She opened her mouth and began sucking my soft cock. After a couple of minutes, I switched to my Bo persona and caressed her face. She moaned and swallowed me deeper. I eventually grew hard, and I played with her clit as she sucked me. She coaxed a final load from my balls before she came again herself.
I sat back to catch my breath. My watch lay on the other side of the blanket, so I checked the time by the sun. It had sunk about halfway to the horizon, and I realized that Christy had been tied up for several hours.
She hadn’t complained, but she was obviously tired. She was probably hungry too. She usually had an afternoon snack, and semen wasn’t a real substitute.
“Time for us to go,” I said in my Jethro voice. “I’m gonna untie you.”
I loosened the knots around her ankles. Then I released her arms, and she rubbed her wrists. She had faint red marks where the ropes had dug into her skin. I added another mental note—the sixth?—to learn what the hell I was doing. Pain was one thing, but permanent marks were another.
“Don’t move,” I told her. Then I used the ropes to tug the tent stakes loose. I shoved them in the bottom of my backpack, ropes and all. “Count to a hundred,” I said at last. “Then you can remove the blindfold.”
She nodded and relaxed. Her nipples rose and fell with her regular breathing. I flirted with the idea of having sex with her again, while she was simply blindfolded instead of bound, but that was the big head talking, not the little one.
Maybe some other time, he said flippantly. You can be Gomer Pyle. Or Goober. Yeah, Goober!
I rolled my eyes and gave the area a final scan for anything that might connect Jethro to me. I felt guilty for running off and leaving Christy alone, but that was part of the fantasy. Still, I couldn’t resist one last tease.
I knelt beside her and kissed her. She resisted at first, but then she realized I was kissing her as me, not one of the attackers. The kiss heated up, and the little head twitched with interest. He wasn’t really serious, so I pulled back and let her cool down.
“That was fun,” I said in my own voice. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“Yes, please.”
“Now, count to a hundred.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Or five-sixths of one twenty, whichever is less.”
“Smarty-pants,” she laughed.
“Yes, ma’am.” I stood and jogged down the hill.
* * *
I returned about fifteen minutes later and found that Christy had cleaned up. Her damp towel hung from the limb of a pine tree, and she’d tidied the blanket. She’d even replaced the T-shirt and magazines in my backpack. She lay curled on her side, as though she’d been asleep. She pretended to wake up when she heard me. She even yawned and stretched.
“How long was I asleep?”
“A while.”
“Mmm, I had the most wonderful dream.”
“Oh?”
“Bo and Luke Duke.”
I suppressed a grin. “At the same time?”
“Oh my gosh, yes! And Jethro Clampett. Did I ever tell you I had a crush on him?”
“For real?”
“Yeah. Laurie and I used to watch reruns when we lived in Japan. He never did any of the things he did in my dream, though. Jethro, I mean, not Laurie.”
“So it was one of those dreams?” I chuckled.
“Uh-huh. And now I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”
I snorted. “Wren’s right, you sound like an imposter when you try to talk like us.”
“So sue me,” she said playfully. “That’s how they spoke in my dream. You don’t speak like that, though.” She pretended to think of something. “Hold on, where’ve you been?”
“Me? Oh, I… um… went for a hike. You were asleep, so…”
“Well, I’m awake now. And starving! Do we have anything to eat?”
“Of course.” I knelt on the blanket and opened her backpack. “A couple of granola bars and an orange.”
“Yum!” She tore open one of the bars and took a bite.
“Want me to peel the orange for you?”
“Yes, please.” She gave me a coy look. “Unless you want to feed me something else.”
“Seriously?”
“No,” she grinned, “I’m just kidding. I’m still a little worn out from my nap.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said under my breath.
“Mmm, I do. Five or six times. Every day.”
* * *
Trip and Wren arrived after dinner on Sunday evening. Christy and I were relaxing by the pool when we heard the car. It rolled to a stop, and Wren jumped out. Christy ran to her and shrieked with excitement when Wren showed her the ring. Trip climbed out and stretched his back. He shook his head at the girls’ antics and greeted me with a wave.
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“She said yes?” I added wryly.
“Yeah. I still can’t believe it. I feel like the guy who’s won the pennant before the season’s even started.”
I chuckled. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“I hope so.” He nodded at my splint. “What happened there? You hurt yourself?”
“In a manner of speaking. I hit something hard. Rich’s head.”
“Oh, that’s right! Wren told me. Sorry. I sorta forgot everything that happened before Friday.”
“I understand.”
“Have you done any work?” he asked.
“Not really. A few things, but…” I shrugged guiltily.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “A broken hand’s always worse than it seems. Besides, I’ve been thinking…”
“Oh?”
Wren interrupted, “Are you already talking about work?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Trip said. He glanced at me. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Or tomorrow,” she suggested.
“Yes, dear. Isn’t that what you say to Christy?” he asked me. Then he asked her, “Does it really work?”
“Of course.”
“Sounds like good advice. Yes, dear,” he repeated to Wren. “Whatever you say, dear. Tomorrow, dear.” He paused to listen to himself. “I kinda like it. It has a certain… ring to it.”
Wren rolled her eyes but smiled.
“Come on,” I said. “We’ll help you unload. Have you eaten?”
* * *
Trip and I spent the next morning going over the project schedule.
“I can still work,” I assured him. “I just can’t use tools with my right hand. Not for several days.” My injured finger didn’t hurt, but I wasn’t sure how strong it would be after weeks of inactivity. “Maybe longer,” I conceded.
“No problem,” Trip said. “I know how it is. We’ll deal with it. Can you draw? You have a ton of design to do.”
“I think so. I can probably do it now, even with the splint. Rough sketches, for sure.”
“That’s fine. We need to get approval for the design of the new cabins. Same with the clubhouse. Then I need some preliminary floor plans. I can’t do cost estimates until I see them. And speaking of drawings, I still haven’t seen them for the RV bathhouse.” He added a pointed look, in case I didn’t feel guilty enough already.
“Yeah, all right. I’ll start working on them.”
“You should’ve started weeks ago. Hustle up. Time is money.”
“You’re no fun,” I griped. I was trying to be funny, but he took me seriously.
“I’m plenty of fun when I’m your friend. But right now I’m your business partner. This is still a business, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Okay, then let’s talk about moving things around, schedule-wise. With you on the DL—”
“Whoa, the what?”
“Sorry, I’ve been listening to baseball. The DL, the Disabled List. Anyway, even with you on the DL, we have plenty to do until you’re healthy. I need to work on the bungalows. You need to design some buildings. I need to get a crew started on the road. You need to design—”