Again, I suggest reading the first two chapters before beginning this one. Also, I want to emphasize that if you are expecting a story with non-stop sex, then you will be disappointed.
Jessie & the Tornado, Ch. 3
In March, I began doing some work on the outside. There were three very large flower beds in the front yard that had become completely overgrown and filled with weeds, and one warm day in mid-March I put on a pair of gloves and started pulling all the weeds out.
I was wearing an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt, along with an old pair of sneakers. I also had on my customary "USMC" cap I almost always wore if I wasn't working.
One of the things I was quickly learning in Georgia was that the weather was extremely changeable. On Mar. 5, it had been 64 degrees and people were wearing short sleeve shirts and shorts. Two days later, we had two inches of snow. Six days after that, it was 67. So you had to take advantage of the nice days.
I was learning the truthfulness of a statement I'd heard as soon as I moved to Georgia: "If you don't like the weather, just wait a little bit and it will change!"
I had nearly finished the second of three flower beds when I heard someone yell "Look Out!"
Instinctively, I jumped up and swung my head toward the voice.
Just in time for something to hit me right in my temple and send me crashing, face first, into the now de-weeded flower bed. I went in one direction and my cap went in another.
I wasn't actually knocked out, but I was definitely stunned. Whatever it was that had hit me, it had hit me HARD! I just lay there for a few seconds, until I felt someone grab my shoulder and heard a female voice say, "Are you alright? Are you alright?"
I pushed myself up some, spit out the mouthful of dirt I had, then rolled over, flat on my back.
Suddenly, I was just inches away from a pair of breasts.
Very nice, very full female breasts.
The female breasts were attached to a female, naturally, who was on her hands and knees, hovering over me. She was wearing a low cut t-shirt that was probably a couple of sizes too large for her.
From the position she was in, bent over, just in front of my face, I had an eyeful. An incredible eyeful.
"Are you alright?" I heard her again ask.
I couldn't stop staring.
"Well I can see your eyes are alright," she finally quipped, "how about the rest of you?"
I could feel my face turn red with embarrassment, but I finally managed to tear my eyes away from the delightful display.
"What . . . what happened? And who are you?" I finally asked.
A huge smile transformed her face. When she was asking if I was alright, she was very serious. My initial impression was tomboyish, cute in an athletic sort of way, and . . . well more attractive than outright pretty. Okay, that might be a little harsh. Sort of pretty, but not necessarily what you would call beautiful.
Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing any makeup.
Her smile changed all that. When she smiled, even her blue eyes smiled with her. When she smiled, she suddenly became very pretty. Again, not really beautiful, but very, very pretty.
This mystery woman had the most incredible, intense blue eyes I think I had ever seen. She also had a very faint white line along one eyebrow, and I could tell that at some point her nose had been broken since it was just a little crooked.
As I was to find out much, much later, both the faint white line on her eyebrow and the broken nose came from playing soccer. She had actually gotten four stiches in her eyebrow after taking a soccer ball directly in her face. Not only that, but she refused to come out of the game even though her nose was broken and blood was pouring from the split eyebrow and broken nose.
"Well, my name is Jessica," she said, "but my friends call me Jessie.
"We actually met – for about five minutes – the day you moved into this house."
I vaguely remembered, but to tell you the truth I was so busy that day I could have probably met the Queen of England and not remembered any details.
"My parents own the house next door, and I was just leaving to go back to the University of Georgia that day."
I remembered a little more. Winston and Gloria Johansson owned the two-story house next door to mine, and I did, sort of, remember meeting their daughter that day. To tell you the truth, though, I could not have told you her name, or even described her.
"Okay, Jessica
(I was deliberately using Jessica, since she said her friends called her Jessie),
what happened? All I remember is something hit me in the head."
Now it was her turn to flush.
"Well, that was my fault. I'm on the soccer team at the University of Georgia, and I was demonstrating some kicks to some of the younger kids in the neighborhood. I'm afraid I kicked one ball a lot harder than I meant to, and it hit you and knocked you out."
"It didn't knock me out . . ."
"Did too," she argued.
"No, it did not . . ." I tried to say.
"Yes, it did! Or do you always fall face first into flower beds?"
"Look, Jessica . . ."
"My friends called me Jessie!"
"Look, Jessica . . ."
Her lips curled down, her eyes developed a helpless puppy dog look and her shoulders slumped.
"Jessie," I grudgingly said, and again her entire appearance transformed as a smile lit up her face, "it just stunned me for a few seconds. It didn't knock me out."
"If it didn't knock you out, then can you explain why you started saying, "Mommy, Mommy,' when you came to?"
I was too stunned to say anything in response to that!
"Got you!" she cried out, then started laughing.
Despite myself, I had to join her in laughing.
"Well, this has been an interesting break, but now I really need to get back to work," I said.
"Since I am responsible for delaying your work by knocking you out
(I rolled my eyes at her, she smirked),
I think it's only fair if I help," she said.
"Jessica
(helpless puppy dog look)
. . . Jessie
(big smile)
thanks, but that's really not necessary," I said.
"No, I insist," she declared, "I am not leaving until I have helped you with the other flower bed."
I just shook my head. Women!
I stood up, and she raised her hand with an inquiring look on her face.
I sighed . . . and stuck out my hand to assist her in getting up.
My God! She was almost as tall as I was!
As I have mentioned, I am just under six feet tall, and Jessica had to be at least 5 foot, ten, maybe eleven inches tall.
Jessica bent over in front of me to pick up my cap and . . . well I started staring again. She was wearing an extremely short pair of shorts that barely covered the upward curve where her butt and thighs converged. And that was while she was standing up!
With her now bent over, the shorts pulled up into her crotch and I could see more than a little of her obviously firm butt cheeks.
