This is a story which continues the chronicles of the Scouries family of South Carolina (the author's distant cousins). It is not necessary to read the first story, 'SCOURIES FAMILY – CHRISSIES TALE' to enjoy this one, but if you haven't read it yet you might like it. One of my second cousins, the beautiful Amanda Scouries, told me what follows a couple of months ago as we sat by the edge of the pond mentioned in the story.
FYI – As of today 'Chrissies Tale' has been opened by 43,000 readers and 574 of you took the few seconds to vote. Thanks everyone.
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MANDY'S STORY
The farmhouse sat at the end of a dusty lane that wove listlessly over a half mile from the turn-off from Horry County Road #6 just outside Conway, South Carolina. It was only after you'd made the last turn that the white, two-story house came into view, peeking through the tall trees my grandfather had planted sixty years ago.
I saw Chris standing at the wide door of the old barn, waving in welcome as the warm breeze made the long, blond curls dance magically around her head. She was my baby sister, thirty-one now, finally separated after a twelve year marriage from her husband Dwayne.
She's still as beautiful as she was when she was fifteen, I thought, as I watched her naked breasts, breasts still riding high and firm on her tall frame.
"Hi," she welcomed simply as I jumped eagerly out to meet her.
I laughed when she put her clay covered arms around me, enjoying the feel of her even as she ruined my white blouse.
"What if I had been the mailman, or the grocery boy...topless like that," I chided after we'd kissed.
"I'm a horny, single woman now...just like you," she laughed, a new confidence in her eyes.
"Ya'll still have the puffiest nipples I've ever seen," I giggled as I quickly tweaked one.
"Hah! So, how was the course," she asked as we walked arm in arm towards the house.
"First you're going to tell about these dirty sculptures you've been doing. I can't believe you never told me."
I'm thirty-five now, live and teach in Savannah, want to be a writer, a single Mom who'd just sent my son Jimmy, my only child, off to Boston and MIT. I've never been married, not even close. My best friend, the person I loved the most, was this willowy blond who walked topless next to me, and she'd kept a secret from me for at least ten years.
I could see her blush as she stammered, "I was embarrassed, worried what people would think..."
"It's art, true art Chrissie," I said thinking of the wood crate that Chris had sent me a month ago, a crate that when opened revealed a statue of myself that took my breath away.
"Did Jimmy show you the web site?" she asked warily.
"We didn't have time. I only had three days with him to get him packed and off to school."
"How is he?"
"Golly, he was as crazy as ever. He musta grown another inch while I was away; what'd you feed that boy anyway," I asked, referring to the two months my boy had spent with Chrissie on the farm, not knowing he'd spent most of the summer eating his aunt!
"I miss him already," Chris answered wistfully.
"Me too....Oh my gawd!" I shrieked as we climbed the porch steps and I was faced by two statues of Daddy standing on pedestals guarding the door.
"I've put my statues all over the house, the barn, by the pool," she said with a shy smile as I stood mouth agape, "so you could see them."
"Has Daddy seen these, does he know anything bout this"? I asked.
"Not yet," she said with a wince.
"He'll kill you," I laughed as I put my hand over the tiny, pink prick that sat erect on the eighteen inch high statue. "No pubic hair and a baby prick! You didn't put a picture of this online did you?"
"You'll see," she answered ominously.
"Here all our lives everyone thinks I'm the wild, crazy daughter, the tramp daughter knocked up at sixteen, while you're the sweet, demure beauty who wouldn't even talk about sex. And fuck, now I find out you've got this perverted, secret slut life."
"I don't."
"Oh gawd no!" I can't stop from saying in protest as she propels me through the front door and guides me to the living room and I see the statue over the mantelpiece. "Has anyone seen that?" I demand as a perfect, naked likeness of myself stares back at me.
"No, I just put it out for you...well, Jimmy has of course."
"My son saw this," I gasp as I continue to stare at myself squatting naked, my engorged pussy lips wide open, painted crimson, hovering over a hard phallus.
"It's his fault anyone ever saw them," Chris protested defensively. "He broke into my private storeroom."
"What did he say?" I asked, excited at the thought of my young son looking at such a sexual representation of his Mum.
"He was more worried about his, about the size of his...you know."
"Penis?" I supplied, incredulous that a women who could produce such graphic work was still shy about using the word penis in front of her sister.
"Yes," she grinned back.
"God, did you make him as small as Daddy?"
"Smaller."
"Oh no. What'd he say?"
"Well, he was pretty angry at first. Insisted that they all be 'repaired' as he called it, or hidden forever in the swamp."
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We settled in together as we always had, into a comfortable love, a friendship we'd formed as children. We had ten days before I had to be back for school opening in Savannah and my sister used all ten days in trying to convince me to move back home.
"You're all alone down there...
"I have no one to talk to...
"You've got to finish writing that book, you're wasting time...
"No one ever visits me...
"I need a friend...
We gardened and then ate the products of our work in fresh salads under the warm September sun. We swam naked in the pond during the hot afternoons and then lay tanning until I was soon as dark as Chris. We sipped wine as we talked on the porch as the sun slowly sank. We spent our nights intertwined under the cool silk sheets on Chrissie's king sized bed. It was so nice to sleep with someone again, even if it wasn't a man...
We were sisters again! She made me want to come home!
"I can't, I need the money," I'd cry.
"Bullshit, you could sell your house; it has to be worth half a million."
"It has a mortgage!"
"You'll never be an author if you're not brave," she railed.
But it was her simple plea made just as I was getting into my car to drive home that stayed with me as I traveled to Savannah, "I need you Mandy. I don't know what I'll do if you're not here with me this spring."
I didn't know the reason then, but in the days that followed, her plea reverberated in my mind.
AUTUMN
It was a rainy fall in Georgia and my life seemed as gloomy as the weather. My students seemed to be the worst class I'd ever taught, although I knew it was me, not them, who was the problem.
The hopes I'd had for my writing, hopes nurtured during my summer course in Colorado, were dashed as page after page was dropped listlessly into the garbage.
I didn't have sex! A hundred days and I didn't have one warm body to cuddle next to, no hard, thick cock to sate my need.
I missed my son, and often woke during the night, vague dreams of wild, orgasmic sex intertwined with visions of his tall, young body.
