the engine 
and it did nothing, not "rrrrr....rrrrrr...rrrrrr...," not click, not 
grind, nothing, which to Don's angry ears sounded sure enough like the 
little Escort that wouldn't was saying, "You fucking piece of shit 
driver, let's see how far you get now." 

He got out and slammed the door with both hands, evoking a tinny slap 
from the tiny car, then turned around to kick it, succeeding only in 
hurting his foot and putting a dent in the door. Pissed off, he limped 
up the road in search of life, not bothering to lock the door or even 
take the keys, knowing full well that car thieves, no matter how young 
and stupid, aren't going to get all hot over an abandoned Escort. 

The slight rise in the road he aimed for shimmered under the late 
afternoon sun. He had no idea what was on other side and didn't much 
care, although his spirits were lifted only a little when he noticed a 
driveway sprouting off to the left, one of those things that in a more 
civilized world might be called a dirt road. The driveway (he knew it 
was because of the mailbox at the entrance) wound through a flat chunk 
of farmland and over a minor hill to what he hoped was a house and a 
phone. He broke into a near jog when he rounded the first corner, the 
sweat running down his back like a river. He loosened his tie and 
couldn't help wondering how stupid he looked, a middle-aged salesman 
jogging through the middle of a fucking Oklahoma farm with a shirt and 
tie and dress shoes. Very, very dusty dress shoes. 

"It's about fucking time," he muttered to himself, when he finally 
spotted a large white farmhouse around another bend in the driveway. 
Wheat fanned out from it and the large barn nearby and all the way up 
the dirt path to the road. 

He jog/walked the last quarter mile to the house, stopping on the porch 
to catch his breath before ringing the bell. The sun had nearly 
disappeared behind his back as he stood, impatiently waiting for a hick 
farmer or his wife to appear at the door. None did, and he rang again 
and again, muttering curses to himself before finally heading around the 
side of the house to the barn, where he assumed someone would be. 

He was right. The huge front door was slid wide open on its tracks, at 
the top of a cement apron outside that had been cracked from many years 
of heavy tractors and bad weather running over it. He walked in, the 
harsh rays of the setting sun blasting through a dirty window on the far 
side of the barn and right into his eyes. He detected movement. 
Squinting, he saw someone forking hay into a stall and took a step 
forward. The person shifted a bit to the left and into the beacon of red 
light that had been coming through the window, silhouetting itself and 
causing Don's eyes to pop open and his throat to work into a loud gulp. 
Whoever it was was the biggest goddamn human being he'd ever seen. It 
was a wall of a man, he thought, and from where Don stood, only five-
feet-four inches off the Earth, it looked to be nearly touching a 
massive, ancient crossbeam above with the top of its head. 

"Excuse me, mister?" Don said, taking another step forward into the 
dusty gloam of the barn. 

"That ain't no mister, mister," he heard a giggling girl's voice say 
from behind him. "That's mah sister." 

Don spun around and found himself staring open-mouthed at what his mind 
instantly deemed the biggest farm girl in the history of agriculture. 
Biggest wouldn't do it, he thought as he looked up until his gaze landed 
on the beaming, beautiful face of a pig-tailed blonde smiling down at 
him. It was bigger than big, it was as huge as the Oklahoma landscape 
he'd just covered to get here. 

"My...my car, uh, broke down, um, a couple of miles up the, uh, the 
road, and I was wondering..." Don stammered, running his eyes up and 
down the girl's extraordinary length. 

"You a salesman, mister?" another girlish voice said from behind him, 
causing him to spin around on his heels to look at the looming figure 
he'd seen seconds before. His eyes adjusted to the darkening interior of 
the barn as the figure took a step toward him. Again, he was forced to 
pull his head back and up, and again he found himself staring into that 
face, the same, exact face that had just spoken to him. His eyes went 
wide and his mouth dropped even more: They were twins, Don's mind 
whispered, identical, massive twins. And they were drop-dead gorgeous. 

"This here's Bobbi-Jo," the one girl said, stepping around Don, although 
she could've just as easily stepped over him, to stand next to her 
sister. "Mah name's Betty-Sue. Pleased to meet ya." 

Betty-Sue extended a hand that was nearly as big as Don's head. He took 
it and watched in awe as the girl's rugged, calloused fingers closed 
around his city-boy hand, swallowing it whole in its powerful grip. 
Betty-Sue pumped it once, shook it free and it was immediately replaced 
with her sister's. 

Don stepped back, he had to, to take in the sight of these two enormous 
twin girls standing massive shoulder to massive shoulder in the doorway 
of the barn that their double images just about filled. Each wore tight, 
sleeveless denim shirts that exposed tremendously long, tanned and 
muscularly smooth arms. The shirts rode high on their midriffs to just 
below their huge, hard breasts, revealing thick ribs of washboard 
muscles on their silky bellies. Below, they wore very tight, very short 
jean cut-offs, the frayed hems of which barely contained mile-long 
thighs that were each as big around as Don's whole torso. The sun-
browned legs tapered down to rocky tubes of muscled meat that were their 
calves, all four of which were stuffed into dirty white socks and low 
leather work boots. He looked back up into their smiling, farm-girl 
faces and the blond-pig tails that framed each one. He gulped again. The 
girls giggled. 

"Sweet mother of God, they grow them big around here, don't they," he 
found himself saying out loud, embarrassed as the words came out. 

"Reckon they do," Bobbi-Jo laughed in Okie drawl, her mouth cracking 
open to reveal perfect milk-white teeth. "Heck, we're both about six-
foot-10 and 300 pounds and not even done growin' yet! " 

Don's mouth fell open anew. "Uh, just how old are you girls?" 

They giggled together and answered together: "15." 

"Your parents, are they around?" he asked. 

"Mom's gone to town to do some errands," Betty-Sue answered. "Should be 
back before long." 

"And your dad?" 

The girl shifted uncomfortably on their at least size 16 boots. 

"Daddy done died a couple of years ago," Bobby-Jo said, looking down, 
and then answering the next expected question. "Farm accident." 

Don expressed his condolences and then stammered as he explained his 
situation, trying, and failing, to take his eyes off the gorgeous farm 
amazons before him as he did. He told them about his job, his car, where 
he was from, and asked if they could help. "If I could just use your 
phone..." he said. 

"Ain't got one," Betty-Sue answered. "But we could haul your car back 
here and take a look. We're pretty handy." 

"I'll bet you are," Don found himself saying, leering at the mountains 
of huge female flesh before him, envisioning them nude and crawling all 
over him and .... 

He shook the thoughts away and tried to concentrate, which was made 
tougher when one of the girls, Betty-Sue, he thought, turned to hang her 
pitchfork on a high hook, standing on her toes to do it, causing those 
gargantuan calves to ball up in thick knots of jagged muscle above her 
socks and boots. Don's eyes shot to them involuntarily and he heard the 
other sister giggle again. 

"Some kind of legs, huh mister?" Bobbi-Jo asked. "They don't have legs 
like that in Ch-eye-cago?" 

Don looked at her and managed a weak smile, amused by her attempt to 
over-pronounce the city's name. 

"No, they don't," he said. "But I tell you, you girls, when you get a 
little older, could make a fortune in the big city as pro wrestlers." 

He was again embarrassed by what he had said to girls so young, 
especially as he watched them turn to each other with looks of surprise 
on their freckled, smooth faces. "You mean like this?" Bobbi-Jo sang out 
and descended on him like an Oklahoma tornado. She swooped one arm down 
and around him, easily scooping his surprised little body into a cradle 
position across her hard gut. He yelped as she lifted him higher into a 
full overhead position, like a bodybuilder, gripping his leg and shirt 
front as she did. She started to spin him around when he whacked his 
head on the frame of the barn door some 10 feet or so above the hay-
strewn floor. 

"Ooops, sorry, mister," she laughed, and then rolling him down her long 
arms into a frightened ball, said "Here ya go, Betty-Sue!" 

With that, she tossed him like a pair of rolled-up socks across the 
floor to her waiting sister, who reeled him in with ease, his scared 
body bouncing painfully off the twin sister's rugged midsection. They 
whooped and hollered and played literal catch with him for a minute 
before one of them spiked him into a stall, where on his way down he 
figured he would smash his skull open on the floor below but was 
pleasantly surprised to find himself bouncing off a thick blanket of 
hay. 

The girls stepped, not jumped, over the high rails of the stall, 
laughing as they came. Don tried to stand, but Betty-Sue dropped atop 
him, rolling to her side and clamping her powerful legs around his body. 
The massive girth of those farm-girl thighs engulfed his entire torso, 
from waist to neck, and she locked up her boots and leaned up on one 
elbow to view her scissored prey. 

"You mean this kind of rasslin', mister?" she roared in a hearty laugh, 
squeezing ever so slightly until Don's air left his crushed body in a 
rush. 

"Or this kind of rasslin'?" Bobbi-Jo said, dropping to his side to wrap 
him up in a headlock, the incredible bulk of her smooth bicep pinning 
one ear, the thick rope of her forearm glueing itself to the other. 

Don's eyes crossed, not so much in pain since they weren't squeezing all 
that hard, thank God, but from the delirious notion of being so easily 
captured by 15-year-old girls. Extremely large, extremely strong 15-
year-old girls, granted, but girls not too long out of puberty 
nonetheless. 

He wasn't sure if he was hating it or loving it when he heard another 
voice, a woman's, boom from the side, "Now, girls, you let that little 
fella go before you go to cracking him." 

"Aw, Ma, we's just havin' a little fun," Bobbi-Jo said dejectedly, 
letting go the headlock. 

"Yeah, we weren't hurtin' him none," Betty-Sue drawled, unlocking those 
mammoth legs from his guts and standing up. 

Don got up and brushed himself off, smiling sheepishly as he climbed 
over the stall and into the barn's main entryway, expecting to see a 
little leathery old farm woman. He did see a leathery farm woman. But 
she wasn't old. And she was most certainly not little. His neck was 
beginning to hurt from all the craning back it was doing to take in the 
full view of the womanfolk around these parts. As he gazed ever upward, 
he gulped even louder then he did when he saw the woman's daughters: Mom 
was even taller. "She's an even seven-feet!" Bobbi-Joe chortled, running 
beside her mother where, once her sister took her place on the other 
side, she looked nearly dwarfed by the farm matriarch. 

The hard-looking, broad-shouldered woman wore a stern look on a deeply 
tanned face that was wrinkled by years of hard work and exposure to the 
elements. Her dirty blonde hair was streaked with gray and all of it was 
pulled back tight behind her head, which made her look older than the 40 
Don later found out she was. She wore a tight T-shirt and cut-offs that 
weren't nearly as snug or short as her daughters', but what skin was 
revealed was equally if not more muscular than her amazon offspring. Her 
calves, Don noticed, where wickedly long with thick cables of muscle 
lining the insides. Her arms were as dangerous looking, ropes of sinew 
and muscle dancing in her forearms as she stood with them crossed over 
her huge chest. 

"What brings you here, mister?" she asked, no sign of a smile on a 
amazingly pretty face despite the hardship it showed. 

Don started to explain but the girls excitedly cut him off and told the 
full story. The mother never took her suspicious eyes off her visitor as 
they did. 

When they were finished, she said, "Name's Karen. We'll get your car 
tomorrow, but for now you're welcome to stay for supper and spend the 
night. We got a spare room upstairs you can bunk in." 

It was a very friendly gesture expressed in a non-friendly sort of way, 
but Don shrugged and thanked her. He silently followed the form of the 
three gargantuan women out of the barn and into the house. He used the 
washroom, as they called it, to clean himself up and then stood in the 
doorway of the kitchen watching the twins whip up dinner, amazed at the 
grace and ease with which they moved about the room of an old home 
obviously not made for occupants so large. Don also couldn't keep his 
eyes off those miraculously huge bodies, from their rugged arms to those 
legs, long, thick and ribbed with muscle, all the way from their boots 
to the gloriously-hard mounds of curved flesh that was nearly hanging 
from the seats of their too-short shorts. His surveillance was something 
that didn't escape their mother's eyes. After dinner, when the girls 
were cleaning up and Don sat in the living room watching a black-and-
white TV with bad reception, Karen sat down hard next to him on the 
couch. 

"I want to tell you somethin', mister," she said quietly but in an 
intimidating way as she leaned over until her face was inches from his. 
"My girls are a little, well, adventurous, if you knows what I mean. 
They like to rough it up with boys and sometimes they get carried away. 
I'm of a mind to stop it when they get like that, but girls will be 
girls. I was the same way, so I guess I got no quarrel with the way they 
turned out. I'm just tellin' you to be careful when you're playing with 
those girls." 

"I think I know what you mean," Don said with a weak smile, rubbing his 
stomach. "My belly's still a little sore." 

Karen, for the first time, smiled back at him. 

"That weren't nothin', friend," she said, sitting back and watching the 
girls work in the kitchen. "I've seen those girls bust open feedbags 
just by squeezin' 'em in those legs. They can do some damage to whatever 
gets betwixt 'em, lemme tell you." 

Don swallowed hard as he watched the girls giggling and smacking each 
other with towels in the kitchen. If it weren't for their overwhelming 
size and musculature, they could've been any 15 year old girls anywhere 
else. 

"Girls, better get outside and get things ready for tonight," Karen 
hollered. "Boys should be comin' anytime soon." 

Karen put her large, leathery hands on her rugged thighs and pushed off 
the couch. She turned to face Don. 

"You're welcome to turn in whenever you like," she said. "I reckon 
you're tired." 

As she walked away, Don asked "Get things ready? What does that mean, if 
you don't mind my asking?" 

Karen didn't turn around, but he swore she was smiling again. 

"Come on outside in an hour or so, if you're of a mind to," she said. 
"Oughta be interesting to a city fella." 

The thought was intriguing for a few minutes, but as the static-filled 
screen of the antiquated TV crackled on, he found himself almost falling 
asleep. He wandered upstairs and threw himself on his bed, figuring he'd 
go outside later to check out whatever it was that Karen was talking 
about, but in a matter of minutes, he was out like a light. He found 
himself dreaming of being in an auditorium full of screaming people. 
They were cheering somebody on, but he couldn't quite make out who. Even 
in his sleepy state, the dream seemed so real, with the sounds swirling 
in his head sounding like they were coming from right outside his window 
until the noise grew so loud it woke him up with the realization that it 
was indeed coming from right outside his window. 

He pulled himself out of bed and walked across the room to look outside. 
There, next to the barn, was a makeshift wrestling ring, a heavy bed of 
straw doubling as the mat, with posts in the corners and ropes strung 
between them. On either side were a couple of dozen people, men and 
women, shouting at the goings-on inside the ring. And what was going on 
inside the ring made Don rub his eyes in amazement. 

One of the twins, Bobbi-Jo from what he could tell, was squared off 
against a young man, a farm boy, he guessed, who although he was massive 
and muscled in his own right, looked downright small next to his 
opponent. She had her thick left arm laced around his neck in a brutal 
headlock. Betty-Sue stood off to the side, outside the ring, and on the 
other side, also outside the ropes, was another young farmer, who looked 
to be about the size of a bull, only with less neck. The girls both wore 
what they had on earlier, and the men were stripped down to just jeans, 
revealing broad chests and flat bellies, chiseled to farm-work hardness. 

Refereeing the affair was Karen, staked out in the middle of the ring 
watching one of her daughters easily contain her opponent. Bobbi-Jo 
worked the headlock like a pro, wringing the young man's neck, snapping 
the hold up and down, jamming the side of his arm-trapped face into the 
ribs of her stomach muscles. 

"Give it up, Billy, give it up now!" the girl grunted, powering down the 
hold. Karen circled them both, awaiting a submission. "You know you 
don't want my big legs in on this!" 

Somehow, Billy broke the hold and managed to sneak behind Bobbi-Jo and 
snake on a bearhug. The lad's huge arms cut into the girl's sides and he 
even managed to lift her off the ground as he squeezed. The crowd went 
wild. Don squinted; clenched in the waving fists of most members of the 
audience, he saw money. He laughed to himself. "So this is what the 
folks around here do for entertainment," he said. 

He threw his clothes on and walked downstairs to check things out more 
closely. By the time he got out the door and made his way to ringside, 
Bobbi-Jo had tagged off to her sister, who had taken the farm boy to the 
hay from behind, engulfing his head in a sea of thigh muscle. She had 
her rugged calves crossed on his naked chest and was squeezing him so 
hard, the kid's face was barely visible and what was was rapidly turning 
blue. "Howdy, mister," one older guy said to Don as he stood next to him 
watching the match. "You must be the guy Karen said was stayin' over." 

Don chatted with the man for a few minutes and found out that Friday 
night "rasslin'" matches, as he called them, were regular occurrences on 
the farm, had been for a couple of years, ever since the twins started 
shooting up like mutant beanstalks. The man said that in the two years 
since the matches had been going on, the girls had rarely lost, just 
enough to keep folks coming and betting. But the boys and men from area 
farms kept trying, he said, because lost pride was a big thing in the 
country and they always came back in an effort to reclaim it. 

"Karen didn't always approve of things, but with the bettin' and all, 
and farmin' ain't bein' what it used to, well, the money comes in handy, 
I reckon," he said, watching Betty-Sue let go the scissors to pick up 
the barely-conscious man in an over-the-shoulder backbreaker hold. 

Don watched in fascination as the boy screamed his submission and Betty-
Sue dropped him with a thud to the hay far below. Bobbi-Jo ran inside 
and Karen stood, the proud mother and referee, holding up the twins' 
hands in victory as the crowd either groaned or cheered, depending on 
where their money was. The girls saw Don and ran to the side of the 
ring, slapping their big hands on his back. 

"Whatcha think, mister?" Bobby-Sue said, laughing. "Think we got what it 
takes to be big time pro rasslers back in Ch-eye-cago?" 

Don smiled and a bell went off in his head, just as Karen rang a real 
one across the ring. The girls giggled and skipped away to start the 
last match of the night. The tag team twins were taking on a new pair, 
two surly looking guys from a farm down state, Karen announced. They 
weren't as big as the last couple of guys, but just as muscular. It 
didn't matter. The girls won their two-out-of-three fall match in less 
than 10 minutes. Bobbi-Jo started by taking her man down with a 
thundering drop kick that the poor bastard never saw coming, moving her 
300 pound muscled bulk across the ring like greased lightning. From 
there, she lifted him high overhead and pressed him for a minute before 
twirling him around in an airplane spin and dumping him across one 
kneeling thigh for a backbreaker that would have had him submitting if 
she didn't drop him down and slam on a flat bodyscissors. As her massive 
thighs rippled in the spotlights that flooded the makeshift ring, she 
easily wrenched a screaming submission from him. 

Bobby-Sue did her man in in even less time, clamping a full nelson on 
her victim and putting enough pressure on to snap the head off a less 
capable opponent. Three vicious bodyslams later and a double hammerlock 
applied to him as he lay belly down in the hay, her kneeling over his 
head, chewing it in her squatting thighs, and it was all over but for 
Karen counting their winnings. 

As the crowd made its way back to the variety of rusted pickup trucks 
that clogged the driveway, Don approached the ladies of the farm. 

"Karen, these girls are really something," he said, eyeing the giggling 
girls as they toweled the sweat off their massive bodies before heading 
inside to shower. 

"Yeah, I guess I learnt them pretty good," she said as she knelt to tie 
a boot lace. "I used to be a pretty fair rassler myself in my day." 

"Exactly," Don said, seizing the moment. "You know, Karen, I have some 
connections with fight promoters back in Chicago, and with the right 
kind of marketing..." 

Karen rose up slowly to her full seven-foot height and glowered down at 
Don with a suspicious glare, stopping the little man's speech cold. 

"Promoters?" she drawled. "You mean like rasslin' promoters?" 

	"Well, yes," Don said nervously, looking way up at the big woman. "I'm 
telling you, this farm-girl shtick would be a big, big seller. Forget 
this Friday night at the fights crap, I'm talking tours all over the 
country." 

Karen raised an eyebrow. Don had her hooked. He reeled her in. 

"With you there with them, of course," he quickly added. "I know the 
girls love farming and all, but there's a lot of money to be made here." 

"They love rasslin' more, I think," Karen said, a slight, wistful smile 
on her lined face. "Might be good for 'em to get outta Oklahoma, I 
guess." 

"Let's talk to the girls about it right now," he said, starting for the 
house. He suddenly felt the biggest hand he'd ever felt in his life 
clamp on his shoulder. "Not tonight," Karen said, walking ahead of him, 
casting him in darkness with her huge shadow from the bright spotlight. 
"The girls need their rest. Chores tomorrow." And that was that. She 
went in and showered after the girls and Don hit the sack wondering what 
tomorrow would bring. 

*************************************************** 

The cock crowed at dawn, which woke Don briefly before he went back to 
sleep until awhile later he heard the grinding of a tractor coming up 
the driveway. He groggily went to a window and looked out to see Karen 
at the wheel of a beat-up John Deere, his little Ford Escort in tow. 
Crowding on the hood were the twins, laughing and waving to Don when 
they spotted him in the window. He waved back and wondered if the 
Escort's shocks could take it, since the entire front of his vehicle was 
covered by the massive asses and legs and combined 600-pound bulk of the 
teen girls. 

He dressed and went downstairs. The girls pulled a suitcase out of the 
back and tossed it to him. 

"Better change into somethin' more sensible, Mr. Stenhaus," Karen said, 
swinging her long legs off the tractor to the ground. "Lot of chores to 
be done, and you'll be doin' your share." 

"I...I will?" he asked weakly, clutching his suitcase. 

"You bet," she said, unhooking his car from the John Deere. "You eat 
here, you stay here, you work here. Fair trade?" 

"But, uh, I don't know anything about farming," he offered in mild 
defense. 

Karen smiled. "You know how to use a shovel?" she asked, nodding her 
head toward the barn. 

"You don't mean..." 

"Shovelin' shit's the same as shovelin' dirt, friend," she laughed, the 
first time she'd done that since he got to the farm. "Just smells 
worse." 

The girls giggled and Don looked at them. It was shaping up to be a 
brutally hot day, and they were dressed for it. They had on skimpy tank 
tops, which revealed even more brawny, muscled arms, back, shoulders and 
bellies, and the tight cutoffs they wore today above their usual socks 
and work boots were shorter than ever. He turned to walk back inside to 
change. 

There were few highlights of the day, which was one of the longest of 
Don's life. He shoveled cow shit for what seemed a smelly eternity, and 
then languished in the fields for most of the rest of the day, picking 
whatever it was that needed to be picked and weeding around the rest of 
it until his city-boy hands were a pink mass of blisters-in-waiting. The 
highlights came when he would walk back to the house for a shot of 
coolness from a garden hose and was treated to the site of the twins 
leaning into his engine, fixing the water pump. As they bent way over to 
look inside, the firm, sweet cheeks of their gloriously hard asses hung 
from the seats of their sinfully short shorts in delicious, milky orbs, 
about the only part of their massive bodies that wasn't tanned. And 
later, when they were getting a drink themselves and playfully turned 
the cold water on each other, their thick nipples exploded from their 
muscled tits through their white tank tops until it looked like they 
could hang a pitchfork from each one. Don found himself rubbing his 
hardening crotch as he watched them, only to be stopped by the burning 
pain of his newly-acquired blisters. 

When the day was finally done, just before sunset, Don sat with what he 
hoped was his business future on the steps of the house. He decided to 
broach the pro wrestling subject and was barely into it when the girls 
jumped up excitedly. 

"Oh, maw, can we do it, can we pleeeeease!!" Bobbi-Jo gushed over Don's 
surprised shoulder to where Karen had been standing in the doorway 
listening the whole time. He turned to look at her. He thought she'd be 
pissed, but she was smiling. It was a wary smile, but a smile 
nonetheless. 

"Mebbe we'll talk about it later girls," she said, turning to walk into 
the house. "Right now, everybody git cleaned up for supper." 

Don was suddenly aloft and realized in their excitement, the girls had 
each grabbed an arm and lifted him high on their mighty shoulders. 

"Pro rasslers, ain't that grand?!" Betty-Sue roared. 

Don laughed and put his hands down on the muscled caps of their 
shoulders for balance, strangely excited by the ride. His fingers had 
never felt anything so hard in his life, until he realized that might 
not include his dick, which had turned rocky in his shit and dirt-
stained pants as the girls danced him around the yard. They dumped him 
to the ground where to Don's surprise and delight, Bobbi-Jo straddled 
him with her long legs, her intensely hot crotch rubbing on his. Her 
eyes bugged out as she felt what he had there. 

"Ooo, Mr. Stenhaus, you liked our little ride, didn't ya?" she teased, 
her blue eyes sparkling as she pumped her ass on his groin. Don went dry 
in the mouth and rested his hands on her pulsating thighs. 

"Not now, girls," he heard Karen roar from the door. "Let the man rest a 
spell, for heaven's sake." 

Don nearly snapped his neck looking from the big girl dry-humping him on 
the lawn to the doorway where Karen stood, fully expecting the woman to 
come out and break him in half. But she didn't seem to mind. And neither 
did he, at least not until Betty-Sue pulled her sister off the little 
man and toward the house. 

"Time enough for that later, Bobbi-Jo, let's go clean up," she giggled, 
turning to laugh as the site of Don struggling to get up and hide the 
bulge in his pants at the same time. 

The girls and their mother showered before Don, and when he came out for 
supper, he noticed they'd changed into T-shirts and tight jeans, the 
supreme snugness of which made him think that this is one family that 
gets the most for their fabric dollar. The girls' bodies rippled even 
through their clothes and Don couldn't keep his eyes them, especially 
considering the crotch ride Bobbi-Jo had given him earlier. They were 
making him horny as hell, but he had no idea what to expect from them, 
or even if he should. He saw them as his ticket to the big time, their 
massive legs ready to scissor submissions from any opponent while it all 
squeezed some hefty dollars from promoters and the general rasslin'-
lovin' public. 

So when they all turned in for the night, he figured it was for the 
better. He didn't want to get caught with his hand or anything else in 
the twins' cookie jar which could put the damper on any deal with their 
mother. Besides, he was dog-tired from working on the farm and was sound 
asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

When next he awoke, he felt a stinging sensation on his ass, and what 
struck his sleepy mind about this was not only the needle-like feeling 
on his butt, but that he was naked. He wasn't when he went to bed. 

He looked around and realized he was lying nude in the middle of the 
outdoor ring, the light of a bright, mid-summer moon in his eyes, the 
cool night air brushing his cock. Looking up he saw the twins looking 
down at him. They wore smiles - and nothing else. He realized they must 
have carried his sleeping form down to the ring and stripped him bare. 

"We just wanted to show you the kind of rasslin' we really like to do," 
Bobbi-Jo said, and then it was lights out for the little feed salesman 
from Ch-eye-cago. 

With the grace of a large jungle cat, she reached down and scooped him 
up in her rugged arms, curling him to her chest and mashing one thick, 
muscled tit into his face. Don couldn't breathe as he flailed, his 
little hands stinging as he bounced them off the towering teen's back 
and shoulders. She laughed and pulled him away from her tit a bit to let 
him catch his breath. 

"Suck it," she glowered down at him. "Put that titty in your mouth and 
suck on it!" Don obeyed, his wide-open eyes glued to the beaming blue 
ones of the amazon who held him, his wide-open mouth suckling the creamy 
tit that filled it. He reached up to cup it to his lips and was hard 
pressed to have his fingers make any dent at all in the thick muscle of 
her breast. He put one arm behind her and ran his hand down the swell of 
her long back where his stretching fingers barely touched her 
magnificent ass. Bobbi-Jo laughed as she pulled his sucking face away 
from her chest with a popping sound before curling him up and tossing 
him to Betty-Sue, medicine ball style. The other amazon teen easily 
hoisted him overhead, holding him aloft by a hand to the throat and 
another high on his thigh, the strong grip just millimeters from his 
throbbing cock. Betty-Sue looked up at it and laughed. 

"Guess you ain't afraid of heights, huh Mr. Stenhaus?" she giggled. 

She then dropped him across her brawny shoulder, his lower back smashing 
into the muscled cap of it as Betty-Sue bounced him up and down in a 
painful backbreaker hold like the one she'd made the farm boy submit to 
the night before. Now Don knew why. His back felt like it would snap 
over the muscled fulcrum of the massive girl's rippling shoulder and he 
bellowed out his submission. 

Betty-Sue laughed and flipped him over and slid him down until his 
agonized face was staring at her wild blonde bush. Her strong arms 
effortlessly held him tight to her body as she did. 

"Time for some night chores, Mr. Stenhaus," Betty-Sue growled, slightly 
spreading her huge legs as she stood. "Now get in there and do your 
duty!!" 

She held him with one hand and with the other, reached down and rudely 
stuffed him face first up and into her cunt, holding him tightly there 
by slamming her majestic thighs around his ears. Don was at once 
overwhelmed by the pain of her tree-trunk thighs rippling in muscular 
magnificence on his trapped head and by the searing heat of her pussy as 
it baked his face. He was at first unsure what to do, but Betty-Sue 
reminded him of his mission by tensing the thick cables of her inner 
thighs around his face. He couldn't see a thing, as his entire head was 
trapped in the suffocating embrace of the gigantic teen girl's legs, but 
he knew exactly where his mouth was by the moist heat swamping his lips. 
He snaked his tongue out and deeply into the folds of her young twat and 
was rewarded by a slight lessening of the scissor pressure on his skull 
so he could penetrate her deeper still. Don's tongue flew up and down 
the dripping gash of his amazon tormentress, slapping against her 
bulbous clit on the upstroke and slicing high into her hole as it came 
down. He counted himself a talented pussyeater and was pulling out all 
the stops for the one he was now being force fed. He grabbed the 
monumental thighs that scissored his face into her cunt and was again 
amazed by the girth and solidity of them. His fingers made the long trip 
around them and up where they tried sinking into the lush flesh of her 
powerful, jutting ass, but the muscles in her football-hard rump were 
set in silky stone as the big girl hunched her crotch forward and down, 
riding his trapped face like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco. 

She came with a wash of sweet pussy juice all over his face until he 
thought he would drown in the stuff. As she let up slightly to allow him 
in deeper, it was only then that he realized the whole time he'd spent 
eating her, his stiff dick was being rubbed in the muscled tits between 
which they were trapped. Betty-Sue continued to grind her tireless twat 
into his mouth while grabbing his ass and humping her thick boobs around 
his throbbing cock. 

His ass suddenly stung and he realized Bobbi-Jo had entered the match by 
roundly slapping his naked ass. He tried to scream but the sounds were 
muffled by the rock-hard sponges of Betty-Sue's relentless thighs. She 
finally let his head pop free as she kept up the titty fuck on his dick. 

"C'mon, Betty-Sue, when's it gonna be mah turn?" Bobbi-Jo whined, 
smashing his sore ass even harder as her sister laughed. 

Without warning, the twin that held him dropped him like a stone to the 
hay far below and as he sat up, his ass stinging from the spanking and 
the spikes of straw jamming his butt, he saw the sisters tag off like 
pro wrestlers. Betty-Sue strode off to the side and in the moonlight, 
Don saw the red marks on her inner thighs where his head was scissored, 
and a thick layer of her pussy juice streaking down over them. 

He had no time to recover. Bobbi-Jo hoisted him over her big shoulders 
and airplane spun him to the ground again. Grabbing an arm, the big girl 
whipped him into the tight ropes where he rebounded back towards her 
even faster than he went in. He couldn't slow himself, not even as he 
saw her sailing toward him, her huge feet at head level in an 
astoundingly accurate flying drop kick. The bottoms of her massive feet 
slapped his face like it had been hit with a rock, and he snapped off 
his own feet to land with a thud flat on his back. She dropped heavily 
atop him, snaking her long, ridiculously muscular legs around him for a 
grapevine hold, snapping her thick ass down until it felt like she'd rip 
his legs from the hip sockets. Adding to the agony of that hold, she 
draped her huge tits over his face and smothered him in their sweaty 
embrace. He tried to submit but his crying words could barely be heard 
from the fleshy cover of her hard chest, and what words of submission 
Bobbi-Jo could hear, she just smiled and ignored. 

With a grunt, Bobbi-Jo then rolled over to her back, her moaning victim 
between her spread legs which she violently slammed shut around his 
ribs. He put his head back and howled in pain as the beautiful blonde 
grit her pearly-white teeth and went to work slicing his sides in the 
muscled blades of her scissoring legs. 

"I.....give.....up...." Don gasped, eyes shut tight against the pain. 

Bobbi-Jo laughed and suddenly let up. The lessening of all pressure 
caused Don to fall forward and he felt an intense white heat envelop his 
cock, which was as hard as it ever had been, despite the pain and 
humiliation. His dick had sliced into Bobbi-Jo's boiling cunt up to the 
balls as she let up the scissors squeeze and he was amazed at both the 
feeling of it and by the way a groan of exceptional pleasure 
involuntarily escaped from him. 

"Not too much, now," the girl giggled and slammed her legs back together 
so violently Don heard the thick calves slap above his back. 

At once, he was pulled from the volcano of her pussy and found the 
gripping pain return to his battered sides. Bobbi-Jo kept up the 
pleasure and pain routine, letting go the scissors to allow him to fall 
deep into her hot cunt only to squeeze him tight again, pulling him from 
the only place on earth he wanted to be. 

"C'mon, Bobbi-Jo, lemme at him!" he heard Betty-Sue crow from behind. 

He was suddenly free and at the end of Bobbi-Jo's long arm as she 
whipped him across the ring to where her sister was waiting, big legs 
spread, sitting on a corner post. Don's face slammed into the moist bush 
of the big girl and like a mousetrap, her deadly thighs smashed shut 
around his head. His entire face was buried in Betty-Sue's dripping 
pussy as his hands clung to the muscle-bumpy thighs that held him there. 
His tongue shot out instinctively to service her again and she threw her 
head back and moaned, the ponytailed blonde hair brushing the post 
behind her. 

Suddenly he felt a hand brutally tearing at his hair and as his face was 
pulled from the sloshy grip of Betty-Sue's cunt, he heard Bobbi-Jo 
lament, "Hey, you've had your fun, now it's mah turn!!" 

The wrestling teenage amazon easily tossed Don to his back in the hay. 
He looked up and saw Bobbi-Jo do a pair of back handsprings that 
delivered her with a crushing thud atop his abused face. She was facing 
his feet and her mammoth ass swallowed up his entire head as she ground 
her anxious pussy down into his mouth. He lapped up at it as his hands 
gripped the pulsating hamhocks that were Bobbi-Jo's pinching buttocks, 
his nose sucking for air between them. She rode his face hard, snapping 
her big hips, lashing his licking mouth with her gushing gash. 
Stretching her long legs out behind her, she captured his head in the 
nutcracker grip of her titanic upper thighs, the ribbed muscles on the 
insides lining his jaw and face with pain and pleasure. He opened his 
terrorized eyes and could only see the sexy swell of her gigantic, 
shapely ass as it engulfed his face. He licked and sucked and chewed for 
dear life. 

Suddenly, his throbbing cock was enveloped in a new wet heat and he 
realized Bobbi-Jo was devouring it with her moaning mouth. For a girl so 
young, she was sexually experienced well beyond her years as she slapped 
a massive hand around his quivering joint to jerk off the spit-slicked 
tool into her aching lips. Don ate her with renewed vigor and within 
minutes found his face drenched with the girl's love juices. When she 
finished wriggling out her orgasm, Bobbi-Jo sat up and splayed her legs 
out wider, his nose and eyes all but disappearing up her thick, hungry 
ass. 

"Oh, Mr. Stenhaus, I ain't never been done like that before," she 
hissed, slowly dragging her dripping sex back and forth across his butt-
buried face. "I think you deserve a little re-ward!" 

With that, she slithered off his mouth, spun around and spiked her hot 
pussy with his trembling love stick. She sat on him, her big hands 
planted on his bucking belly for balance, and let him have at her, his 
hips driving up to go deeper inside her. He was beside himself in 
pleasure and could barely believe what was happening to him, but before 
he could clear his head and concentrate on the gorgeous giant riding him 
like no woman had ever ridden him before, his vision was again blocked, 
along with his breathing, as Betty-Sue jumped onto his vacant face. 

The sisters rode him in tandem like a pair of well-trained animals. 
Bobbi-Jo's scalding snatch gobbled his cock, her hips snapping with 
seamless motion atop him as her sister duplicated the movement on his 
face. His shaking hands first caressed the gigantic thighs that 
straddled his waist and then shot up to roam the wide expanse of the 
muscled ass that was grinding his head into the hay blanket of the 
wrestling ring. And then the girls switched, high-fiving each other in a 
tag-team slap as they did it, his cock and head again engulfed in 
searing farm girl pussy. Back and forth they went and Don felt himself 
wanting to come and never wanting to come and lost complete track of how 
long it was all going on. 

Then regretfully, he was free, but his regret was soon replaced by 
pleasure as the two girls knelt beside him, Betty-Sue strapping a 
calloused but sexy strong hand on his crank to jerk him off with wild 
abandon as Bobbi-Jo not-too-gently cupped his aching balls in one of 
hers. 

"Give it up, Mr. Stenhaus, show us what you can do," Betty-Sue breathed 
huskily. He didn't have to be told twice. His belly went into a huge 
knot and he felt his orgasm explode from deep within him. He let out an 
animal cry and as Bobbi-Jo's tight fingers squeezed his nuts and Betty-
Sue's hand blurred in a blinding display of handjob prowess, he bucked 
his hips and shot three feet straight up in the air. He and the girls 
watched in awe as the jet of come fountained high in a creamy arc and 
splashed in thick strips along Betty-Sue's sinewy, pumping forearm. He 
shot high again and again until he could shoot no more and both girls' 
maddening grips eased a bit, Betty-Sue's hand a shiny sheet of his juice 
as she continued to slap his shrinking dick up and down until it slid 
from her fist with a squishy plop. She looked at her sister and laughed; 
a dollop of come had spotted her forehead right between the eyes, which 
Betty-Sue graciously leaned forward to lick off. Bobbi-Jo giggled and 
began rubbing the thick cream into her sister's well-worked forearm as 
Don watched the whole thing with nothing less than complete, satisfied 
awe. 

"Sweet Jesus, girls, I...I never..." he said, unable to finish. He 
flopped to his back, exhausted. 

"We rassle purty good, don't we Mr. Stenhaus?" Bobbi-Jo said with a 
laugh. "Yeah, we good enough to make a livin' from it?" Betty-Sue 
hissed, lifting her shiny fingers to her lips for a quick lick. 

"Oh, shit, yes," Don babbled, raising up to his elbows. "Just give me a 
little time to work out the details and I'll..." 

"Mr. Stenhaus!!" Karen barked from outside the ring where she'd been 
watching for God only knew how long, Don feared. "May I remind you that 
these girls have chores to get up for in a few hours?" 

Don tried to leap up but was driven back by the pain in his head and 
ribs and by sheer sexual exhaustion. The teens, however, leaped to their 
feet, where they helped up their victim. 

"Karen, Jesus, I'm sorry, but I...I..." he stammered as he stood 
sheepishly between the twin towers of powers who were smiling girlishly. 

"I warned you that my daughters sometimes get a little carried away," 
Karen said evenly, stepping over the ropes, holding closed her long 
flannel nightgown. "You and I need to have a little talk." 

Don watched as she gave a barely noticeable nod to her daughters, who 
giggled girlishly and vaulted easily over the ropes to run inside, their 
massive backsides jiggling in fleshy undulation as they did, leaving 
Karen to stare down, way down, at the naked feed salesman standing in 
the middle of the makeshift wrestling ring. 

"Uh, I don't know what to say, Karen, but they sort of got me out here 
and I didn't even know it until I was awake and then I was in between 
those legs and under their, uh, well, it didn't seem real, like it 
wasn't really happening, at least not until you got here," Don said in a 
pause-free rush, trying to explain something he could not understand 
himself, in a manner that would keep the seven-foot tall middle-aged 
farm amazon standing in front of him from tearing him in half and 
feeding him to the hogs. He couldn't think of anything else to say and 
then suddenly noticed he was standing there, naked, with his hands out 
to the side. He also noticed Karen's dark eyes riveted to his focal 
point, which was beginning to swell with renewed life, for some reason. 
His hands shot down to cover himself up, which prompted the slightest of 
smiles to cross Karen's stern lips. 

"I understand, Mr. Stenhaus," she said, folding her big arms across her 
bigger chest, her nightgown riding up a bit to reveal the untied 
workboots she'd hastily thrown on when the commotion from outside had 
woken her up. "I told you, my girls sometimes get carried away. I was 
young once, too. I guess that's somethin' they just got from their 
mother." 

"Not to mention their good looks," Don found himself saying as smoothly 
as possible. Karen's eyes softened a bit, and she smiled. 

"You're a salesman, all right," she said, turning to hold up the ropes 
so he could step through. "But don't forget, I grew up around bullshit, 
so I knows what it smells like." "No, no, really, I mean it," Don tried 
as he ducked under the ropes that Karen then let down to step over 
easily. And he did mean it. The big woman had spent a lot of years in 
the sun and rain and snow and it showed, but it showed sexy, especially 
in the sensual glow of the moon, Don suddenly realized. 

Karen noticed Don was walking a little gamely, and said "The girls sure 
can do a job on a fella, can't they?" as she reached down to sweep him 
under one long, insanely strong arm to carry him in the house. 

She easily hoisted him over a shoulder and made her way up the stairs. 
Walking past the girls' bedroom, she heard them giggling and hushed them 
to get to sleep. And then she kept walking, right past Don's bedroom, 
and into her own where she rolled him off her shoulder and onto her bed. 
She closed the door behind her. 

"Mr. Stenhaus," she began, standing in the frame of the door, filling it 
as the moonlight streamed through the window to light her rugged, pretty 
face. "Your car is fixed and you don't owe us nothin'. Come mornin', you 
can just pack up and leave. My girls'll be sad to see you go, but that's 
the way it is. I know you made promises to them, talkin' about a career 
in rasslin' and all, and you may have somethin' there, I don't know. I 
do know I don't expect to ever see you again, and I guess that's all 
right. You got your business to attend to, we got ours. If the girls 
never leave the farm, well, that's just the way it is, and I don't hold 
you to no dream you may have put in their heads." 

"No, Karen, honestly, I have connections with fight promoters, and I 
think this can work," Don said, kneeling up on the bed, his hands 
falling away from his dick that he didn't even know he was stiff again 
and had been since Karen hoisted him across her shoulder. "I'll be back, 
I promise you." 

Karen smiled as her gaze drifted south from his imploring eyes. 

"Come what may, Mr. Stenhaus, come what may," she said, slowly peeling 
her flannel nightgown off her broad shoulders to let it fall in a 
crumpled heap around her booted feet, revealing seven feet of massive, 
muscled body that the years had treated exceptionally well despite the 
rigors of farming. 

Don gulped. He watched the muscles tense in her rugged body as she 
strode toward the first man that had been in her bed since her husband 
died. He lay back as she towered over him, straddling his little body 
with her brown, mile-long legs. 

"We'll talk about my daughters' future in the mornin'," Karen breathed 
huskily, leaning down to Don's disbelieving face as her silky buttocks 
brushed his straining cock and skirted his belly as they traveled up to 
their final destination of his face. "In the meanwhile, you up for one 
last chore?" 

He was. And more than once, too. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

The girls helped him pack in the morning, as their mother stood leaning 
in the doorway in her ratty flannel nightgown, looking as at peace with 
herself as she had in years, the girls thought looking back at her. 

They ate breakfast and talked business and when it was time to go, Don 
collected a goodbye kiss from each twin as they leaned into where Don 
sat behind the wheel of his Escort. 

"I'll be back soon, girls, you just let me work my connections back in 
the city," he said, gunning the engine which sounded better than it ever 
had. "Within a year - hell, maybe six months, you're gonna see some big 
changes in your lives, believe me." 

He looked beyond them to where Karen stood, the red ball of the morning 
sun rising over her brawny shoulder. 

"And you, too, my dear," he smiled. "I'm telling you, I'll be back." 
Karen softly smiled and walked to the car. 

"Like I said, Mr. Stenhaus, come what may," she said, flipping his 
business card between her long, strong fingers. "But if you get my girls 
all fired up on what turns out to be nonsense, I'll come lookin' for you 
in that big city of yours. And I'll find you. You don't wanna make me or 
my girls mad." 

She leaned in to give him such a long, lingering kiss that the girls got 
to whooping and hollering behind her as she did. Don took a long breath 
when she finally broke off and jumped a bit as the girls slapped the 
roof of his little car. 

"Oh, I'll be back, ladies, you can make book on that," he said to 
himself, watching them wave goodbye in his rearview mirror and sticking 
his own hand out the window to return the gesture. "I know a goldmine 
when I'm caught in one." 

He headed the little car out to the road and headed back to the highway 
that would return him to Chicago. His mind raced with possibility until 
he looked beside him and saw the list of sales calls he was supposed to 
make this week. 

He laughed as he balled it up in his fist and shoved it happily out of 
his open window.