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    Vacation with the Lesters
    Vacation with the Lesters
    Vacation with the Lesters
    Ebook58 pages56 minutes

    Vacation with the Lesters

    By Charlie Thrun

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    About this ebook

    A family in rural W. Virginia ignore emancipation and still use slaves in a zinc mine. They prefer Northerners over Negros and kidnap them when available. The POV alternates between that of a captured wife and the family.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharlie Thrun
    Release dateSep 7, 2012
    ISBN9781301894710
    Vacation with the Lesters
    Author

    Charlie Thrun

    Charlie has been writing fiction since he retired a few years ago. He has sold occasionally, and won a few minor contests, but not hit the mainstream yet. When he started he hadn't had an English class for over fifty years, and knew only business English, which is in no way akin to fiction. He lives alone in Northern Ohio, in a rural area, his best friend a virtual rat named Oscar, which says a lot about the guy. At least he has gotten Oscar Rat into writing, the two working together. Not surprisingly, Oscar has sold more stories than poor Charlie. Maybe, with practice here, Charlie might pass up that rat?

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      Book preview

      Vacation with the Lesters - Charlie Thrun

      Vacation with the Lesters

      A short novel ( 15,500 words ) By

      Charlie Thrun

      A couple are forced into

      Slavery by hillbillies

      ADULT

      Graphic sex

      SMASHWORDS EDITION

      * * * * *

      PUBLISHED BY:

      Mr. Charlie Thrun on Smashwords

      Vacation with the Lesters

      Copyright © 2012 by Charlie Thrun

      Thank you for downloading this eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form with the exception of quotes used in reviews.

      Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

      The author would much appreciate contributions of excess food to

      needy rodents under your home and behind your refrigerator.

      This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

      Hurry up, Honey, Daddy's expecting us by noon tomorrow and it's a twelve hour drive, I yell at Dick, my hubby. Here it is, already eleven, with one hour to spare, and he's on the toilet, probably peeing out all that beer. I hope to hell he can still drive.

      Hearing the toilet flush, he appears, trademark grin on his broad face. Recently married, I can't stay mad. That smile melts my heart. I look around to make sure all the suitcases, bags and boxes are loaded in the van.

      Oh, damn. I spot that extra toaster oven. Aunt Gladys gave us a better one, which means this one is clutter. I wanted to give it to Ma. I look around for a box. None here, but plenty in the attic.

      Let's go, Lottie, I'm good for the rest of the day, don't have to stop except for gas.

      Damn, double damn, no time to pack the microwave. Now he's on his feet, I can't let him sit until he's in the car, or I'll never get him up in time.

      Yeah, about time. You think of anything we missed?

      No answer.

      I said, I raise my voice, can you think if anything we might have missed?

      I hear the roar of the van engine. After all that trouble getting the darling up and ready, now he's out there before me. Go figure. Guess that's the way married life goes. I hurry outside to see our blue minivan idling loudly, now that Dick's ready to go. He's always thinking of himself, a me person, which pisses me off.

      Like with sex. We have sex whenever he's in the mood, when he wants it. If I wake up horny, that's too damned bad. I can play with his thingy, getting it hard and almost ready to go off. Then he'll look at me, say something like, later, baby, roll over and go back to sleep, making me do for myself, by myself, before I can sleep.

      And, I think as I open that damned squeaky passenger door, never mind pleasuring me with his tongue. Real Men don't do those things, although, ha, he shoves that thing in my mouth about every damned night.

      We start out with a screech, spinning tires on the dry asphalt of our driveway, finally on the way for a two-week vacation in Virginia.

      Don't burn up those tires, Dick. We just paid fifty-bucks apiece for them, and when are you going to oil this door?

      Plenty of time, Sugar. Plenty of time. What's with the sudden bad mood, uh?

      You wouldn't understand.

      Woman stuff again? Christ, every month you do this shit. Damn but you broads go through those mood changes. I hope it changes back before we get there. An I hope I don't have to stop someplace so you can get some of those pussy plugs. I don't think they sell the filthy things in gas stations.

      It's NOT my period, Dick. They're not 'filthy things', and tampons ARE sold in gas stations. Now drop the subject will you, and watch the road.

      How can I explain about my getting tired of vanilla sex? If I can't do it in bed with my arms around his muscular shoulders, soft but muscular shoulders ... shit. I don't want to think good thoughts right now, I wanna use up this anger before I get to Daddy's. Try muscular head. Yeah. That's better, muscles between the ears, with that damned macho thinking, you think he was a spic, wap, or one of those ragheads, posturing with big guns to hide a lack of big balls. The picture of Dick with white beard, big gun, and tiny balls makes me laugh.

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