Case of the Cocked Hand

For those of you who have read any of my previous stories you know they are not just paragraph after paragraph of sex, there actually is a story. I won’t vouch for how good the story is, that is for you to decide. But if you are looking for constant sex you should return to the main page now so you won’t be disappointed.

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I was cold and uncomfortable, but mostly just bored. I’ve been sitting on the ground, just inside the tree line, overlooking a wide expanse of pasture spreading out below me since late afternoon. A quick look at my watch showed it was just past 4 AM now. Behind me a mountain gradually climbed several thousand feet. It was August, and damn hot during the day, but I was high enough in altitude here that it could get very chilly at night. When I got here it was pretty hot so I left my jacket in the jeep. Not one of my brighter moves.

I was a good ten miles out of town. Dan Jennings has a nice spread here. In fact he has the largest ranch in the county, but this part of it is quite a distance from his ranch house; which partially explained why I was stuck out here. He has been losing several head of cattle every week for the last couple of months. He and his four sons had tried to catch the rustler but every time they staked out a pasture no one showed up, or a couple head would disappear from another herd.

He finally called the sheriff Monday morning and the sheriff called me Monday afternoon. I am the low man on the totem pole around here so his plan fell on me. But to be fair, I would have ended up with it anyway. I man the sheriff’s substation here so it was in my territory. The nearest deputy to me was a good twenty miles south. This part of the country is pretty sparsely populated. My town has barely fifteen hundred people, a movie theatre with one screen; a couple of diners, a few bars and a relatively clean motel provided all our entertainment. We were too small to have a police department so I was it. The downtown area was about eight blocks long with the usual small businesses a small town like ours needed. A state highway ran through the middle of the downtown to provide us with some connection to the rest of the world.

I shifted my legs around trying to get my right leg straight. Eight months ago I was still in the Army and the personnel carrier I was riding in through Ghazni, Afghanistan took a hit from a RPG and left me with a leg peppered with shrapnel. It helped me decide to leave the Army at the end of my tour, and for the last eight months I had been making a steady recovery to my old self but my leg was not quite there yet. Oh, I could still walk or run fine, I passed the physical for the job, but I was left with a frequent unexplained ache.

Once I was semi-comfortable I scanned the area again. Maybe another hour and I would call it a day. There was a full moon and from here I could see the entire herd of cattle Jennings kept on this range. I wasn’t about to begin counting but there had to be over five hundred head. From where I was sitting I could easily see the two roads that angled their way here from the state highway, about two miles away. One of them eventually became the old abandoned logging road I had parked on. From my vantage point I should be able to spot anyone attempting to get to this herd.

My jeep was about a quarter mile behind me, well hidden back in the trees on that old logging road where it started to make its way up the mountain. The only people who used it any more were deer hunters. I had walked the rest of the way here. I thought it best to get here early and be out of sight in the almost non-existent case I saw someone.

I had pretty good duty here. Not much had happened in the six months since I had taken the job. I was pretty much my own boss; nothing like my experience as an MP in the army. The sheriff was stationed in the county seat, a lonely eighty-mile drive from here. I would drive over once every couple of weeks to meet with him and the other deputies and discuss the activity, or more the case, the lack of it. I had grown up here but after high school I joined the Army. My parents had moved away shortly after I left but they had kept our small house here. They thought they might use it as a summer getaway or as a rental but with my return they gave it to me. The pace here can be pretty slow but after two tours in Afghanistan I was looking forward to some peace and quiet.

After another hour passed called it a night and hoofed it back to my jeep and headed towards town. My preferred diner in town was just a block from the sheriff’s station and it was packed even at this hour. Quite a few of the local farmers and ranchers tended to get up early and come down for breakfast, or just coffee, before beginning the day’s work. I liked the crowd and usually joined in, it kept the lines of communication open, but this morning I was beat. My office had two cells and on days like this, when I did not want to go home and both cells were empty, I’d lock the door and sack out on a bunk in one of the cells.

In spite of the chill I felt up on the mountain, it was still pretty warm here in town, even at 6 AM. It was one of those weeks were it was over a 100 in the shade and only cooled off to 90 during the night. I went into the first cell, stripped, and just crashed on top of the cot. It was a short three hours later when the phone insinuated itself into my dream. It became the alarm at our base in Afghanistan warning of incoming mortar rounds. I rolled off the cot in a sweat looking for my helmet. It took a few seconds to realize where I was. I got to my feet and walked out into the main office to answer the phone.

“Sheriff’s office, how can I help you”?

“Tom, its Bill”. Bill was the sheriff. “What took you so long? The phone must have rang twenty times. Don’t you work for me any more”?

“I was outside talking to someone and just stepped in and heard it”. I was thankful I had closed the blinds when I came in this morning. I was standing in the middle of the room buck-naked. Hopefully I also remembered to lock the door. “So what’s up”?

“Check your email in a few minutes. I’m sending you a video file from a bank robbery that occurred yesterday in Magalia. I think it’s the same guy that has been hitting a bank about every three months around here for the last couple of years. It has been spread out between several counties so we did not notice the pattern at first. He’s hitting our county about once a year and I think our turn is coming up. I want him this time”.

“What’s so special about this video”?

“This is the first time we got a good look at his face”.

“Okay, I’ll watch for it. I’d better go now”. I was trying to get off the phone so I could get dressed. With my luck that door is not locked and with the closed blinds I would not have any warning until someone opened the door. And no doubt it would be one of the local mothers walking in on me with my dick hanging out. Then I’ll be known in the rumor mill as the perverted war-damaged vet.

Then Bill got my attention again, “What’s the hurry? Oh, I almost forgot, how did it go last night at the Jennings place? See anything”?

“It was one of the more boring nights of my life. I did not see a thing. I’ve got to run but I’ll watch that video as soon as it shows up”. I quickly hung up before he could get talking again.

After hanging up I checked the door, I was okay; it was locked. I went back to the cell area and showered and dressed. When I was finished I came out and began opening up shop. I opened the blinds, unlocked the door and then sat down at my laptop. I saw that I had several emails. A couple of the usual “We’ll make your penis so big you’ll need headlights”. Another from a new widow in Nigeria that needed my help transferring funds and a couple from the guys in my outfit still stationed in Afghanistan. “Incoming mail” still showed at the bottom of the window. I waited a couple of minutes but it was still ‘incoming’. It must be a pretty good-sized file. I deleted the garbage and read how things were going in Afghanistan. The file was still just a quarter done after fifteen minutes. There is no DSL in the boonies. I decided to get some breakfast and check it when I got back.

At the diner all the tables were taken but I saw Henry sitting alone in a booth by the window so I went in and joined him. He was retired now and had probably been here talking to his buddies since the sun came up. He was an old friend of my father and I had known him all my life. We had breakfast or lunch together a couple of times a week. We were chatting about nothing in particular when I looked out the window and saw a tall striking blond walk by; she looked to be in her mid-twenties, a few years younger than me. I just caught a glimpse of her face before she turned to cross the street walking away from me. She had to stop at the curb as a semi and trailer drove by on its way out of town. It was Jerry Blair, a local trucker. He left every Tuesday morning for a cross-state trip. He wouldn’t be back until Saturday night.

Henry looked up and saw me staring out the window. “Pretty isn’t she”.

“I’ll say”. It was pretty warm out already and she was wearing white shorts and a polo shirt that hugged her body, really showing off her shape. She had a nice tan; long slender legs and the shorts set them off perfectly. She had to be close to 6 foot. She was the perfect height for me. I was a bit tired of the short girls I had dated in town. Of the available girls, the tallest must be around 5’3”. Lay on top and your chest smothers them.

Henry was watching me with a smile on his face, “You don’t recognize her do you”?

“I don’t think I would forget someone who looks like her”. She had crossed the street and was now standing in front of a dress shop talking with another woman. They must be good friends, they hugged and now it looked like they were going to stop and talk for a while. “I would have remembered if I had bumped into her in the last six months. Who is she”?

“She did not always look like that. She was a bit shorter and down right skinny. Do you remember Paula Banks”?

“Yes. She was a skinny little girl who used to hang around the house making mooneyes at me back when I was in high school. Are they related”? I had not thought of her in years though I had one very distinct memory of her in the tree house in my back yard.

“You might say that, though she wasn’t that little. She was just a few years younger than you. That’s Paula”.

“Wow. She has certainly changed. Why haven’t I seen her around since I got back”?

“She comes and goes. She will be here for a week or a couple of months and then takes off and is gone for a month or so”.

I looked out the window to see her standing across the street looking my way. She gave a little wave towards me. I started to raise my hand to wave back when another truck drove up, stopped and blocked my view.

She did not look like the girl that caught me up in my tree house one afternoon jacking off while watching Mrs. Henderson nude sunbathing in her backyard. Mrs. Henderson had a high fence that blocked the view from the other houses, but up in my tree house, hidden in the leaves, you had a great view. My girl friend at the time would not do more than kiss when we made out. I relieved a lot of internal pressure those summer afternoons watching Mrs. Henderson.

The afternoon I remember I was up there naked, peeking through the leaves and beating off, just ready to cum, when I heard a voice behind me, “Whatcha’ doin”?

I about jumped out of the tree. I turned around, dick in hand, expecting to see my mother. “Nothing”, I said as low as I could. Any louder and Mrs. Henderson might hear and that would be the end of her sunbathing. Instead I saw Paula standing on the ladder, head and shoulders in the opening to the tree house looking at me. She looked down at my groin, smiled, and then climbed the rest of the way up. I froze. My clothes were behind her in on a makeshift table.

Paula spent a lot of time at our house. She lived alone with her dad a few doors down from us. Her mother had died when she was five. She was twelve and in the eighth grade now and my mother had become something of a surrogate mom to her. I was a senior in high school so of course she tried to hang around me and just as certainly I tried to stay away from her.

I don’t remember much of what we said but I do remember she walked over to where I was standing and looked through the leaves of the tree. She moved a limb and saw Mrs. Henderson. She was lying on a lawn chair without a stitch on. She must have been trying to tan the inside of her thighs, as her legs were pretty far apart. I remember her smiling when she saw what I was looking at. She turned to me. I was still holding onto my cock. She got down on her knees in front of me. “You can watch her while I take care of this”. She replaced my hand with hers and began pumping me.

I remember looking down at her. Her little hand pumping away on my cock, her face just inches away with her mouth open, breathing hard. Seeing her mouth open like that I was tempted. I had heard the other guys talking about how great it was when their girlfriends gave them a blowjob. I hadn’t got my girl friend to touch my cock, much less give me a blowjob. I put my hand behind her head and tried to give her the idea of what I wanted by pushing her mouth towards the head of my cock.

Her head moved only an inch closer before she resisted, closing her mouth tight. She looked up at me and shook her head. She seemed angry. When I moved my hand away she looked back down, continuing to jack me off. She really seemed to know what she was doing. I barely lasted a minute or so before I began squirting cum all over her t-shirt. When I was finished she pulled on my cock to get me down on the floor with her. She pulled off her now wet t-shirt, then her shorts and panties and sat down on my now wilted cock. She had decent tits for such a young girl. They were not big but really well formed. That was the closest I had ever been to bare breasts and I took a good look now that they were staring me in the face. She leaned forward and I reached out with both hands and touched her breasts, feeling the swell of them, the nipples getting hard in my fingers. She began squirming around on me, grinding my cock underneath her. I could feel myself getting hard again.

This isn’t right. She is only twelve: She’s an eight-grader, I’m a senior. What if my friends find out? I’ll never live it down. She is really good at this. Oh, I want to fuck her so bad. Is this her first time? Where did she learn this?

I watched as Paula lifted up and reached between us to grab my cock, now completely hard again. She pointed it up at her pussy and began to lower herself on me. The purple head was just touching the lips of her pussy when I heard my mom calling for me. Paula didn’t budge, whispering, “Ignore her” but I jerked my hands away from her breasts.

“I can’t. She knows I’m out here. If I don’t answer she’ll come up here and find us”.

Paula reluctantly got up. She slowly began putting her panties and shorts back on; watching my face as I stared at her body while I put my jeans on. I had a little bit of difficulty zipping my jeans. I hoped it would go down before mom saw. Paula then grabbed my t-shirt off the floor and put it on.

I think I drove mom somewhere on an errand while Paula stayed behind, leaving later so mom would not know she had been there.

I felt bad about doing that with an eight-grader so I really avoided her for the rest of the year before graduation and then leaving for the Army. I could just image the ribbing I would take from the guys if they found out, not to mention her dad. He was really protective of her. He would not let her go out with friends unless he was there.

In the time it took for that memory to flash by, the truck started moving and I could see across the street again. Paula was gone. I looked up and down the street but she was no where in sight.

“What does she do”?

“I really don’t know anymore. She keeps pretty much to herself. She was the smartest girl to come out of this town. A couple of years after she hit high school she started looking like you see her now. You were gone and in the service by then. She was in all the school plays and was quite the actress. She had a lead in a couple of Shakespeare plays. She was the Homecoming Queen her senior year and entered a number of beauty pageants. She won the county pageant and was a runner-up in the state. She was also a real brain in science. When she left for college we didn’t know if she was going to end up in Hollywood or become a scientist. I know she was studying physics or chemistry or something like that. It was some kind of science. But then the old story, she met someone at college, fell in love and got married. He was a studying to be a minister. Everyone was surprised when she dropped out and they came back here. We thought she was much too ambitious for that. He was the minister at the Methodist Church here in town for a while”.

“For a while”?

“They went on some kind of missionary trip to South America three years ago, Costa Rica I think. They were supposed to be there for a month or so but her husband got sick about a month after they got there. He had a heart attack or something and died down there”.

“Heart attack? How old was he”?

“He was a couple of years older than Paula, maybe twenty-two”.

“Wow, that’s young for a heart attack. Did he have a history of heart problems”?

“I don’t really know. We didn’t know him very well; he wasn’t here long enough. His family was from out of state. She was all alone then. Her dad died the year before in a house fire. They think he was smoking and fell asleep. I heard scuttlebutt that she had an insurance settlements of several million from the husband and her dad. I guess she can afford to travel around. I thought she might go back to school but she didn’t”.

We shot the bull for a while longer. I glanced out the window every so often but Paula did not make another appearance. Then I noticed the time. I needed to get to work. I said my goodbyes, paid my tab and made my way back to the office. I checked my email and the file was ready. I clicked on the attachment and settled in to watch the video. The resolution was pretty decent. It showed a bank lobby with no customers present. The door opened and a man walked in. He looked to be a bit taller than average, maybe 5’11 or 6 foot, and was a fairly thin, maybe 135 lbs. It was difficult to be sure about the weight because he was wearing baggy overalls. He had a small well trimmed beard and mustache, dark glasses and was wearing a fishing hat. He kept his head down so I wasn’t getting a good look at his face.

As I watched, he walked over to a teller and passed a note with his left hand. His right stayed in his pocket. The teller looked up at him quickly, then, visibly shaken, went to three stations, filling a bag with bills before returning and handing the bag to the man. The man tipped his hat to the teller and turned to walk out of the bank. I could tell the file I was watching had had been spliced together from other files because the camera angle changed. I was now watching him walk towards the door from the door camera. Just before he got to the door he stopped and looked up at the camera. He stood there for just a couple of seconds and then, with a very small smile, waved to us before walking out of the bank.

When the video reached the end it automatically looped and started over. There was something about it that that bothered me as I continued to watch. I supposed the beard and mustache could be false but I just could not put my finger on what was causing that nagging feeling. Was it someone I recognized? After the third pass the feeling was still there but just as vague. I began watching everything else, avoiding looking at the bank robber. Maybe the robber has an accomplice and that’s what I’m picking up. When nothing obvious jumped out I watched out the bank’s window, watching car and foot traffic, the reflections in the window; still nothing but that nagging feeling would not go away.

After almost two hours watching the video I finally closed it. It was time to get to work. Maybe when I look at it again later I will figure out whatever it is that is bothering me.

I finished up some paperwork, had lunch, drove around town a few times and had the rest of my day taken up working on a minor traffic accident just out of town. As it began getting dark I decided to do one last good deed. I drove a few miles out of town to a small lake, the high school kid’s favorite make-out and partying spot. I found a couple of cars parked there with a party getting ready to start. I confiscated a couple of cases of beer and sent the kids on their way.

I made my way back towards town and was about a half mile out; surrounded by English walnut orchards, when I remembered something I had seen earlier in the day. I quickly drove home, parked the jeep and switched to my Prius. Its quietness and black color would be perfect for what I wanted to do. I quickly headed back out of town and it took just a few minutes to get to the dirt road through the walnut orchards that I wanted. I left the main road, turned off my lights and drove slowly through the orchard for about a quarter mile. It was quite dark now but a partial moon gave me just enough light to find my way.

I pulled off the dirt road into the trees. About a hundred yards ahead of me I could see the lights of a single house surrounded by orchards. I reached over and turned my radio down. I did not want a call to come through alerting everyone to where I was.

I drove closer and stopped while I was still a couple of windrows in the orchard; about twenty five yards from the house. It would be almost impossible for anyone to see me here in the trees and in the dark unless they were looking for me. The house was set back from the highway several hundred feet. It was still close enough that you could hear the trucks going by.