Midwestern Whorer Story

By Kent Greenfelder

Starting in middle school and continuing into adulthood, Samantha was a mess. Like a pinball, she bounced from person to person and situation to situation, destroying every thing and life she touched. When she met Wayne, evil was unleashed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644246016

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Midwestern Whorer Story

Kent Greenfelder

Copyright © 2019 Kent Greenfelder

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2019

ISBN 978-1-64424-599-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64424-601-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 1

By most accounts, Samantha Sable was a mess. The problem was, messy is an easy path to stay on if you surround yourself with people who can’t seem to get enough of it.

Samantha was a naturally attractive girl, if well worn. She had a slender figure and long dark hair, worn almost exclusively in a ponytail. Her middle-class upbringing on the outskirts of Minneapolis seemed to be a lifetime or two in the past. While she was growing up, her father worked in an automotive plant and her mother sold Avon, allowing her to spend as much time as she could having coffee with her friends and focusing on her family. The plant Mr. Sable worked in was about a forty-minute drive from the family home. Workers would take turns driving in a little car pool. When Mr. Sable or one of the other three guys drove, they would grab a twelve-pack of beer and have a few on the way both to and from work. They were all members of the UAW and had union protection; if they were not obviously drunk, no one was going to bother them about the smell. The other two guys had previously been arrested and convicted for drinking and driving. The other two would not allow it, and no one would pressure them into risking a second drinking arrest.

As a common courtesy, when Mr. Sable drove, the passengers would pay for the beer, typically Budweiser. Whoever was driving on a particular day paid for gas; the rotation of drivers kept the fuel expenditures basically even. The cars were usually as small as possible while having enough space for the pool of adults.

The middle of three Sable children, Samantha was sandwiched between Bill, who was two years older, and Tim, who was one and a half years younger than her.

Bill spent his days in their rural town, chumming around with the jocks enjoying what passed for celebrity. In small towns, the jocks are very often also the farmers, the beer drinkers, the pot smokers, and the popular kids. As the older folks always said, the town wasn’t big enough for a town drunk, so they all took a turn. The kids took up the mantel early.

Before high school football games, Ms. Sable would make food for all Bill’s friends, who would come eat before games. Often she would make chili or tacos, believing that boys should have a good base in their stomachs and believing it would help them.

Tim, the youngest, seemed to be more inclined to participate in the school band. His group of friends was not on a path to interact socially with Bill or Samantha’s crowd.

Band kids in town had their own cliques and their own parties and gatherings after the games, concerts, or plays where they performed. As the band kids hit high school, they drank, engaged in sexual exploration, and had their own fun. Rarely did their paths cross with the jocks except at big events and in the halls of school. Band kids were typically smarter and much more accepting of those who did not fall into other groups, including the few gay kids in school.

School bands had camps, which involved staying overnight in different towns and frequent travel to competitions. They performed at halftime of home football games. Because of the size of the community, elementary and middle school children were often pressed into service with the high school kids and involved in most activities. The band director and parents who helped or chaperoned events were very good about keeping the kids separated into their own age groups during any band activities. Tim grew up through elementary school, middle school, and high school participating in band and the associated social groups.

The Sable family was keenly aware of the gossip that floated around their small town and monitored it by staying involved through the kids’ activities. Mr. and Mrs. Sable did not get involved in the politics of the community, and the Avon sales were not high enough to warrant Samantha’s mother joining the local chamber of commerce.

The local chamber did little to promote its members; most activities were geared toward raising money to keep the little social club afloat. Mrs. Sable felt that getting involved would cost her twenty-five dollars per month, which she did not have unless she removed money from the family savings and would open herself up to being a topic of conversation within the chamber.

Considered to be a pretty girl throughout her school years and having a brother who was a member of the in crowd allowed Samantha access and invitations to the parties the older kids were throwing in middle school and then high school.

When she would get onto the school bus in the morning or after school, Samantha felt comfortable sitting with all people who had space by them on the green bench seats. If Samantha was sitting with space by her, one of the older boys getting on the bus after her was bound to sit by her. Even as a child, Samantha was popular.

When Samantha turned thirteen, she was starting to develop a very attractive little body for her age. Invitations to parties or to go cruising with older kids became a regular thing.

Samantha made the mistake of asking her mother if she could go only one time. Samantha quickly learned the reason for the saying If you cannot take no for an answer, don’t ask the question. Mrs. Sable, with some irritation and shock in her voice, said, Not until you are older. You’re only thirteen. Once she calmed down, in a very nice tone, she asked the name of the boy who asked her. She knew the boy and his family; she looked up their phone number and called his mother.

Mrs. Sable’s voice quickly became rushed and loud. She said, My little girl is only thirteen. It is not appropriate for your son to be asking her out to ride in cars or go to parties with older kids. She said, If this type of thing ever happens again, I am sending my husband over to your house to deal with it.

The boy’s mother took his car and other privileges away for two weeks. Word of Mrs. Sable’s phone rant spread around the school as fast as parental drama does. Bill and Samantha were very embarrassed about their mother’s phone call. It was the talk of both the middle school and the high school for a full week. The kid who asked Samantha out was pissed at Bill. He said, What the hell, dude, you ask girls out cruising all the time. Bill could just say he was sorry but that he did not ask out thirteen-year-olds.

No one ever seemed to be short of alcohol at the local parties kids were attending. Samantha and her middle school friends would simply raid the refrigerators at home or swipe several cans of beer from the supply kept in almost every dad’s shed or garage.

Book bags or oversize purses held enough beer to get kids drunk. The beer inventory in the sheds or garages was never tracked by the adults, so the supply was quite reliable. Kids all used the same system of calling parents away from windows that would have allowed them to see the other kids taking the beer if they happened to look outside.

For the most part, the local parents would never have allowed their kids to drink, nor would they have knowingly supplied alcohol for the parties. However, they were all too lazy or timid to pay attention to their children or confront them about drinking.

The worst drug in town, as far as most people knew, was marijuana. Most of the parents had tried it in the past or currently smoked weed, so it was avoided as a topic of conversation between kids and adults. If any parent found a bag of weed in a kid’s room or smelled it on them, he or she would have to have a conversation and fake anger. If grandparents became aware of the found weed, punishments normally increased.

A few high school boys had some nice marijuana plants they grew from seeds that were collected and saved from the bottom of plastic sandwich bags for years. The soil on the riverbanks was very good for growing, and the weeds grew early, tall, and thick.

The kids growing cleared a patch of soil a few feet around and turned it up with a shovel, the high bank weeds would hide it from anyone looking from fields or floating by on the river. A few high school kids planted seeds in the flower boxes in front of the local police department and the local wastewater treatment plant.

As soon as the plants became visible from the road, they disappeared. The rumor was that one of the local officers pulled them and kept them for himself. The more likely reason for them coming up missing was that one of the local kids took them, or they were just weeded out by someone responsible for the planters.

The experienced, older kids made pipes or bongs to smoke the marijuana out of from beer cans. Pocketknives were used to punch holes on the bottom edge to suck smoke through. A dent with a larger hole was placed on the side of the can toward the top. Inside the dent, the hole was covered by a small piece of screen.

The can would be held horizontally with the dent and screen facing up. The marijuana would be placed on the screen, and the smoker would suck on the hole punched in the bottom edge and place a finger over the opening one normally drank out of while having someone light the marijuana. Once it was lit, it would be sucked, filling the can with smoke. When the finger was removed from the opening on the top of the can, clean air would be allowed in, and the smoke that had gathered in the can would blast into the lungs of the person smoking.

The more experienced kids made what were referred to as water bongs. They were made using a mason jar; they would fill the jar about two-thirds full with water. The jar would have a bowl puttied or caulked onto the top with a plastic tube that ran down through the water to the bottom of the jar. A second much-longer tube was put through the lid and sealed. The second tube was in the jar but above the waterline. When the smoker would suck on the longer tube, air would be drawn through the bowl of burning marijuana. The smoke would bubble up with the air being sucked in and gather above the water, which would be ingested through the second tube.

If the process was done right, it would cause coughing and a burning sensation in the throat. It would be followed by a confident Wow, that’s good shit. The most experienced kids knew to allow air around their blocking finger when using the beer can to reduce the amount of smoke and the burning sensation. No one ever questioned why they were not blowing a lot of smoke out of their mouths or called them out. The younger and less experienced kids would cough and have their eyes tear up as they bent over and held their knees.

For girls whom the guys wanted to get stoned and take advantage of, the guys would roll marijuana cigarettes, joints, and have the girls take small puffs. If the guys were lucky and their plan worked, they would fill their own mouths with smoke, have the girl open her mouth, and breathe in. The guy would gently blow the smoke into the girl’s mouth, which seemed to limit the discomfort of the girls. This gentler form of smoking was called puffing.

The hard-core young female smoker would have a guy shotgun the smoke directly into her mouth. The guy would place the burning end of the joint into his lips; the other end would be aimed into the mouth of the girl. The guy would gently blow through the joint, forcing smoke into the mouth of the girl.

Samantha and her friends were always offered puffers when at the older kids’ parties or cruising in vehicles. The young or attractive older girls were never seen smoking from a can. The oval shape of the girl’s lips when preparing to have smoke blown into her mouth was also a turn-on for the guys.

Chapter 2

Samantha’s father had a wood shop in a small detached garage behind the family house. The shop was the garage for an old farmhouse that was on the property when the Sables bought the property to build their ranch home.

Mr. Sable considered himself an artisan. He spent hours during the first nine months of the year, making birdhouses and his signature towel racks and blanket holders. During the last three months of the year, he would make wooden trucks and trains that he gave to charity groups for Christmas parties.

The shop consisted of workbenches, a lathe, a radial arm saw, a table saw, and several silver metal power tools. There were stacks of scrap wood he would collect from friends and reuse. On occasion, he would go to the local lumberyard and purchase single pieces he needed. Whenever Mr. Sable had to buy wood, it was for a project he was being paid to create.

Mr. Sable was missing the tips of a few fingers on his left hand from the radial arm saw. There was a hole in the ceiling from a tool that he was using to form some wood on the lathe. The tool ended up catching in the spinning lathe and flying up through the drywall and insulation.

Samantha’s father showed an odd amount of pride as it related to the missing fingertips. He loved telling the story about going to the emergency room and causing one of the ladies in the waiting room to almost vomit when he made his bleeding nubs available for her to see.

Mr. Sable was calm throughout the whole fingertip experience; Mrs. Sable was a frantic mess, screaming at the hospital staff to take care of her husband. She could not understand why some people with what seemed to be a cold or the flu were being taken into the emergency room before her husband. Mrs. Sable had packed his hand in clean towels for the thirty-minute drive to the hospital.

Mr. Sable said the most painful part of the day was his removing the towel that had stuck to his fingertips as blood dried. The nurse said they should have wet the towel with water to keep the towel from sticking. She said it would still stop the bleeding and reduce the pain when it was removed. Mr. Sable chuckled and said, Good to know for next time.

The fingers were cut in a straight line below the most distal knuckle of his middle finger, so there was not enough to try to reattach what was left. One of the guys watching Mr. Sable work had the thought of collecting what detached parts he could and packing it in ice from the beer cooler. Mrs. Sable gave those guys two plastic sandwich bags so the tips could be reattached if possible. One bag contained the tips, which were put into the other bag of ice.

On weekends, Mr. Sable’s friends would show up in the workshop with twelve-packs or twenty-four-can cases of beer and stand around and watch him work. There were a few folding lawn chairs with green, white, and blue webbing and few barstools without backs for the guys to sit.

When the guys would leave the shop, they would each grab a roadie, a beer for the ride home. The guys would always leave the remaining beer in the refrigerator or coolers for next time. Mr. Sable was quite about how happy he was to always have free beer.

In years past, Samantha’s father had a keg of beer on tap for the shop. He kept it in a cooler in his shop that he had built out of an old-timey icebox lined with Styrofoam and a cooling unit he scavenged from an old refrigerator. It held and chilled the beer and stored the CO2 attached to the keg to relieve him from having to pump the keg and keeping it fresh for longer.

Friends were able to use the Sable keg refrigerator for events like weddings, graduation parties, and family reunions. The unit was extremely heavy and bulky, so it was put on large casters that allowed it to be rolled up ramps and onto a trailer. If the beer dispenser/cooler was going to be lifted into the back of a truck, Mr. Sable would have Bill and a few of his strong friends do the lifting.

One of the guys who was a regular at the wood shop had a tractor with forks he could put on the front of the bucket and that would lift the beer cooler/dispenser into a truck bed when he or one of the other regulars was going to have a keg. The tractor owner only lived down the road about a half mile. If the person using it did not have a tractor to unload it, he would just run an extension cord to the truck bed and leave it in there.

If the event was a wedding or other classy event, a high school kid would be hired to fill pitchers and deliver beer to people at the event. The pitcher kid would keep the other cool kids’ glasses filled up as well.

Bill looked forward to using it when he was old enough. He had a mental image of how cool he would be with it strapped in the back of a truck and girls swarming him and his friends for a glass of beer. The reoccurring dream always skipped over the fact that he needed electricity to run refrigeration.

Mr. Sable discovered that the red plastic or clear cups he and his buds were drinking out of when using the keg collected too much sawdust, so he and the boys switched to the cans that all his friends brought over. The endless supply and changing number of cans made both Samantha and Bill both popular and happy.

None of the kids’ parents had any idea that they were providing their children with all the beer they and their friends needed. By the time Samantha was in the eighth grade, Bill’s friends had taken to plying her with cheap, sweet wine, always behind the back of what they believed to be her protective older brother.

Sweet wine was much easier for Samantha and all the girls her age to drink large volumes of. In general, getting a buzz was the goal for the girls and, for different reasons, the guys providing it. Most middle school girls did not yet like beer or whiskey. If there was not sweet wine, they would force the beer down.

Bill’s friends thought it was important to keep him unaware that the attention they were showing to his sister was simply to gain eventual access to her pants.

Bill was no saint and provided several younger girls with alcohol for the same reason as his friends gave it to Samantha. In the mind of Bill, if he didn’t think about the issue, it would not bother him. If he did not feel bothered, why should he bother his friends?

Bill and his boys often talked about how the girls in Samantha’s class looked and how much better they would be once they grew tits. The young girls would dress as sluttishly as they could get away with and still get out of the house. Some of the more adventurous girls change their clothes at their friends’ houses if their parents were not home or were cooler. Others changed in nearby sheds that were not locked.

One of the girls actually kept her party clothes in a box on a shelf in a neighbor’s garden house. She sneaked into the garden house every time she was going out. The guy who owned the little building had seen her sneak into the building and reemerge in different clothes. Rather than confront the girl or tell her parents, he drilled a few peepholes in the side and rushed out to watch her undress. He let a few of his buddies know, and they would show up for the show early in the evening on Friday and Saturday nights to get their chance.

The girl’s parents were divorced, and she lived with her mom. She was a junior in high school. She was tall with dark hair and had a reputation as loving to give oral sex.

The girl noticed the eyes on her the first time she was being watched. She knew the old men could not tell on her, or they would get into as much trouble for watching as she would for changing clothes. If she stayed quiet, she could keep using her changing room, and she enjoyed giving the show. It was a win-win for everyone.

As she went to more parties, Samantha became more comfortable with the make-out sessions and groping that seemed to occur every time guys could get her alone. Often the guys would cop a feel with other people in sight. Samantha wasn’t blind to everything that was going on as older high school boys more frequently showed up at the freshmen parties and her popularity grew.

The guys