Wholesome County: Part Four

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven

Chapter Four: Ivy

Four years on from the death of his father, and a year from that of his mother, Henry West was a man who had lost much and gained some. The old family home was gone, sold, but that didn't bother him. It was a place filled with memories of what had been, and the future was what mattered.

In his new home was his younger sister, Ivy, still grappling with those losses but on the path to recovery. She'd had it rough. Her older brother had moved away, gone on to a law degree, and spent years in a big city. Meanwhile, she'd stayed in the little town with their parents. Then, a year ago, she'd had life upended only a few years after losing her father.

Henry had taken her in, moved her out to the city with him, and there she'd spent a year growing into her adulthood. Now, she'd been upended again because of Henry, and found herself back in the small town of their childhood. Henry bore some guilt over it, of course.

The plans he'd laid with Monica to eventually come back to Wholesome County were not the sort that you dropped, even for your younger sister. They'd put too much time, too much money, and too much effort into setting up the firm here. He owed it to Monica and her father's memory to see it through, even if it meant things were tough on Ivy.

However, Ivy was resilient. She was smarter than her peers and gifted a gifted polyglot. She'd already been accepted into a good university, where she'd no doubt thrive in language and political science. This was just another bump in the road for her, Henry felt sure.

Even though he harbored guilt over it, Ivy didn't blame him. She didn't show anything but gratitude. That only made the guilt a little worse. At the same time, it made Henry grateful.

After a year in the big city, though, Ivy was not enthusiastic about moving back to Wholesome County. While she understood Henry's need for it, and was sympathetic to Monica, she'd had a taste of city life. She'd liked it.

When Henry came home this evening, it was to Ivy in the living room of the house, but she was not alone. On the couch with her was their neighbor, Stephanie. The two of them had become fast friends, much to Henry and Catarina's dislike.

It wasn't that Henry believed Stephanie was a bad person. She was certainly something of a bad influence, as well as being part of the Allen clan. However, Henry couldn't exactly tell his sister who she was allowed to befriend. Besides, Ivy would be leaving for school in a matter of months, leaving Stephanie well behind.

Still, Stephanie made him uncomfortable. She was far too flirtatious, especially toward him. Catarina didn't like her, mostly for that reason. Stephanie was also, in Henry's opinion, something of a slut. He didn't have any concrete evidence of that, and perhaps it was a case of judging a book by its cover, but he felt it in his bones.

Stephanie wore clothes that were far too small and tight for her curvy figure. Her tits were gigantic, and she flaunted them. The choice in makeup made her look like a hooker, and she cursed constantly.

How Ivy, who was Stephanie's complete opposite, could find those qualities fun and exciting, Henry didn't understand. He supposed it was just loneliness. Stephanie was right next door, and they were only a few years apart in age.

Henry glanced into the living room, drawing Stephanie and Ivy's attention.

"Hey, Mr. Henry," Stephanie said with a giggle and a wave that made her huge tits jiggle.

"Hey, girls. Cat come home yet?"

"Haven't seen her," said Ivy. "I've got dinner going in the kitchen, though."

"Thanks. I'm going to get changed and I'll take over."

"Need a hand?" Stephanie asked.

Ivy slapped her shoulder. "Quit that."

"Just being neighborly," Stephanie protested as she batted her eyes.

"Got it covered," Henry said, rolling his eyes.

"What a shame," Stephanie said as he walked away.

While Henry was changing, his wife arrived, opening the bedroom door. She wore a frown.

"She's here again?" Catarina said, shutting the door.

Henry shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Ivy likes her."

"I know. She's just… she gives me the creeps."

Henry paused with his shirt half-on and whistled as his wife unbuttoned her blouse.

"See something you like?" Cat asked as she undid the buttons and bit her lip.

"I see a whole lot that I love," Henry said. "What do you say we skip dinner and just get to desert?"

"Tempting. We can't let Ivy's work go to waste, though."

Henry sighed. "Right. We all make sacrifices."

Soon, they were gathered around the dinner table. Catarina pasted on a facade when Stephanie joined them.

"You guys don't mind Stephanie staying for dinner, right?" Ivy asked. "She helped."

"Of course, not," Cat said.

They dug into the food in silence for several minutes before Catarina asked, "Stephanie, has Bill talked with you, yet?"

"Bill? No. Should he?"

"He said you were running the reception desk at one of his offices until recently."

"Oh, yeah. He shut down the office. Kinda sucked. I liked talking to the people that came in. It gets boring staying at home all the time."

"Would you like another job?" Catarina asked.

Henry raised a brow in surprise.

"A job?" asked Stephanie.

"Bill said he'd talk to you tonight, but since you're here, I'll just get it out. I need a receptionist for my office. He recommended you. If you'd like the job, I'll hire you on a trial basis."

"Well, shit," Stephanie said. "That's pretty fucking sweet of you, Kitty."

Cat frowned, saying, "But you'll have to watch your language in the office. And please don't call me Kitty."

"Yeah, sure. I'm like a total professional at the office. Sure. I'll take the desk."

"Of course, I don't have a lot of clients yet. Well, none, actually. I expect that will change quickly, though."

"Hell, yeah," Stephanie agreed. "You're like totally hot. Dudes would much rather buy from you than fucking Bill."

Ivy laughed. Henry said, "She's got a point there."

"Hopefully they'll realize I have actual talent," Cat mumbled.

Stephanie, with a mouthful of food, said, "Well, if it goes sideways, you could always be like a model."

"Ugh. Did that for a bit already. It's a misogynistic shit show. I'd rather be my own boss, thank you."

"Total girl boss," Stephanie said. "I dig it. Me, I'm not getting by on much but my rack."

Catarina choked on her food. Ivy laughed.

"I'm sure you have other skills you can cultivate," Henry said.

"Oh, yeah! I can totally speak French now, thanks to Ivy. Aimez-vous mes seins?"

Henry cocked a brow. Ivy groaned.

"And that means?" Catarina asked.

Stephanie laughed and said, "Do you like my boobs?"

Ivy blushed as Catarina flashed a disapproving frown.

"Oh, don't get your panties twisted, Kit—Cat. I made her do it. Just a little fun."

"Glad to see you're putting your superpower to good use," Henry grumbled.

"Maybe you can leave the French at home when you come to work?" Catarina suggested.

"Oh, yeah. The only language I speak at the desk is money. Big fuckin' bucks, babe. You just wait and see. I bounce these girls a little bit and you'll have clients beating down your door harder than they beat their meat."

She jiggled her huge tits for unnecessary emphasis. Under the table, Henry squeezed his wife's leg gently. Cat pursed her lips, drew a breath, and said, "Well, I'll do my best to teach you some other useful skills. You don't want people thinking you got ahead just because you're pretty, or because your family has money, right?"

"Aw! You think I'm pretty? Thanks, doll. It doesn't bother me. Thanks, though."

Ivy, squirming in her seat, changed the topic. "Are Leah and Nisrin in town yet?"

Henry nodded. "Got in today. They're probably still at the office setting up."

"What kind of name is Nisrin?" Stephanie asked.

"They're my paralegals," Henry explained. "Leah's Jewish. Nisrin's Palestian."

"Don't they like hate each other?"

"It's not black and white," Henry said. "They love each other, so they came here to escape all the old country nonsense."

"Love? Like they're totally lezzing off together?" Stephanie asked, wide-eyed.

Catarina frowned.

"They're… in a relationship," Henry said. "And it's not really your business, is it?"

Stephanie shrugged. "Nah. I'm not like afraid of lesbians or anything. I like girls sometimes. Not a big deal."

Catarina pushed her chair back and said, "I think I'm going to have a shower. I'll see you in the morning, Stephanie. Bill and I are going over plats, and he said he'd bring you in with him."

Stephanie saluted, saying, "Bright and early, boss lady. I'll give him a call."

"Think I'll call it a night, too," Henry said. "Dinner was great. Thanks."

Once the couple were upstairs, Catarina sat heavily on the bed, saying, "I can't believe I agreed to hire her."

Henry sat with her and put an arm around her. "Well, you did say trial, right? You can always let her go after a few days."

"Small town politics, honey," Catarina said. "I'll have to come up with a real reason she doesn't work out. Unless you want to offend the Allens?"

"I could give a shit about offending the Allens. Them and the Anders can rot in hell. I get what you're saying, though. We're not in a strong position, yet."

"Hopefully she sucks at her job."

Henry kissed her neck and said, "I'll tell you someone who sucks, but not at their job."

Catarina sighed and patted his leg. "Sorry. Not really in the mood after that. Raincheck?"

"Raincheck," Henry agreed.

Chapter Five: George

George Allen had a hard dick. As the mayor of the town, and with a stable of ready sluts at his disposal, he had numerous options where to put that hard dick. There was, however, a preferred set of holes George had come to enjoy.

In his youth, young George Allen had been a rising athletic star. Girls in school had swooned over him, and he was a sure bet to be a folk hero when he went away to college. In some respects, he was still a folk hero, though not for his athleticism.

In his graduation year, George had experienced love, followed by tragedy. He'd inherited his family's significant holdings, though the inheritance came at the cost of his parents' lives. It was only the love that bore him through that tough time.

Thanks to Lola's attentiveness, George had come through those times a better man. There were those in town that labeled him a pervert, patriarchal scum, or a demon. Those voices were few these days, but in those early years there had been many.

None of them was so loud as the pastor of the community's largest church, a man whose name resembled his bearing. Bear Briant was, himself, something of a town legend. He'd been a menace on the football field with his tank-like form. They called him The Wall. Bear, however, had no desire for athletic fame. Bear was a man of God.

He turned down offers for collegiate scholarship, opting to stay in his small town and shepherd souls. When young George Allen grew older, and began a push into local politics, Bear and his group of Jesus freaks became his wall. The much-beloved pastor preached against ungodly perverts from his pulpit, and that his sermons were directed at George Allen and his ilk was thinly veiled.

George, though, was now a man of prominence in other ways. He held a position as head of the County Farmer's Cooperative. While rewards in the afterlife were what mattered to some, feeding their earthly families was of greater immediate concern.

When George ran for the office of mayor, Bear stepped out of the pulpit and challenged him on the campaign trail. Small town politics was not won with TV ads or flyers. It was won in the churches, the taverns, and over dinners in dining rooms. Bear and George were near equals in this regard.

Bear, while he had God on his side, did not have what George did. George had Lola. For all the popular pastor's preachings, even with all his faith, he could not match Lola's poisons. Soon, the only candidate left in the race was George, while Bear was sent to the Lord he loved so much.

It was a shock to the small town and the surrounding county. The suddenness of it, however, was not what drew suspicion. Suspicion came when in the following weeks, when George took office, and several other prominent detractors suffered the same fate.

Amanda Briant, Godly woman that she was, decried George as the devil. She railed against Lola, calling her a witch. The townspeople, though, were now moving on. George was the most powerful man in the county. They'd seen what happened to those who challenged him, and it was not long before opposition fell silent.

Amanda, however, did not stay silent. She withdrew from town for a period of years, while George consolidated his hold. Still, she never let the suspicion go. George and Lola were to blame for her husband's death, and not even God himself could persuade her otherwise.

It followed, then, that George decided to put an end to her ramblings. It was not through poison of the kind that had silenced her husband, though. No. George's greatest opponent's family needed to suffer. They needed humiliation, degradation, and to be brought so low that few would even regard them as human.

George's favorite holes for his hard dick were now the wife and youngest daughter of his former opponent. Lola's concoctions, potent though they were, had met their match with Amanda Briant. Whether it was truly the Lord on her side, or simply a wailing widows true love for her husband, George was never certain. In the end, however, it was Lola and George who emerged triumphant.

The former pastor's wife, once a stuffy prude, was now looked upon with ridicule and disdain by the townsfolk. She dressed worse than a prostitute, acted out in ways a slut would be ashamed of, and uttered such filth that even retired sailors covered their ears. George was looked upon as a hero for even going near her, much less impregnating the woman several times over.

She'd gone mad, people said. Losing Bear had broken her mind. It was only through George's generosity that she didn't turn to a life of drugs and hooking. In some ways, they were right. Amanda had gone mad. She had been broken. Though it was not purely loss that had done it. It was Lola.

Though he was a man in his fifties, George had no trouble with hard-ons. They came virtually at will. Today, as on so many other days, he pushed open the door to Amanda's house and let himself inside.

His brain-fucked sextoy was on the living room couch, with her legs spread and fingers up her cunt. The absence of the children indicated they were napping. It was a good time. However, George was not interested in Amanda's much-fucked slut hole today. Today he was in the mood for something a bit fresher.

"White Daddy!" Amanda cried as she fingered her cunt. "You bring me that big old dick to suck on?"

"Where's Grace?" George asked.

"Is that White Daddy?" Grace called as she waddled down the steps.

"There's Daddy's little fuck hole," George said, beaming as his latest breeding cow slowly made her way toward him.

Grace kissed him on the lips before George sat her on the couch and pulled out his cock. The pregnant eighteen-year-old began to suck, moaning as she did.

"I heard some folks saw Monica in town?" George asked Amanda. "Is that true? Is she back?"

"Yes, Daddy," Amanda said as she looked hungrily at his cock in her daughter's mouth. "She came here. We tried to get her to stay but she done run off like a scared rabbit."

"No coincidence," George said. "Henry West is here, too, opening a law firm in town. No need for you to worry about that, my dumb little slut. Don't you worry. I'm going to make sure Monica comes home and joins her loving family."

"Thank you, Daddy," Amanda said.

George sighed, put his hand on Grace's head, and pushed it down to his nuts. He held it there, relishing the feel of her throat around his cock. It would be so good to finally have Monica as another breeding cow. So good, indeed.

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