Good Catholic Girl

"Give me that big girl," May demanded, holding out her arms for Amhara.

"Where's Ritchie?" Kampala asked after handing Amhara to May.

"On duty, keeping the mean streets of DeGarde safe," Scott smiled.

"Kampala? After church, we going see Becky. You coming?" May asked, gently rocking Amhara on her leg.

"I uh, yeah, that be all right?" Kampala asked.

"She's already got her twenty or thirty kids," Scott said. "They'd never even notice we slip Amhara in there."

"Only got her five of them," Tony corrected.

"She, her husband ain't black, huh?" Kampala asked as the organ droned on.

"Hmm? No, Timmy's about as coon ass as you can get," Scott said.

"Then I'm pretty sure they'd notice a little black baby in there," Kampala smiled.

Amhara loved the farm, even squealing with delight as an aggressive chicken chased her across the yard. The tractor fascinated her and her big eyes got even larger as Anna Bee proudly fired the machine up.

"Oh God! I got a ton of homework; you even get started on that paper?" Kampala asked as they prepared to leave.

"Um, no," Scott agreed.

"Then need ride home with your momma and daddy," Kampala smiled, buckling an exhausted Amhara into her car seat.

"Bye Amhara, by sweetie," Scott said, giving the child a kiss on her cheek.

"By Mr. Scott," Kampala said.

Scott and Kampala kissed a few times, then Scott reluctantly walked to where his parents were waiting. With a final wave to Kampala and Amhara, and to his daughter and son in law, Tony backed out of the drive.

Again, after bathing Amhara, after putting the child to bed, Kampala lay in her own bed and masturbated to thoughts of Scott Jeffries.

Monday afternoon, Kampala's phone chirped, letting her know she had a text. She frowned as Darius again demanded to see her.

"I'm dating Scott now," she sent back.

"So?" was his response.

"So, I won't be seeing you, dumb ass," Kampala said and sent him a reply.

"Hey!" Samuel Trahan, the equipment manager yelled when Darius threw his helmet into a cinderblock wall.

"Aw, suck my dick, bitch," Darius snarled.

"Fucker, break that helmet, coming out of your pocket," Samuel grumbled, carefully checking the helmet.

The rest of the team came into the locker room, whooping, chattering, laughing. Darius spotted the red headed Scott and marched toward him.

"Need leave my girl alone, hear?" Darius snarled, shoving the unsuspecting young man.

The center and the left tackle did what they were supposed to do and blocked Darius's advance on Scott. Darius found himself sprawled on the industrial carpet.

"Duncan, you ain't nothing but a loser," the left tackle said.

"Don't make yourself a loser with an ass whipping," the center snapped.

"Guys, thanks, but this is between Darius and me," Scott said. "Listen, Duncan. I asked her out. She ain't said nothing about your ass. So, uh, maybe she wasn't never your girl, huh?"

"How you can do me like that?" Darius said when Kampala answered her phone.

"How I can do you like what? I seen your ass with that Courtney, no, no, that Lori just other day; figured it was over and moved on," Kampala said.

"Aw man, that crazy ass cracker bitch?" Darius whined. "Shit girl! That wasn't nothing, huh?"

"Was something to me," Kampala lied.

Lori was more than happy to see Darius and buzzed him in when he showed up at her apartment. Within minutes of entering the petite brunette's apartment, Darius was balls deep in Lori, was forgetting about being removed from the ULD Storm football team.

As Darius was fucking the energetic young woman, Kampala was scribbling out the answers to the questions at the end of Chapter 2 in her Earth Sciences class. The moment she'd answered the last question, she tapped the number 4 on her phone.

"I can see you tonight?" Kampala asked when Scott answered his phone.

Be right there," Scott agreed.

Scott played with Amhara while Kampala fixed dinner. Then, claiming he'd already eaten, Scott only had a small plate of spaghetti and meat sauce.

He helped Kampala bathe Amhara and wrinkled his nose at the small selection of pajamas that the girl had. Kampala and he took turns reading Goldilocks and the three bears to Amhara.

"Need tell you something," Kampala smiled as she pulled Scott into her bedroom.

"Yeah?" Scott asked, smiling.

"Ain't never, I mean, I ain't never done this before," Kampala said, slipping out of her blouse.

"Pretty sure we done this couple days ago," Scott said, slipping his own shirt off.

"No, I'm about tell you something real personal," Kampala laughed and kissed him.

"I been touching myself," she whispered, sliding her panties down and off.

"Oh yeah?" Scott groaned, looking at the dense thicket of black curls.

"Been touching myself, thinking about you," Kampala admitted.

She lay down on her bed, spread her legs wide, and slowly rubbed her wet slit. Scott watched, frozen in place as Kampala played with her puffy lips.

"I rub this, thinking about how you kiss it," Kampala whispered.

She then dug her fingers inside of her pussy, thumb rubbing over her clitoris. Her fingers made light squelching noises as she thrust them in and out of herself.

"Then I do this, thinking about that big, beautiful dick of yours fucking me," Kampala said.

Scott was able to move again. He moved forward, knelt on the bed between Kampala's splayed legs and gently nudged his cock against her wet pussy.

"Mean, like this?" he husked.

"Yeeees," Kampala hissed.

"Yes," Scott agreed as he pushed himself into her.

Kampala's legs came up and wrapped around his waist. Scott leaned forward and kissed her. She returned his kiss, tongue licking sloppily around in his mouth.

"Mm-hmm, love how you do that," Kampala shuddered as Scott gave her several short jabs, then a few long strokes.

"Yeah?" Scott wheezed.

"Mm-hmm," Kampala agreed and kissed him again.

Scott tilted his pelvis upward, then drove himself deeply within her. Kampala screwed up her face as his cock rubbed against her flesh, excited her flesh.

"Umm, oh mother fucker," Kampala grunted in orgasm.

Scott tried to think of his play book, tried to think of his proposed term paper for Alternate History, tried to think of anything but the beautiful face underneath him. He tried to think of anything but the firm breasts, the hard nipples scraping against his chest. He tried to think of anything but the velvet smooth, tight, wet pussy gripping and milking his cock.

"Fuck," Scott hissed; all he could think of was the beautiful girl he was making love with.

"Uh huh, that's what we doing," Kampala giggled. "Fuck."

"Ugh!" Scott groaned and pumped stream after stream of semen into Kampala's welcoming pussy.

Twenty minutes later, Kampala asked Scott if he'd like to stay the night. He kissed her softly.

"Really? Would love nothing more," he said. "But the truth is? My mother would have a fit if I was to stay at a woman's house ain't married to her."

"What?" Kampala asked, genuinely shocked.

"Guess I'm a 'Momma's Boy,'" Scott admitted. "But as long as I'm living in her house, I'm going live by her rules."

They kissed a few more times as Scott dressed. Then Kampala watched as Scott stuck his head in and checked on the sleeping Amhara. One more kiss at the door and she let him leave the apartment.

The next time Scott came to their apartment, Kampala smiled prettily. She'd located the far too short cut off shorts, the ones she'd worn the first day of the summer session. She hopped about, wiggling and jerking, and slipped the short shorts on. Her torso was covered, barely, by a tee shirt that was far too snug, far too short, leaving much of her belly exposed, outlining her round breasts and hard nipples.

"Sure you won't stay the night?" Kampala whispered as she bent over to pick up one of Amhara's toys.

"Killing me, woman. You just killing me," Scott smiled and she laughed.

Amhara wanted Mr. Scott to read a bedtime story to her. Scott smiled and scooped the child into his muscular arms and carried her to her bedroom.

"Know what?" Kampala asked as Scott came out of Amhara's room.

"No. What?" Scott asked, watching as she slid the shorts down her dark legs.

"Even though you all white? I like having you as my boyfriend," Kampala smiled.

Even though I'm white, huh?" Scott asked, hugging her.

"Uh huh," Kampala smiled.

"Kampala, lights all off? Ain't no colors," Scott said. "There's just two hearts and they beating together," Scott whispered, laying her onto her bed.

"Ooh!" Kampala agreed as he slid his hard cock into her pussy.

"One these days? One these days, I'm going do that fine ass of yours, hear?" Scott grunted, burying his cock into her.

"My, oh no you ain't!" Kampala laughed.

"Uh huh, oh yeah I am," Scott promised, reaching down and cupping one of her luscious buttocks.

Kampala was quick to orgasm. She moaned and grunted. Then when Scott rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, she grunted some more.

"Ugh, oh yeah," Kampala agreed, wiggling her hips and driving him deep inside of her.

"Uh, nuh uh, what you doing?" Kampala laughed when she felt Scott's fingers tracing her tightly clenched anus.

"You don't worry 'bout what I'm doing. You just go on back what you was doing," Scott said.

"Ugh! That's nasty," Kampala protested as he jammed the spittle wet finger into her rectum.

"Uh huh, good and nasty," Scott agreed.

A few moments later, Scott had two fingers thrusting in and out of Kampala's tight rectum. She bounced her pussy energetically on his hard meat.

"Ugh, oh mother fucker, mother fucker, yes," Kampala cried out as she felt Scott's hot semen pumping into her pussy.

Kampala passed her Sociology class with a '98' for the semester. And she could cross another required course off the list. She still had not decided what her major was going to be, but knew it would not be Sociology.

They both passed their Earth Science class with a solid A. They also both passed their Alternate History class with an A apiece.

For Alternate History, Scott decided to write a paper on the outcome of World War Two, had the D-Day Invasion of Normandy been a failure. The outcome, overall, Scott hypothesized, would have been the loss of the war by Germany, but there would have been much more loss of life. The loss by Germany would have been mainly in part to Hitler's ill-managed invasion of Russia. The US and Allied loss of D-Day would have resulted in all of Europe falling into the hands of the Russians, then would have been assimilated into the Soviet Empire.

Kampala wrote her paper on the Civil Rights; what would have happened had there been no Rosa Parks, no Birmingham bus boycott? Unrest was already brewing. Many were rankling at the unfair, uneven treatment of one race against another.

Her Theory was that the civil rights movement would have been much more violent; there would have been no Martin Luther King, Jr. preaching his non-violent resistance. Segregation would have continued for much longer, and there would still be much resistance to integration even into the twenty first century.

"So, we wouldn't be dating, huh?" Scott asked as he read her paper.

"Probably not," Kampala smiled. "We'd be fucking, but you'd just be doing it with me while your white girlfriend sits around, getting all fat and stuff."

"Speaking of getting all fat and stuff, my momma wants know you coming over for supper tomorrow? Having us some stuffed shrimp," Scott smiled.

"Stuffed, how you stuff shrimp?" Kampala asked. "But yeah, tell her we be there."

Friday afternoon, freshly showered after a sweaty full pads practice, Scott knocked on Kampala's door. She opened the door and kissed him. Then Schott helped Kampala grab everything for an evening out.

"Scott, my car's over here," Kampala said as Scott walked toward his SUV.

"Hmm? Yeah, it's nice," Scott said. "And my car's right here."

"Yeah, but I got Amhara's car seat," Kampala said.

"Really? I got one too," Scott said, opening the rear of his car.

"You. You bought a car seat? For Amhara?" Kampala asked, looking at the brand new car seat.

"Uh huh," Scott agreed, buckling Amhara into her seat.

"I, I don't," Kampala stammered as Scott closed the door of the SUV.

She grabbed Scott in a fierce hug. Then, after a soft kiss, she got into the passenger seat of the luxury vehicle.

"Maw-maw going be there?" Amhara asked as they drove to the Jeffries' house.

Amhara had heard Anna Bee and Becky's other children calling May 'Maw-Maw' so she thought that was the woman's name. None of the Jeffries' bothered to correct her. But even though Anna Bee and the other children called Tony Jeffries 'Paw-Paw,' Amhara still called him 'Mr. Tony.'

"That fine; I know who she talking at yeah," Tony smiled.

At the small home, Amhara was already calling out for Maw-Maw upon their entry. Kampala put Amhara down and Amhara scampered into the kitchen.

"Aw! And there that sweet little girl!" May cried out, scooping the child up.

"Man! Don't never do me like that, huh?" Tony complained, smiling.

"Aw! And there that sweet Mr. Tony!" May cried out and gave her husband a hug and a kiss.

"Love you, woman," Tony whispered, squeezing both May and Amhara in a hug.

Officer Ritchie Jeffries was on patrol, so, according to Tony, they might actually have enough food. May shushed him and started serving the food.

"Kampala, you going game tomorrow?" May asked as she took her seat.

"Uh, game?" Kampala asked.

"That Storm? They playing first game tomorrow," May asked. "Boy, you don't say nothing?"

"Connelly Cougars," Scott shrugged. "Kampala, you a student same school I'm going to. How you not know there's a game?"

"She got other things think about," Tony said, pointing to Amhara, who was trying to figure out how to eat a stuffed shrimp.

"Want go? We be by, pick you up," May offered.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I honestly thought you knew," Scott said.

"What'd you call me?" Kampala asked, smiling.

"Uh, Baby," Scott admitted, a hot blush starting.

In the morning, Kampala looked at the strange phone number in her cell phone's display. She shrugged and answered the phone.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hey, Kampala; we be there 'bout twenty minutes get you," May said.

"Twenty...what? What time game starts?" Kampala asked.

"Twelve," May said. "So, we get there 'bout ten? Then we got us a good parking spot. And there the Couvillions? They always got place next to ours, man! That woman do a good mess that craklin' hear?"

"I'll be ready," Kampala promised.

Kampala found a ULD tee shirt and also put Amhara's hair into two ponytails with a red ribbon and a white ribbon. Amhara was excited to hear that she'd be seeing Maw-Maw and Mr. Tony again.

"But where Mr. Scott?" she wondered. "He going be there?"

"Yes, Sweetheart. But he's going be on the field, playing football," Kampala explained.

"Oh. Well, I want play football too," Amhara decided.

"Amhara, those boys are pretty big," Kampala smiled, making sure she had two juice bottles for her girl.

Tailgating was a new experience for Kampala. She'd heard the expression, and had a vague idea of what it entailed. But Kampala had never desired to go sit in a parking lot with a group of rabid fans, screaming and hooting and hollering. The Couvillions did park next to the Jeffries and the two families swapped food, beers, and tall tales. The Couvillions did not have any children attending ULD, did not have any ties to the school, other than it was located in DeGarde and they lived in DeGarde. But they were dedicated fans.

"Man! Year that Arville Brodt was there?" Mr. Tony agreed. "Man! Now, that boy was something, huh?"

"He number twenty seven," May said when the gates opened and the Jeffries clan filed into the stadium.

Kampala looked, and could see Scott. He had his helmet on, had full pads on, and looked quite large, quite intimidating.

"And he calls me 'Baby,'" Kampala smiled and pointed him out to Amhara.

From the very first play, it did appear that it would be a rout. The Texas college defense could not stop the run and had only slightly better luck against the pass. The Connelly offense looked bewildered, confused most of the time.

Amhara slept through most of the third quarter and was fussy for the fourth quarter. Even being passed back and forth from Maw-Maw to Mr. Tony to her mommy did little to snap the child out of her fussiness.

"Guess three hours a bit long for a two year old," May suggested to Tony.

"Hell, it a bit long for me too," Tony agreed, getting to his feet. "Let's go."

"I'm sorry," Kampala apologized as they left the stadium.

"What? Kampala, ain't got nothing be sorry about," May assured her. "You a momma. And that child? That's Momma's first thing."

"Next Saturday, they going be in Texas; we ain't tailgating," Tony said, opening the truck for the women. "So, ain't got worry about that."

The fall semester began. Scott and Kampala had no classes together. Football, football practice, his fifteen hours of classes and Kampala's twelve hours of classes, plus a one hour lab to go with her Organic Biology class seemed to conspire to keep the two lovers apart.

The few times they were together, though, they made up for lost time. And nearly every Friday, even if Scott was out of town, Kampala and Amhara were at the Jeffries house for supper. May had been genuinely upset the first Friday that Kampala did not come.

"But, but, Scott's out of town," Kampala stammered when May called her.

"And? We don't eat he ain't here?" May demanded.

Kampala was delighted (although she knew better than to say it) when the ULD Storm was eliminated from any playoff games by the fluke of the Myndee Blue Jays losing to the Connelly Cougars, and the Missouri River State University Pioneers beating the ULD Storm. Practice and games done for, Scott would be home on the weekends. And weekends meant cuddling, kissing, making love.

Gordon and Kelly King held a workshop at their home just after the fall semester came to a close. Kampala knew that Happyland Day Care had an overnight program, but before she could even check into it, Scott let Kampala know he, and his father had been roped into babysitting Amhara. The almost three year old girl would be staying at the Jeffries home; Maw-Maw already had bubble bath, and finger paints, and toys thanks to Becky and her brood.

"But y'all don't got..." Kampala protested.

"We don't got to. We want to," Scott said, kissing the woman. "Uh, you forget? We kind of love her?"

Amhara was in the middle of eating waffles and bacon when Kampala came to pick her up the next morning. In between sticky bites, the child told her mother all about staying with Maw-Maw and Paw-Paw and Mr. Scott.

"She calling you Paw-Paw now?" Kampala asked the smiling Tony.

"Yeah, don't know what happened but she just up and start calling me that," the man said, sipping his coffee.

"Kampala, you want you a waffle?" May asked.

"I want me one," Scott said, coming into the kitchen, hair still slightly mussed from sleep.

"I even look like I ask you?" May asked.

Over her protests, Kampala was served a waffle. Scott was also given a waffle, and a slap to the back of his head. This made Amhara laugh, so Scott got a second slap.

"You had a good time?" May asked, now sitting down with her own waffle.

"The King house is so nice," Kampala said, then described the entire evening.

"Mm, chocolate cake?" Mr. Tony asked. "You had chocolate cake? I don't get no..."

"And you don't need none," May said.

Scott and his father smiled, knowing May would make a chocolate cake before the end of the day. Just as Kampala was wrapping up her recounting of the evening, Ritchie strolled in, still in his uniform.