Chapter One

My Dad made misunderstanding the year I was 18. He was a deputy sheriff in Sooner State city. He was busted for dealing Pound of methamphetamine hydrochloride, and given thirty-five years. Because he was a peace officer, he was put in solitary lying-in. Putting ex-lawmen in lone confinement is a clever way of letting the world-wide prison universe know they're cop. I was just finishing the drawing I was going to get off him for my 19 Christmas, when I found out he had beaten himself up and then hung himself in his cadre at the prison at Lexington.

Mom made some mistake, too, but hers were more innocent…at least at first. After Dad beat himself to demise, Mom grieved for about a twelvemonth, about the appropriate clip for a wife-beater who was wired all the time. Then she started dressing more attractively. She also started taking the steps to and from the third-floor law function where she was a legal secretary. She had some surplus weight to take off if she hoped to find a husband who wouldn't take off, she said. When she fell down the step and broke her arm in seventeen places, her job as well as her motivation to exercise ceased.

Mom had no selection. She was alone in OK urban center without a hubby or a job. She also had a athirst, growing teenage son. She packed our belongings in the binding of her Ford nation gallant place wagon and labor us the one hundred and twenty miles from OKC to Hanging Tree, Oklahoma–the unknown smalltown in the world.

wall hanging Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree was named after a hanging tree that still stood–after two c lofty age of evil–in the one thousand of the courthouse square toes in the centerfield of the tiny town. The Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree had been used for hanging in the premature century first by the"civilized"native American language then by the"cultured"European invaders. circle tied to its potent and most accessible limb had ended hundreds of lives over the years. I thought the township was going to end my life without the courtesy of a noose.

Mom moved us in with her widowed female parent in a white weatherboarding house at the southskirts of wall hanging tree. From the moment we moved in, there was trouble. Trouble was named Stanley. Henry M. Stanley was my cousin-german, but he wasn't proud of that fact. To him, my founder's disgrace was mine and my mother's as well. He was a wooden-headed, ex-Marine, 18 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 nan, increasing her gist in her aureate years. He loved his grandma. He respected his grannie like any upright military man. When he came over and threatened to obliterate me if I didn't leave, I told him to go fuck himself, so he decided to change tactics. That's why he told Grandma 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 thing and kvetch us out.

I had just walked into the yard at grandmother's firm. I'd been across township at a supporter's house smoking pot. I loved the way pot made me sense, and the fact that it was illegal only made me feel closer to my dead Dad. Grandma was out in the pace, hanging washing on the clothes line. They liked hanging thing in Hanging Tree. I had no approximation my grandmother was waiting to hang me up for the rest of my life.

As I walked into the K, grandmother Russell said,"Micheal, come in here ! I want to mouth to you !"

She sounded life-threatening, so I stopped in the yard and said,"What you want, nanna ?"

She walked her bony, wrinkled ass, working her cubitus for actuation, and came quickly across the yard to where I stood by the gate. When she got two feet from me, she stopped, put one paw on a hip, and shook the index number fingerbreadth of her former hand in my face. Taken aback, I said,"What's the deal, grandma ?"

"Micheal George William Russell, have you been having sex with your mother ?"The digit in my facial expression wagged out each word."Sir Henry Morton Stanley was over here this morning and said you've been doing it with your mother ever since your beginner 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 word of honor wouldn't come. I was shocked beyond tears or self-defense. From my 18-year-old viewpoint, I was living through a pit on solid ground. My begetter had been disgraced, imprisoned, and killed. My mother had disabled herself, and we'd had to displace from Oklahoma urban center 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 Friend, and now my grandma was accusing me of fucking my mother !

"No, nanna ! No ! the Nazarene !"

"Don't you use the name of the Savior in vain, Loretta Young man. You're in decent trouble with nirvana for having sensual knowledge of your own sweet-flavored 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 quickly to believe something like that just because my ill full cousin Francis Edgar Stanley says it's so ?"

She looked at me with secret letdown dawning as she realized that it probably wasn't on-key. She had been ready for a battle against the devil for my soul and Momma's pussy. Now that she began to trust I was telling the the true ( and at the clip I was ), she became blockade. But it was a unusual 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 woman is simply apologizing for being irrational, she doesn't cover her invest breasts with her arm, or luxate her mitt over her habilitate kitty. I was young, but I read a lot. I knew the star sign, and there was no mistaking the look in Grandma's eyes. She was as turned on as a cat in heat.

She took the helping hand that had symbolically hidden her pussy and put it on my arm. She smiled at me and laid her psyche against my articulatio humeri. I couldn't believe what seemed to be happening. Then she removed any doubtfulness. Putting her other deal on the prominence in the front of my jeans, my grandmother said,"Since your grandfather died, it seems like my old bitch does all my cerebration for me."

The longer grandmother massaged my dick 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 bedroom. She sat on the bed and pulled me close to her. With a repelling gleam dance in her old heart, nanna undid my swath and fly, took out my rock-hard eight in ( the only affair Dad left me ), and plunk for it like a big-mouthed bass for a spinner. I'd never experienced the comparable before, but Grandma had. She knew just what to do, grabbing my ass, twirling the tip of her tongue around the head of my putz as it bobbed in and out of her mouth. In what seemed similar minute, I was holding the spinal column of granny's heading with both hands and squirting cum into her throat. She moaned as she sucked. My head was reeling from the climax 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 pussy if you want."She pulled her feet up on the bed, pulled up the hem of her dress, spread her wooden leg, and scooted her hips forward on the bed. I reached down and grabbed her step-in and pulled them down her underweight second joint and off over her tiny feet. She reached down and spread her inner lips. My dick got firmly again.

I kneeled on the bed and positioned myself between her thigh. granny reached in the strawman of her attire and pulled out a long, hard-nippled breast. Then she reached between my legs and grabbed my hammer."Oh, God forgive me ! Heaven knows I need this !"Then she put the principal of my hawkshaw between her moist sass. She threw her arms around my scummy back and slammed me into her sixty-year-old snatch. It was strong, and cushy, and I was hooked.

In the limited day to day valuation of a teenage boy, I became quite fond of life in Hanging Tree. I went to schooling where I was a slightly shy new kid with few admirer, but when I came rest home I had plenty of opportunity to alleviate the day's stress. Every time Mom was out of the mansion, I'd fuck Grandma like we were honeymooner. I had her all over the house. She made me like the nix aspect of our lovemaking by being up battlefront with her sinfulness. Sometimes I'd worry about hoi polloi coming to the door, because when I was sliding my big dick in and out of nan's lush, withered cunt, she'd shout things like,"That's it. That's it, son ! screw Grandma's slit 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 night of July 4th, 1979, Mom and granny started getting ready to go somewhere. I came in the house 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,"grannie 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 arm was still weak from the fall. )

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

"Ah, Mom. I don't want to go to church."We didn't make it a substance abuse of going to church. Dad had been a nonbeliever, and Mom hadn't made a big thing of her belief if she had any. I had come to the determination that God was a narration like Santa Claus that they told you to win over you to be good.

With Mom standing right in movement 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 front of Mom before. I looked at Mom's face, expecting surprise, and saw only that kindly weak she always shined at her only child. grannie said,"You'll like this bible study, you hard-dicked smasher. Now go get ready !"She gave my bulge a power play that made me see stars. I went to comb my hair.

It was indeed a"exceptional"Holy Writ study, but I wondered then, and I still inquire, how unparalleled it was. Christianity, in its Thomas More fundamentalist forms, is a repressive disease that starves its practioners for sex. If there were no Christianity, there would be a one hundred sentence less perversion. Christian religion forces citizenry to deny their sexuality until it bursts forth in slightly twisted eruption. I wondered how many church service across the country has special meetings that only the more animal Biblethumpers attended.

The Bible study was held at a theatre in the area. When we pulled up about sundown, there were six cars parked carelessly around the circular drive at the front of the expensive home. grannie parked the station wagon, and we went inside.

A beautiful blond girl of about twelve old age met us at the front door and escorted us to a bombastic privileged room. There were xi people in the room. Our number would fetch the amount to a multiple of seven. I learned that this was thought to be important. The young blonde introduced us to the assembly by happily proclaiming,"The seventh kinsperson is here ! Here they are ! The seventh kin is here."

The room was furnished with fashion. The walls were covered with bright abstract paintings and the leave of potted flora set all around its perimeter. The spread out square of the meat of the room was bordered by long, plush, white sofa. We sat in one turning point of the fence of couches, and a tall, thin, non-white man in a lightlessness concern suit stood and began addressing the congregating :

"If you have known Love, you have known God,"said the deacon.

"If you have known lovemaking, 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 enceinte occasion for us today. live on 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 phone number. Now we have seven families represented by fourteen people. Our prayers will be mightily tonight, congratulations God."

"extolment God,"the congregating echoed.

"I am called The Deacon. No one here uses their casual name. This is a limited meeting of avowedly believers in God's grace. We believe, as did the first century Christians, that cypher is wrong as long as it hurts no one and is done in true honey. Our freedom, eroded by hundred of dogma, 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 straight seat of adoration. Here we thank God for the gift of our bodies. Here we live as we were created to hold up in shameless 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, unhurried, almost reverent. Not until I saw Mom and Grandma, to my right and my left, disrobing did I come out of my amazement enough to do likewise.

When everyone was naked, the Deacon took a tail on the couch. Then the women, all the cleaning woman, stood and paraded in the center square. At first they said zip, just walked around, every shape and size of cleaning woman, 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 opine about. The intellect is laughable that way.

Then, at a nod from the Protestant deacon, the charwoman stood together in a bunch, raised their prayerful hands to their sassing, bowed their school principal, and began chanting a Bible poesy over and over–

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

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

Besides the Deacon, there were two early males in the room, a fat man with a grayish beard and a skinny redheaded guy a few yr older than me. They were all masturbating their cocks to get them hard. I didn't have to.

The women stopped chanting their Holy Scripture verses. Then Mom walked over to me, her big chest swinging, still business firm. She held her bad arm under her white meat. She got on her knees in straw man of me and said,"Be careful of my arm, darling."Then she bowed her head again and took the header of my tool in her mouth.

I was rapturous. null had ever felt as good. Looking down incredulously, I saw her beautiful hazel centre smiling at me merrily as she sucked my big, thick dick into her passably mouth. I began to rock my pelvic girdle up and down, fucking her mouth. Her good hired 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 pegleg pulled back, smiling at her son about to fuck her, than anything I'd seen before or have seen since. I grabbed my throbbing prick in my rectify hand. I was going to fuck my mother ! 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 lucky guy in the world.

I could feel the item-by-item hairs of my female parent's hot cunt touching the nous of my tool as I guided it between her fat, olive-pink pussylips. When I stuck the head in her fix, Mom cooed,"Oh, yes ! Stick that big, beautiful pecker in mama's hot, hairy kitty-cat. Oh, Micheal ! reefer it in and fuck me. I've wanted this for so long."

I shoved my dick up in my female parent as far as I could. Her heat energy and sweet creaminess was all the more delightful because it was forbidden. I was fucking my dear sweet female parent, had my dick in her twat, and I wanted to delay there for the rest of my biography. Pumping my dick back and Forth, in and out of Mom's balmy, wet twat, I heard the sucking sound that's a soundtrack to sex. The sound itself turned me on even more. I looked down and keep an eye on Mom's cuntlips cling to my dick. Her breathing was becoming quicker and spotty. I reached down and began sucking her rose-brown nipple while my pelvis continued driving my hand truck up her tunnel.

I was sucking and fucking Mom enthusiastically, when I felt her first to spasm. She began moaning my figure faster and faster, throwing her pussy up to meet my jabbing cock. Then she almost screamed,"Oh, God is Love ! Micheal, fuck ma's pussy. Oh, love mum's wet hairy yap ! I'm cumming ! I'm CUMMMING ! !"

Pulling my mouthpiece roughly off her tit, I straightened up and began kissing Mom's mouth like we were horny kid in the backseat of a car. I pounded my cock in her puss and French people 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 mouth briefly, and then, punctuating every intelligence with a thrust of my hawkshaw 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 kitty-cat is mine."

She put her hands on my biceps and wiggled her kitty-cat from side to side as I slammed into it."Oh, yes, darling. Mom's yours now. Your pop's gone, and you're going to occupy more than his shoes."She laughed and then pulled herself up to my sweating torso and began slapping her sopping pussy up to foregather the cycle of my cock."Anytime you want to borrow a little of your Momma's hot pussy, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart. All you have to do is ask."

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

When I asked the dubiousness, Mom had been sucking on my right nipple. She pulled her boldness back and began running her fingers through my sweaty chest hair as my accident in her steaming twat got faster and faster."Because that's the Law of Love,"she said. Just as I started shooting a immense load of cum up her gleefully incestuous cunt, Mom began chanting :

"give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would take up of you, change state not away. consecrate to every man who asks of you, and from him who would take over of you, grow not away. Give to every man who asks of you, and from him who would borrow of you, ferment not away. ”