The Flirt Chat Series & Loved By Three Bundle

Triple Sext

My dream man on campus might not be one guy, but three.

Daily Sext

Seven men. One for every day of the week. A story too sexy to pass up.

Quadruple Sext

Four brothers want one woman for fun in Vegas. It’s the perfect opportunity to lose my virginity.

Naughty Sext

Four brothers want one woman for fun in Vegas. It’s the perfect opportunity to lose my virginity.

Nanny for the SEALs

Three SEALs need a nanny for their twins… and someone to satisfy their hot-as-sin bodies, too.

Wife to the SEALs

I had three hot SEALs with sexy eyes and bodies, and they all wanted the same thing.

SexySEALs

Two hot sexy SEALs turned up at my door. Two of them I’d been writing to for the last few months and the other one…let’s just say that he turned up for the ride.

What ride?

Me.

SEALMates

The secret fantasies I’d only ever written about became my reality.

Celia

I walked to the mailbox outside of the little campsite that had grown over the last couple of decades. This is where my family lived, where I’d grown up. And in that mailbox, there should be a letter. A letter that would bring us all hope. Hope that we would one day get out of this dry little patch of the Iowa countryside and into something better.

I glanced back at the collection of small trailers, all older than most of the inhabitants inside of them. This is what my family had been reduced to.

It was all because of my dad. If that letter held the news I hoped for, I could help to make it all right again, for all of us.

Not that it was really my dad’s fault, what happened. He’d been the unlucky child to inherit the gene for Huntington’s Disease that his dad passed to him. Out of two sisters and three brothers, my dad was the only one to lose the game of Russian Roulette his parents had unwittingly played.

He and my granddad became ill at the same time. That’s when the family found out about the illness that would take both of them from us when I was five years old.

My dad was thirty-one when he and my mom had me. Well into the range when the disease starts to show up. His first symptoms were uncontrolled movements, tics, and jerks that confused us all. When my granddad developed the same symptoms, they went to the doctor.

Over the next few years, the terrible disease brought impairments that affected both men horribly. My granddad’s gait became unbalanced, and his eyes would move involuntarily. Dad lost the ability to speak or swallow. He died from pneumonia eventually, and I think my granddad died of a broken heart. He’d given his son the awful disease, although he hadn’t done it on purpose.

My granddad had been adopted. He hadn’t known his genetic history when he married and had children. Like a good dad, however, he felt the full weight of the burden he’d passed on.

The family had pooled their funds together, to try to find treatment for my granddad and dad. It had bankrupted them all because there was no cure for the disease. Each of my dad’s siblings had taken on the burden of caring not only for their dad but for their brother too. We stuck together like that.

When the disease was discovered, I was tested for the gene that caused the gruesome death that all people with the disease faced. I was lucky. I dodged that bullet and didn’t carry the gene. I didn’t know it at the time, but I learned about it when I got a little older.

We lost two family members that year, but all I can remember is dad went away, and we all moved into these old trailers my granddad had kept on some property he owned.

He’d worked hard all his life, and he took over the business my Nan’s dad had passed on to her when he died. They’d had to sell the trailer park when my granddad became ill, and the houses were all mortgaged. This property was some my granddad bought to put the old trailers on. They were too old for him to rent out anymore, but he didn’t have anything he could do with them, so he’d parked them up here. The family all moved in not long after my granddad’s funeral, and we were still here, after 13 years.

Now, I had a chance to make it all right. To make it better. And to get us out of here. If only that mailbox held the right letter. I’d worked hard throughout my high school education, and I’d stayed focused on my goals. I’d earned enough scholarships that most of my education would be paid for. Not all of it, but most. I’d have to make up the rest somehow when I graduate next month.

I’d waited a long time for this letter, and it was finally time. It was the fifth day of April, surely that had been long enough for the letter to have come from New York.

I heard the squeak of a rusted swing that hung from the only tree on the property. The family had planted plenty, but the darned things just wouldn’t grow out here. We couldn’t even get grass to grow on the property, so everything was always dusty, no matter how many times you might swipe a cloth over things. I glanced back again, at the six trailers that were faded to a light shade of the color that had once been bright.

My Nan’s trailer was pink now. Uncle Mark’s was a light beige. Uncle Allan’s was almost mint green, while Aunt Irene’s was a light blue. Aunt Jenna and my momma’s trailers were almost completely white, but there was a hint of the light gray they used to be.

They all worked and they all did their best in the down-graded life they’d found themselves in. It had taken a long time to pay off the medical bills and the funeral bills. The last bill for Dad’s medical care would be paid off this summer. Then the rest would be used to send me off to school.

I opened the flap on the gunmetal gray mailbox and looked inside. There was a large stack of letters, but there on top, was the one I’d waited so long for. Ernie, our mailman, knew I’d been waiting on it and he’d put it there on top for me.

I didn’t do that whole movie thing, where people stare at the letter, anxious about what was inside. I didn’t carry it in the house to share the news with the family. Nope, I opened that sucker up, skimmed the lines for the word I wanted to see and fell to the ground.

“You have been accepted…”

That was all I needed to see. I’d been accepted, and relief flooded through me as tears of joy began to run down my face. I could finally do something that would help us all. I was going to NYU. I was going to study pre-med, and if it all worked out, I’d get a master’s degree in neuroscience. I’d be able to lift my family out of this poverty, and into a new life. A life where I might be able to find a cure for the disease that had caused us all this misery.