“Dreamscapes: Abandoned in Texas”

By

B.J. Frazier

Copyright 2020. All rights reserved

Published by B.J. Frazier Publications, LLC

B.J. Frazier Publications Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction.

Therefore, all characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination.

Adult Reading Material

DIGITAL ISBN: 978-1-957131-25-2

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

About B.J. Frazier

Books by B.J. Frazier

Connect with B.J. Frazier

Author’s Note

This book contains erotic fiction with graphic sex and is intended for mature readers only.

“Dreamscapes: Behind the Cyber Veil” is a two-book opener that sets the stage to the “Dreamscapes” series. Even though “Dreamscapes: Abandoned in Texas” is a stand-alone novel, it is suggested you read “Behind the Cyber Veil” first.

My sincere and devoted thanks go to Thomas Antonson for his editing acumen and his uncanny ability to understand which word I really meant to use.

Please visit my website: bjfrazier.com

I know there are a lot of books for sale, and I thank you for choosing mine.

Happy reading,

~B.J.

Severe Content Warning: B.J. Frazier books contain *plots* and *well-developed characters*

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Dreamscapes, 2016

Jaz and Sam returned to Dreamscapes after their honeymoon and fell into a routine. Sam and Veronica spent the mornings educating Jaz on the resort’s business operation. Then, Veronica and Jaz swam or worked out together; after which they discussed more pressing resort issues. There was usually a nap before dinner, and the three spent evenings together before Veronica turned in. Nights were reserved for Jaz and Sam.

One morning, Veronica mentioned Jaz’s sex competition. “I’ve been thinking about what an innovative idea that was, yes?”

Jaz blushed and stole a glance at Sam. The competition had occurred during a dark period before she’d discovered Sam’s true identity. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. It had been difficult for him when Jaz had visited Dreamscapes, but he was at peace with the past... now that Jaz was a part of his present and future.

The competition had been Jaz’s creation. Five models participated in three competitions: kissing, breast manipulation and pussylicking skills. Each model had a set time to demonstrate his skills, and Jaz selected the best in each section before declaring an overall winner. The winner spent the remainder of the evening with Jaz.

“Yes?” Jaz questioned.

“I think I mentioned wanting to include it on our menu,” Veronica concluded.

“Y’know, it’s funny you say that, because I was thinking about it the other day when we were discussing ways to update our menu,” Jaz admitted.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I have an idea to add.”

Danny, a probationary model, knocked and entered while talking, “Um, excuse me, Sam, but I was told to get you. There’s a problem with the internet.”

“I’ll leave you two to play with our menu,” Sam said as he excused himself.

“What is the addition, my darling?” Veronica asked.

“I was thinking we could add two different competitions. Like, a regular and a super one?”

“What is the difference between them, one has more sex, more games?”

“Well, yeah, we could do it that way. But I was actually thinking about adding more models. It could be kind of an introductory sampler, if you will.”

Veronica frowned. “I’m not following?”

“I mean, I remember looking at Dreamscapes for the first time. It’s pretty overwhelming.”

“Thank you,” Veronica grinned.

Jaz smiled back. “Yeah, it’s awesome, but I think the competitions would give a first-timer a way to sample their favorite models before committing to any of them.”

“I see. Sort of like tasting before you buy, yes?”

“Exactly.”

“I like it. You are so creative, Jasper.”

“But I like your idea, too. Maybe we could offer more than two. A regular competition, like what I experienced. Then there could be one with an increased sample size. And the grand contest with more games and sex!”

“Wonderful! Except...”

“Except?”

“Except if we bill it as a sampling, we would have to meet with the guest after she declares a winner to schedule the rest of her vacation. It could cause problems with the models’ schedules, not to mention other guests’ schedules.”

“I see what you mean.” The women thought in silence. “Well, we don’t have to advertise it as a preview. We could add it to the menu as a three-part offering. If someone wants to change her selections based on the competition, we could meet with her and determine availability at that time?”

“Yes, and our established clientele probably wouldn’t be interested except for any new stock we add. But to be honest, Jasper, the idea of meeting with some of these clients twice makes me shudder, yes?”

“That’s why you have me, Veronica! I’m the newb to handle the grunt work.”

Veronica smiled. “I do not look at you as a newb in any way, my darling. But I’ll not refuse your offer.”

The two hashed out the details over lunch, and the competition items appeared on the website by spring.

* * * *

After dinner, the threesome strolled around the resort. As they passed a section of elite suites, Sam said, “I almost forgot! There’s been a problem with housekeeping in Suite 305 that I wanted to show Jaz, Mother. If you’d please excuse us for the night?”

“Yes, of course, my darlings. I’ll see you in the morning!”

Veronica walked away smiling because she knew there weren’t any housekeeping issues on that side of the resort.

Sam watched her walk away before he snaked his arm around Jaz and steered her toward the door.

Jaz was getting acclimated to all aspects of the resort, so she wasn’t surprised. “I’m not sure how much help I can be because I haven’t learned anything about housekeeping yet,” she confessed.

“I think you’ll be able to catch on very quickly,” he said huskily.

Jaz raised an eyebrow as Sam swiped the key. They entered a suite similar to the one in which Jaz had stayed as a guest. Sam gestured to her and said, “Take a look around and report back. I’m interested in your feedback before I say anything.”

Jaz frowned then smiled before she did a once-over. When she came back into the living room, Sam was stepping away from the fire he’d lit. He wiped his hands and motioned for her to sit on the couch. “Well? Tell me your thoughts.” He opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

Jaz watched him pour before she spoke. “Seeing absolutely nothing wrong with this room, and seeing how you lit a fire and opened a bottle of wine--thank you,” she said as she took a glass. “I’d say you lured me in here under false pretenses, sir.”

“Hmm. What gave it away?”

Jaz smiled. “The tone in your voice when we were outside.”

“All the way back then?” Sam fake pouted.

Jaz nodded and smiled. “Don’t pout.”

She leaned in and licked Sam’s lips and started to lick the rest of his face. “Ew, yuck!” He pushed her away and wiped his face. “Why?”

“I was licking the pout off your face.”

“I can think of better things you can lick.”

“Name three.”

“My hard cock...” Sam looked around the room for assistance.

“Okay, you have a large cock, but it doesn’t qualify as three things, Sam.”

Sam grinned at his wife. “My left nut and my right nut.”

Jaz rolled her eyes and went to punch his arm, but Sam caught her hand and redirected it to his cock.

“Mmm, it is hard!” Jaz involuntarily licked her lips.

“See? I know you’d rather be licking that.”

“Sometimes you’re pretty smart.” She ran her hand along its length and took a drink of wine. She handed Sam her glass and reached for his belt. He set down both glasses and settled into the couch.

Deftly, she pulled his cock and balls out of his boxer-briefs. She stared as she stroked him slowly. She loved the feel of his cock in her hand... and her mouth... and her sex. As she stroked, she slid to her knees. Looking at Sam, she sucked in his tip and swirled her tongue.

He smiled as he collected stray hair and held it at the back of her head before he pulled with insistence. Jaz automatically relaxed her throat muscles to accommodate his nine inches. Sam never tired of watching his cock disappear into her mouth. He moaned as her nose hit his stomach.

After putting out technical fires all day, it was the best way to relax. Sam could’ve easily come but the night was just beginning. He watched his wife make love to his cock for another fifteen minutes before tapping her chin--their signal for her to stop.

Jaz sat up, and a trail of precum and saliva extended from her mouth to the tip of Sam’s cock. She wiped his slit and licked the trail from her finger.

“So hot, babe.” He kissed her passionately before extending his hand to the fire. “After you.”

Jaz moved toward the fire, where Sam stood behind her and hugged her. He ran his hands up the front of her shirt and cupped her breasts. When his warm breath hit her ear, she giggled. He unbuttoned her shirt and lifted her bra. Then, he weighed her left tit with his left hand as he dove his right hand into her panties. He nibbled her shoulder while he pinched her nipple and swiped her slit.

Her knees weakened, and she leaned against him. She stretched backwards to grab his hair. She turned slightly so their lips met. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, he slid his middle finger into her sex. She gasped, and he sucked her tongue. Her hips moved against his finger.

Sam softly directed Jaz to her back while keeping their tongues connected. He released her mouth and cascaded wet kisses down her neck and chest before turning his attention to her breasts. Each one received enough attention to make her come. He grinned at Jaz then trailed kisses down her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled as he tickled her.

He kissed one of her hands while looking at her. “I’ll be good.” He placed her hand above her head.

“Oh, I know you’ll be good!”

He tugged off her skirt and moved her panties to the side. Jaz’s hips swayed as he licked the juices from her outer lips. She tried to move his tongue inward, but he steadfastly remained outside. When she groaned, he licked inside her folds. Her groans turned to moans, and her hips gyrated.

Sam wrapped his arms around her thighs before attacking her clit. He sucked it softly and flicked it with his tongue. Jaz’s body writhed under him. When he pushed two fingers inside while sucking her clit, she came on his face.

He grinned at her, licking his lips. “Was that three already?”

“In. Now. I need you,” she panted.

“I couldn’t quite make that out. Are you tired?”

“Nooo, make love to me.”

Sam pulsed and dribbled precum. He wiggled out of his clothes before yanking off Jaz’s panties. He thrust into her, and they both moaned. As he continued to thrust, he held her face. Kissing her forehead, cheeks, and lips, he told her, “You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled at him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hips met his thrusts with the same tempo. They continued the pace for a long while as the fire crackled. Then, they came together in a single wave of passion.

Sam reached for the wine, and they drank and watched the fire, content to be naked in each other’s arms.

Chapter 2

Therber, Texas, 1997

“Who’re y’fixin’ t’go out with Friday night, Bobbie Sue?” Billy asked hopefully, while Trent and Bo listened.

“Why, I was thinkin’ ‘bout Bo Friday.” Bo smiled widely as Billy’s smile faded. “Then Trent for lunch on Saturday, and you Saturday night?” Bobbie Sue smiled brightly, and all three boys grinned back.

“That’s a swell idea, Bobbie Sue!” Billy bobbed his head. The other two bobbed with him.

Bobbie Sue Beasley hadn’t been permitted to date until she was fifteen. Her dad, James Beasley, was a God-fearing man with a bible in one hand and a bottle in the other. While the rest of the world looked forward to the millennium, life in Therber, Texas resembled the ‘50s.

Bobbie Sue’s fifteenth birthday unwrapped a king-sized box of admirers. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so she accommodated everyone. Bobbie Sue was a five-foot-five blonde, bubbly, blue-eyed Southern Belle, and a favorite with the boys of Therber.

The fact that she was naïve and sheltered was a bonus.

“I’m glad it works,” Bobbie Sue twinkled at each of them. “See y’all this weekend!”

Three dates per week was all Bobbie Sue could manage since Sunday was the Lord’s day, and she wasn’t allowed to date on school nights.

Her family attended the Therber Revivalist Church with Pastor Evans. She was raised to be a good Christian, and was taught that women were subservient. Her mother, Betty Jean, was a housewife. Neither woman questioned her position.

The Bible also taught chastity because sex was a sin, aside from procreation. Self-pleasure was considered sex and therefore a no-no. As such, Bobbie Sue was a virgin even to herself.

Even though the boys knew the religious rules, it didn’t stop them from trying. No one made it past first base with Bobbie Sue, though.

* * * *

The end of Bobbie Sue’s three-date weekends coincided with Mason Rhett Evans, Jr.’s decision to prey upon her.

Mason, Pastor Evans, Sr.’s adopted son, cited chapter and verse to support his desires. He was manipulative, cunning and horny yet understood appearances and the importance of maintaining them. Consequently, his indiscretions always took place outside of county lines.

Mason was adopted on his fifth birthday, November 10, 1987. To his adopted mother, Eva Mae, he was God’s punishment for her inability to reproduce. She carried her shame in silence. Mason knew how she really felt, however, since he overheard his parents during the first week in his new home.

“Perhaps his middle name can be different,” Eva Mae softly suggested.

“Eva,” Mason, Sr. called her when he was upset, “I’m the one who gets to rename him. Since he’s my son, he’ll have my name.”

“Yes, but I just thought--”

“You won’t speak to me about this again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, dear.”

From that point, Eva Mae outwardly assumed the role of doting and caring mother. Young Mason was the only one who had any inkling of the truth, since Mason, Sr. believed Eva Mae dutifully obeyed him.

The newly-named Mason Rhett Evans, Jr. swelled with pride when Mason, Sr. claimed him as his own. That pride collided with the skepticism he had learned in five years of foster homes, and he couldn’t help feeling hurt when he overheard snippets at church and family functions:

“Didja hear the preacher had t’adopt?”

“Bless his heart.”

“...gave ‘im his own name...”

“Eva Mae can’t have no kids.”

“Made ‘im a junior!”

“...nothin’ wrong with adoptin’ BUT...”

Young Mason vowed to prove his worth by surpassing his father’s greatness.

Eva Mae also made a vow: Despite doctor’s orders, she’d get pregnant.

A few months later, after Mason, Jr. was put to bed, Eva Mae told her husband the good news. A loud argument ensued, during which Mason yelled, “Eva! this was not your decision to make. You know what the doctors said.”

Hormonally charged, she yelled back, “I want to have a real baby, Mason!”

Mason, Sr. glanced at his namesake in the doorway. When their eyes met, the boy wet his pajama bottoms. He silently watched his father rinse his pants. The sting of Eva Mae’s exclamation solidified young Mason’s determination to show her up.

But he never got the chance.

Eva Mae’s pregnancy was a battle. Separated from her lifetime dosage of epilepsy medicine, Eva Mae’s body became unpredictable. Hormones on top of withdrawal coupled with seizures catapulted her into an early delivery, which ended in death for both.

Chapter 3

With Eva Mae gone and Mason, Sr. as the pastor, young Mason grew up in church. To gain a broader perspective on God, he was sent to Bible camps. The boy shared his learning with Mason, Sr., who was proud of his son.

One September Sunday, Mason, Sr. paused his preaching to regard his congregation. The adults politely waited for him to continue. The teenagers, however, were visibly bored and irritated. On impulse, he switched courses.

“It brings me pleasure to relive the Bible through my son’s eyes. If you’d indulge me, I’d like to bring Young Mason to the pulpit and have him share a story.”

All eyes shifted to the eight-year-old Mason when he rose from the front-row pew and confidently ascended the pulpit. Some of the older members were affronted. Some of the parents were amused. All of the teenagers were interested.

Mason strutted to his father, tugged his coattail, and beckoned him closer. “Which story d’ya want me t’tell ‘em?”

A lighthearted murmur spread through the nave. Mason, Sr. smiled warmly as he answered, “How about that one you told me about Noah?”

“Oh! That’s a good one, Dad!”

A nervous giggle rippled upon hearing their preacher addressed as “Dad” during a Sunday sermon.

Young Mason climbed onto a chair to reach the mic. Before speaking, he floated his eyes over his audience. Each congregant felt personally welcomed by his innocent gaze, and the laughter faded.

Young Mason cleared his throat just like his dad.

“I know y’all know I’ve been t’Bible camps my whole life.” There were smiles and head nods. “Well, I was jis tellin’ Dad ‘bout what I learned last month in Arkansas. There’s a great pastor there, Pastor Don. And his whole lesson was about how great Noah is because he remembered all them animals durin’ a terrible time.”

The more Young Mason spoke, the more he inspired. His father watched the faces of the congregation. Young Mason didn’t only connect with the youth; he captivated the adults, too.

The boy spoke about the animal refuge Pastor Don had established. The impromptu preacher tied his story to the Bible and concluded with how amazing God is.

Mason, Sr. took a step to reclaim his pulpit but his son’s story continued with, “And that’s why I’d like t’start a refuge right here in Therber!”

The congregation clapped. Mason, Sr. clapped with them, then placed his son on the ground, motioned toward the pew, and adjusted the microphone. The clapping continued.

Planning to finish his own sermon, Mason had to recalculate. “Yes, thank you to Young Mason for sharing his story. I was as fascinated as you, and I’m happy to see y’all embrace his idea as well. We’ll form a committee to begin this here endeavor with, hopefully, help from our younger brothers and sisters in the Lord.” Teenagers’ heads nodded.

The refuge was young Mason’s first taste of the Bible’s power. He’d merely shared a Bible story and got what he wanted. PDNAAR, pronounced “padnar”, was formed, and stood for: Pastor Don’s Noah’s Ark Animal Rescue.

Mason, Sr. began to feature his son in weekly sermons. He called them, “A Minute with Mason”, and they became a hit. Attendance began to rise with the previously dwindling teenage population as well as some wayward elders.

* * * *

From his first taste of preaching, Mason was hooked. He learned that by espousing God’s words, he could get what he wanted. As such, he incorporated Bible quotes in everyday life.

During mealtime at a Bible camp, Mason and another camper reached for the last piece of bread. Mason quickly said, “Do not neglect t’do good, for such sacrifices are pleasin’ t’God.”

The camper happily relinquished the bread. Pastor Don, however, intervened, “Chapter and verse, Mason?”

“Hebrews, 13:16.”

“Very good. But did ya perhaps omit a few words?”

Another camper rushed to say, “Hebrews, 13:16 states, ‘do not neglect t’do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasin’ t’God.’”

“That’s right, Joe. Don’t forget to share, Mason,” Pastor Don taught.

“Yes, Pastor Don.” Mason tried to look innocent as he handed the camper half of the bread, despite his omission being intentional.

Joe Marshall and a few other boys from Therber had traveled with Mason to meet Pastor Don and learn about creating a refuge. Joe was short, pudgy and pale, and had a hard time fitting in. He thought that correcting Mason would improve his social standing at camp and back home.

Later that same night, though, Mason poured water in Joe’s bed. In the morning, Mason pointed to Joe and screamed, “Look, everyone! Joe wet his bed! He looks jis like a soggy marshmallow!” The boys chanted, “Marshmallow!” and the name stuck.

Even though it was Bible camp, they were still young boys. They were pillars of sympathy around elders but, socially, Marshmallow’s life was ruined.

* * * *

After that time, Mason learned to be more precise with his Bible quoting. He switched to Luke, 6:38, “Give, and it will be given to you.” It left no confusion as to who should receive. He also discovered that the more authoritative he sounded, the quicker the person responded. Plus, he was at Bible camp, and everyone wanted to have a one-up with God.

Just like “A Minute with Mason” grew in Therber, it also became the talk of the camp crowd. Mason was asked to “give a minute” at Bible camp, thereby exalting him amongst his fellow campers. Kids willingly gave things to him and wanted to be around him.

The power was as seductive as the popularity.

When he was twelve, Mason swapped culinary treats for bodily ones. Emma was that year’s popular babe at Bible camp. Mason invited her for a walk to discuss the Bible. Emma accepted.

He walked her into the woods and found seclusion near a hollowed-out tree. “I think somethin’ didn’t agree with me at lunch.” Mason used a phrase he’d heard from adults, but he lied as an excuse to stop.

“Oh no! Should I go back t’camp and get the nurse?” She felt his forehead like her mother did when she was sick.

“I don’t wanna trouble her. I usually get better after restin’ a bit. Will ya join me?” He patted the ground next to him and looked up with his best sick look.

“Sure, if y’think it’ll help.”

“We can try.” When Emma took a seat, Mason asked, “What’d ya think of my ‘Minute’ yesterday?”

When Emma gushed praise, he said, “Ya don’t hafta say nice stuff to me jis cuz I’m sick, Emma.”

“I’m not. I don’t lie, Mason Evans!”

“Okay, well, ya know, it’s hard to tell the liars from the reals, ya know?”

“Liars?”

“Yeah, since I get so much attention from the elders, everyone wants t’be my friend. But I dunno if they like me or just think they should like me, ya know?”

“Oh,” her face softened. “I never done looked at it like that. I’m sorry, Mason.”

Mason’s stomach flipped but it had nothing to do with food. He felt the same as when he fished and sensed a fish was about to bite. “Thanks, Emma. I think I know what’d help me know the difference.” He peeked at her.

“What? I wanna prove I’m not a liar.”

“Well, maybe if ya did somethin’ t’me that you’ve never done t’anyone else, that’d prove it.”

“Like what?” Emma scrunched her face.

Mason pretended to think then pretended to look shocked.

“What?” she asked again.

“Oh, um, no, it’s nothin’.”

“No, tell me. Please, Mason?” she sing-songed.

“Naw, ya won’t do it.”

“I will, I promise I’ll do anythin’ t’prove I’m not lyin’.”

“Lift up your shirt.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, see? I knew it. You can go back. I’ll be right better in a while.”

Emma looked at him. “No, I know you’re sick. Plus, ya confided in me. I said I’d do anythin’... and I get why y’asked.”

She clutched the bottom of her T-shirt and slowly dragged it up. Mason sensed the movement but didn’t look.

“Lookie,” she said softly.

Mason looked up with his practiced poker face. “Yeah, well, how can I be sure ya don’t do this t’every boy in Bible camp?”

Emma’s eyes grew wide, and she forgot to drop her shirt. Mason got an eyeful and tried not to stare. “But--how--I mean--”

“Lookit, forget it. I mean, the only way ya can prove it t’me now is t’do somethin’ that’s completely outta the question, and somethin’ I couldn’t never ask ya t’do.” He looked pointedly in her eyes.

“Tell me, Mason. Please. I wanna do it.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t go against God.”

“Mason, ya hafta tell me.”

“Okay. If I was askin’ ya, which I’m not, it’d be to do somethin’ I know ya never done with anyone before. I know ya haven’t cuz you’re a woman a God, Emma.”

It was the first time anyone had ever called her a woman. She was fourteen, two years older than Mason, but hardly a woman.

“But it’d be t’take off your bra.” Mason said it matter-of-factly, shrugged and shook his head. “Let’s just head back.” Mason moved to get up.

“No, wait.” Mason froze. Emma took off her T-shirt and removed her bra. Mason busted a seam but maintained a plaintive face. “Now d’y’believe me?”

Mason shrugged as he allowed his eyes to drop.

Emma pushed. “There can’t be no question if’n I let ya...” She grabbed Mason’s hand and put it on one of her nubile bumps.

Even though it was Mason’s first sexual anything, his focus had prevented an erection. But the unexpected twist had him pitching a tent. His fingers automatically squeezed, and she sighed. “Ya can kiss me, Mason.”

God was forgotten in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. He leaned in and planted a slurpy kiss on Emma’s mouth, which spilled onto her cheeks. He groped her with both hands and tried to remember every detail for his late-night solo encounters.

When they came up for air, Emma eyed his tent. “I can take care a that for ya, if’n you’d like.”

“Wh--um, how--uh--”

Emma pulled on his zipper, and, before Mason could fully process what was going on, she had his tent pole in her mouth. Mason erupted immediately. Emma sat back and grinned.

“We need t’get back,” Mason mumbled.

* * * *

In Therber, Mason was regarded as the second coming. He continued his sixty-second preaching and oversaw PDNAAR. No one suspected he was anything but pure. Young Mason reached six-four by the time he was fourteen; the same time he started shaving. His height, brown hair and brown eyes contrasted sharply with his father’s, who stood five-ten with blond hair and blue eyes.

His looks, acclaim and confidence yielded a foreboding aura, and no one challenged the boy’s heritage again.

But Mason wasn’t satisfied. His desire to outdo his dad lurked. He didn’t have all the answers as a teenager, but he knew that all good things came to those who waited. In the meantime, he turned his attentions to the fairer sex.

He kept track of how many times he lured religious-claiming girls into sins of the flesh versus pretending the girls were the ones to steal his innocence. Both scenarios morphed declarations of “I’m a good girl, and I trust in the Lord” into “Omigod, you’re huge!”

His numerous out-of-county experiences taught Mason how to deflower the most devoted of God’s followers by curbing his excitement, pushing slowly and/or pumping halfway. He also learned how to “kiss within the lines” and not slobber on his companion.

By the time he was sixteen, Mason was a master of sexual technique.

But not in his home town. There, he dated by the book: asked permission, went to dinner, a movie or the zoo, and, depending on what number date it was, tried to kiss her.

Chapter 4

Bobbie Sue’s figure blossomed in high school. Every boy had a crush on her, but Mason was more amused to watch them trip over themselves than to win a date. Plus, he was sexually fulfilled elsewhere. It wasn’t until his buddies teased him that Mason rethought his stance on Bobbie Sue.

“Hey, Mace, how come you’ve never gone out with Bobbie Sue?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, how come?” the other guys parroted.

“I dunno,” Mason shrugged. When they persisted, Mason added, “I dunno, I’m busy with the church and PDNAAR”.

“Yeah, but you still date.”

“Yeah, Mace.”

“I don’t date girls who say yes t’everyone,” Mason countered.

“How come?”

“Yeah.”

Mason opened his mouth to tell them how easy it would be to make Bobbie Sue put out but realized he couldn’t. So he deflected, “I dunno, what’s the big deal?”

His friends floundered before Mike asked, “Didja ever ask her and she said no?”

“No!”

His friends began to tease relentlessly. “Mason was rejected!”

Mason bristled, “Fine! I’ll go on a date with Bobbie Sue! Satisfied?”

That night, he considered how to ask Bobbie Sue out. He’d purposefully dated local girls whom he didn’t want to have sex with. That way, he wasn’t ever tempted to go against his principles of hometown mischief.

But Bobbie Sue was hot.

* * * *

“Hey, Bobbie Sue.”

“Hiya, Mason!”

It was Friday afternoon after school. Mason was at Bobbie Sue’s locker under the guise of speaking to others.

“Mike, y’gonna be at PDNAAR tomorrow? A bitch is gonna be deliverin’.”

“Hell ya!” Mike coughed. “I mean, sure thing, Mace.”

Out of his periphery, Mason saw Bobbie Sue blush. He’d counted on that reaction.

“Hey, 49ers pick twenty-sixth in the first round, dude!” Mike boasted.

“Yeah, but the Cowboys don’t need to pick until the third!”

The two had an ongoing fight over which team was the best, and Mike always went against the Cowboys. “All the good ones’ll be gone by then.”

“We’ll see. See ya t’morrow, then, Mike.”

“See ya, Mace--well, see ya at the game t’night.”

“You know it.” Mason watched Mike walk away. They were both on the football team, and Bobbie Sue was a cheerleader. Mason turned to her and faked embarrassment. “Aw, man, I’m sorry, Bobbie Sue. It’s jis what we call them female dogs and all.” He flashed a guilty grin.

“I know. S’okay.” She grinned back.

“So, like, what’re ya doin’ after the game, wanna go out?”

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