The Rise and Fall of Jamie Pt 1

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So, every day, I had two hot chicks prancing around the house in barely there outfits. Even when dad wasn’t home. Janie and her little friends, equally barely dressed, took to walking through the neighborhood flirting with anyone with a dick and mom spent a lot of time in the front yard, “gardening” in Home & Garden approved shorts and bikini tops.

I had a corner bedroom with a great view of the mom’s garden and got quite a few shots of her.

When Janie wasn’t turning men into pedophiles, she laid out in our “private” back yard. This time, I had a good vantage point from the kitchen, but there was an even better spot.

The yard was surrounded by an old eight-foot privacy fence. In one of the eight-foot slats was an eight-inch missing section, hard to see for the thick brush around it. From there, it was ten feet to where Janie often laid her towel. At that distance, I was still able to make out the glistening oil on her skin and the tiny beads of sweat trickling down her thighs and waist.

Mom worked during the day and I was usually out and about, so Janie thought she was alone that one Wednesday after our birthday.

She came out as always with her Walkman and lotions and towel. She spread the towel on the grass and… took off her top. I almost dropped the camera. By the time I had juggled it into place and somehow managed to snap off a clear photo, she dropped her bottoms, exposing her hairless slit.

She laid down and I could hear her moan as the soft breeze caressed her hard nipples. Her left hand found her pussy and she began to rub it, moaning louder as she finger-fucked herself. Until then, there was always a slight twinge of guilt for wanting to fuck my sister. That was gone now.

I must have snapped snapped dozen of pictures of not just Janie, but also her little teeny-bopper friends, my mom and various other neighborhood hotties. Gotta hand it to the South, we raise’em right good.

The agents are nodding. No doubt, they’ve looked though my computer and found my collection and probably the oriiginals too with my fingerprints all over them. Add kiddie porn to the list.

But all good things come to an end.

I’m not sure how my pictures came into my dad’s possession, but I’ve got a good idea. Like any loving, caring parent, my dad probably searched my room one fine day looking for drugs and instead found my picture collection that I had hidden in an inside pocket of an old coat in the back of my closet. My dad’s a thurough guy.

But instead of deciding that maybe it was time we had “the talk”, he kept the pictures for himself. And instead of hiding them better, just kept them in an envelop in his travel bag. It didn’t take long for mom to find them.

Dad was a truck driver. Mom suspected he’d had his share of lot lizards, some of them probably not of legal fucking age. She kind of accepted it, I think because she was probably fucking other dudes while dad was away. No one goes to the gym twice a day with only a day’s worth to show for it.

Now, it was pretty damned obvious that I took those pictures, but they never said anything. But they both knew because mom not only kicked dad out, but me as well, under the guise of, “a boy needs his dad and this way, neither of us needs to worry about child support.”

By then, dad had already hooked up with some black chick in Florida, a twenty-seven year-old waitress with twin girls around my age. Yeah, more twins.

All good things must come to an end to begin new good things.

Dad had bought a trailer and the ten acres of land with which it came literally for a song. His dad had written a country song back in the fifties and it briefly blipped on the country Top 40 chart at number forty for one week and then was lost to time. But it earned the elder Larsen a happy chunk of change he didn’t have a chance to spend. He died in ‘Nam when dad was a kid. Anyway, when dad turned eighteen, he got access to a $200,000 trust fund. Mom got her half in the divorce in the form of the house in Tennessee and dad used his portion to buy this little slice of paradise. He was saving up now to pad the remainder with enough dough to get a construction loan to build a house on it. Dad may have been a pedophile, creep and all around horndog, but he wasn’t stupid when he didn’t think with his dick.

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