Kneel 3

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

Thomas Nathan Thibodaux got out of his 2018 black and gold Mustang. He admired the glossy paint job, admired the single gold fleur de lis in the center of the glossy black hood.

Ducking his head, as if ducking his head would prevent any more of the pelting rain to hit him, he popped open the trunk of his car. He grabbed his putter and rooted around in his golf bag for one of his golf balls.

'TNT' was imprinted on his Nike golf ball. Seeing his initials always made him smile.

Approaching the Golf-A-Rama, Tom saw three girls huddled underneath the canopy of the miniature golf course. One girl had her back to Tom; he admired her full hips and slightly large buttocks. Her hair was a straw colored blonde, hanging in frizzy kinks to the middle of her back. Her tanned arms, half of her back, and legs were bare in her outfit of halter top and cutoff denim shorts.

Passing her and the two girls, Tom saw that the girl was silently counting money. Her two companions were younger, probably nine or ten years of age. They fidgeted impatiently as the older girl continued to count.

The two younger girls had straight brown hair and brown eyes. Tom couldn't see the older girl's eyes, she kept her head down as she counted, lips moving.

Her breasts were small inside of her halter top. Her belly was slightly concave, giving her a 'nipped' waist.

Tom did appreciate that the girl had no visible tattoos, no excessive piercings. Linda, his ex-wife had splurged nearly four hundred dollars on a bright blue and red and green butterfly that adorned her left buttock. She also had a pierced tongue, seven earrings on her right ear, six on her left ear, a nose ring, and a navel ring.

She had splurged the tattoo money after receiving her first paycheck as a teller at First Union Bank. Linda had given no thought to the fact that their rent was due in three days. She wanted a tattoo, so she went and got a tattoo.

The same was true of her several piercings. Linda wanted them, Linda got them. Linda wanted to upgrade her piercings with more expensive rings? Linda went and bought more expensive rings.

Linda's self-centered, self-indulgent behavior had not been the cause of their divorce. Linda's declaration that she no longer loved Tom and would be moving in with her lesbian lover had been the cause of their divorce.

At Linda's lawyer's office, Tom and his attorney, Donald Pellichet had asked for an extension, had asked that the division of assets be postponed for sixty days. Linda smugly denied Tom's request. So, Tom borrowed the money from his grandmother and gave Linda fifty percent of their combined assets.

And fifty nine days later, the Stillwater Corporation declared their dividends. Tom's measly two thousand shares of stock went from fifteen thousand dollars to ninety thousand dollars. Tom used one thousand dollars of the stock as collateral and invested the forty five thousand dollars in some more companies in the St. Ann Parish and St. Elizabeth Parish area. One failed, but Tom was able to use that loss on his taxes. The other company soon expanded out of Louisiana to Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee and Texas. That one company had made Tom a multi-millionaire.

Tom continued to invest, continued to thrive. A scant two years after their divorce, Linda attempted a reconciliation. Tom smirked, seeing the dollar signs in Linda's eyes, and the numerous tattoos that marred her flesh. He wanted to ask, how many of those tattoos had their divorce paid for, but refrained from any communication, other than the slamming of the door in her face.

"Yes sir?" the young man behind the counter smiled politely when Tom strode up.

"I am so glad y'all covered this thing, I tell you," Tom smiled. "Need practice my putting; which course is the hardest?"

"Three," the young man smiled, admiring the putter Tom held in his left hand. "That a carbon fiber shaft?"

"Yes sir," Tom smiled. "Where's three?"

"There's one," the young man pointed. "Then the next gate? The red one? That's two, and the green one's three."

"You know that young lady?" Tom asked, pointing toward where the blonde girl stood, carefully sorting some coins.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, that's uh, that's, darn it, oh! That's Kimberly. And the two girls? Those are her sisters," the young man said, leaning over the counter to peer where Tom was pointing.

"Here," Tom said, pulling out his credit card. When she comes up, tell her it's Three-fer Thursday. Three people get to play for the price of one, okay?"

"Yes sir," the young man said and ran the card.

"Don't tell her it's from me, okay?" Tom smiled and slid a five dollar bill across the counter.

The young man nodded and turned to drop the five dollar bill into a plastic jug marked 'Tips.' Tom frowned slightly.

"Uh, son, that was for you," Tom said, pointing toward the jar.

"Yes sir," the young man agreed. "But that? That gets split up end of the month. And Jerry? His sister's fixing have a baby and Jerry's only one working. Every penny they get helps."

"Huh," Tom said.

Tom then pulled his card holder out and removed one of his business cards. He slid the card toward the young man.

"Get tired of working here? Give me a call," Tom said.

"Thibodaux Investments," the young man read out loud.

Satisfied that she had enough money, Kimberly herded her two sisters toward the counter. The two girls skipped in their excitement; Kimberly just looked slightly haggard.

Now that her head was up, Tom could see that the girl was slightly homely looking. If she had not had blonde hair, she actually would have been termed 'Ugly.'

Her eyes were a lifeless flat brown, underneath a dark brown eyebrow. Her nose was sharp and her nostrils flared upward, showing the inside of her nose. Her cheeks were mottled with acne, her lips were thin, and her chin was receding.

"Let's see," the young man said and made a show of counting the three girls. "Okay, guess y'all here for the three-fer Thursday?"

"Huh?" Kimberly asked.

"Uh huh, three for the price of one. So, let's see, and with tax, seven twelve, please," the young man smiled.

"Okay," Kimberly smiled, relieved.

"Okay girls, which one?" Kimberly asked when the three had selected putters, golf balls.

"Two," both girls said.

"One's easier," Kimberly reminded them.

"One's for babies," the youngest girl sneered.

"Oh, and you all grown up?" Kimberly smiled and herded them toward the red gate.

"Well, I might not be eighteen, like SOME people," the young girl teased.

Tom went to the small concession stand, marked 'The Nineteenth Hole.' On the left side of the brightly painted building was the Men's restroom. On the right was the Women's restroom. He used the facilities, washed and dried his hands, then left.

Tom decided he'd follow the girls. Even with his unplanned bathroom break, the three had only progressed to the second tee. After several minutes, the trio managed to get their balls into the hole and progressed to the third tee.

"Mister, you can play ahead," Kimberly said, looking over her shoulder at the handsome older man.

"Actually?" Tom smiled, leaning slightly on his putter. "I'm enjoying watching the three of y'all. I'm trying decide which one of y'all going be next Tiger Woods."

The three girls actually giggled at his comment. He shrugged and smiled.

When Kimberly knelt to put her green ball onto the rubber pad, her shorts crept up into her buttocks. Her tongue stuck out as she balanced the ball on one of the little dimples in the rubber mat.

Tom could imagine using a handful of her curly, wavy, frizzy, kinky blonde hair as a handle. He could imagine her kneeling in front of him, tongue stuck out, running her tongue over his hard cock.

Then, as Tom stood, hand entwined in her hair, he would force his cock into her mouth. Kneeling in front of him, she would gag and cough as she struggled to accept his throat fucking.

He'd let her swallow the first two or three spurts of his spunk. Then he'd pull out and coat her face with the last few jets of his semen.

Kimberly positioned the ball where she wanted it, then glanced up. She saw the man's eyes on her and blushed hotly. Her eyes immediately darted back down as she got to her feet.

On the fifth hole, her buttocks were on display again; this pad was somewhat corroded and she had a hard time getting her green ball to cooperate. The two younger girls also needed her assistance, so Tom was able to admire the girl's fleshy buttocks for several long seconds.

He could imagine yanking those denim shorts down, along with the cheap cotton panties he could see. Her dark brown bush would be fully exposed. He could see some tendrils of brown escaping the sides of her panties as she helped the youngest girl with her faded yellow ball. So Tom knew Kimberly's bush would be brown. He imagined it was thick, kinked like the blonde hair on her head.

The girls pink lips would peek out through the thicket of dark brown hair as she knelt on her hands and knees in front of him. Tom would kneel behind her and run his cock up and down her wet slit. She would whimper and groan as her need for his cock grew.

He would get his cock wet with her juices before sliding it into her. As she knelt in front of him, her full buttocks pressing against him, she would shudder and moan with the intrusion of his cock into her hot pussy.

Those fleshy globes would shimmy and shake as he slammed his cock into her. The sounds of his flesh slapping against her flesh would drown out her grunts and groans.

"Krysta, Tyra, since this didn't cost as much, y'all want get a snow cone?" Kimberly said as they progressed to the next tee.

"Yeah!" the youngest one said.

"Here?" the second oldest said. "Not at that snow cone stand down the street, right?"

"No, hate that one," Kimberly agreed. "Now, y'all? Can only get a small, all right?"

Tom made his putt over the water trough and into the hole in two strokes. Then he marched off toward the concession stand.

"Hi," a pimple faced girl smiled.

"Mm-hmm," Tom said, seeing the girl had four piercings through her right eyebrow, as well as a nose ring, and several adorning her ears.

He pointed out the three sisters playing their game on course Two. The girl giggled at the idea of 'Three-fer Thursday and agreed that she'd give them three snow cones, but only charge them for one. Tom slid her two dollars and entreated upon her that she wasn't to tell the girls he had already paid for two of their snow cones.

There was another jug marked 'Tips' on the counter, but Tom's two dollars went into the girl's pocket. Tom nodded and walked away.

The girls had progressed to the tenth hole when Tom strode up. He managed to catch up to them in no time and again admired Kimberly's buttocks as the girl set her ball down.

"Where'd you go?" the youngest one asked Tom as he stood, watching and waiting.

"Tyra! That ain't none your business," Kimberly chided her sister.

"What? You the golf police?" Tom teased Tyra.

"Yeah!" Tyra declared, giggling.

"Mister, you missed it. I made a hole in one," Krysta bragged.

"You did? Holy cow!" Tom smiled.

"She sure did," Kimberly confirmed.

"It bounced, right up that wall?" Krysta said, pointing. "And then? It hit that curvy thing right there? And next thing you know? It just rolled up and 'plunk!' Right in."

"And I had to go and miss that," Tom smiled.

Overhead, the rain could be heard, slapping against the high roof. So, the whole conversation had been at a mild yell. Tom smiled and again admired Kimberly's buttocks as she bent to get her ball from the hole.

"Bet you a quarter you can't do it again," Tom said as Krysta skipped to catch up to her two sisters.

"Bet you a hundred bucks I can," Krysta said.

"Bet you a million," Tyra said.

"Uh huh, you got a million?" Tom smiled, set his ball up and managed the tenth hole in two strokes.

"You?" Tyra challenged.

Tom smiled widely as he watched Krysta concentrate. He could tell the girl wanted very badly to impress him.

When he'd been ten or eleven, around Krysta's age, no ten or eleven year old girls were trying to impress him. He'd been the kid in the thrift store clothes, the kid with the buck teeth.

Now, at forty three, he had attractive women vying for his attention. He had gorgeous women trying to seduce him, manipulate him into investing with them, their companies.

This little girl had no idea how wealthy he was; she probably didn't even care about winning a quarter. She just wanted to impress the friendly man.

"Not bad, not bad," Tom praised when her faded red ball rolled to within a few feet of the hole.

Tyra did not fare as well, taking five strokes to get her ball into the hole. Kimberly could have done it in three, but 'missed' on her third putt, so took three more strokes.

On the next hole, Kimberly again squatted to put Krysta's ball down. Tom imagined her kneeling, then putting her shoulders to the mattress. Her small hands would reach back and pull her full buttocks apart.

Kimberly's pussy lips would be puffy, dripping her excitement. Her brown pubic hair would be matted with their combined juices; some would even be running down her slightly thick thighs. Her dark pink anus would wink at him.

He would grease up his cock and press the head of his cock against her pink hole.

"Mmph!" she would whimper at the first contact.

"Shh, shh, first time always hurts a little," Tom would tell her.

"Ugh!" Kimberly would cry out.

But she would remain on her knees, kneeling on the mattress as Tom slowly forced his cock into her struggling, squirming ass. Her buttocks would show white where her fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her cheeks wide.

"Shoot!" Krysta complained, again missing her hole in one.

By the time they reached the eighteenth hole, none of the girls had managed to get another hole in one. Tom smiled and told them to keep practicing.

"Bye, mister," Tyra said as they trooped toward the concession stand.

Steven Hall, the young man at the counter smiled and rang up a second round for Tom. Tom then opened the green gate and began playing the third course, the more difficult course.

He was on the third tee when he spotted Kimberly marching with great purpose toward him. Her ugly face was even uglier as her forehead was quite wrinkled and her cheeks were red with anger.

"Why'd you do that?" Kimberly screamed when she was within ten feet of him.

"See that little pin cushion doesn't know how keep her mouth shut," Tom smiled.

"Huh? Why'd you pay for our snow cones?" Kimberly demanded.

"This putter?" Tom said, holding up his putter. "This putter cost me three hundred dollars. It's a carbon fiber shaft and this is a MacGregor grip."

"So?" Kimberly shouted, fist balled in anger.

"That what, what was it? Ten bucks?" Tom said.

"And the tickets!" Kimberly gasped, now making the connection. "There's no three-fer Thursday!"

"I watched you. I watched you counting your money. And if you hadn't had enough? You would have let Krysta and Tyra play and you would have just stood there and watched, wouldn't you?" Tom asked.

"Well, yeah, that's what a big sister does," Kimberly said. "But what's that got to do..."

"I've got the money, miss," Tom smiled. "And this way? I got to watch three beautiful little girls playing, having a good time. Worth every penny, you ask me."

"What's your name?" Kimberly demanded, still not appeased.

"Tom Thibodaux. Why?" Tom asked, fishing for another business card.

"Because I'm going pay you back, Kimberly snapped.

"What flavor did you get?" Tom asked, holding out a business card.

"Huh?" Kimberly asked, jerking the card out of his hand.

"Snow cone. What flavor did you get?" Tom asked.

"Green apple. Krysta's holding it for me," Kimberly said, now looking toward the concession stand. "I better get back there before she eats it."

"Green apple? Yuck," Tom said, shuddering. "And what'd Tyra get?"

"Bubble gum, and Krysta likes pink lemonade," Kimberly gave a slight smile at his face of disgust. "Why? What you get?"

"Atomic Blast," Tom admitted, again making his hole in two strokes. "Yeah, I know, it's really cinnamon, but..."

"I'm going pay you back, hear?" Kimberly again declared.

"Really want pay me back?" Tom asked, preparing to putt. "Just say 'thank you.'"

"Thank you. But I will pay you back," Kimberly promised. marching back toward the concession stand.

"Man, she was pretty mad at you, huh?" Steven said when Tom walked toward the exit.

"Mm-hmm," Tom smiled widely. "Not the first time I've had a woman mad at me."

Tom Thibodaux's mother had never missed a chance to let her son know he was a source of grave disappointment. She never shied away from letting Tom know of her anger, bitterness toward him.

Because of his cheap clothing, horrible haircuts, less than scrupulous hygiene, teachers were loath to give Tom any encouragements. They certainly never gave him the benefit of a doubt.

His scrawny physique, buck teeth, and whatever other imperfections, real or imagined earned Tom very few friends in school. He also had no friends in the neighborhood.

The first time Tom had eaten pussy, the girl had been pretty mad at him. A few strands of her pubic hair got caught in his braces and it had caused her to yelp when they were yanked out.

His now straightened teeth, and spending his birthday money on more stylish clothing did earn him some attention in high school. Tom did manage to make a few friends as well; he was an intelligent young man.

Tom's first steady girlfriend had been pretty mad at him when he decided that hanging out with his friends, playing video games was more important than spending two, three hours on the telephone with her. Tom did wonder what had ever become of Danielle; she'd been the first girl to ever let him touch her boobs.

The first time Tom had got to actually have intercourse, that girl had been pretty mad at him. Tom had lined up his cock with her pussy, pushed the first inch into her, and blew his load.

"Yep," Tom said, popping open the trunk of his car. Not the first time a woman's been mad at me."

The most recent, other than thirty minutes ago, had been Natalie Foster. The long legged red head had pressed her thong panties into his hand, batted her impossibly long lashes at him and suggested that they review her proposed contract, in his penthouse suite.

"Better idea, Ms. Foster," Tom had smiled. "Why don't we save each other the time it would take to ride that elevator up? You just slide under the table, blow me here, and then I can tell you 'no way in hell am I signing this dog shit contract.'"

A few of the patrons of the hotel's lounge did look up when the beautiful woman had thrown her drink in Tom's face. A few more did look up when Tom called out, reminding Natalie that she'd left her panties.

Brachney, Percy & Foster & Associates quietly paid Tom his dry-cleaning bill for the suit, shirt, and tie that Natalie's vodka and tonic had stained. Victor Brachney offered to send Tom another sales rep but Tom politely declined. Instead, he bought up the contracts of Brachney, Percy & Foster & Associates, bought the building that the corporation leased, and raised the amount of their lease. He also acquired majority holdings in the Great Oak Savings & Loan and had the financial institution call in all loans. These loans also included Natalie Foster's mortgage on her Eastlawn condominium.

The rain was still coming down in buckets as Tom drove his Mustang to his office in Elgee, Louisiana. He parked in the parking deck behind Thibodaux Center, then rode his private elevator to his sixth floor office.