Big Johnson Trucing

Thursday May 21, 2020

The next morning Rig woke early. He groaned miserably as he looked at the clock on his nightstand. Five o'fuckingclock early, for some strange reason. He felt pressure in his groin and looked down. He had the biggest god damned boner he'd ever had in his life. Deciding to see if he could take care of it himself, for once, he started stroking it with lazy up and down strokes with a slight twist at the head before going back down. After ten minutes of that with no relief in sight, he gave up. What the hell is wrong with me? He thought. It's been two fucking years and I can't even seem to jerk off properly anymore.

He tried to get back to sleep but that wasn't happening. So, he dragged himself out of bed and hit the shower. He tried to ignore his erection as he washed himself but that wasn't going to work, either, so he braved cold water directly on his crotch. He hated taking cold showers and to top it all off he had to piss so bad it hurt. But, he couldn't pee because of this goddamn man sausage sticking straight up in the air! The cold water began to work its magic and as his dick started to go soft, he let loose a stream of piss that could knock a tick off a dog's ass at thirty feet. It was that powerful. Damn, I haven't gotten a morning boner that hard since before... His thoughts trailed off and that, apparently, had finished the job of calming his raging libido.

He got out of the shower, brushed his teeth, and got ready for the day. What he was going to do for the next hour and a half he had no clue, but he'd figure something out he supposed. He checked his cell phone but there were no messages, which was a good thing. Overnight messages from his drivers meant there was something wrong. He preferred not to hear from them at all. Not that he minded talking to them. He was just always of the mindset of not having someone looking over your shoulder while you worked. So, he didn't want to seem that way to his drivers, and they seemed to be just fine with it.

He made his way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and scrounge up a little breakfast. That done, he went to his office and powered up his computer. He checked his email, remembering that Lance was supposed to give him Jasmine's contact info, but it wasn't there. Sure enough, it was in his spam folder. His email client had redirected it to his spam folder because apparently Lance's email address was recognized as potentially a "phishing" scam. Whatever the hell that was. Ugh, technology. He hated it. Although, in this day and age it was necessary.

He entered Jasmine's contact info in his cell phone then got back up and went for another cup of coffee. Why was he so tired all of a sudden? He better not be getting sick. It had been a long day yesterday. Maybe that was it.

He got back to his office, took a long sip of his coffee then sat back in his chair and relaxed. He quickly took care of the financial issues for Thomas and, that done, wondered what to do next, when the phone rang. He hadn't realized what time it was. He looked at the Caller ID and saw that it was Lance's number. Was it seven already? He looked at the clock as his hand went for the receiver. Sure enough, seven o'clock on the dot. Lance was serious about this, alright. "Good morning Lance."

"What? No Big-"

"That'll do, Lance." Rig brusquely cut him off. "Business hours don't start until eight. Jasmine on?"

"Right here." Said a feminine voice. There was something innocently erotic about the sound of those two benign words that came from that voice. Slightly breathy and somewhat sultry, yet confident. His cock twitched slightly at the sound. "Hello, Mr. Johnson." Butterflies started fluttering around in his chest. That voice was all too familiar. Only one woman had a voice that sounded like that, and she had been gone for two years now.

Rig cleared his throat. "Hello, Jasmine," he replied. "And please, call me Rig. Mr. Johnson is my father."

"How utterly cliché," Lance mumbled.

Rig ignored the comment. Lance seemed to be in a mood this morning. "So, Jasmine, has your dad filled you in on what we came up with, yet?"

"Only that I'm staying with you." She replied. "He hasn't told me much else. He's being very...secretive."

"That's because he doesn't know much else, do you Lance?" Rig couldn't resist the jibe.

"Well," Lance started, "somebody was too busy last night to give me any more details than I got. So, sue me," he grumbled.

"Juuust consider it payback." Rig said, lightheartedly. "Now we're even."

"I'm confused," Jasmine stated.

"Don't worry about it, honey," Lance said quickly. "Inside joke from back in the day."

"Now I'm intrigued." She replied, mischievously.

"Well, get unintrigued, then," Lance retorted.

"That's not even a word, Daddy," Jasmine quipped.

"It is now," Lance stated, flatly, then abruptly changed the subject. "So, Rig, what have you come up with?"

Rig finished chuckling at their banter before replying. "Well, as I said she can stay here. I've got four bedrooms that are not getting any use at all. Besides, it'll be good to have another person in the house after..." He trailed off. "Anyway," he cleared his throat, getting back on track, "she'll stay with me. Lance, you keep your money. Jasmine, you'll pay me a small percentage of your weekly paycheck for rent and, essentially, mi casa es su casa. Comprende?"

"What!?!?" Jasmine gasped.

"Seriously!?" Lance asked, incredulously.

"Seriously," stated Rig. "It's the least I can do for an old friend, regardless of how we parted ways. But listen, I looked at a couple of places yesterday. One of them should be condemned and the other, well, I don't think it would be a good fit for a college student."

"Why not?" Jasmine asked, genuinely curious.

"Well," Rig explained, "the outside was crappy looking and while the inside wasn't as bad as I expected it to be from looking at the outside, there's not a lot of space."

"I don't need much space," Jasmine stated, matter of factly.

"Maybe not." Rig countered. "But there's no WiFi and the cell signal is virtually nonexistent."

"Oh, fuck that!" Jasmine cursed.

"Language, Jaz!" Lance chided.

"Oh, stop it, Daddy." Jasmine retorted. "I've heard worse come out of your mouth when you'd come home late drunk off your ass and couldn't find your bed to save your life. Besides, I'm an adult and I'll speak how I want. I don't cuss very often anyway."

"Aaaanyway," Rig cut in before they went at each other over the phone. "I kind of figured you wouldn't like that, Jasmine. Besides, Lance, it's practically out in the middle of nowhere. The nearest neighbor is a mile or more away."

"You're right, Rig," Lance said, now agreeing with them. "It's not a good fit for my little girl."

"Uh, huh. Thought so," said Rig. "Now, when can you come up to help Jasmine move?"

"Actually, I'm on my way now," Lance said. "I should be there around three this afternoon."

"Good," Rig said, pleased that Lance was taking the initiative. "Jasmine, when can you come down and pick out your room?"

"Daddy?" She asked. Rig smiled. She may be an adult now but it was a hard habit to break to get away from checking with the 'rents.

"Your call, Princess," Lance said. "As you said, you're an adult now."

"Um," she hesitated. "I can be down there at around noon? I want to eat before I come and my professor won't post our final grades until ten. I'm as nervous as a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I'm doing worse in this class than all the rest so I'm worried my GPA will drop."

"To what?" Lance asked. "A three point nine-nine??"

"Daddy!" Jasmine exclaimed, embarrassedly.

"I'm just saying, kiddo," Lance gushed as a proud father should. "You're at the top of your class. You're smarter and more talented than anyone I know, and I'm not saying that just because I'm your father. But nobody is perfect. It won't be the end of the world if you don't have a four-point oh. I've always told you that as long as you tried your best, that's good enough for me."

Jasmine was silent so Rig took the advantage to offer her a deal. "Tell you what, Jasmine. You come down immediately after you get your grades and lunch is on me. Deal? I'll treat you to the best burger in the county."

"Um," she said, hesitantly, "I...I'm a vegetarian."

"Okay then," Rig countered, "the best Boca burger in the county."

"Ummm, okay," she said. "If you're sure." Rig wondered where this sudden reluctance was coming from. She was all fired up earlier.

"Awesome," Rig said. "Your dad gave me your number already so I'll text you the address to the house and the burger joint in town. You just let me know where you'd like to go first when you get here."

"That...sounds like a plan." She said, confidence seeming to return to her words.

"Great," Rig replied. "I'll talk to you later, then. Just text me when you're on your way and I'll see you then. Don't text while driving, though," Rig cautioned.

"I won't, Rig," she stated. "Bye. Bye Daddy."

"Bye, sweet-...huh. Didn't even wait for a reply before she hung up." Lance mused.

"Huh," Rig said. "We have that in common, at least." He promptly hung up the phone. He barely heard Lance's groaned, "Oh, come ooonn!" before the receiver hit the cradle. He grabbed his cell and quickly texted Jasmine the info as he laughed to himself, then picked up the phone again. He had one more phone call to make before he decided to try to get a couple more hours of sleep.

At just past ten, his phone lit up and the theme song from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly caressed his eardrums. He loved that movie. His favorite by far of Clint Eastwood's movies. He loved John Wayne but nobody could top Clint. It was a text from Jasmine. She had passed her class, of course, and even though it wasn't the grade she hoped for, it wasn't low enough to affect her GPA. She said she'd come to the house and she'd be there in twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes later Rig heard a car door shut, so he started walking towards the front door. The doorbell rang just as he reached it. He opened the door to greet Jasmine and when he saw her, his heart stopped. His breath caught. He lost control of his body as it went rigid from shock. His eyes were wide as saucers as he took her in. The girl that stood before him with a tentative smile on her face looked back with a slight tinge of worry as Rig stood open-mouthed, and stared.

She was about five foot, five inches tall and had fiery red hair with orange highlights pulled back into a ponytail that ran the length of her back, evenly spaced forest green eyes that stood out in intoxicating contrast to her hair, and a cute button nose on a face peppered with light, reddish-brown freckles. Her jawline was well defined and her luscious, plump lips puckered out slightly as her worry increased. She wore a simple green t-shirt that matched her eyes perfectly and was just tight enough to accentuate her small, pert breasts.

He noticed the freckles that peppered her face traveled down her arms and neck and disappeared into her shirt. She wore no bra and he could see her stiff nipples trying desperately to poke through the fabric. She had on a pair of tight, Capri-style jeans that clung to narrow hips and clasped at the waist of an almost perfect hourglass figure, with toned legs slightly longer than her torso. Pastel pink ankle socks disappeared inside a pair of pink Nike running shoes.

He couldn't help but linger a bit too long at the thigh gap between her legs. By the time he looked back up at her eyes, he noticed the light pink flush that had crossed her neck and cheeks. He tried to apologize but no words came. His mouth moved up and down as if he was trying to speak but it remained silent. The last thought that ran a marathon around in his brain before he passed out was just how much Jasmine looked like Her.

Rig awoke in a haze to soft, cool hands caressing his forehead and cheek. He opened his eyes but everything was blurry. He could see a face just inches from his but it was too blurry to make out who it was. "Sky?" He mumbled, confused. He couldn't figure out where he was. As his vision slowed into focus he saw the face more clearly. His eyes went wide again. It was Sky, his deceased wife, but at the same time, it wasn't her. This face was much younger.

Jasmine backed off a bit. "Ar-Are you okay?" She asked, timidly.

Rig sat up. He was on the floor in his front foyer. He scooted back a bit to put some distance between himself and this younger version of his long-dead goddess of a wife. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. He looked around before looking back at her face then promptly away.

"I-I-I'm not sure...I think so?" He stammered.

She was crouched down before him and when he didn't move to get up, she sat down on the floor across from him. He tried to look her in the eyes. He tried to acknowledge her. He put all his willpower towards moving his head to face her. He failed. Shame and guilt overcame his movements as grief consumed him. His eyes welled up with tears and he quickly covered his face with his hands to try and hide it. His breathing quickened as his body was on the verge of breaking down into sobs.

He forced himself to swallow his grief and anguish. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he calmed himself. He glanced up at her but quickly back down. She patiently sat with her arms around her knees, waiting for him to recover, her face a mix of worry and trepidation.

His back was against the wall of the foyer as he sat next to the entry table. He sniffled and with one hand he wiped his face while the other reached up, pulled out a drawer on the front of the table, and, reaching into it, even though he couldn't see inside, he pulled a picture frame out and offered it to her. "I'm sorry." He apologized. "Maybe this will help explain somewhat." He heard her gasp after taking the picture from his hand. He winced. He didn't know why.

"Who...is this?" She asked. "She looks just like me."

"Skylar," Rig said in a whisper. "My wife." She was silent for long moments. He kept stealing glances at her occasionally to see what she was doing but she was just staring at the picture. He found that he was able to look at her without his heart-stopping as long as she wasn't looking at him. She looked up. He quickly averted his eyes. It was too unbearable to look in those all too familiar eyes.

"I...don't believe this," she said, incredulously. "I mean, I've heard that everybody in the world had a doppelgänger but I've never seen anything like this so exact. Most people that find their look-a-likes report small differences that keep the two separated in looks. For instance, eye color or nose size. Maybe one will be taller than the other. This," she gestured at the picture, "is simply uncanny."

"You're telling me." He chuckled, weakly, then went on. "She died two years ago in an accident. Drunk driver," he explained. "I've never gotten over her. I don't know if I ever will." Tears threatened to well up in his eyes again but he wiped them away with his sleeve as he started to get up. She mirrored him. "Anyway, let me stop being an idiot and show you around. That is," he asked hesitantly, "if you still want to stay?"

She put a hand on his arm. "You aren't being an idiot," she said reassuringly. "I know you're joking to mask your pain and grief, but please don't say things like that. And of course I still want to stay, if you're still willing to have me." She smiled. His heart stopped beating again.

He took another deep breath to steady himself. "Of course. I gave my word. I'm old-fashioned that way. And even if I didn't, there's no way I'd leave a damsel in distress." He looked up at her just long enough to give her a wink. She smiled shyly as he took her hand from his arm and led her through the house. "Shoes off, please," he added then continued. "This is the only option I can see and I'd never put you out on the street just because you look like..." He trailed off.

"I appreciate it," she stated, meekly. "I really wasn't sure what I was going to do. None of my friends that live in the area were able to lend me a spare room."

"I'm just glad I could help," Rig said. Then realizing he still had hold of her hand, released it, flushing slightly in embarrassment.

They walked to the right from the fairly large foyer into the spacious living area. It had two black, plush leather couches with a matching love seat and two matching recliners. To the side of each couch and love seat was a rustic, wooden end table with a small onyx black lamp. In the middle of the floor was a coffee table big enough to sleep on, also with that rustic finish.

The plush carpet was a dark chocolate color and so soft it felt like walking on cotton. The walls were all wood, not sheetrock or wood paneling, but actual wood. The ceiling appeared to be a series of criss-cross patterned wooden beams that were peppered with recessed lighting.

On the left wall was a massive flat-screen television that looked like it belonged in a small movie theater. Under that was an equally massive electric fireplace encased the same 'burnt wood' look that the end tables had.

"This is the living room." He explained as they went. "I don't use it all that much but I do what I can to keep it clean." In the far left corner as they walked towards it, was a solid wood revolving door. "Sky was obsessed with revolving doors and insisted that we have at least one," he said as they approached it. "So I had this one made." They pushed through to the kitchen. "If you keep going it lets you out into the hallway, then back to the living room."

Jasmine stared, wide-eyed at the kitchen. The color contrast from the living room was almost blinding, with black and white mosaic tile flooring to the bright white walls. In the middle was a huge island with a pot and pan rack above it. To the left was a fridge and next to it, a freezer. To her continued surprise, the fridge was a walk-in. As she opened the door she noticed how bare it seemed. Enough food for one person for about a week but it just seemed a waste of space. The freezer appeared to be just a little bigger than a normal-sized refrigerator/freezer combo.

Next to that was a small alcove about the size of a large kitchen trash can. From there, she saw the counter space. It was marble and went all the way to the other corner on the right and continued down the next wall, where the sink was.

"This is the kitchen, of course," he said. "The floor is tiled like you would see in the bathroom. As a matter of fact, both the main bathroom and mine have the same flooring. Sky saw it and immediately fell in love with it. It's called 'Lolita Deco Squares', or something or other." A tear fell down his cheek as he reminisced. He wiped it away as he cleared his throat.

"The countertop is one solid piece of quartz marble, and there's plenty of cabinet space," he said as he motioned to the cabinets, then motioned under the countertop next to the sink. "Dishwasher there and a trash compactor/recycler in that corner over there." He motioned to the far corner next to the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Next, he motioned to what looked like one long armoire on that same wall. "Pantry," he stated, simply. "You'll get plenty of time to take everything in later so let's keep moving."

They walked back through the revolving door into the hallway, which was wide enough to drive a car through, Jasmine noted, and into the room directly opposite the kitchen. "This is my office," he said. "It used to be a dining room before Sky...well, anyway, it's my office now." He opened the door so she could see in. In the far corner was a small, yet ornate desk with a high back, comfortable-looking office chair. Two other plush leather chairs sat opposite the desk. The room's decor was much the same as the living room, except for the trucking memorabilia and decorations all along the walls.