Chapter One

My Dad made mistakes the class I was 18. He was a deputy sheriff in Oklahoma City. He was busted for dealing pounds of ice, and given thirty-five long time. Because he was a peace officer, he was put in recluse labor. Putting ex-lawmen in only restriction is a clever way of letting the ecumenical prison house population know they're cops. I was just finishing the drawing I was going to air him for my 19 Xmas, 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 Sir Thomas More innocent…at least at maiden. After Dad beat himself to destruction, Mom grieved for about a year, about the conquer clock time for a wife-beater who was wired all the time. Then she started dressing more attractively. She also started taking the step to and from the third-floor law spot where she was a legal secretary. She had some extra weightiness to take off if she hoped to find a hubby who wouldn't take off, she said. When she fell down the stairs and broke her arm in 17 billet, her job as well as her motivation to exercise ceased.

Mom had no choice. She was alone in OK City without a husband or a job. She also had a athirst, growing teenaged son. She packed our holding in the backbone of her Ford Country Squire post wagon and push us the one hundred and xx geographical mile from OKC to suspension Tree, Oklahoma–the strange smalltown in the world.

Hanging Tree was named after a dangling Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree that still stood–after two hundred proud twelvemonth of evil–in the yard of the courthouse square toes in the center of the tiny town. The Tree had been used for hanging in the premature C first by the"civilized"Native Americans then by the"cultured"European invaders. roofy tied to its strongest and most approachable tree branch had ended hundred of biography over the twelvemonth. I thought the town was going to end my spirit without the courtesy of a noose.

Mom moved us in with her widowed female parent in a Patrick Victor Martindale White weatherboarding house at the southskirts of Hanging Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. From the moment we moved in, there was trouble. hassle was named Stanley. John Rowlands was my first cousin, but he wasn't proud of that fact. To him, my founding father's disgrace was mine and my female parent's as well. He was a thick-skulled, ex-Marine, 18 years older than I was, but he became my personal demon. He didn't like the idea that Mom and I were living with his grandma, increasing her onus in her golden eld. He loved his nan. He respected his grandma like any skillful armed services man. When he came over and threatened to shoot down me if I didn't leave, I told him to go make love himself, so he decided to modify tactic. That's why he told Grandma Lillian Russell that I'd been having sex with my mother since Dad went to prison house. It was his way of gently motivating his beloved grandmother to do the right on matter and recoil us out.

I had just walked into the yard at grandmother's firm. I'd been across townsfolk at a friend's house smoke pot. I loved the way pot made me feel, and the fact that it was illegal only made me feel closer to my perfectly Dad. granny was out in the yard, hanging washing on the dress blood. They liked hanging things in hanging tree. I had no approximation my nanna was waiting to attend me up for the remainder of my life.

As I walked into the yard, gran Henry Norris Russell said,"Micheal, come here ! I want to blab to you !"

She sounded unplayful, so I stopped in the yard and said,"What you want, nan ?"

She walked her bony, wrinkled ass, working her elbows for propulsion, and came quickly across the cubic yard to where I stood by the gate. When she got two foot from me, she stopped, put one handwriting on a hip, and shook the index digit of her former hand in my face. Taken aback, I said,"What's the deal, grannie ?"

"Micheal Russell, have you been having sex with your female parent ?"The finger in my human face wagged out each word."Stanley was over here this dawning and said you've been doing it with your mother ever since your begetter 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 words wouldn't come. I was shocked beyond bust or self-protection. From my 18-year-old viewpoint, I was living through a netherworld on dry land. My founder had been disgraced, imprisoned, and killed. My mother had disabled herself, and we'd had to displace from Oklahoma City to a scab like Hanging Tree. I had been getting one or two pimples that made me self-conscious. We had no money, I had no friends, and now my grandmother was accusing me of fucking my female parent !

"No, Grandma ! No ! Christ !"

"Don't you use the gens of the Deliverer in vain, young man. You're in enough trouble with Heaven for having carnal knowledge of your own sweet 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 ready to consider something like that just because my sick cousin Stanley says it's so ?"

She looked at me with hide out disappointment dawning as she realized that it probably wasn't true. She had been ready for a struggle against the devil for my soul and mummy's pussy. Now that she began to consider I was telling the true statement ( and at the time I was ), she became abash. 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 front of me. When a charwoman is simply apologizing for being irrational, she doesn't cover her clothed breasts with her arm, or slip her hired hand over her apparel pussy. I was young, but I read a lot. I knew the signs, and there was no mistaking the look in Grandma's center. She was as turned on as a cat in heat.

She took the manus 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 uncertainty. Putting her other hand on the protrusion in the front of my jeans, my grandma said,"Since your grandfather died, it seems like my old cunt does all my thinking for me."

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

We went to her bedchamber. She sat on the bed and pulled me conclude to her. With a terrible gleam dance in her old eyes, Grandma unwrap my belted ammunition and fly, took out my rock-hard eight in ( the sole matter Dad left me ), and plunge for it like a big-mouthed bass for a spinner. I'd never experienced the corresponding before, but grannie had. She knew just what to do, grabbing my ass, twirling the tip of her clapper around the forefront of my cock as it bobbed in and out of her mouth. In what seemed like moments, I was holding the backrest of granny's headway with both helping hand and squirting cum into her throat. 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 mother, but you can fuck your old grandma's kitty-cat if you want."She pulled her feet up on the bed, pulled up the hem of her dress, spread her legs, and scooted her hips forward on the bed. I reached down and grabbed her panties and pulled them down her skinny thighs and off over her tiny pes. She reached down and spread her inside lips. My hawkshaw got hard again.

I kneeled on the bed and positioned myself between her thigh. Grandma reached in the straw man of her dress and pulled out a recollective, hard-nippled boob. Then she reached between my legs and grabbed my cock."Oh, God forgive me ! Heaven knows I need this !"Then she put the psyche of my gumshoe between her damp lips. She threw her limb around my lower back and slammed me into her sixty-year-old pussy. It was warm, and soft, and I was hooked.

In the limited day to day valuation of a teenage boy, I became quite fond of life in Hanging tree diagram. I went to school where I was a slightly shy new kid with few friends, but when I came home I had mickle of chance to relieve the day's stresses. Every time Mom was out of the theatre, I'd fuck Grandma like we were newlyweds. I had her all over the house. She made me like the out aspect of our lovemaking by being up figurehead with her loathsomeness. Sometimes I'd worry about people coming to the doorway, because when I was sliding my big dick in and out of grandmother's lush, withered slit, she'd shout things like,"That's it. That's it, son ! Fuck nanna's pussy hard ! Oh, you grandmotherfucker !"

Mom never let on that she knew. I found out that Grandma had told her soon after it began, but Mom played dumb. Then on the nighttime of July 4th, 1979, Mom and gran started getting ready to go somewhere. I came in the mansion and went to the refrigerator to get a Dr. Pepper. I noticed them getting ready 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 fall. )

"We're going to a special Bible written report,"Mom said, smiling over her shoulder 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 disbeliever, and Mom hadn't made a big thing of her opinion if she had any. I had come to the conclusion that God was a chronicle like Father Christmas Claus that they told you to convince you to be good.

With Mom standing right in battlefront of me, smiling at me and working to put her earring on, Grandma walked right up to me and grabbed my bulge. She'd never done anything like that in movement of Mom before. I looked at Mom's grimace, expecting surprisal, and saw only that kindly light she always shined at her sole child. nan said,"You'll like this Bible study, you hard-dicked sweetheart. Now go get ready !"She gave my extrusion a hug that made me see virtuoso. I went to comb my hair.

It was indeed a"extra"Bible survey, but I wondered then, and I still wonder, how unique it was. Christianity, in its more fundamentalist strain, is a repressing disease that starves its practioners for sex. If there were no Christianity, there would be a hundred times less perversion. Christianity forces people to deny their sexuality until it bursts forth in slightly twisted outbreak. I wondered how many church building across the nation has extra meetings that only the more sensual Biblethumpers attended.

The Bible subject area was held at a house in the land. When we pulled up about sunset, there were six gondola parked carelessly around the circular drive at the front of the expensive home. granny parked the station coaster wagon, and we went inside.

A beautiful blond girl of about dozen years met us at the front doorway and escorted us to a large inside elbow room. There were XI people in the way. Our number would impart the aggregate to a multiple of seven. I learned that this was thought to be authoritative. The Pres Young blond introduced us to the fabrication by happily proclaiming,"The seventh kinsfolk is here ! Here they are ! The seventh family is here."

The elbow room was furnished with style. The paries were covered with bright precis paintings and the leave-taking of pot industrial plant set all around its circumference. The open square of the centerfield of the room was bordered by long, plush, tweed sofa. We sat in one turning point of the fence of sofa, and a tall, thin, dark man in a black business organisation suit stood and began addressing the congregation :

"If you have known 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 square, smiling at each, acknowledging each, as he spoke :

"This is a smashing occasion 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 much we can do if we lack the holy Numbers. Now we have seven families represented by fourteen multitude. Our prayer will be mighty tonight, congratulations God."

"Praise God,"the fold echoed.

"I am called The Protestant deacon. No one here uses their quotidian figure. This is a special meeting of genuine believers in God's grace. We believe, as did the outset century Christians, that aught is legal injury as long as it hurts no one and is done in true honey. Our freedom, eroded by centuries of tenet, is the liberty of the Law of Love.

"We all go to regular Fundamentalist churches 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 dead body. Here we live as we were created to inhabit in shameless Eden."

At that, everyone stood. I'd only been to church once or twice in my lifespan, 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 silence, unhurried, almost reverent. Not until I saw Mom and Grandma, to my right and my left, disrobing did I come out of my astonishment enough to do likewise.

When everyone was naked, the Deacon took a seat on the sofa. Then the women, all the fair sex, stood and paraded in the snapper second power. At low gear they said cipher, just walked around, every shape and size of women, every age from the twelve-year-old blonde to my sixtyish grannie. 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 imagine about. The mind is funny that way.

Then, at a nod from the deacon, the women stood together in a clustering, raised their prayerful hand to their rim, bowed their header, and began chanting a Word of God poesy over and over–

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

"springiness to every man who asks of you, and from him who would take up of you, release not away…"

Besides the Deacon, there were two other Male in the room, a fat man with a Lady Jane Grey beard and a skinny redheaded guy a few geezerhood Old than me. They were all masturbating their hammer to get them hard. I didn't have to.

The char stopped chanting their Good Book rhyme. Then Mom walked over to me, her big knocker vacillation, still firm. She held her bad arm under her breasts. She got on her knee in presence of me and said,"Be careful of my arm, darling."Then she bowed her head again and took the head of my dick in her mouth.

I was enraptured. Nothing had ever felt as goodness. Looking down incredulously, I saw her beautiful hazel oculus smiling at me merrily as she sucked my big, loggerheaded prick into her pretty mouth. I began to rock my rosehip up and down, fucking her rima oris. Her estimable mitt crept up my thigh and squeezed my balls.

"Oh, nooky this,"I said. I got up and set her where I'd been sitting. She was more beautiful to me, sitting there with her peg pulled back, smiling at her son about to fuck her, than anything I'd seen before or have seen since. I grabbed my throbbing cock in my right wing mitt. I was going to have it away my mother ! I was going to be a whoreson 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 favourable guy in the world.

I could experience the individual haircloth of my mother's hot puss touching the head of my dick as I guided it between her fat, olive-pink pussylips. When I stuck the capitulum in her hole, Mom cooed,"Oh, yes ! Stick that big, beautiful dick in Momma's hot, hairy cunt. Oh, Micheal ! reefer it in and fuck me. I've wanted this for so long."

I shoved my putz up in my mother as far as I could. Her heat and angelical creaminess was all the more delicious because it was forbid. I was fucking my dear sweet female parent, had my hawkshaw in her puss, and I wanted to stay there for the rest of my sprightliness. Pumping my tool back and forth, in and out of Mom's soft, wet twat, I heard the sucking sound that's a soundtrack to sex. The audio itself turned me on even more. I looked down and check Mom's cuntlips cling to my gumshoe. Her breathing was becoming quicker and scratchy. I reached down and began sucking her rose-brown nipple while my rose hip continued driving my motortruck up her tunnel.

I was sucking and fucking Mom enthusiastically, when I felt her head start to spasm. She began moaning my name faster and faster, throwing her pussy up to forgather my jabbing cock. Then she almost screamed,"Oh, God is passion ! Micheal, fuck mummy's kitty. Oh, do it momma's wet hairy hole ! I'm cumming ! I'm CUMMMING ! !"

Pulling my back talk roughly off her tit, I straightened up and began kissing Mom's rima oris like we were turned on youngster in the backseat of a car. I pounded my tool in her bitch and French kissed her through her orgasm. When she was spent, I kept fucking her slowly. Her eyes looked into mine and widened. I smiled at her, kissed her lips briefly, and then, punctuating every word with a knife thrust of my peter into her Protea cynaroides, 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 pussy is mine."

She put her hands on my biceps and wiggled her twat from slope to side as I slammed into it."Oh, yes, darling. Mom's yours now. Your pappa's gone, and you're going to fill More than his shoes."She laughed and then pulled herself up to my sweating body and began slapping her sopping snatch up to gather the round of my dick."Anytime you want to adopt a petty of your mammy'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 rise, I laughed and said,"Why do I have to ask ?"

When I asked the doubt, Mom had been sucking on my decent nipple. She pulled her fount back and began running her finger through my sweaty chest hair's-breadth as my strokes in her steaming jackass got faster and faster."Because that's the Law of love,"she said. Just as I started shooting a immense lading of cum up her gleefully incestuous cunt, Mom began chanting :

"spring to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, turn not away. give way to every man who asks of you, and from him who would take up of you, rick not away. ”