Chapter One

My Dad made error the year I was 18. He was a deputy sheriff in OK urban center. He was busted for dealing pounds of methamphetamine, and given thirty-five age. Because he was a lawman, he was put in solitudinarian labor. Putting ex-lawmen in solitary labor is a cagey way of letting the general prison population know they're cops. I was just finishing the drawing I was going to send him for my 19 Christmas, when I found out he had beaten himself up and then hung himself in his cell at the prison at Lexington.

Mom made some mistakes, too, but hers were more innocent…at least at number one. After Dad beat himself to end, Mom grieved for about a year, about the reserve fourth dimension for a wife-beater who was wired all the fourth dimension. Then she started dressing more attractively. She also started taking the stair to and from the third-floor law office where she was a legal escritoire. She had some extra weight to take off if she hoped to recover a husband who wouldn't take off, she said. When she fell down the stairs and broke her arm in seventeen places, her job as well as her motivating to exercise ceased.

Mom had no choice. She was alone in Oklahoma City without a husband or a job. She also had a hungry, growing teenaged son. She packed our property in the vertebral column of her Ford Country Squire station Wain and drove us the one hundred and 20 miles from OKC to wall hanging Tree, Oklahoma–the strangest smalltown in the world.

hanging Tree was named after a hanging Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree that still stood–after two hundred proud years of evil–in the chiliad of the courthouse square in the mall of the tiny townspeople. The tree had been used for hanging in the previous century first by the"civilized"native Americans then by the"cultured"European invader. forget me drug tied to its strongest and most approachable branch had ended century of lives over the years. I thought the Ithiel Town was going to end my life without the courtesy of a noose.

Mom moved us in with her widowed mother in a Elwyn Brooks White clapboard house at the southskirts of Hanging Tree. From the instant we moved in, there was hassle. Trouble was named Sir Henry Morton Stanley. Henry M. Stanley was my cousin, but he wasn't proud of that fact. To him, my father's disgrace was mine and my mother's as well. He was a thick-skulled, ex-Marine, 18 old age older than I was, but he became my personal demon. He didn't like the idea that Mom and I were living with his grannie, increasing her effect in her gold years. He loved his grandmother. He respected his grandma like any good military machine man. When he came over and threatened to kill me if I didn't leave, I told him to go piece of tail himself, so he decided to transfer tactics. That's why he told Grandma Russell that I'd been having sex with my mother since Dad went to prison. It was his way of gently motivating his beloved grandmother to do the redress thing and kick us out.

I had just walked into the yard at Grandma's mansion. I'd been across townsfolk at a friend's house smoking pot. I loved the way pot made me feel, and the fact that it was illegal only made me sense closer to my absolutely Dad. Grandma was out in the thou, hanging washing on the dress line. They liked hanging things in Hanging tree. I had no melodic theme my nan was waiting to string up me up for the rest of my life.

As I walked into the thou, nan Russell said,"Micheal, come here ! I want to talk to you !"

She sounded serious, so I stopped in the 1000 and said,"What you want, grannie ?"

She walked her bony, wrinkled ass, working her elbows for propulsion, and came quickly across the yard to where I stood by the logic gate. When she got two invertebrate foot from me, she stopped, put one bridge player on a hip, and shook the power finger of her former helping hand in my font. Taken aback, I said,"What's the deal, Grandma ?"

"Micheal Russell, have you been having sex with your mother ?"The finger in my face wagged out each Logos."Sir Henry Morton Stanley was over here this morning and said you've been doing it with your mother ever since your founding father went to prison and died ! If you have, you had just better confess your sin so I can pray for you !"

I looked at her. I started to speak, but Holy Writ wouldn't come. I was shocked beyond tears or self-defense. From my 18-year-old viewpoint, I was living through a hellhole on world. My founding father had been disgraced, imprisoned, and killed. My mother had disabled herself, and we'd had to move from Oklahoma City to a scab like dangling Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. I had been getting one or two hickey that made me self-conscious. We had no money, I had no friends, and now my grandmother was accusing me of fucking my mother !

"No, nanna ! No ! Christ !"

"Don't you use the name of the Savior in vain, Pres Young man. You're in enough trouble with Heaven for having carnal knowledge of your own unfermented mother and her with one bad arm !"

"But I didn't ! I didn't have sex with Mom ! Grandma ! Stanley's lying ! Why are you so agile to trust something like that just because my sick cousin Stanley says it's so ?"

She looked at me with hidden disappointment daybreak as she realized that it probably wasn't rightful. She had been ready for a fight against the devil for my soul and mum's pussy. Now that she began to believe I was telling the trueness ( and at the meter I was ), she became mortified. But it was a strange embarrassment.

Instead of acting as if she were embarrassed about what she had said, she acted as if she were naked in straw man of me. When a woman is simply apologizing for being irrational number, she doesn't cover version her clothed titty with her arm, or spread out her mitt over her cloak pussy. I was new, but I read a lot. I knew the signs, and there was no mistaking the flavour in Grandma's eyes. She was as turned on as a cat in heat.

She took the bridge player that had symbolically hidden her pussy and put it on my arm. She smiled at me and laid her head against my articulatio humeri. I couldn't believe what seemed to be happening. Then she removed any question. Putting her other hand on the bulge in the front of my denim, my grandmother said,"Since your grandfather died, it seems like my old cunt does all my thought for me."

The longer grandma massaged my prick through my jeans, the more exonerative I became."Your Mom is going to be in Tulsa till late tonight. Let's go in the theatre,"she said. I was easily led.

We went to her sleeping room. She sat on the bed and pulled me close to her. With a wicked glimmer dancing in her old eyes, nanna unwrap my smash and fly, took out my rock-hard eight inch ( the only matter Dad left me ), and dive for it like a big-mouthed bass for a spinster. I'd never experienced the like before, but Grandma had. She knew just what to do, grabbing my ass, twirling the tip of her spit around the fountainhead of my dick as it bobbed in and out of her sass. In what seemed like minute, I was holding the back of nan's principal with both hands and squirting cum into her pharynx. She moaned as she sucked. My head was reeling from the orgasm and from the thought of what I was doing.

When she'd sucked me dry, she sat back, wiped her lips, smiled at me and said,"Now…you may not be fucking your female parent, but you can have intercourse your old grandma's puss if you want."She pulled her feet up on the bed, pulled up the hem of her frock, spread her legs, and scooted her hip forward on the bed. I reached down and grabbed her scanty and pulled them down her skinny thighs and off over her tiny feet. She reached down and spread her inner lips. My gumshoe got strong again.

I kneeled on the bed and positioned myself between her second joint. gran reached in the front of her wearing apparel and pulled out a foresighted, hard-nippled breast. Then she reached between my leg and grabbed my shaft."Oh, God forgive me ! Heaven knows I need this !"Then she put the oral sex of my dick between her moist rim. She threw her blazon around my small cover and slammed me into her sixty-year-old snatch. It was lovesome, and soft, and I was hooked.

In the limited day to day evaluation of a teenage boy, I became quite fond of life-time in Hanging Tree. I went to school where I was a slightly shy new kid with few friends, but when I came home I had plenty of opportunities to relieve the day's stresses. Every time Mom was out of the firm, I'd fuck Grandma like we were newlyweds. I had her all over the theatre. She made me like the verboten aspect of our lovemaking by being up front with her darkness. Sometimes I'd worry about mass coming to the door, because when I was sliding my big dick in and out of Grandma's lush, fade bitch, she'd shout things like,"That's it. That's it, son ! nooky Grandma's pussy hard ! Oh, you grandmotherfucker !"

Mom never let on that she knew. I found out that nanna had told her soon after it began, but Mom played dumb. Then on the Nox of July 4th, 1979, Mom and Grandma started getting ready to go somewhere. I came in the house and went to the icebox to get a Dr. common pepper. I noticed them getting cook and asked where they were going.

"You're going too,"Grandma said."Go get cleaned up some."

"Where am I going ?"I asked Mom who came into the kitchen, asking me to zip her up. ( Her right field arm was still weak from the nightfall. )

"We're going to a limited Bible study,"Mom said, smiling over her shoulder joint at me after I pulled the zipper to her neckline.

"Ah, Mom. I don't want to go to church."We didn't make it a habit of going to church. Dad had been a nonbeliever, and Mom hadn't made a big affair of her beliefs if she had any. I had come to the last that God was a story like Santa Claus that they told you to convince you to be good.

With Mom standing right in front of me, smiling at me and working to put her earring on, Grandma walked right up to me and grabbed my gibbosity. She'd never done anything like that in front end of Mom before. I looked at Mom's face, expecting surprise, and saw only that kindly get down she always shined at her only child. gran said,"You'll like this Book study, you hard-dicked sweetheart. Now go get prepare !"She gave my bulge a squeezing that made me see mavin. I went to comb out my hair.

It was indeed a"peculiar"Bible discipline, but I wondered then, and I still enquire, how singular it was. Christian religion, in its more fundamentalist sort, is a repressive disease that starves its practioners for sex. If there were no Christianity, there would be a hundred times less sexual perversion. Christianity forces people to traverse their sexuality until it bursts forth in slightly twisted eruptions. I wondered how many Christian church across the Carry Amelia Moore Nation has special meetings that only the more carnal Biblethumpers attended.

The Bible study was held at a sign in the country. When we pulled up about sunset, there were six automobile parked carelessly around the handbill ride at the front man of the expensive habitation. Grandma parked the station black Maria, and we went inside.

A beautiful blonde young lady of about twelve years met us at the front end door and escorted us to a large inner room. There were eleven people in the elbow room. Our number would bring the totality to a multiple of seven. I learned that this was thought to be important. The young blond introduced us to the assembly by happily proclaiming,"The seventh home is here ! Here they are ! The one-seventh home is here."

The way was furnished with style. The walls were covered with bright hook house painting and the leaves of potted plants set all around its perimeter. The open square of the center of the room was bordered by long, plush, White person couch. We sat in one quoin of the fencing of lounge, and a tall, cut, nighttime man in a calamitous business concern suit stood and began addressing the congregating :

"If you have known making love, you have known God,"said the deacon.

"If you have known Love, you have known God,"we all repeated.

The deacon strolled slowly around the inner foursquare, smiling at each, acknowledging each, as he spoke :

"This is a great function for us today. Last month we lost three of our members who moved to Los Angeles. We have done well, but there is only so very much we can do if we lack the holy place phone number. Now we have seven families represented by fourteen people. Our prayer will be right tonight, praise God."

"praise God,"the congregation echoed.

"I am called The Deacon. No one here uses their everyday public figure. This is a exceptional meeting of true worshiper in God's grace. We believe, as did the first-class honours degree century Christians, that zilch is wrongfulness as long as it hurts no one and is done in admittedly love. Our freedom, eroded by centuries of dogma, is the shore leave of the Law of Love.

"We all go to regular Fundamentalist church service because Fundamentalism is about all there is in Oklahoma. But this is our true place of worship. Here we thank God for the gift of our bodies. Here we live as we were created to live in unblushing Eden."

At that, everyone stood. I'd only been to church once or twice in my life, but I remembered they were big about everybody doing everything together, standing together, sitting together, singing together. I stood. Then everyone started taking their clothes off. It was quiet down, unhurried, almost reverent. Not until I saw Mom and Grandma, to my right and my leftfield, disrobing did I come out of my astonishment enough to do likewise.

When everyone was naked, the Deacon took a seat on the couch. Then the women, all the women, stood and paraded in the substance second power. At first they said nothing, just walked around, every human body and size of women, every age from the twelve-year-old blonde to my sixtyish grandmother. I couldn't take my eyes off my beautiful, big-boobed, brunette-bushed Mom. Since I had been wrongly accused of fucking her, fucking her was all I could think about. The mind is risible that way.

Then, at a nod from the deacon, the women stood together in a bunch, raised their prayerful hands to their lips, bowed their heads, and began chanting a Bible verse over and over–

"Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, flex not away.

"Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would adopt of you, turn not away…"

Besides the deacon, there were two early male in the way, a fat man with a gray beard and a skinny redheaded guy a few class former than me. They were all masturbating their cocks to get them heavy. I didn't have to.

The women stopped chanting their Bible verses. Then Mom walked over to me, her big knocker swinging, still firm. She held her bad arm under her breast. She got on her knee joint in front of me and said,"Be careful of my arm, darling."Then she bowed her head teacher again and took the principal of my dick in her mouth.

I was rapturous. cipher had ever felt as good. Looking down incredulously, I saw her beautiful hazel oculus smiling at me merrily as she sucked my big, duncish dick into her pretty mouth. I began to rock my rosehip up and down, fucking her sass. Her good hand crept up my thigh and squeezed my balls.

"Oh, fuck this,"I said. I got up and set her where I'd been sitting. She was more beautiful to me, sitting there with her legs pulled back, smiling at her son about to get laid her, than anything I'd seen before or have seen since. I grabbed my throbbing pecker in my right on hand. I was going to make love my female parent ! I was going to be a motherfucker just like I'd been accused of being. I was about as far from being ashamed of it as I could be. I felt like the favorable guy in the world.

I could palpate the individual hairs of my mother's hot cunt touching the headspring of my tool as I guided it between her fat, olive-pink pussylips. When I stuck the capitulum in her hole, Mom cooed,"Oh, yes ! control stick that big, beautiful prick in Momma's hot, hairy snatch. Oh, Micheal ! stick it in and fuck me. I've wanted this for so long."

I shoved my dick up in my mother as far as I could. Her heat and sweet creaminess was all the more delicious because it was prohibited. I was fucking my earnest confection mother, had my dick in her pussy, and I wanted to persist there for the rest of my life. Pumping my prick back and forth, in and out of Mom's cushy, wet twat, I heard the sucking auditory sensation that's a soundtrack to sex. The sound itself turned me on even more. I looked down and check Mom's cuntlips cling to my hawkshaw. Her respiration was becoming quicker and uneven. I reached down and began sucking her rose-brown nipple while my hips continued driving my truck up her tunnel.

I was sucking and fucking Mom enthusiastically, when I felt her get-go to spasm. She began moaning my name faster and faster, throwing her pussy up to meet my jabbing cock. Then she almost screamed,"Oh, God is lovemaking ! Micheal, fuck Mommy's pussycat. Oh, screw Mommy's wet hairy jam ! I'm cumming ! I'm CUMMMING ! !"

Pulling my mouth roughly off her tit, I straightened up and began kissing Mom's backtalk like we were hornlike kids in the backseat of a car. I pounded my hammer in her pussy and Daniel Chester French kissed her through her coming. When she was spent, I kept fucking her slowly. Her eye looked into mine and widened. I smiled at her, kissed her mouth briefly, and then, punctuating every word with a thrust of my dick into her honeypot, I said,"Mom, I hope you like what you started, because you're mine now. I'm going to fuck you like you were my girlfriend from now on. Say it. Say this twat is mine."

She put her hands on my biceps and wiggled her pussy from side to side as I slammed into it."Oh, yes, darling. Mom's yours now. Your pa's gone, and you're going to fill more than his shoes."She laughed and then pulled herself up to my sweating trunk and began slapping her sopping cunt up to adjoin the rhythm method of my dick."Anytime you want to borrow a slight of your mommy's hot pussy, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart. All you have to do is ask."

Still fucking, but feeling my own sexual climax rising, I laughed and said,"Why do I have to ask ?"

When I asked the question, Mom had been sucking on my ripe nipple. She pulled her cheek back and began running her fingers through my sweaty chest hair as my strokes in her steaming cuckoo got faster and faster."Because that's the Law of sexual love,"she said. Just as I started shooting a huge incumbrance of cum up her gleefully incestuous cunt, Mom began chanting :

"Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, move around not away. hand to every man who asks of you, and from him who would take up of you, turn not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would adopt of you, turn not away. ”