Author's Note: Just for fun, the trailer park mentioned in this story is the same one from the "Getting Directions" series. And the character of Becca made her Carnival Alaxizz debut in Story 7. None of these needs to be read to enjoy this story.
At one in the morning, the last of the carnival's daily guests were firmly but politely ushered out. By 1:30, the carnival was completely quiet thanks to the practiced efficiency of the carnies as booths were closed and tent flaps secured. Only a few scattered single bulbs were left on to provide illumination as the colored arrays of lights were as dark as the usual festival sounds were now silent.
At two o'clock, a lone sheriff's cruiser made a slow circle through the field that served as a temporary parking lot during the carnival's five-day stay. There were a few vehicles left - mostly campers for those who wanted to "rough it" in their tricked out homes on wheels and be on site for the next day's opening. The deputy in the police car paid no attention to the pick-up truck at one far corner that seemed equally quiet for the night.
Steve took another sip from the fifth of Jack Daniels - just long enough to tease his girlfriend whose hand was clutching at the bottle. He was in no hurry to go back to his studio apartment above a tire shop as it always carried the smell of bad rubber - a tradeoff for the low rent price. Likewise, his present girlfriend, Brandi, kept her trailer park home in pretty wretched shape. It may have been one of the worst in the ambitiously named Knobby Shoals Mobile Home Estates.
Although Steve certainly didn't mind driving his wood home between Brandi's eagerly spread legs, he did recognize her place was a real shithole - even the cockroaches probably had fleas. Being barely twenty, Brandi's body was still in good shape but if she treated it like she treated her home, she'd be a wreck by the time she was twenty-five. And the sight of the younger girls who liked to sit around on the small hill at the trailer park's entrance hadn't escaped Steve's eye. There were some good lookers there whom he wouldn't mind taking a tumble with once they were old enough to sprout some tits.
While Brandi at last had another swig from the bottle, Steve glanced across her to the tiny figure curled up in the seat against the door. Tammi was Brandi's three year old daughter as well as Brandi's excuse (at least the one she publicly proclaimed) for not finishing high school. Steve had no idea who the girl's father was and doubted that Brandi knew, either.
In the dim light, Tammi's sandy-hued pigtails looked a little darker than usual but her body looked paler despite the tanned skin. At home, Brandi usually let her daughter run around in just her panties but had put the girl in a t-shirt, shorts, and cheap plastic sandals for the day's trip to Carnival Alaxizz. Naturally, Tammi had spilled soda all over herself and now her shirt, shorts, and one sandal (the other was missing in action) lay bunched on the floor of Steve's truck.
Steve was just checking to make sure the girl was still asleep but found himself admiring the smoothness of the tot's nearly nude body. He couldn't even make out the nipples on her flat chest but he wondered how they'd taste if he sucked them hard enough to pull the soft flesh there out to temporarily make miniature boobs. In his mind, he could feel her small hands on the sides of his head as she held him and cooed about how good her "Unca Stebe" made her feel.
With her legs tucked close, her little thighs looked lusciously curved with traces of baby fat. As he watched, the girl shifted, moving one leg out to show him the bunched bit of cotton guarding her crotch. Like the girl's mother, her panties didn't do a very good job. They were a bit too large and through the loose leg band Steve could see part of the tiny, hairless morsel that marked the child as female.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade
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Changes last made on: Monday, October 23, 2017