In Search of the Final Freedom:
An Erotic Socio-Political Novel
BOOK TWO: Sexual Freedom, a Revolutionary Ideal
Preface to Book 2
Our fate is a combination of many factors; some over which we have control and others are beyond our ability to shape. All too often we must cope with difficulties that we did not want or foresee, but are the direct results of our past. Sometimes we can see how recent decisions impact our status, but often it is our long ago past that most profoundly shapes our present. While we are indeed subject to the mercy of fate, we ourselves have quite often been the bowman who drew back fate’s arrow that now flies inexorably toward us. All the desire in the world to change the past will do us no good. All we can do is to take the present, as we find it, and shape it to make sure the arrows we are drawing back today will hit the target of our choosing.
An Early Warning Shot from the Right
In a small building in the Cayman Islands, Richard Kyle was scanning through his daily series of e-mail’s from people submitting what they purported to be original photos they owned and wished to sell to one of Richard’s companies. His companies supplied content to over three hundred different web sites, mostly pornographic, based all over the world.
To most men, his job would seem like pleasure, but for a man who looked at photos for a living, it was just work, and his eyes were tired. Richard had an excellent memory and once he saw a photo he never forgot it. This rare gift allowed him to reject a full 99% of the photos he scanned off hand. He knew they were stolen from other sites. Of the 1% of truly original work 95% was unusable due to low quality. Of that small fraction of usable original work, most came from a hand full of reliable, if not creative photographers who worked out of Eastern Europe. He knew full well that a good percentage of the girls he saw in the photos were, in truth, too young to be photographed in the nude for his largest market, the United States; however, in the former iron curtain countries, false proof of age was no problem.
He had emailed purchase contracts to only two photographers that day and was about to break for lunch when he opened an email that read:
“I shot these and over one hundred fifty other photos of these two at the nude Haulover Beach in Miami last summer. The woman in the photo said the girl was her niece, but as they talked I realized that this is a mother and her teenage daughter. The originals are all high resolution twenty-three mega pixel photos. I don’t know the age of the mother but the daughter said she was eighteen. These photos have never been seen by anyone. How much would you pay for the whole set?”
Richard looked carefully at the attachment. It contained five photos. Upon opening the first he noticed the sender had been wise and had “Evaluation Copy” printed several times across each photo so they could not be used without paying. He looked carefully. These had been taken with a very high quality Digital SLR by someone who knew their business. They were high resolution photos with excellent color and sharpness. By looking at the background he could tell the photos were indeed taken at Haulover beach; he had been there more than once. Finally he looked at the women. The older one looked to be late-thirties, possibly five years younger or older. Nice figure and face, but not too nice. She was no model, but what the industry called a MILF. Firm breasts, nice ass with just the tiniest bit of cellulite, nothing a little Photoshop can’t fix, if he chose to.
The “daughter” looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. He had no doubt she was younger than the claimed eighteen years. As the photos were taken on a public nude beach and since there was no sexual content involving the girl, her age would not be prohibitive. He also knew he could generate a document of proof that the girl was eighteen should one of his buyers want it. She was cute, thin, nice round B/C cup breasts, long legs, mid-back length dark blond hair. Both mother and “daughter” were clean shaven in the pubic region. He zoomed in on the faces and after a long time concluded these two appeared to be related. He would market them as mother and daughter even if he wasn’t sure of the relationship. These photos could be sold for $10,000 to the right buyer.
He replied to the email with a planned lukewarm tone, he didn’t want to pay too much.
At the end of two weeks of negotiation via email he paid $650 for 172 photos. They were great. He found photos of the two posing separately, posing together, playing in the water and posing with a couple of very nice looking naked college age guys. A couple of dozen of the "mother” contained obvious sexual penetration not just beach nudes. In them the older woman was having sex play with the best looking guy until he was holding her at his waist screwing her right on the beach. In one set of images, it was clear the mother was fucking the younger guy right in front of the daughter. Even more, three showed the daughter giving one of the guy’s a hand job as she watched her mother fuck. His experience told him not to risk selling to websites those photos that showed the underage daughter jacking a man, nor those which showed her watching a cock going into her mother. However, he had an avenue to sell those to private collectors who would pay as much for that dozen photos as he could get for the remaining 160 photos.
After showing the photos to some of his staff, he decided to only sell the ones that would be illegal in the US and to use the rest on his own websites. To maximize his profit before the photos were all ripped off and posted on free sites, he planned a maximum exposure campaign using banners on all his sites and posting “teasers” on fifty free sites with links. It would cost the end user $14.99 to get access to the whole set in the very high-resolution original form. He knew his servers would be jammed with men trying to bill their credit cards to see the nude mother and daughter. All this was scheduled for April 1st so as to appear the photos had been taken over spring break, rather than last summer.
He made the calculated risk that it would take weeks for someone who knew either of the women to see the photos and identify it as the person they knew. Thus, if he ever got a challenge on the photo’s ownership, he would have made his money back and a good deal of profit prior to any possible action that could be taken to shut down his use of the images.
Back in Sparta, Georgia no one knew any of this, least of all the mother and daughter who were the target of this marketing scheme.
In the month after the LeMarco cruise and subsequent party, Cooper Campbell’s life had moved into a greater state of flux than at any time since the period where he’d finished college and gotten married. While those events washed away any lingering commitment to monogamy, that was not the proximate cause of the change. The revelations about the LeMarco’s mercenary values had been disturbing. He could not evade the gnawing feeling that he actually had seen (or should have seen) the truth in the nearly twenty years working at LeMarco & LeMarco, Had he simply refused to let himself put the pieces of the puzzle together? Either way, Cooper knew he could not stay at a firm where the owner so deliberately used female employees as defacto prostitutes.
Though to an outsider it might seem that Cooper leaving LeMarco & LeMarco was precipitous, in fact it was no such thing. The process had begun two years before when Cooper and Bonnie began their deep investigation into Christian sexuality that had begun even before Bonnie had become involved with her friend Jill. For the first time since he was a sophomore in college, he had found something more compelling than architecture. His wife's early foray into extramarital sexual relationships had just pushed the issue. Over the last year, events had been snowballing to change his life focus. It was the cruise and the party afterward that had brought the events to a critical mass.
Thus, while the events in the winter had been the triggers that impelled him to uncharacteristically bold action; it would be incorrect to say they caused him to suddenly turn his life upside down. In the process of making his decision and Bonnie had not one, but a series of meetings with Amy Douglass and one with the LeMarco’s as well. He and Bonnie had made a real point not to be accusatory or combative when they discussed the events of the past months. He repeatedly thanked the LeMarco’s for their invitations to both cruise and party which had helped him expand his horizons enough to make the change in career possible. Cooper very much wanted to keep on good terms with Martin LeMarco who was both his employer and a friend.
At mid-life, at the height of a successful career as an architect, he was taking his life in a new direction. With the help of Amy Douglass, he received and accepted an offer for a position as Assistant Professor of Architecture at Augusta State University. Having pursued a second masters’ degree in Social Anthropology while a practicing architect, would finally come in use. In the fall he would be teaching two graduate courses: Introduction to Commercial Architecture and Architectural Anthropology. Thus when he told Martin he would be leaving the firm, the offered reason was not moral or ethical differences; but because Cooper was starting a new career as an academic. As such he left the firm on very good terms.
His new position would not begin until the summer when he would teach one summer session, but he took two months of accumulated leave to begin preparing lectures beginning the first of April. He cashed out his 4.5% stake in LeMarco and LeMarco Architects for a considerable profit. Enough money, if invested wisely, to more than make up for the pay cut in the short term and provide a comfortable retirement when that day came.
In addition to all the other events of late winter, at Rev. McBride’s suggestion, Cooper had been writing a series of treatises on Sexuality, Christianity and Open Societies. He and Payton McBride had gotten along well ever since the minister had been appointed as their pastor four years ago. They were only a few years apart in age and both had an interest in the church as a social change agent. Well before Bonnie began her thing with Jill, Cooper had talked to Rev. McBride several times about the couple he had asked him and Bonnie to help hold a church family together as they delt with the issues of extramarital sex. In that process, they had taken a long hard look at Christian sexual morality. It was that study that first led them to challenge the conventional restrictive view. Cooper had been only mildly surprised that, in confidence, the pastor told him that he did not believe extra-marital sex or homosexuality were inherently wrong; but he knew that would upset the older members if they knew. So, when Cooper came to him after the events at the party at the LeMarco’s looking for guidance, he did so with confidence the pastor understood and was supportive of what he was saying. Though in earlier meetings he had alluded to the fact that Bonnie had, with his blessing, been sexual with other people; that day he stated plainly that he and Bonnie were no longer monogamous and that they did not believe that was inconsistent with their Christian life. What Cooper needed was help in articulating a Christian perspective on open marriage. He wanted to build a clear and systematic ethical approach to sexually permissive Christianity.
The minister was not at all taken aback and even gave Cooper a new word to research: polyamory. In this his pastor was not just supportive in a passive way, but challenged and empowered him to find the answers himself. After that he met with Rev. McBride a few more times to discuss what he had found before he was given the suggestion to write a few formal articles on the subject both to clarify his own thoughts and for publication.
The mid-March was always busy at the Campbells since both of their children had been born then. In earlier years there had been large elaborate parties; but this year, with all the changes Misty Campbell’s March 17th birthday, it was raining in Sparta, Georgia. Misty had been given permission by her yearbook teacher to drive home for lunch because she’d forgotten her purse. The swimming pool supply company’s truck was parked crossways in the drive, so she parked her green Mini in the grass. She thought “That is odd, how could he be working on the pool in the rain?” She knew Mr. Newell from the pool store. He was good looking and hadn’t been very subtle last summer when he shamelessly looked down her mom’s shirt and made come-on type comments to her. The house was oddly quiet. Something in the back of her mind told her not to announce her presence. Inside the door, she slipped off her jacket and turned left into the family room. Due to the heavy rain, the room was dark for 11:00 AM, but the lights were on in her parent’s bedroom. As she neared, above the sound of the rain, she heard noises coming from her mom’s room. As she crept forward, she knew full well what the sounds meant. She knew what sex in her parent’s room sounded like, so she moved into a position to see what was going on.
She crept behind the Lazy-boy and peeked around. She could only see her mother’s shoulder moving up and down, but she could see nothing else from where she was. She wanted a better view. Since she could tell her mom’s back was to her, she ghosted across the room and moved up in front of their big plasma TV. Now she was just feet from her parent’s door, even before peering around the side of the TV, she could hear the squeaking of the mattress and voices. Cautiously she looked over; her mother sat on her knees poised above the prone figure of a man. The tips of her hair were dark with moisture as sweat ran down her back in tiny rivulets which converged into a stream that disappeared between her spread ass cheeks. When her mother slammed down on a pair of muscular men’s thighs with a shudder, sweat droplets flew in the air. Her mom arched her back and up went the soft flesh of her buttocks. When her mom’s hips lifted up again, Misty could plainly see how the inner lips gripped a bright green condom clad penis until enough shaft showed that Misty could have put her hand in and gripped it without touching her mother, then the hips went down with another thigh shaking thump. The sweat told Misty her mom had been at this for some time. She was so close she imagined she could smell their sex. She couldn't believe her mom was doing Mr. Newell and doing him right in her own bed.
For a full ten minutes she crouched watching her mother and the owner of the pool supply shop. Somewhere, half-way through Misty’s spying, the man rolled over on top of her mom. This necessitated Misty to move more in the open to see. But it also meant, the man was unlikely to see her, even if she stood right in the doorway, which, after working up the courage, she did. She stood right in the door and watched her mom wrap her legs around the pool man’s waist, holding him tight as they did the missionary position. He had a nice ass. She tried to guess how old he was. She knew he'd taken the business over from his father a few years ago and from the pictures in the shop, she guessed his kids to be in elementary school. She concluded he must be a good decade younger than her mom. She also never realized how big a man’s balls could be. They nearly completely covered her view of his penis sliding in and out. Her mom released her legs and moved to the left and he stood on his knees, rolling her mother onto her side. Misty could see her mother’s whole body now as she lay crossways across the bed. She ducked for cover back behind the TV, fearing her mom or her mom’s lover might see her. But after peeking for a few minutes, she was confident that they had one another’s full attention, so she moved back to the door frame. She was so very tempted to slide right into the room, but resisted. He was holding up her mom’s right leg horizontally as he worked hard enough for his impacting her to sound a loud “slap, slap, slap”. Misty had never watched her parents at length like this. She’d watched hundreds of hours of internet porn, but she was sure that did not show the pacing and actions like a real couple. Her observation told her she’d been right about that.
At precisely 11:25 the alarm on her phone went off. She jumped and hid behind the curio cabinet on the far side of the bedroom door. She silenced her phone, but was sure her mom and her mom’s lover had heard. Thinking quickly, she dropped it on the floor and slipped through the doorway to the kitchen. Her heart beat so hard it hurt. She thought her breathing was so loud everyone in the house could hear. From the family room, she could hear her mom walking toward the curio cabinet. The steps stopped. “It’s my daughter’s phone” Bonnie called back to the man on her bed. “She must have dropped it here on the floor when she went to school.”
Misty thought she was in the clear.
“While I’m up I’m going to get a drink, do you want one?” her mom continued.
“Sure” the male voice answered.
Misty froze as her mom stepped completely naked into the kitchen. Her body glistened with the beads of perspiration and her face was ruddy with exertion. Misty then understood what the broad grin on her mother’s face meant. She almost fell down in relief.
Bonnie put her finger to her lips and whispered “You wicked girl! Watching your mommy get laid while Daddy’s at work.”
Misty whispered back “You wicked mom, getting laid by the pool man, what will Dad say?”
Bonnie grabbed two diet-Cokes, and whispered “He’ll say he’s sorry he didn’t get to watch.” She handed Misty the phone “I figured you’d want this back. Don’t be late for class”. She leaned over and kissed her daughter on the cheek and danced out the door.
Once her heart rate was back to normal, the high school girl grabbed a Sprite and a Dannon Yogurt, and stole a glance around the curio cabinet, but could see nothing, so she put her head further around it. She could tell her mother had made sure there was no way the pool man would see her leave the kitchen. Mom was now sitting on the man’s face as she sucked on his penis in the sixty-nine position.
As Misty crossed the room, she stopped as a naughty thought crossed her mind. She pulled her iPhone back out and snapped two pics of mom on the pool man.
When a few minutes later Bonnie looked up from sucking the penis in her hand, she smiled, clearly unaware what Misty had done, nodded her head to indicate that Misty needed to go on, and then winked before going back down on the pool man. To impress her daughter, she deliberately downed as much of the penis as she could. She tried to get it all in but she could only go so far as to just barely feel his copious pubic hair with her lips. She held it deep for as long as she could, knowing full well Misty was still watching. Was she competing with her daughter? Or perhaps showing off? Or perhaps it excited her to know Misty was so close and watching. Probably it was all three.
Misty shot a few more pix of her mother with virtually all of Mr. Newell's, not small, penis in her mouth. Once she was in the car she sent the best two photos to her dad with the words “I stopped home for lunch but Mom was already eating."
The first week of April was to be when that Cooper end his time at Le Marco & LeMarco; however, Martin made Cooper a very generous offer if he would fly to Chicago one last time to put out one last fire. So, as freelance consultant, not an employee, Cooper once again took off for Atlanta Hartsfield Airport early that Wednesday morning. However, Bonnie’s annoyance that Martin LeMarco kept his hooks in her husband was mollified because after over a month of trying, Bonnie and Heather Jones were finally able to work out a plan for Heather to spend the night. Bonnie had not expected so many things to come up and prevent Heather from spending time with them. Lamar had been sick one week end, then the next weekend her mother insisted she come home for a family function. All that was normal life, however, Bonnie was suspicious that Brian LeMarco had a hand in Heather’s lack of availability on weekends.