Dumb Luck Read online

  Dumb Luck

  Book 1 of the Green Lord

  By JG Jerome

  Edited by Heather Jerome

  Cover by Albert Chauw

  Copyright © June 1, 2019 J.G. Jerome

  Contents

  Title Page

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 - Meeting Myra

  Chapter 2 - Interrupted Schedule

  Chapter 3 - a Delay to Remember

  Chapter 4 - a Quick Check-in

  Chapter 5 - the Condo

  Chapter 6 - Girl talk

  Chapter 7 - Myra and Me

  Chapter 8 - Tea and Water

  Chapter 9 - Change of Plans

  Chapter 10 - Adventures and Revelations

  Chapter 11 - a Quiet Conversation

  Chapter 12 - Home Hunting

  Chapter 13 - Shopping for a Prescott Home

  Chapter 14 - Connecting

  Chapter 15 - Making New Friends

  Chapter 16 - Done for the day

  Chapter 17 - Dinner and Dancing

  Chapter 18 - the Ladies catch up

  Chapter 19 - Vacation day

  Chapter 20 - More New Friends

  Chapter 21 - Festivities and Discipline

  Chapter 22 - Corrina’s Kiss

  Chapter 23 - a Lingering ‘Au Revoir’

  Chapter 24 - Meeting Peg

  Chapter 25 - Practicing New Skills Before Breakfast

  Chapter 26 - the Place

  Chapter 27 - Getting ready to go

  Chapter 28 - On the Road Again

  Chapter 29 - Change of Fortune

  Chapter 30 - Setting the Course

  Chapter 31 - Wrapping up Loose Ends

  Epilogue

  Who and What

  Afterword:

  About the Author:

  Foreword

  This story is an adult fantasy for mature folks. My twisted mind produced it from my dreams, daydreams, and fantasies before transcribing it onto paper.

  As such, this story includes unusual interpretations of myth and legends, descriptions of genitalia, descriptions of sexual activities, mixing of US, UK, and Indian idioms, panamorous relationships, harem relationships, romance, bro-mance, BFFs, cursing, bathroom selfies, off-beat humor, eating food while naked or partially naked, drinking, going to the bathroom, the insurance industry, the IT consulting industry, and many other things that might possibly offend someone in our judgemental society.

  If you are offended by any of those things, then kindly close the book, tell Amazon you made a mistake, get your refund, and go forth to enjoy life elsewhere. I wish you the best.

  If you’re not dissuaded, then...

  “Love is at the root of everything. Love or the lack of it.” - Fred Rogers.

  Prologue

  I was busking Saturday afternoon in mid-September at a local food festival near my condo. They offered to pay me a little bit to do something I would probably have been doing in my home office anyway; although, I would probably have been more comfortable at my place since early September in Phoenix is still quite warm. So there I was standing in the minimal shade offered by a friendly vendor’s awning as I wrapped up my rendition of Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Come Monday.’ I was giving out “thank yous” to the five people that clapped. As four of them of them moved on, the last one approached me extending her hand, “Hi! I’m Christie.”

  She was tall, maybe 5’9” or a little more, lean and coltish in her figure. She dressed her long legs and tight tushy in heathered brown tights with slit pockets, feet in black Chuck Taylors, and a tight orange T-shirt caressed her torso and pert breasts. She had a heart-shaped face framed by chestnut hair in a bob that just brushed her shoulders, brown eyes, and sun-kissed skin. I figured her for maybe 17 years old.

  “Hello Christie, I’m Jack,” clasping her warm golden hand. “What can I do for you?”

  “I know it’s kind of forward, but would you mind if I sat in with you?”

  “You sing?” She nodded. “Okay, but I only have one mic. You’ll have to share it with a smelly old man.”

  “Oh?” She delivered a deadpan reply. “I was certain I’d have to share a mic with you, Jack!”

  I laughed out loud for that one. “Oh, you’re good. Hopefully your voice is as good as your sense of humor.”

  She joined in my laughter, “Shall we find out?”

  I waved her up to stand by me as I started off the opening riff of Pure Prairie League’s Amie. “You know this one?”

  She nodded, “I’m familiar with it.”

  She proved an adept backing singer. She had a natural ability to find a complementary harmony quickly, and she made me sound better than I really am.

  * * *

  Christie stayed with me for the rest of my scheduled time, and even when she didn’t know a song she found ways to add to it. She stuck around as I packed up and hauled my gear back to my trusty CRV. I closed the hatch and pondered how best to ask without hurting her feelings. Finally I just went for it.

  “So Christy, shall we go find your parents? We don’t want them to worry about you?”

  Her eyes bugged out for a moment before a delightful laugh burst from her lips. “How old do you think I am, Jack?”

  I grinned at her, “Best case, you’re 17. Worst case you’re a very poised 14.”

  “Oh my! You think I’m jailbait!” She howled with laughter. She wiped her eyes and looked right back into mine. “I’m here on my own, Jack. I’m twenty-three, and here is my proof.” She pulled a thin wallet out of her front pocket and showed me her Arizona driver’s license that showed she turned twenty-three almost a year ago.

  “Three more weeks, and I could have offered to take you out for your birthday. Shall we make it a date?” I teased her.

  She looked at me with mischief in her eyes, “I have a much better idea. Why don’t you take me home and absolve me of my virginity?”

  I choke on my laughter, “Christie dear, you are much too beautiful to be messing with old men that way. Don’t play with old men. We’re fragile creatures.”

  She shook her head gently, “Not joking, Jack. I wanted you the moment I saw you. I knew you would be kind to me, considerate of my lack of experience, and still blow my mind.”

  ‘Shit! She’s serious!’ I thought to myself. I found myself slowly nodding.

  “Well Christie, that is the best offer I’ve had in a very long time. I accept under the condition that you let me take you out for dinner first.”

  She gave me a 100 kilowatt smile. “I accept, Jack.” She closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around my neck before kissing me deeply. The passion of that kiss ramped up quickly and promised an evening of joy and wonder.

  I seated her in my CR-V, and then we drove to my place. Christie helped me carry my gear to my condo and we piled it into the guest-slash-music room. I left her in the living room with a kiss and a glass of water after she declined to freshen up before dinner. I took a quick shower and got out fresh clothes before rescuing her from loneliness and hunger by dashing off on foot to the Kona Grill for an early dinner.

  Christie was a charming dinner partner. I struggled to reconcile her grace and poise with her young age. Regardless, I found myself enjoying her company immensely as we chatted throughout the evening. We both ate lightly, and then wandered back to my place hand-in-hand. As I closed the door to the apartment, she walked straight to my bedroom. She stopped only long enough to look back, framed in the doorway to crook her finger at me with a mischievous smile. By the time I was through the bedroom door, she was standing barefoot and topless, pushing her tights to the floor.

  As I began to strip off, she told me not to worry about breaking her because she rides horses frequently. Apparently hymens lose the battle agains
t a vigorous sustained trot. Either way we were soon both naked and pressed tightly to each other kissing and caressing languorously. We slowly made our way horizontal, and I kissed my way down her glorious body. Pert firm mounds of breast with diamond hard nipples and silver-dollar-sized brown areola, flat stomach, slightly flared hips, and a thin thatch of chestnut hair above her treasure chest.

  Despite not having to worry about breaking her, I still wanted to take my time and ensure she was blissed out before I pushed Little Jack up inside her. I used my mouth and fingers to get her going into a strong orgasm. As she came down she begged, “Please Jack! Now! Please! I want you so much!” I entered her slowly as there was no other option despite the moisture from her arousal; she was naturally tight and hadn’t released completely from the orgasm. I slowly worked my way inside until I was hilted in her. ‘God! This girl feels like heaven!’

  I kissed her deeply, and then worked my way to nuzzle her neck as I set up a steady rhythm. She prodded me to go faster and harder, and my release became imminent as she started another orgasm. Her spasms around my cock, her heels prodding my ass, and her whispered “Breed me, Jack! Make me yours! Breed me!” were my undoing. I grunted and hammered into her with each splash of my seed. She held me tight to her as her aftershocks slowly subsided. After we caught our breath she said, “I don’t want to let you go, Jack! Please let me stay!”

  “Of course, Christie. You are mine as long as you wish to be. I have no plans for the weekend; so, I’m yours until I have to work on Monday. After that, I’m open to negotiation.” She kissed me deeply.

  The girl may have been a virgin, but she was athletic and eager. We tried just about every position we could devise. We napped in between making love, and actually managed to sleep a solid four or five hours in the early morning. She woke me with an amazing blow-job. She sucked my cock eagerly, and quickly discovered how best to please me, ending with her nose buried in my bush and my cock buried down her throat feeding her a snack. Afterwards I made us breakfast as she sat in one of my dress shirts, and then we made love again before taking a nap.

  I woke up with her mouth around my cock and she was apparently cupping her ass cheeks. She stopped when she saw my eyes open and my smile. She sat up and placed her hands on my chest. Both index fingers were oily. “Jack, I have a special request. There is only one place you haven’t had me yet. I want you there too, Jack. I want to know you in every way possible.”

  I’ve always been of the opinion that anal is more about dominance than pleasuring your lady. Having tried it, I really prefer a warm, tight, wet pussy. Christie’s pussy was a special place indeed. I told her this, but she was adamant. She turned around and pointed her compact, round bum at me - spreading the cheeks to show me how she had already oiled the little rosebud. “I used your coconut oil, Jack. Please! Make me complete!”

  Well, being a fairly dominant guy in the bedroom, I can’t say there was zero appeal, and she had quite a pretty little rosebud. “Why do I think you can beg me into doing anything, Christie?”

  She looked over her shoulder and said seriously, “I will never use my powers to hurt you, Jack. Please take me. Fuck my ass, Jack!”

  So, I crawled up behind her and placed Little Jack’s now turgid head at her backdoor. I pressed insistently, and finally her slippery opening yielded to my cock. I let her get used to the idea. She was well lubed; so, I was able to start moving sooner than I anticipated. ‘Note to self. Anal is better with oil!’ I made it all the way in, and gave her another moment to adapt, while I reached around and caressed her clit and nipples. I slowly established an easy, deliberate rhythm as she moaned and told me how good I felt inside her. I pulled her up and nuzzled her neck as I held her with one arm wrapped around her torso holding a breast and the other wrapped to cup and toy with her pussy. She started to shiver and shake, and I was starting to get close too. She cried, “Jack! Bite me. Come in my ass and bite me hard. Take a mouthful of my flesh, chew it, and eat it, Jack! I will always be a part of you! Do it, Jack! My flesh will heal, just fuck me! Eat me! Make me YOURS!”

  If I had stopped to think about it, I would have freaked out, but her cries were very compelling. She tapped to the lean muscle in her trapezius, and as my bliss hit me I placed my teeth on her flesh. I started to come into her tight, hot ass. “Bigger!” she screamed. “Take a big bite, Jack! Go deep!”

  I bit down hard! Her skin broke, and I tasted her blood as she screamed. The fibres of the muscle fought me a bit, but my teeth cut through it and left me with a mouthful of skin and muscle.

  “Chew it Jack! Just like a steak! Chew it! Swallow it! Let my flesh and my love nourish you!” I did. Then I fell forward driving her to the mattress beneath me as my spasms stopped and my brain started to process what I had just done. Fortunately, I kept enough presence of mind to not land all my weight on her.

  I looked at the wound in her flesh in horror, but I did notice that it was no longer bleeding. I rolled off of her, and lay next to her caressing her.

  She crawled up on my chest and asked me, “Jack? What is your full name?”

  I gave her a befuddled look. “Jacques. It’s French. Jacques Guillaume Jerome.”

  She looked at me with sorrow in her eyes, and then said in a clear warm voice, “Jacques Guillaume Jerome, listen to me and obey.” Her eyes glowed with the blue of a clear summer sky.

  “You will put away your memory of what has passed here this weekend. It was necessary for you to become what you must, my darling man. You must put all your memories after the first song we sang together into the dark recesses of your mind and leave them there until you see me again.”

  “You are going to change, Jack. That bite of my flesh was necessary for you to change. As glorious as you are, you are going to become more. The world needs you to become more for the dark times ahead if we are to survive. The first change is that you need to immunize yourself to what I’m doing to you now. Then you must unleash the magic of your heritage. Let your body and mind become, my darling!”

  “I am counting on you. I am yours. You have my heart in yours, just as your body now has my flesh. Become, my darling! You are worthy of love despite all the pain you’ve experienced and the lives you’ve taken. Know in the back of your mind that I love you, and you will see me again, soon. Now sleep my darling.”

  * * *

  I awoke mid-Sunday afternoon feeling groggy in my head and invigorated in my body. It was strange. ‘Damn! I must have taken some damage from the sun yesterday! I don’t remember a thing after that girl sang Amie with me.’ I thought. I slowly got up, took a piss, and went for some water. Then I showered, made some food, and started looking through the actions for tomorrow’s work day.

  Chapter 1 - Meeting Myra

  Bradley International airport is not the worst airport I have ever flown from, but getting through security today makes me forget the others. The early morning drive in the November chill wasn’t particularly invigorating. I am trying to stay awake in the TSA Pre-Check line at 6:25 AM, trying to convince myself that I am lucky to only have a 30 minute wait ahead of me rather than the hour-plus queue for the poor bastards in the General Boarding line. That’s when Mr. Wonderful makes his appearance.

  I hear him excusing himself behind me, rapidly closing in on my position with a litany of “excuse me,” “pardon me” and “move your ass” comments. It was that last one that leads me to look over my shoulder with my eyebrow cocked in the air. I see a tall, lean twenty-something with a large roll-on bag about three people behind me. He is a pretty-boy in a contemporary short-cut navy suit with a pink shirt, electric blue tie, and dark hair with “frosted” highlights cut like a rat had been chewing on it. At this point, he is jostling a fairly robust, red-faced, strawberry-blond business woman wearing a shapeless navy dress with a roll-on bag and a purse that is at least as big as her roll-on. Her purse is hanging from her right elbow, her coat is draped over her elbow, her cell phone is cradled on her right shoulder while trying to look
at her calendar on her laptop computer. She is not having a good day, and Mr. Wonderful is doing nothing to make it better.

  He tells her, “I said ‘move your ass,’ you fat slob! I need to get by! I have an 8:30 flight!” and gives the aforementioned businesswoman a relatively gentle hip check while pushing on her shoulder to slide his roller bag by her. She immediately starts to juggle her laptop, nearly dropping it. Given the anger in his words I‘m surprised he didn’t push her harder.

  I suppose I probably shouldn’t bitch-slap him in front of all these people. I tell him, “Hey! Mr. Wonderful! Cool your jets! You’ve got plenty of time.”

  Apparently, Mr. Wonderful is somebody because he gives me a “Do you know who I am?”

  “Nope,” I tell him, “and I really don’t care. I will however let you introduce yourself to the nice officer.” Turning to the police officer standing next to the agent at the screening point, “Excuse me officer, that man just assaulted this woman.”

  The officer walks over at that point, and the businesswoman confirms that yes, she had been assaulted by Mr. Wonderful.

  Apparently Mr. Wonderful really is somebody because he loudly introduces himself to the officer, and the entire queue, as “Jerald Charles Fremont III.” I have no idea who he is and apparently neither does the officer, but he dutifully calls it in. Evidently somebody on the other end confirms that JC Fremont III really is ‘somebody.’ Who knew?

  The officer scowls at JC. Then he apologizes to the businesswoman and confirms that she was not harmed and has no wish to file charges. Then he escorts my friend JC towards the front of the line.

  JC stage whispers “Bow down before your betters, asshole.”

  I couldn’t resist responding with a chuckle, “It’ll be a cold day in Hell before you are better than anyone in this entire airport, JC.”

  “It’s Gerald with a ‘G,’ you prick!”