Despite the administration's efforts to combat crime, America is under attack by the criminal element today as never before. Witness a recent survey by a popular national magazine, in which a staggering percentage of big city dwellers said they were afraid to walk the streets at night. This in itself is a shameful admission, a blight on the good name of these freedom-loving United States. Even more alarming was the news that many law-abiding citizens did not feel safe behind the locked doors of their own homes.
WHAT IS THE UNITED STATES COMING TO? This plaintive cry rings out across this great land of ours all too frequently in this troubled day and age. And all this from the current wave of violent street crime.
But street crime is only a bothersome thorn in our national side compared to its big brother, the crushing steamroller of organized crime. As anyone who has eyes to see and ears to hear knows, the dreaded syndicate is still around and prospering today as it never did in its so-called heyday of the Roaring Twenties and Trembling Thirties.
Organized crime is going legitimate, they tell us, and the fools among us relax their guards while the rest of us shudder, knowing that the poisonous viper is sinking its venomous fangs into respectable businesses and rapidly paralyzing the vigorous spirit of free enterprise which made this nation what it is today.
Going "legit" has not stopped organized crime from continuing to traffic in its mainstays of dope, prostitution and illegal gambling, however, and it is from this older, gangster-made nightmare that our heroine, lovely Marsha Cordell, is fleeing as her story opens.
Marsha was a young widow who remarried in haste and lived to regret it, for after the honeymoon she woke up to the shocking fact that her husband was the syndicate boss of a Chicago district, and a sadistic brute to boot, once they were settled into his element. He beat Marsha into line and dominated her completely for a time. And then she turned him in. Her testimony sent him to prison. Released from protective custody, Marsha took the $176,000 she'd stolen from her husband's safe and ran, with the vindictive syndicate hot on her pretty heels, for they wanted their money back, and they also wanted Marsha, so they could make an example of her.
With death or worse pursuing her, Marsha drives a circuitous route home to California, where her twelve-year-old son by her first marriage has been living with her older brother. She makes it to Southern New Mexico, where she stops to help a stranded priest and a young, mouth-watering boy.
Father Shannon has recently inherited a ranch and is turning it into a home for orphaned and unwanted boys. The ranch is in the middle of nowhere. Marsha receives an invitation to spend the night. The priest feels her out, learns she once worked at a YMCA and prevails upon her to stay on and be the mother his parentless boys so desperately need. Now the priest doesn't know Marsha was fired from her YMCA job for seducing a young boy, or that she has already fellated one of his boys. And Marsha isn't about to tell him. She needs a safe place to hide, and this is it.
Without giving away the solid plot of this well-written erotic novel, we can assure you that its voluptuous heroine changes the lives of everyone she comes into contact with, and there's plenty of sexual contact. Marsha can't keep her hands and mouth off the appealing boys. The priest loses his cool when he catches Marsha committing bestiality with his large wolf-dog, and Marsha, panting with lust, promptly finds a new obscene delight in dragging the holy man down into the gutter and teaching him the vulgar pleasures of the flesh. Her son gets into the act later, and her brother and his thirteen-year-old daughter, too. The syndicate catches up with Marsha eventually, and two callous hoods degrade her horribly before the eyes of her loved ones, leaving her in a blubbering heap when they turn their attentions on her cute little niece and sacrifice the tender thirteen-year-old's virginity to their brutal lust.
You'll have to read the book for the outcome of the story but, in short, Jane Tanner has done it again. If you've read any of her stories, you know what kind of raw, gut-grabbing adventure to expect in this one, and you won't be let down.
You will find the Rated X books, along with their companions, the Surrey Collectors Series and the HIS 69 gay titles at your favorite adult bookstore or newsstand each and every month. Serious collectors of strictly adult reading will want them all, side by side on their private book shelves for definite re-reading and ready reference.
We want to make all Surrey House, Inc. books the perfect reflection of your reading and sexual desires and invite your comments at all times, so we can better serve you. We urge you to write us with exact details of what kind of books you would like to read, and any other sexual matters you are concerned about, IN ABSOLUTE STRICT CONFIDENCE. It is not even necessary to identify yourself in any way. Only in this manner can we be sure we are giving you precisely what you desire. No matter is too complex for you to approach us with, and nothing is too difficult for us to attempt ... but only if you want it ... and only if you take the time to write us with your specific requirements.
Only you can do it. We here at Surrey House, Inc. only exist to serve you in these matters of great concern.
All especially significant letters will be answered directly, and all story suggestions will be turned over to our staff of writers all over the world.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
The shy young boy sitting on the other side of the front seat reminded her a little of her own son. So why, Marsha Cordell wondered, did she have this insane urge to stop the car out here in the middle of nowhere and get her hands and mouth on him? She knew the answer but didn't want to admit it. It was her old sickness, welling up again after three years.
They'd caught her then, on her knees in the deserted handball court, sucking the sweet-tasting peter of an irresistible thirteen-year-old.
Marsha had been fired from her job at the YMCA. They'd called her a pervert, the boy's parents, and had threatened to have her arrested for corrupting the morals of their minor son. The humiliation had been terrible, and the narrow escape from public disgrace had frightened her so much that she'd thought her craving for the pure bodies of untried male adolescents had been cured forever.
Now she knew better. By a quirk of fate, she was alone with an appealing boy/man on a ranch road, in the vast open spaces of Southeastern New Mexico, and her mouth was watering for the cum in this innocent young orphan's boyish balls.
She had to resist. Marsha didn't dare do anything that would bring attention to her. Too much was at stake. In the trunk of her car was $176,000 of the syndicate's money. She'd slipped out of Chicago one step ahead of them. But they would be after her, and she knew they would kill her if they caught her.
SHANNON'S BOYS RANCH Marsha breathed easier when she saw the sign. Temptation was behind her. "I guess this is it, Timmy. Your new home," she said, letting up on the accelerator.
The large white house set well back from the road, with the barn and outbuildings behind it, all of these painted brownish-red. She had to go a couple of hundred yards or so past the house to reach the gate, and then angle back on a dusty two-rut drive to arrive at the dwelling.
A fog of dust enveloped the car as she braked it to a halt. One blast of the horn brought five youths rushing from behind the barn. They all wore old clothes, but they looked like happy, energetic kids. As they swarmed up smiling on each side of the car, she could see their work clothing was flecked with brownish-red, and she supposed they'd been painting.
Leaving the engine and the air-conditioner going, she rolled down the window and spoke to the strapping Negro youth. "Are you Coleman?"
"Yass'um," he replied politely, white teeth gleaming through thick, black, grinning lips. "But just Cole will do. That's what they call me, ma'am."
Marsha returned his smile. "Father Shannon's car is stalled on the highway, three or four miles back toward Portales. He wants you to bring the pickup and tow him home."
"Yass'um," Cole said. "Y'all just go in and make yourselves to home. We'll be right back. Come on, boys."
"But, but...." Marsha stammered, but it was too late.
The lads were gone, whooping toward the pickup like five wild Indians, which none of them were. One was black, three were Chicanos and the other was white. They roared away before she could tell them that she'd only happened by and offered to help the stranded priest by delivering his message and the new boy he'd been bringing to the ranch.
Timmy glanced around with large, frightened eyes. The poor little orphan looked like he might break down and cry. It wasn't in Marsha's kind heart to go off and leave the child here by himself. An hour more or less wouldn't matter. She was taking a circuitous route to California anyway, using lesser traveled highways, backtracking at times, all of this just in case some of her sadistic husband's muscle men might be on her trail.
She shut off the engine and swung out of the car, her skirt hiking up to reveal an expanse of creamy white thigh above the topbands of her nylons. "Come on, Timmy, let's go in. I'll stay with you until Father and the other boys get back."
The hesitant child clutched in his hand a small canvas bag containing all of his meager belongings as, together, he and the beautiful young woman mounted the two concrete steps and crossed the porch to enter the rambling, one-story ranch house.
A large oak dining table, old but refinished, sat surrounded by twelve matching chairs in one corner of the huge living room. Marsha led Timmy exploringly around the room, her high heels clicking leisurely on the broad planks of the worn but recently varnished floor. There were two couches and several easy chairs, mismatched but serviceable. Except for the new color TV, a large portable, all the furniture looked like it might have been donated or rescued from some Salvation Army store.
There were two bookcases. One contained a set of encyclopedias complete with all the yearbooks, the last of which bore the number 1969, which meant the set itself was 13 years old. The other held a few hard-backed classics and a lot of paperbacks and comic books, the kind of stuff boys really go for. A dartboard hung on one wall, and from the looks of it this was a popular game with the boys who resided here. Several pictures decorated the other walls, pencil drawings, water colors and oil paintings. Most of them were amateurish, obviously done by the youngsters, but three of the larger oils were very good. They were Western scenes, and as Marsha examined them closer she was surprised to see scribbled in small letters at the bottom right-hand corner of each the name Shannon.
So the young priest was an artist, was he? And a rather good one too, she noted. There was a Bible, but no religious paintings or artifacts, and this somehow seemed appropriate. Father Shannon was running a boys' ranch not a church, apparently on a shoestring, and evidently doing a good job of it. Marsha looked around with approval. The place was old and simple, roomy but homey, and she could feel in the air the fatherly love of the handsome young priest who'd flagged her down on the highway.
Timmy walked to the window and stood looking out. If Marsha hadn't noticed a tear skidding down his cheek, she wouldn't have known the child was crying. She felt sorry for him. She could only guess at his background, but she knew he was orphaned and had no relatives who wanted him. He was a cute little guy, twelve or thirteen perhaps, but so withdrawn, as if he were frightened of everything and everybody.
The ache in her sympathetic heart overruled her fear of sexually molesting the attractive lad. She stepped up behind him and put her arms around him. His body tensed. Then he heaved a sob and spun around, flinging his arms around her. He buried his face in the warmth of her large, soft breasts and broke down.
"It's going to be all right, Timmy," Marsha soothed. "Father Shannon is a good man. He loves you, and he's going to take care of you."
It nearly broke her heart, the way the child was clinging to her, shivering and shaking, sobs racking his sweet adolescent body. She stroked his back and ran her fingers through his cornsilk hair, holding his head to her bosom as she spoke comfortingly to him.
She led him over to the rocking chair and took him on her lap, holding him and kissing his forehead while she rocked him and spoke soft, reassuring words. It occurred to Marsha the boy had probably never received this kind of loving treatment, for he responded to it immediately. His tears ceased, and a moment later so did the convulsive jerking of his warm little body.
When she realized her hand was caressing his bottom, she quickly slid it higher, thinking, I should make him get up now.
But she didn't. She could tell the kid was starved for just the kind of attention she was giving him. And he was so sweet, so cuddly. She had to make her hands behave. They wanted to feel him up all over, and her left one kept straying down to his legs, trying to get in between them.
I'd like to touch his peter, and hold it in my hand and kiss it! she kept thinking, but she didn't dare do it. It would likely scare the wits out of Timmy, and I can't afford any trouble!
The lovely, 31-year-old woman on the run couldn't help herself, though. Timmy's innocence was too appealing. Having him on her lap excited her to the point where she had to possess him.
Damn the risk! she decided and, holding his face into the cleavage of her ample breasts with one trembling hand, she slipped the other between his legs and cupped the irresistible goodies of his immature sex organs.
"Don't be afraid," she cooed, fondling his tiny penis through his clothes. "I won't hurt you. It feels good, doesn't it? You like it, don't you? Open your legs for me. Yes, yes, that's the way, darling!"
She pushed his reluctant legs wider apart, then unzipped his fly and slipped her hand inside. Once she captured his two-inch goober in her hand and began working the soft, warm flesh, there was no turning back. Marsha knew she would go as far as the adorable lad would let her. And fast, too, for there was little time.
It didn't take long. Her knowledgeable fingers tugged and stroked coaxingly, until the original two-inches of spongy tissue had glutted itself with blood and grown twice as long. It was fat now, hot and hard, four inches long and pulsing in her hand.
Timmy had whimpered a couple of times, was all. She could tell he was scared, but he liked it. He didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't trying to stop her.
"It feels good, doesn't it?" Marsha asked again, and this time he answered.
"Yes, ma'am! Ohhh ... good!"
She hugged him tight and pressed her cheek to the top of his head, her cool, slender fingers gripping his stout little stem as she jacked her hand rhythmically up and down on it. "Did you ever cum? Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"No! Ohh, I don't ... kn-knooow!"
"God, how pure! You're precious, Timmy!" she crooned, increasing the speed of her masturbatory efforts.
Marsha held the fidgeting, sighing boy on her lap, beating his meat for him. She told him he could do this for himself when he was alone and wanted to, that it would give him almost as much pleasure as having her do it for him.
"Pay attention now. You want to learn how, don't you? Watch my hand. See how I'm holding your pretty pecker? Watch the way I move my hand up and down on it. This is fun, isn't it, Timmy? And so exciting! Don't you just love it?"
Apparently he did, for he was in no ways complaining. His eyes were turning glassy and his mouth hung open. He was panting for breath, his small dick becoming hard as a bone, throbbing in the gorgeous woman's lustful hand.
"Stand up," she said, because she could tell he was getting close.
Obediently he got to his feet. She pulled up her skirt and drew him in between her shapely, nylon-clad legs. Her full lips pursed as she lowered her head and guided toward her face the swollen morsel of his youthful turgidity. Despite its modest size, Marsha had never seen a more appealing prick. Gulping a surge of saliva, she kissed the tip of his stony penis without bothering to skin it back.
"Mmm!" she sighed, and wrapped her soft lips around the first inch of it, pulling up on his shaft so she could nibble his satiny foreskin and lap at the loose, pissy-tasting folds with the tip of her shameless tongue.
It didn't bother Marsha a bit that the young boy didn't know enough to keep himself clean. If anything, the unwashed condition of his smelly little peter thrilled her all the more. While she sucked the flavor of stale urine from the distended portion of his penile hood, her nimble fingers unbuckled his pants and tugged them down his legs.
"It tastes good! I love it!" she breathed, backing off so she could whisk down his shorts. "Skin it back for me! Take it in your hand and skin it back! Let me see you do it!"
The lad's hand was shaking like a leaf, but he managed to do as Marsha said. When she got a whiff of the strong odor wafting up from the kid's bare dickhead, she whimpered with longing. She got her nose right over it and inhaled deeply of the musky scent. The heady aroma made her mature vagina shed slippery tears of liquid desire. She pushed his hand away and grabbed his stalk. For a moment she just looked at it and smelled it, her hand pumping slowly as she popped his prepuce back and forth, making his smegma-speckled rosy glans appear and disappear.
Finally she drew back his preputial folds and extended her tongue, licking off all the smears of thick, white substance until his florid bulb glistened wetly with her cleansing saliva. There was a band of peter butter behind the tufted flare of his coronal ridge, and Marsha wanted it too. She took half of his penis in her mouth and moaned her pleasure as she allowed her pink tongue, too long deprived of this rare privilege, to scrape up the entire ring of this innocent boy's tart-tasting accumulation of pecker scum. A man's organ in this condition would've turned her off, whereas just the opposite was true now. It had always thrilled her to the core to wash with her mouth the dirty dick of a young virgin boy. She would not for anything in the world have taught him how to keep himself clean at his age, for he was young and tender and absolutely delicious as he was.
She drew back smacking her lips. "Take it in your hand and jack off!" she rasped. "Do it in my face, Timmy! Show me you know how to beat your sweet meat!"
The kid was a fast learner, and eager to please this pretty woman who was teaching him the most exciting lesson of his life. He took hold of his aching tallywhacker-which until now he'd never known was good for anything but peeing through-and began sliding his hand rapidly up and down it.
"Yes, yes!" Marsha squealed. "That's the way! Ohh, do it! Faster! Harder! Flog it, baby! Whip it good!"
Marsha held him by the hips, keeping his enlarged crown only scant inches from her enraptured face. Next to blowing a boy, she loved best of all to see one masturbating, especially when she was teaching him how to do it. Watching the smooth, oily foreskin glide on and off their precious prickheads never failed to give her an illicit charge.
"UUHH, UUHH, UUHH!" Timmy chanted breathlessly, his head hanging down and lolling limply as he began missing strokes and squeezing his twitching peter.
"That's enough! Stop! Take your hand away! You're gonna cum! Don't squirt it all over me! In my mouth! Stick your dick in my mouth!"
"OHH, OHHH!" he cried, and instinctively clutched her head as she tugged him forward and took every bit of his pounding pecker into her hot, wet, rapaciously sucking mouth. "AAGGHHH! UNG, UNNGG ... UUNNGGHHH!"
She could feel his fingers entwining with the soft, jet-black curls of her shag-cut hair as her nose and lips flattened against his hairless groin. The expanded head of his pulsing organ swabbed down into the upper region of her throat, jerking erratically. His orgasm was imminent, his first ever. She was wild for his load, but she wanted it in her mouth not her throat, so she could savor its delicate flavor. There was no cum in all the world sweeter than the first issue from the pure young balls of an untainted boy.
Quickly she drew back, holding him in position with one hand as she reached between his legs with the other. Her red lips distended lewdly from her face, clinging to the spit-slick shaft of his wetly gleaming penis. She stopped with only the bloated crown in her sperm-starved oral cavern, her tongue curling over it as she sucked down all the harder, massaging his tight testicles with her sweat-dampened palm and his winking rectum with the ball of her premoistened middle finger.
PLEASE BE OLD ENOUGH! she screamed silently, her lips working fish-like, lascivious wet slurps filling the room. SQUIRT IT IF YOU CAN! BUT GIVE ME SOMETHING! AT LEAST A FEW DROPS!
To Marsha's womanly delight, the young lad's ballooning cockhead expelled a satisfying jet of hot cream onto her waiting tongue. She moaned whimperingly when the flavorful sperm soaked into her discerning taste buds and set them to tingling. It was better than she'd remembered, the first flow of ejaculate from the awakening balls of an adolescent boy.
Knowing there wouldn't be much but wanting every drop he had, Marsha inserted into his rhythmically contracting asshole the finger she'd previously coated with saliva.
"NAAGGHHH!" he groaned, and in pleasured shock his fingers tangled spastically in her hair.
Completely ignoring the pain in her scalp, Marsha massaged Timmy's convulsing prostate gland like a doctor giving a finger-wave, forcing it to pump out more of its nectarous cream than it otherwise would have. She got all the scrumptious load he had, a couple of teaspoonfuls, and held it in her mouth, swishing her tongue through it while she drained his dwindling peter of its final sluggish drops. Only when she allowed his limp, slippery eel to slip from between her soft, full lips did she heave a sigh of satisfaction and swallow with gratification the child's sexual purity. Never again could another woman have the pleasure that was now hers, Marsha knew, and she smiled like the Mona Lisa as his virginal cum slid slick as an oyster down her throat and settled warm and glowing in her stomach.
A tiny pop sounded when the end of her retreating finger departed his gripping anus. She smiled up at him and patted his bare behind. "Step back, you darling boy, and rearrange your trousers while I go comb my hair and freshen my lipstick. It's all over now. I enjoyed it tremendously. How did you like it?"
"Oh, wow!" he gasped.
Marsha chuckled and got up. As she retrieved her purse and went in search of a mirror, she realized seducing this young boy had affected her even more than it used to. Her knees were a little weak and the crotchband of her nylon panties were soaked with cuntal secretions. It rubbed warm and slimy between her legs, and she could feel the thin material sticking to the feverish lips of her pouting hairy hole. She needed a good screwing in the worst way.
The D.A. had kept her in protective custody for over six months after she'd turned in her gangster husband, so she would live to testify against him, and she had no sexual outlet during all that time. Frank Cobos was in prison now, and would probably remain there till he died; he was no longer her husband, for she had got an annulment. The hell of it was, he'd never been her legal husband. When she'd married him in California, she hadn't known he was in the rackets or that he already had a wife back in Chicago. She hated the sadistic Cobos for the constant beatings and degradation he'd heaped upon her. It was like being born again to be free of him at last. If she made it, if his henchmen didn't catch her and kill her, there was a whole new decent life ahead of her.
But Marsha didn't feel too decent right now. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw a perverted slut. The pleasure of sucking off the innocent young boy drained from her only to be replaced by a flood of shame and guilt. She couldn't understand how she'd let herself slip back into her old, dangerous habit so quickly and easily.
"It's a sickness!" she hissed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Get hold of yourself, you filthy bitch! You've got to control your unnatural craving or you'll disgrace yourself and lose your precious son forever!"
Father Shannon and the other boys returned while Marsha was in the John. When she reentered the big living room, the priest was introducing Timmy to his "brothers," all of whom seemed genuinely glad to have him. Marsha could see that Timmy was less afraid now, more relaxed. Marsha shook hands with each of the respectful lads as Father Shannon introduced them to her.
"Candido and James, I think you two should take Timmy out and show him around his new home," Father Shannon suggested, and they were off in a flash-James, the other white boy, about thirteen, and Candido, the youngest of the three Chicanos, who was perhaps eleven, a small dark-skinned boy with large brown eyes-with Timmy in tow, all three of them smiling. "Cole, Arturo and Luis, to the kitchen with you, my sons, and prepare enough for an extra plate. You will stay and have supper with us, won't you Missus Cordell?"
"Well, I, un, should really be getting on," she murmured, for she felt out of place here with a priest and six young boys.
"Please stay, ma'am," the thin, fourteen-year-old Artura said, self-consciously combing the fingers of his right hand through his coarse, thick black hair.
The olive-skinned Luis, a plump, happy youth of fifteen with a round, smiling face, added, "We all want you to, ma'am. It would be an honor to have you eat with us."
Coleman grinned and nodded his kinky, short-haired head.
"All right," Marsha said with a smile. "Yes, thank you, I'd love to."
The three older boys trooped off to the kitchen. When they were out of earshot, Father Shannon, beaming approval, said, "Thank you, Missus Cordell. You're a kind, lovely woman. Your presence, even for a little while, will do the boys a world of good. I do the best I can for them. But they miss having a mother. Come. Let me show you around."
He gave her a tour of the house first, and then took her outside and showed her the barn. In. addition to the small tractor, there were two horses and three milk cows, and three dogs that followed them around wagging their tails. Evidently the female dog was going into heat, for the two males kept sniffing her. A distance behind the barn was a hog pen, and off to the barn's side was a chicken house, to the other a smokehouse.
"It's more of a farm than a ranch, I'm afraid. But that's temporary. We have to be self-sufficient," Father Shannon said. "We get no money from the church as yet. I inherited the place from an uncle. This is something I've always wanted to do, provide a home for homeless boys. I had to sell off most of the herd. But there are four sections, most of it good grazing land, and in time there'll be lots of boys and cattle here. Shannon's Boys Ranch," he said it with pride, "is only three months old."
He told her his name was David, and that his friends called him Dave, and she noticed that he blushed a little when he said it. Obviously he wanted to be on a first name basis with her, for he was calling her Marsha now instead of Mrs. Cordell, but she couldn't bring herself to use his given name. He was a handsome man, about 35 or 36, with neatly trimmed sandy hair and alert hazel eyes. But his powerful 5'10" body was clothed in a dark suit, and his clerical collar made Father the only appropriate name to call him. Though Marsha had never been very religious herself, she had both awe and respect for men of the cloth.
It was Candido's turn to say grace. The small boy said it falteringly but proudly before they began the meal. There were two heaping platters of pork chops, from the boughten hog which Father Shannon and the boys had slaughtered, butchered and smoked themselves. There was a large bowl of canned peas, and another of instant mashed potatoes-Father commented that in the fall they would be eating their own home-grown produce-and hot biscuits with home-churned butter. And all the fresh milk the boys could drink, cold and rich with cream. Dessert was sorghum molasses spread on two halfs of a buttered biscuit.
While the three older boys went out to feed the animals and milk the cows, Father assigned the task of clearing the table and washing the dishes to the three younger ones. They went at it with gusto, laughing and talking, and Timmy joined right in.
"Thank you, Father. I guess I'd better be going now," Marsha said.
"A cup of coffee first?"
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, that would be nice."
Over coffee the priest felt her out and got her to talking about herself. She told him nothing of her bigamous marriage to the underworld figure her testimony had helped send to prison. She said she'd been living in Chicago, that she was a widow, that she was returning to California to claim her son-who'd been living with her brother's family-and make a life for Wesley and herself.
"What are you going to do?" he asked. "I've heard jobs are hard to come by now, especially on the coast."
"I'll get by, Father. I have money, and I'll find work of some sort. I worked at a YMCA before I left California."
"Mmm, did you enjoy working with boys?"
"Very much."
After a moment he asked, "And what took you to Chicago?"
"Don't pry, Father."
"Sorry."
"Well," she said, rising with purse in hand, "it is getting late."
"Too late," he said, also rising. "You'll have to stop soon. Why not spend the night here and save a motel bill? You'll have to share the bath, but we can offer you a private room and breakfast in the morning, and I won't take no for an answer."
Marsha wasn't about to tell him no. Father Shannon bunked with the boys in the large room which he'd had added to the old house. There were three smaller bedrooms. She accepted his offer. With gunmen from the syndicate after her, Marsha couldn't think of a safer, more isolated place to put up for the night.
CHAPTER TWO
Father Shannon and the boys arose at five. They didn't awaken Marsha until their chores were done and breakfast was cooking. She felt good. It was the best night's sleep she'd had in a long time.
There was tomato juice and oatmeal with cream and sugar, followed by sausage and scrambled eggs and hot, buttered biscuits. The clean New Mexico air and rising early gave her a hearty appetite. Marsha ate less than little Candido, but for her it was a big breakfast.
While the boys were getting ready to leave for school, the priest made his pitch. He hadn't mentioned it to the boys, he said, because they liked her and he didn't want to get their hopes up if there was no chance. But since she was a widow, with no urgent need to earn money and no definite plans for the immediate future, and liked to work with boys, he wondered aloud if she might not consider staying on with them.
"You mean live here?" she asked in surprise.
"On a temporary basis, of course, until you decide what you want to do with your life. I can't pay you anything now. Maybe later, when things get going better for us. But the boys need a mother, and I've noticed the love in your eyes when you look at them. If you decide you want to stay on permanently, then we'll bring your son here to live. It's a good life. I think you'd be happy here, and your son would grow up strong and healthy. Don't answer now. Think it over, Marsha. I generally drive the boys down to the highway and put them on the school bus, but I'm taking them on in to town today, so I can enroll Timmy. I'll be gone a couple of hours. Think on it. If you're not here when I get back, I'll understand. I am asking a lot of you, and I have no right. But there's something about you. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I get the impression you need us almost as much as we need you."
"Father, I ... I don't-"
"Please," he interrupted, "think on it first. At least for a few minutes."
The boys came in then, scrubbed and neatly dressed and carrying their schoolbooks, and after reluctant goodbyes, Father Shannon herded them out to the pickup and drove away.
Marsha stood on the porch, watching the truck and the cloud of dust it kicked up until both had disappeared. It was a beautiful spring morning. The bright sun was already taking the chill out of the air. She went back into the house and poured herself another cup of coffee, then stood at the window looking out, sipping it slowly, thinking.
It was a tough decision. Much more was involved than Father Shannon realized. The syndicate would surely be after her by now. They were not going to just sit back and let her get away with stealing $176,000 of their money. They would do everything in their power to get it back. And then there was the matter of her turning in her husband and testifying against him in court. She'd sent Frank Cobos to prison and, if they caught her, she would pay dearly for that. They would kill her. Or maybe worse. She was still young enough, pretty enough. Marsha shuddered at the thought of how they might make her suffer. They were in prostitution and dope as well as gambling. She knew the syndicate wasn't above kidnapping a woman and injecting her with heroin until she was hooked on it and would do anything in the world to get it.
Her instinct for self-preservation told her to accept the priest's offer, at least until things cooled down. They would never find her here at the boys ranch, but they might be waiting for her in California, watching her brother's house, figuring to grab her when she came for her son. Wesley was safe enough as long as they didn't know where she was. It would be a different matter if she was spotted in California. They might kidnap Wesley then, to flush her out, and make her come to them and turn over the money and herself to save her son's life. She didn't dare show herself anywhere near her son for a while. Or even call him, because they might have the phone bugged.
They couldn't watch Wesley forever, though. A month, maybe two, and they would let up. They wouldn't be sure she was even coming for him, and they had other things to do. Maybe they weren't keeping her brother's house under surveillance. She had no way of being sure. But she had to assume they were. She couldn't afford not to.
She couldn't decide whether to stay here or leave and hole up some place else until the heat was off. This was the perfect hideout, a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Except for the boys. God, they were appealing, every one of them. She'd already succumbed once to her old perversion. She didn't think Timmy would fink on her to Father Shannon, but he might tell one of the other boys. If he did, they might want her to go down on them, too, and she knew she wouldn't be about to resist.
"I'd melt all over them," she said aloud. "And I'd hate myself for it. Damn you, Father! Why couldn't you have girls here instead of those juicy dicked young boys?"
Marsha poured herself another cup of coffee. She couldn't decide. Common sense told her to stay right where she was, because she was as safe as she could ever hope to be from the syndicate's hoods. But the boys were so tempting, and she was afraid she might weaken. What if she did, and Father Shannon caught her with one of the lads? Would he have her arrested, or merely condemn her for her wickedness and send her away? She wished she knew. She wished she didn't have this unnatural craving for young boys. But she did. God, they were so sweet!
I've got to stay, she told herself. It's the only sure way to keep Wesley and me safe until I get those killers off my back. I won't let myself be alone with any of the boys. I won't let it happen again. I'll guard against it every minute. I've got to!
She went out back to stretch her legs and have another look around. Having made her decision, she should've been relieved, but she wasn't. Just thinking about what might happen with the boys had got her worked up.
Canine snarling and growling drew Marsha toward the barn. The doors stood open, for the two horses and three milk cows had been turned out to graze. She couldn't imagine why the dogs that had seemed so contented yesterday evening would be kicking up such a ruckus this morning. It didn't take her long to figure it out once she was inside the barn with them, though.
The female had gone into heat. It stood there docilely, its swollen sex organs dripping secretions, while the two males prepared to battle for their sexual rights. The bitch was ready, and so were the studs. Neither was willing to let the other go first.
Marsha grinned nervously and stayed back out of the way. "Don't fight, fellows," she scolded. "Fucking is so much nicer, and from the looks of her, you'll both get all you want."
The dogs didn't even glance at her. They were all three mongrels, the bitch and one male about the same size; the other male was considerably larger. He looked like a mixture of timber wolf and German shepherd, and stood nearly hip-high to Marsha. The smaller male didn't stand a chance, the two were so mismatched, or so Marsha thought. But it was the smaller one which attacked first.
Only a fool would've tried to break up this fight, and Marsha was no fool. She hated to see the smaller dog get slaughtered, but she wasn't about to intervene. In fearful fascination, she climbed halfway up the loft ladder and hung on, gaping down at the snarling, yelping animals. It was a vicious battle, nip and tuck for a couple of minutes. Then, to her utter amazement, the fight was all over, and the smaller dog had won. The large one turned its back, whimpering, and slunk off with its tail between its legs.
"Well, I'll be damned," she said, coming down off the ladder as the beaten dog disappeared into one of the horse stalls.
Mentally she named the dogs David and Goliath, and although it wasn't Biblically appropriate, she decided to call the bitch Delilah. Marsha was amused now. The big dog wasn't hurt much, and it'd been years since she'd seen dogs doing it. As a teenager, it had strangely excited her to see them mount up and go at it. It was having that same effect on her now, she realized as she watched Little David stick his nose under Delilah's tail and lick her secreting vulva.
Marsha could hardly wait to see them copulating. She would never have admitted this to a living soul, but there was no one around. Father Shannon wouldn't be back for about another hour. By then it would all be over. And the dogs were going to do it whether she watched them or not.
What can it hurt? she asked herself. The dogs can't tell, and I sure won't.
She walked over and sat down in a pile of hay. "Come on, Little David, climb on her and do your stuff. If you screw like you fight, this ought to be quite a show!"
The sound of her voice brought the larger dog out of the horse stall. Goliath might've looked part wolf, but he sure didn't act it. He was big enough to snap off David's head with one bite. He was cowed though, and made a wide circle around the smaller dogs, throwing wistful glances at Little David licking the prize he'd won in combat.
"What's the matter, you big coward?" Marsha chuckled, patting Goliath's head when he crawled up to her whining for sympathy. "Did that little bully shoot you out of the saddle?"
The wolf-like creature put its paws over its eyes, as if in shame, and sneezed sighingly.
"It's all right, boy," she soothed, stroking the back of his neck. "You can have her when he's through. I've seen this before. Trust me. I know how it works. And it's only right, really. I mean, goodness, your penis is so much larger than his! It'll work out better for all of you this way."
Goliath worked around on his belly and laid his head across Marsha's leg, his sad eyes gazing longingly at the victor claiming his spoils. Marsha petted the animal absently, paying little attention to it now. The feisty mongrel male had reared up and put his front paws on Delilah's back. He was prancing on his hind legs, jabbing at her lubricated slot with the dripping tip of his glistening, fiery-red peter.
The bitch's tongue hung out. Her eyes were glassy. In her state of rut, she wasn't about to object. This was Nature's way. The canines really had no choice in the matter. They were acting purely on instinct, especially the bitch. Delilah was nothing more than a repository for canine semen at this stage of the game. She would've stood there all day, taking on one or a hundred males.
Thinking about this made Marsha a bit horny herself. She was totally engrossed in the sight of Little David's skinny penis finding and penetrating the steaming pussy of the willing bitch.
When he'd socked it home, giving a little yelp of pleasure, David wrapped his forelegs around his submissive partner and hung on. His back started arching fast and hard. His hind end bobbed rapidly, driving his slender red prick like a plunging piston in and out of Delilah's sopping sex hole.
"Jesus," Marsha breathed.
Her tonguetip darted out and traced her lips. She could feel a tightening in her loins. In a way, she was jealous of the female dog.
J hope you're enjoying it, you hussy, she thought. Damned if you're not getting a good screwing, and that's exactly what I've been needing for months!
From where she sat in the pile of hay, Marsha had a good view of the animals' joined sex organs working together smoothly and swiftly. She could hear the bitch whimpering, the male sort of grunting and panting at the same time. They were screwing up a storm now, Delilah shivering and kind of nodding her head with her eyes closed, while Little David humped frenziedly away with his watery eyes open but unseeing, his tongue hanging out, saliva trickling from it.
Listen to me! she thought with alarm. J shouldn't be watching them! It's getting to me! Good Lord, I didn't realize I was this bad off! I can't stay here ... with a priest and six young boys! I've got to move on!
It struck her that she might find a young hitchhiker and pick him up. A strong one. And shack up with him for a week. She'd never in her life done such a wanton thing. Except for young boys-which was a perversion she couldn't control-Marsha had never gone to bed with a man she didn't love. At least she'd thought she'd loved them at the time, and there'd only been four besides her two husbands. She was no saint, but she wasn't a promiscuous woman either. But what she needed now was sex not love, and plenty of it.
She saw the knot start slowly up from the base of the humping dog's thrusting peter. He was about to cum. Marsha could feel the prickly heat of sexual desire deep in her own weeping vagina. The lips of her hairy snatch were swelling up, getting all slippery with the copious flow of her clear cuntal fluids. Her clitoris had glutted itself with blood. It stood out at the top of her elliptical opening, throbbing with each rapid beat of her palpitating heart.
The knot of semen snapped into the bitch's body. Both David and Delilah began whining and yelping like crazy, trying to pull apart. They couldn't. The bulging lump of sperm had them locked together. They would be hung up until it reached the tip of the male's organ and their frantic efforts to disconnect had forced it to squirt out near the female's fertile womb.
"CUM!" Marsha wailed. "SLIP YOUR DAMNED NUTS AND GET IT OVER WITH ... BEFORE I LOSE MY MIND!"
The prolonged climax was a combination of bliss and torture for the canines. For Marsha, however, it was pure hell. She couldn't recall ever being more hot and bothered than she was at this moment. The sights and sounds of orgasmic fulfillment were unbearable. It felt like a thousand red-hot fishhooks were embedded in her loins, and some evil imp had hold of the lines, pulling and jerking on them.
"OH SHIT!" she moaned. "I NEED A MAN!"
Despite her dislike for masturbation, she was going to have to do it. If she didn't get relief of some kind, she feared she would go stark raving mad. Quickly she hoisted her skirt and thrust her hand beneath her sticky crotchband. She gave herself one finger, then another, then she leaned back on her left elbow and began sighing as she finger-fucked her hot hole.
Evidently Goliath was suffering a fit of lust too, for he mounted her left leg and started hunching her thigh.
"STOP IT!" Marsha snapped.
She could feel his slick, feverish organ rubbing against her bare skin, for she had on sandals and no hose today, and this shook her up. Not the physical contact itself, but what it made her think of doing. She had an almost overpowering urge to grab that hot dog dick and guide it into her cock-starved cunt.
"OHH, GO AWAY! PLEASE! LEAVE ME ALONE, GOLIATH!" she moaned, continuing to plunge two fingers in and out of her hairy split as she lifted her right leg and shoved at the panting animal with her foot. She dislodged him, and as he rolled over she got a look at his long, tapering peter. "DAMN, IT LOOKS GOOD! YOU'RE HURTING, ARENT YOU, BOY? AS BAD AS I AM! OHH, NOOH! WHAT AM I THINKING?! MY GOD, I CANT ... NOT WITH A DOG!"
The big dog could smell her steaming cunt. He crawled toward it, sniffing, moving in between her parted legs this time. His tongue was long and red, and he kept licking his chops as he inched his muzzle closer and closer to Marsha's groin. When she felt the animal's hot, wet tongue lapping the moist, satiny skin high up on the insides of her thighs, she had a pretty good idea what he was after.
"I SH-SHOULDNT!" she moaned, backing her fingers from her inflamed slit and pushing half-heartedly at the animal's cold snout. "I M-MUSTNT ... LET YOU ... L-LICK MEEE!"
Goliath licked her hand, and afraid he might nip her, Marsha jerked it back. This gave the panting dog a clear shot at her hairy hole, for her secretion-drenched crotchband was pulled to the side and lodged in the crack formed by her pouting vulva and trembling thigh. Following his natural instincts, the half-wolf, half-dog stuck its nose into the hot pussy before it and smelled the distinctive odor of a human female ready for cock.
"OOOH, OOOH!" Marsha cried in fearful anticipation.
The shaggy beast liked the smell. He gave an approving half-sneeze and then dragged his tongue through her clefted mound. Marsha held her breath as she felt Goliath's hot tongue slipping into the bottom V of her soft, pink slot. It slithered upward, parting the dew-drenched petals of her sex, and glided through the shimmering trough formed by the ultra-smooth, supersensitive inner surfaces of her labia majora. In the inverted V at the top of her hair-fringed hole, the dog unknowingly found her most vulnerable spot. An obscene thrill blasted through her when she felt the canine's hot, scratchy tongue skidding abrasively over the nerve-rich tip of her elongated clitoris.
"AAAAH ... OOOHHH ... AAHHHHH!" she paled, and lay there shuddering with pleasure as the dog began licking her in earnest.
OH, GOOD LORD! WHAT AM I DOING?! Marsha groaned inwardly. HE'S LICKING MY PRIVATES ... THIS CREATURE! AND I'M LETTING HIM! IT'S SO DEPRAVED ... OUTRAGEOUSLY DEMENTED! BUT IT'S GOOD ... OH SHIT, IS IT EVER GOOD! I CAN'T STOP HIM ... AAAHHH ... DON'T WANT TO! GOD HELP ME ... I LIKE IT!!!"
She shoved the animal away and whisked off her panties. Then she flopped back down and flung her legs wide apart. "NOW, DAMN YOU, LICK ME! COME ONE! AHHHH ... YESSS ... THAT'S IT! OHHH ... OHH, JESUS! WHAT A TONGUE! DEEPER ... LICK DEEPER ... AARRGGHHH!"
Marsha pushed down with her heels and shoulders, arching her back to lift her pelvis and present her animal/lover with a yawning, easily accessible target. Her skirt was up around her waist, and she had kicked off her sandals. It gave her a purely wicked thrill to look down at the animal while he licked her. Goliath was standing now, and his head lowered, lapping the juice from her upraised furry gash much as he might lap water from a bowl. Except that his tongue was laving her all over, even her puckered rectum, and she could feel his long, long taste organ making frequent trips deep into her fluttering vagina to collect the beads of female nectar as they formed on the velvety walls of her sheath.
"KEEP IT UP!" she mewled. "I LOVE IT! NEVER STOP!"
There was no room in her feverish mind for anything other than the vulgar pleasure of this bestial sex act. Marsha knew she should be disgusted with herself, but she wasn't. It felt too marvelous. She'd never been licked so fervently, had never felt a hot tongue probing so far up into her yearning cunt. She was ashamed of herself for giving in to this unnatural lust, but it was the type of shame that only made her enjoyment all the more lewd and delicious.
Suddenly Goliath's pleasure-giving tongue was gone. Marsha grabbed at his head, attempting to shove his snout back into her febrile gap. "don't STOP! MORE! LICK ME! MAKE ME CUM! GODDAMN YOU, don't STOP NOW!"
But the wolf/dog was through licking. His subhuman instincts were driving him on toward copulation. He reared up and pawed her bare belly, trying to mount her.
"NOOH ... OHH, NOOO!" Marsha wailed when she got the idea. "THIS IS INSANE! GOT TO STOP IT ... BEFORE IT GOES TOO FAR! IT'S BAD ENOUGH THAT I LET MYSELF BE LICKED BY AN ANIMAL! I CANT PERMIT THIS ... THIS ... THIS CRIME AGAINST NATURE!"
Goliath was climbing her, wrapping his forelegs around her torso and jabbing erratically at her crotch with the pointed tip of his tapering red penis.
"NO! GET AWAY!" she yelped, slapping at his head with her right hand as she reached down with her left to ward off his insistent dick.
The dog began hunching her hand the instant her slender fingers closed preventively around his long, slick shaft. A flood of consternation washed over her at the feel of the dog's hot, thrusting organ. It was her mind that was railing against this unholy union, not her shapely body. She was starved for sex, and her pussy itself had no objection whatsoever to receiving the prick of an animal.
"AAAH, AAAAH, AHHH!" she chanted, weakening fast.
It had been her intention to grasp the canine organ and push it away from her secreting slot, but somehow the pencil-point tip had found its mark and penetrated her. The contact had stunned her momentarily, and in that time the dog's thrusting motions had jammed her fist right up against her hair-rimmed opening. Two-thirds of the animal phallus was into her now, stroking rapidly within her human vagina, and there was nothing but her hand between them to keep the slavering beast from penetrating her to the hilt.
"OHHH ... OH, NOOH ... NOOO!" she moaned.
She gripped the slippery bone, shivering with pleasure as she felt the front six inches or so of it reaching through her hand and jabbing incessantly into her loins. Like all dogs, the temperature of Goliath's body was several degrees hotter than a human's. It felt to Marsha as if the incredible heat of the animal's rock-hard peter was burning her hand and searing the walls of her vagina. She didn't want him to stop now. He had part of it in her, and it felt wonderful. She made one final, desperate attempt to get herself under control. If she really wanted to, she knew she could make the dog stop.
But she didn't want to, not badly enough. She rationalized that it didn't make any difference now, since part of the forbidden penis was already inside her. After she'd tricked her mind in this way, it was easy for her to admit she wanted the rest of it. The fattest, hottest part of his long, tapering prick was in her hand, and suddenly she thought she would die if she didn't get to feel it ramming in through the soft, swollen gates of her hair-ringed orifice.
"DO ITT!" she cried, jerking her hand out of the way. "I DON'T CARE IF IT IS DIRTY AND DEPRAVED! I WANT IT ... YOUR FILTHY, ANIMAL DI-IICCKKK!!"
Goliath socked it to her the instant her hand released his rod. The base of his penis was nearly as thick as a man's. It dilated her cuntal vestibule until she knew her sexual tissues were being stretched. The dog's fiery-red spear was longer than the dong of any man Marsha had known, and she sucked in her breath raggedly as the final three inches of it was crammed into her. It was longer than the barrel of her vagina, but that didn't stop the panting animal from forcing it all into her.
"AAAAIIIEEEEE!!" She let out a shrill yell when she felt the pencil-point tip of his tapering pecker stab into the tiny mouth of her womb and jolt it higher into her shocked belly.
"OHH, GOD ... GOD ... OOOHHHH!" she groaned, and a tremor racked her curvaceous body.
The dog was full into her now. She could feel his superhot shaft throbbing in the depths of her belly. His testicles sanded her anus and the inch of flesh separating it from her sex opening, and she could feel the matted fur of his underside scratching the tender skin of her womanly abdomen. His tongue hung out, dribbling saliva on her throat. She looked into the animal's sad, glassy eyes and whimpered mournfully as she threw her arms around him.
"FUCK ME, BABY! GET THAT ASS TO MOVING!" she squealed, and began gyrating her rump.
It was awkward for the dog, even with Marsha tilting her pelvis up to him. He managed, though, and fucked her with short, rough jabs until his prancing hind legs sank through the hay and his paws found the earth floor beneath. Then he went at her the way nature had intended, with his front legs clinging to her torso and his powerful hindquarters flying back and forth as his back arched with smooth rapidity.
"AAAAH, AAAH, AAAH!" she chanted, her head thrown back and her eyes clamped shut, her tongue sweeping her lips.
The long, red dog dick plunged deep and fast within the fluttering sheath of Marsha's vaginal canal, its pointed tip spearing into the tiny opening of her hypersensitive uterus again and again.
"GAAAHH! YOU'RE BETTER THAN ANY MAN! ALL DAY! FUCK ME ALL GODDAMN DAY LONG! AHH, AAH ... OOOUUUU ... OHHH!!"
Now that the huge wolf/dog was fucking into her for all he was worth, it was unbelievably good. The very wickedness of this bestial union provided a lascivious thrill all its own, for Marsha knew full well that this was aberrant, forbidden sexual behavior. There wasn't a country in the world where it was lawful. Indeed, even the most primitive human societies condemned sex between a woman and a beast.
Be that as it may, Marsha was getting a tremendous amount of pleasure from this unspeakable perversion. The shaggy animal was giving her a really thorough screwing, and that was exactly what her voluptuous body had been screaming for.
"OOHH ... OHHHH ... IT'S GOOD ... SO GOOD ... UNN, UUNNN ... AAAAHH ... HARDER ... MMMM, SWEET DICK ... OHH, FUCK, DOG ... FFUUCCKK!!"
Goliath didn't understand her words, of course, but that didn't matter. She was a submissive female, and this he understood. She had a hot, wet hole to fuck, and that was actually all he cared about. He fucked it. Man, did he fuck it!
Marsha was so caught up in the bittersweet delirium of her preorgasmic bliss that she failed to notice Father Shannon charging into the barn. One second the dog was humping the hell out of her, the next it was gone, bouncing off the wall, yelping like crazy.
CHAPTER THREE
"WHA-WHAT THE HELL?!" marsha sputtered, her hand sweeping hay out of her face as she struggled to sit up, blinking her eyes to clear her lust-fogged vision. And then she saw him looming above her, bug-eyed and red-faced, his hands clenched into fists and his entire body shaking. "FATHER! OH MY GOD! FATHER SHANNON!"
He tried to say something but couldn't find his voice. Marsha could hear Goliath whining and yelping as he scurried from the barn with his tail between his legs. The priest had caught her having intercourse with his dog. She hadn't heard him drive up. How long had he stood there watching? It didn't matter. He'd seen the worst part, had heard her crying out in shameless lust.
She wished she could die. Marsha was mortified at having been caught in such a vile act, and by a man of the cloth! His lips were tight, the muscles in his jaws pumping in and out, but worst of all was the outrage in his glowering hazel eyes. She could not bear to meet his accusing gaze. It bore right through her, making her feel like the horned whore in Revelations forever damned to Hell's lake of fire. Her cheeks blazed with shame and humiliation.
"I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT, FATHER! I DIDN'T! I SWEAR IT! I-I...."
Nothing she could say would make any difference. They both knew what a horrible pervert she was. Marsha felt like some slimy thing that had crawled out of a swamp. She couldn't forgive herself, so she couldn't force herself to beg mercy from this holy man. It suddenly dawned on her that her skirt was still bunched around her waist, and she quickly pulled it down.
Trying to get up was another matter. She was still reeling with lust, left hanging on the verge of orgasm. Her mind was dull and her muscles felt weak and uncoordinated. Berating herself for being rotten to the core, a completely worthless bitch, Marsha managed to struggle up to her knees before she let out a mournful wail and broke down.
The guilt-stricken young woman knelt there sobbing uncontrollably, blinded by cascading tears of bitter remorse. She'd failed to notice the prominent bulge in the disconcerted priest's trousers. Now her vision was blurred and her head was downcast in shame, so she also failed to see his shaking hands unzip his fly and tug out a long, fat column of pulsing prick.
All at once his fingers locked in her disheveled hair. Her head was jerked up, her mouth agape, and before she suspected what he was up to, he had stuck his priestly cock in her mouth.
"SUCK IT!" he hissed, thereby breaking his silence in a very unpriestly manner.
"NOOM ... OHHH, NOOM!" she moaned around her mouthful of meat, struggling to back off it as her mind screamed, NO, FATHER! OH, GOOD HEAVENS ... THINK WHAT YOU'RE DOING!
But he wouldn't release her. He couldn't. The Devil had him. Father Shannon was a young, healthy man, and controlling his normal sex urges had always been extremely difficult for him. Seeing the beautiful young window rutting with his huge dog had snapped something inside him. He wasn't himself. He wouldn't be till his fit of overpowering lust had run its course and he'd emptied his bloated balls of their massive, rusty load.
"MMMM ... MMMM!" Marsha moaned, and she began blowing the holy man.
She couldn't resist. She was too worked up, and she'd always loved to suck cock. The salty taste of his bulging cockhead was deliciously mortal, but Marsha felt terrible about having it in her mouth. Even though he'd stuffed it into her oral cavern and ordered her to suck it, she knew she was to blame for this sordid moment of unholy sin.
Father Shannon would never have touched me if he hadn't seen me lying with that animal! she groaned inwardly. It's my fault! I drove him to this! Oh, God help me! Isn't it bad enough that I seduce young boys! WHY DO I HAVE TO SOIL A PRIEST, AS WELL?! WHAT KIND OF DEMENTED WHORE AM I ... TO CORRUPT A MAN OF GOD THIS WA Y???"
Marsha was essentially a good woman with a kind heart, her peculiar perversion notwithstanding, and she couldn't for a fraction of a second forget that the stiff prick in her hungry mouth belonged to a man of the cloth.
There was no way she could stop sucking him off, though. If Father Shannon had released her head, which he didn't, she would've crawled after him begging him to let her finish. The heady taste of his sleek papal crown was the flavor which pleased her most in all the world. He had a perfectly formed clerical organ. The sturdy shaft was long and thick, streaked with puffed, bluish veins, and the knob at its end was big as an old-fashioned jawbreaker. He had such a rip-roaring hard-on that his foreskin was drawn back tight as a drumhead around his throbbing shaft.
GOD, IT'S SWEET ... HIS DICK! she thought luridly. OH, FATHER, DO YOU LOVE IT? AM I GIVING YOU A GOOD BLOW-JOB?
It struck her that he probably wouldn't know a good blow-job from an ordinary one, him being a priest, because he could very well be as innocent about sex as young Timmy was. He would know about it, all right, in theory, but Marsha knew it was entirely possible that she was going down on a mature virgin. This possibility caused her to warm to her task. Her passion-fogged mind did an about-face, and all at once the fact that he was a priest gave her a terrific sensation of willful wickedness.
She unbuckled his belt and unhooked the waistband of his trousers, and let them fall of then-own weight down his hairy legs. He wore boxer-shorts. Her nimble fingers unsnapped them in a flash and she whisked them down around his ankles.
"Mmm, mmm, mmm!" she sighed through her nose, her tongue curling over the smooth surface Of his taut-skinned glans as she enclosed its shaft in one eager hand and weighed in the moist palm of the other his hairy sac of sperm-swollen testicles.
"Aaaah! Marsha! It's wonderful ... ohhhh ... your mouth!" the panting priest sighed. "Like melted butter!"
His fingers slipped from her hair and his hands fell limply to his sides. She began bobbing her head. Her soft lips worked fish-like around the front part of his spit-slick stalk. Tiny wet sucking sounds punctuated her mewling and sighing. She massaged his balls in one hand and clung to the bottom half of his stem with the other, jacking her hand jerkily up and down on the portion of his rod she couldn't get inside her warm, wet mouth. Suddenly she drew back, sucking down hard. Her lips distended obscenely from her pretty face, clinging leech-like to his organ until they lost the expanded head with a loud, lascivious slurp.
"TAKE IT IN YOUR HAND, FATHER! JACK OFF IN MY FACE! I WANT TO SEE YOU POUNDING THAT SWEET POLE!"
"Nooh!" he groaned. "SUCK IT! PLEASE! FINISH ME!"
"I WILL, BUT PRIME IT FOR ME! GET IT READY TO SQUIRT, AND THEN I'LL LET YOU CUMIN MY MOUTH!"
A choking sob escaped his trembling lips as he grabbed his member and started running his hand up and down it, popping the foreskin on and off his blood-engorged crown.
That's exactly what he was doing, grunting and shivering, with his glans only scant inches before her enraptured visage. With a pang of conscience, Marsha moaned, "Ohh, good grief! What are we doing, Father? Have we lost our minds?"
If he heard her, he chose not to answer, for he kept right on stroking his mule. She could see his swaying testicles lifting toward his body. This was the signal she'd been waiting for. His climax was impending.
"OHH, OHHH!" he groaned, and put his hands on her head, holding it lightly as she engulfed the best four inches of his turgid tool and sucked it rapaciously.
She was giving him the full benefit of her oral expertise now, showing him that he could find heaven here on earth when he had the business end of his pecker in the mouth of a talented fellatrice. She caressed his tensed buttocks with one hand and hung on to the pulsing base of his prick with the other, her moist red lips dragging up and down the glistening portion of saliva-wetted manmeat as she emitted a constant stream of mewling sighs and sucked voraciously for her creamy reward.
His body tensed. He heaved a whimper-like sob. His organ twitched once, twice, a third time, with the head swelling up more and more inside her suctioning mouth, her educated tongue flailing whip-like at the purplish bulb of turgid manmeat.
"UNNN ... UUNNGGHHHH!" he cried involuntarily as his prostate convulsed and hurled a raging river of semen up his urethra.
The tiny mouth at the tip of his glans was forced wide open by the pressure of his surging ejaculate. It gushed out in a spiraling stream, arcing through her oral cavity, painting a white line along her palate and splashing luridly over her pink tonsils.
"MMMM, MMMMM!" she moaned, sucking like a vampire.
"AAAH ... AAHHHH ... OHHHH!" he sighed, his whole body shaking as his bloated balls released the burdensome weight of their massive, rusty load.
His cum was hot and thick, and exceptionally rich because it'd been stored up for so long. The first three pressurized streams of the pungent substance filled Marsha's mouth and flooded her tongue. It permeated the pores of her tongue and stung her discerning taste buds like Mexican hot sauce. This was the flow from a mature man's balls, and it had been allowed to age and mellow like a fine wine.
IT'S SCRUMPTIOUS, FATHER SHANNONS JIZZ! AND HE'S GOT SUCH A LOT OF IT! Marsha thought with pleasure as she swished her delighted tongue through the mass of sharply acrid sperm before she swallowed it down to make room for more.
The priest was a virtual reservoir of cum. His throbbing dick pumped the glutinous cream into Marsha's grateful mouth in forceful, geyser-like gushes. Her throat worked spasmodically. She swallowed as fast as she could, but it wasn't fast enough. He kept filling her mouth faster than she could drink it down.
She didn't want to lose a single drop of his delicious semen, and she tried desperately to contain it all. In seconds, however, her cheeks began puffing out and her eyes started to bulge. It was impossible for her to swallow fast enough. The ballooning crown of his pulsating prick was spewing torrents of pent-up sperm into her completely filled oral chamber.
MORE! MORE! her mind cried gluttonously, and her throat strained to gulp down the holy man's copious flow.
The pressure inside her mouth built up until it blew cum out through her lips as if they were a safety valve. Her red oral petals flapped obscenely around his twitching shaft. Her bloated cheeks sank back in to their normal position as a squishing wave of frothy white cum sprayed from her mouth. Some of it coated her lips and trickled down her quivering chin, but most of the gluey cream rolled like a rubber down the base of Father Shannon's fat rod and scattered into the dense mat of his coarse pubic hair.
Marsha let out a mournful wail of deprivation and redoubled her cucksucking efforts. It frustrated her to lose part of his precious nectar. She wasn't about to let any more of his sweet cum be wasted.
"OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHHH!" Father Shannon chanted blissfully, his powerful prong continuing to spurt jism into Marsha's greedy mouth as some of what she'd lost washed over his body-hugging nuts and dangled down in a silver string between his muscular thighs.
Since she'd already taken the bulk of his torrential load, Marsha had no difficulty in consuming the remainder of his prostatic flow. She drank all he gave her, and then drained his pecker of its last, reluctant drops before she slurped off it and began licking her sperm-smeared lips.
"Ohhh, Father," she sighed. "It was good ... delicious ... and you must have squirted a cupful of it down my throat!"
He said nothing, merely grunted his satisfaction. She couldn't tell by his expression what he might be thinking. At the moment, she didn't much give a damn. He hadn't lost his erection. His big fat dick was still hard as a bone, the front of it glistening wetly with her saliva, the back of it literally coated with the foamy white overflow of cum which had burst from her mouth.
"God, what a man!" she moaned, and impulsively threw her arms around his hairy thighs. Clinging to his legs, she extended her insatiable tongue and began salaciously lapping up the ejaculate she'd spilled earlier. She tongue-washed his cock and balls, and cleaned as much of the viscous fluid as she could out of the crisp curls of his sandy-colored pubic thatch.
Father Shannon seemed to have lost his tongue. He stood there with his eyes closed and his teeth clenched together as Marsha got to her feet. His face was a mask of agony; his twisted features mirrored clearly the tumultuous mass of conflicting emotions roiling within his troubled being. Marsha was at a loss for words, herself. What did a young woman say to a priest after she'd gone down on him?
"I'm sorry, Father," Marsha murmured. "Truly I am. I'll go now."
He let out a tortured groan and grabbed her.
"What is it, Father? What's wrong? I said I'm sorry! What more do you want?"
He shoved her down in the hay and jumped atop her.
She knew now what he wanted. They fought over her skirt, he trying to pull it up and she attempting to hold it down.
"No, Father! Please!"
"You let my dog!" he accused. "Let me!"
"But you're a ... a priest!"
"A priest is a man!" he husked, and he forced her arms up, and her skirt along with it. "Come on, open your legs! For crying out loud, woman, you just fellated me, so what difference could it possibly make now? Let me screw you!"
"Are you sure ... ohhh ... that you want to? Father, I don't want to corrupt you any more than I already have!"
He pried her legs apart with his knees. She could feel his hot organ slapping at the insides of her thighs, the hard/soft head of it jabbing erratically at her crotch.
"I've got to!" he rasped. "I can't help myself!
You want it too! I know you do! Help me! Please help me get it in!"
She'd never known a grown man to be as awkward as he was. Father Shannon didn't know how to go about screwing a woman, she realized, and this gave her a lewd thrill. He was a good-looking man, and his ineptness made him all the more appealing to her.
"Have you ever had a woman before?" she asked, reaching down between their bodies and taking the strong shaft of his fierce erection in her trembling hand.
He made a choking noise in his throat and tried to penetrate her, but Marsha pulled up on his prick. The head plowed through the jet-black foliage covering her mons veneris and skidded over the warm skin of her slightly rounded lower abdomen. She held it there against her stomach, locked in the surprisingly tight vise of her slender, gripping fingers.
"Tell me, Father! I won't let you until you do! Are you a virgin? Am I giving you your first piece of ass?"
"No!" he croaked. "One girl! When I was in high school! We did it twice! Her folks moved away and ... that's all!"
"Then you're breaking your vows of chastity to take me?"
"Yesss!" he wailed. "Ohh, please! Now! Put it in!"
"Yes, darling, I'll put it in now," she cooed, for the innocence of this passionate priest struck the cord of her peculiar perversion which made her crave him like an addict craves dope. She could hardly wait to feel his lovely prick ramming into her. What she was doing was blatantly wicked, and she knew it full well. She didn't care now, even if she roasted in hell for it, because more than anything in the world she wanted to take the cock of this lust-lost priest into her belly and strip the purity of his soul right out of him along with his second load of cum. "You've got a nice dick, Father Shannon! Back up a little, baby, so I can guide that hot head right into my slick pussy!"
He drew back as she'd directed, and let her hand tug him forward again. She brought the engorged knob to the soft pink crevice between her open legs and swabbed it up and down the inflamed lips of her lubricated slit.
"Does that feel good, Father?" she asked sultrily, deliberately taunting him. She knew she shouldn't tease him this way but she did it anyway. Marsha felt deliciously dirty. She wouldn't be satisfied until she had dragged the holy man all the way down into the gutter with her. "Does your cock like my cunt?"
"Yes!" he yelped.
"Then tell me, damn it! If you want to fuck me, tell me dirty!"
"It feels good ... your cunt! Wonderful! My c-cock ... put it in! I want to fuck you! Lord yes, I'll die if I don't get to FUCK YOUUU!!"
"YESSS!" she squealed, and wedged his purplish bulb between the secretion-slick lips of her hairy sex hole. "I HEAR YOU! DO IT, FATHER! SOCK IT TO ME! NOW!"
Her small hand guided the vanguard of his long lance into the moist heat of her cuntal vestibule. Then she threw her arms around him and grabbed him by the cheeks of his rump. She could feel his buttocks contracting. He was lowering himself atop her cautiously and slowly, easing his huge crown into the yielding wet labia of her furry slot.
"HARD! RAM IT HOME!" she cried, and dug into his butt with her talon-like fingernails.
"AAARRGGHHH!" he shrieked, throwing back his head as he hurled himself down to escape the sharp, unexpected pain in his rear end.
SLAP, SLAP! came the twin report of his stomach smacking hers and his heavy nuts swinging forward to whack into the crack of her ass.
"UMMPPHHH!" Marsha grunted, for he'd hit into her so hard it knocked the wind out of her.
She sucked in her breath raggedly. Tremors of illicit pleasure caused her to shudder. The holy cock filled her to capacity. She could feel its unyielding hard-rubber head throbbing like the idling engine of a powerful racing car deep inside her rippling belly. The mighty thrust of his stony ramrod had dislodged her womb. Father Shannon's masculinity had shoved her most feminine of all female organs a good two inches higher into her stomach.
"GAAAHHH!" she groaned, hugging him. "YOU'RE SO BIG! OH, FATHER, IT'S HUGE ... YOUR COCK! I LOVE IT ... LOVE ITTT!"
Marsha clamped down with her internal muscles, forcing the elastic walls of her stretched vagina to clutch the massive length of masculine turgidity buried hilt-deep in her receptive body.
"MMMM, MMMMM!" she moaned as she undulated her womanly rear, stirring her intestines with the priest's sleek dickhead. The she fell back into the hay, panting, and rasped, "DO IT, FATHER! NOW! GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR AND ... FUCK ME ... FUCK ME GOOD WITH THAT BIG, SWEET DICK!"
After eighteen years of celibacy, with only two pieces of tender teenage ass to his credit before that, Father Shannon wasn't much of a cocksman. What little technique he'd ever had was as rusty as his first load had been. But he was lost in lust-Satan had him by his religious nuts-so he tried. He started fucking the voluptuous young woman for all he was worth, humping her with jerky, awkward strokes.
His long dong flopped out several times. Marsha had to take it in her hand and help him get it back in. She didn't complain once. This was the first time she'd ever had sexual intercourse with a priest, and the fact that she was robbing him of his purity provided her with a perverse psychological pleasure much greater than any physical pleasure she expected to get from this unholy union.
It wasn't long before he caught the ages-old cadence of carnal love and began rutting into her like a true male, however, and once that happened he started riding her hard and fast.
"YES, YESSS!" Marsha sighed, stroking his back. "YOU LEARN FAST, don't YOU? OHH, FATHER, YOU'RE FUCKING ME GOOD NOW!"
He grunted and, taking encouragement from her passionate outcry, he increased his thrusting efforts. He was powering the pole to her now, with the sweet-smelling hay rustling softly under the force of his carnal assault.
"OH, GOD!" she moaned, and slipped her hands in under his shirt and coat, digging her knuckles into the small of his back so he would drive his handsome organ even more forcefully into the sopping depths of her plushy pussy. "YOU'RE HUNG LIKE A HORSE, FATHER! YOU SHOULD BE A STUD INSTEAD OF A PRIEST!"
"don't TALK!" he gasped, hunching blissfully away, the thick shaft of his secretion-coated rod sawing abrasively at the clinging red lips of her dribbling sex hole. "PLEASE don't TALK!"
"FUCK YOU, FATHER!" she shrilled. "WE'RE RIPPING OFF A PIECE OF ASS AND ... OHHH, . OHHH ... IT'S GODDAMNED GOOD, TOO! YOU'RE A MAN! FORGET THAT YOU'RE A ... AAAAAHH ... PRIEST! UNN, UNN! TELL ME YOU LIKE IT! TELL ME I'VE GOT A GOOD CUNT! TELL ME YOU LOVE TO FUCK IT!"
"I DO!" he groaned, instinctively thrusting his hands under her and cupping the soft, warm globes of her rotating rump. "FATHER IN HEAVEN, FORGIVE ME THIS MOMENT OF MORTAL WEAKNESS! BUT IT'S GOOD ... WONDERFUL ... THIS PRETTY WOMAN AND HER HOT, WET CUNT! OHH, MARSHA ... MARR-SSHHAAA!"
"DAVE!" she squealed, and drew up her legs. She bent her knees and slammed down into the hay with her feet, and started throwing her hungry snatch up to him. "YES, DARLING! HARDER! SCREW ME LONG AND HARD! AAARRRGGGHHH!"
"IF I DIE NOW, IT'LL BE WORTH IT!" he husked, his tail arcing with smooth rapidity as he pistoned his pulsing prick in the sucking wet cylinder of Marsha's velvety vagina. "MOTHER MARSHA, EARTH ANGEL, WITH A CUNT LIKE HEAVEN! SHAKE IT, MOTHER MARSHA! THAT LOVELY ASS! FUCK, BABY, FUCK! EAT ME ALIVE ... AAAAHHH ... WITH THAT DIVINE PUSSY!"
"NOW YOU'RE TALKING, YOU STUDHORSE!" she shouted with joyous abandon. She slid her hands down and grasped the hairy hillocks of his humping behind. "IT'S GOOD, ISN'T IT, FATHER? FUCKING!"
"FUCKING, FUCKING!" he yelled, and squeezed her resilient asscheeks as he jerked her snug twat up around his downward plunging pecker. Their stomachs smacked lewdly together and his swaying testicles slapped resoundingly into the milk-white valley of her quivering buttocks. "AAAAHH, SHIT! IT'S WONDERFUL ... FUCKING ... MARVELOUS!"
"OHH, YOU SWEET, SWEET MAN!" she shrieked. "KISS ME!"
He puckered his lips like a little boy and closed his eyes. Thinking how terribly sweet and innocent he was, Marsha did the same. Except that she held his head and refused to let him end the kiss with a quick peck. His butt was bobbing mindlessly now, and she was matching him stroke for womb-jabbing stroke. She mashed their lips together, parting hers and extending her tongue. The tip of her educated tongue probed between his lips and began darting from side to side. He got the idea quicker than she had supposed he would, or maybe he suddenly remembered how from years back. At any rate, his lips parted and his mouth opened. When her taste organ stabbed into his mouth, he licked it welcome.
"MMMM!" she sighed, and rammed her tongue down his throat, shivering with pleasure while he fucked into her steadily and tried to suck her darting pink swab right out of her mouth.
They were going good now, swapping tongues and spit while they lost themselves in the carnal rapture of frenzied sexual intercourse. The priest's heavy balls thumped rapid-fire against the young woman's erogenous asshole, the swollen head of his plunging organ nudging the supersensitive neck of her displaced uterus each time he socked it home.
The cords connecting Marsha's thighs to her groin stood out taut as bowstrings, quivering and jerking as she employed the muscles in her shapely legs to help her shinny her hairy hole up and down the shiny wet shaft of the fat dick reaming into her.
Sweat dripped off Father Shannon's dangling nutsac and trickled wet and warm down the crack of Marsha's gyrating butt. Lascivious wet slapping sounds could be heard when their sweat-dampened abdomens kissed in mid-air. Each time the holy man's organ sank into her juicy snatch, it effected a squishing noise.
"OHHHHH ... OH, YOU WONDERFUL MAN ... YOU BIG-DICKED STUD ... AARRGGHH, AARRGGHH ... FOREVER ... FUCK ME LIKE THIS FOREVERRRR!!" she trilled, when at long last she ripped her puffy lips from his and ended their drawn-out soul kiss.
"UNN, UNN, UNN!" came his chanted reply, for Father Shannon was beyond words now. His nuts had built another load of bubbling semen, and they were lifting toward his body in orgasmic readiness.
The indecent union between this sexually mixed-up woman of the world and this man of the cloth which lust had reduced to a grunting male animal was rapidly coming to its ultimate end. The friction of their tightly fitting, frantically rubbing sex organs was producing a tormenting heat which the mortal flesh of human genitals cannot for long endure.
"NOOH! OH, PLEASE, NOT YET!" she squeaked, when she felt the first spastic twitches of cockflesh heralding the news of his impending ejaculation. It had always taken a lot of good, hard sexing to bring Marsha off, but she was almost there and wanted desperately to cum when he did. "HOLD BACK! TRY! LET ME CATCH UP TO YOU!" she yelled, and she plunged into a frantic fit of wild gyrations, her sweat-soaked body bucking and thrashing furiously as she fucked him like crazy in a last-ditch effort to grab the brass ring and achieve climactic relief.
She was still struggling, teetering on the brink, when he rammed his blood-bloated organ balls-deep into her sopping cunt and began shooting off. It was impossible for her to move then. He had her pinned down in the hay. She could feel his cockhead expanding inside her. When it erupted volcano-like, spewing out a scalding stream of white-lava sperm that splatted against her womb and ricocheted around in the far end of her vagina, she feared she wasn't going to make it.
"OHHHHH ... OHH SHIT ... DAMN IT TO HELL!" she wailed, writhing beneath him, the muscles in her heaving abdomen rippling as she worked her ass in a tight circle, bending his rock-hard prick around inside the snug sheath of her palpitating vagina. "SHOOT IT! AAAHH ... IT'S ALL RIGHT! I CAN FEEL IT SPURTING INTO ME! SHOOT THAT HOT CUM TO ME, BABY! OHH, OHHH! YESSS ... OH, FATHER, FATHER ... BLESS MY WOMB! AARRGGHHH ... SPRAY IT WITH YOUR HOLY FUCK JUICE! MAKE IT PURE!"
"UNG, UNG, UNG!" Father Shannon grunted.
It didn't sound a damned bit like a priest giving a blessing. But holy or not, his healthy gonads had produced another large load, and his ballooning crown was spraying steaming jets of the thick priestly ejaculate deep into her roiling belly. The inundation of holy hot male cream did it for her. His twitching clerical glans was pressed right against her hypersensitive cervix, and the geyser-like gushes of glutinous jizz bathing over her womb triggered Marsha's release mechanism and sent her spinning off into a spine-tingling orgasm of her own.
"GAAAAHHH ... I MADE ITTT ... OHH, FATHER ... FA-THERRR ... ME TOO ... I'M CUMMING ... WITH YOUUUU ... AAAAAHHH ... CUUMMING ... OHHHH ... OOOUUUUUUU ... YES, YES ... SQUIRT IT, FATHER ... HOT AND DEEP ... AHHH, GODDAMN ... HOLY SHIT!"
Her womb drew up in a tight, cramp-like knot, and then it felt like it was exploding, shattering into a million tiny fragments.
"AAAGGGHHHAAAHHH!!"
The strong walls of her cock-full vagina contracted, locking vise-like around the full length of his orgasmically throbbing stalk.
"CUUUMMIIINNNGGG!!"
Her puckered asshole winked spasmodically each time her inner muscles convulsed, causing her velvety sheath to clutch harshly at the tubular hunk of sperm-spurting cockflesh buried taproot-deep in her fluttering stomach.
"OHHHH ... AAARRRGGGHHH ... SHOOT ITTT ... GOOD HOT CHURCH CUM ... BLOW ME FULL OF ITTT ... DROWN ME ... AAAAHHH!!"
His dong expanded and contracted with a heartbeat-like rhythm, his body-hugging balls quivering against the lower rim of her swollen, trembling cunt hole as his spastically jerking dickhead squirted spiraling jets of holy semen like a pulsating fountain of flesh.
"OHHHHHH ... IT'S GOOD ... SOOO GOOODDD!!" she shrieked, her toes curled down and her head flung back, rolling ecstatically in the hay.
This was the relief Marsha had been needing so badly for months. It was as if a dam had opened up inside her and all her sexual tensions were flooding out through the hairy hole between her convulsively twitching legs. She'd never had a better cum than this holy man was giving her. The intensity of her all-consuming orgasm threatened to shatter her very soul.
She lay beneath him in a state of sheer rapture, her pussy gulping at his cum-spewing cock as her body shuddered uncontrollably and she sobbed out brokenly with the gasping cries of total fulfillment.
Father Shannon rested atop her, both of them huffing for breath, while his penis shrank inside her twat. Then he backed his deflated rod out of her cum-filled gash and mumbled, "I'm sorry."
"Me, too, Father," Marsha said, for the heat of her passion was over now. She felt rotten over what had happened with the dog, and even worse over the way she'd willfully dragged the young priest down into the muck of carnality. She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.
"Can you forgive me?"
"Forgive you? Oh, Father, now naive you are. Don't you know I wanted it to happen? I did. Not consciously at first, maybe, but down deep inside I did. I enjoyed it, too ... every minute of it. I'm no good, Father. It's me who should be begging your forgiveness."
"The flesh is weak," he murmured. "You couldn't help it any more than I could."
She turned her head toward him then, and saw that he was staring at her messy pussy. She pulled down her skirt, but not in time to spare Father Shannon the guilt-blistering sight of his pure, prayer-like seed oozing out through the raw, red lips of her damp-haired sex split. The tormented expression on his handsome face made her want to take him in her arms and comfort him.
He rearranged his clothing and retrieved her sandals and panties. When he gave them to her, he turned his back so she could put on her step-ins. As she slipped her soiled briefs over her bare feet and tugged them up her long, tapering legs, the priest dropped to his knees and began praying aloud, petitioning the Father in heaven to forgive them for their sin. It gave Marsha a very odd feeling, but she said nothing.
"Have you made up your mind yet?" he asked as they walked back toward the house.
She stopped in her tracks. "Father, you're not serious, are you? You couldn't want me to stay after ... after what just happened!"
"What we did was wrong, but we have to go on living, Marsha. We can't let it ruin our lives," he replied soberly. He tried to smile but it didn't quite come off. "Please stay. The boys need you and ... and I don't want you to go. Will you give it a try? I promise never to touch you again."
Marsha opened her mouth to tell him no, that it wouldn't work because there was a strong physical attraction between them which neither of them could resist living in the same house, that he was sure to break his promise sooner or later if she stayed on. But the words which came out amazed her, for she heard herself saying, "All right. I'd like to stay, Father. Yes, I'll give it a try." She nodded her head, blushing like a schoolgirl, and then hurried ahead of him into the house when he held open the door for her.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next weeks were busy ones for Marsha. She took over all the cooking and housekeeping. The boys loved her, and it was a pleasure to give them the mothering they had been so long denied. She yearned to have her own son with her-Frank Cobos had refused to let her bring Wesley to Chicago, and Marsha hadn't seen the child since her whirlwind marriage to the gangster, who'd been deceptively charming until he'd got her-but she didn't dare fetch Wesley from California yet. She had to lay low for a while longer. It could endanger both their lives if she didn't stay away from her brother's house and leave well enough alone for the time being.
And then too, she wasn't sure she would want to stay on here at the boys ranch once her need for a safe place to hide had been erased by time. It was getting harder to resist the six tempting young boys which fate had placed so readily at her disposal. She couldn't keep her hands off them. It seemed to her as if she was always tousling their hair or giving them hugs or brushing against their mouth-watering peters and their cute, boyish butts. It would be so easy to seduce any or all of them. Especially Timmy. The little tow-headed darling had evidently kept his mouth shut about Marsha's indiscretion on their first day at the ranch, but she could tell by the way he sometimes looked at her that he would dearly love to have another blow-job.
Marsha wanted to give it to him, too, and she did in her dreams. Each of the other handsome young lads, too, and Father Shannon. Her dreams were so full of hard, sperm-spurting peckers that she began to wonder if she might be losing her mind. Hardly a night passed without her desire to suck off one or another of the boys resulted in a vivid dream of doing so. It was frustrating to awaken so often with the crotchband of her panties all hot and slimy with the free-flowing secretions from her healthy vaginal wall. Sex was getting to be all she could think about, but thinking and dreaming about it was all she dared to do.
She had made herself a solemn promise to walk the straight and narrow so long as Father Dave Shannon did, and the good priest was proving himself to be a man of his word, for he doggedly avoided even the slightest physical contact with Marsha. Dave Shannon wanted her. It showed in a hundred innocent ways of which she supposed he was totally unaware. He tried to hide it, but Marsha knew he was dying to get his cathedral-like cock into her again. And she wanted him badly. If only he would've asked her, or touched her intimately, or made any outward show of desire whatsoever, she would've gladly gone to bed with him in a minute.
In fact, she was sorely tempted to take the initiative and seduce him. Being a priest was the only thing which saved Dave Shannon from the comely young woman's seductive charms. Marsha had fallen in love with this fine, handsome young holy man who was selflessly devoting his life and inheritance to provide a good home for a handful of unwanted boys. She realized it was a hopeless love-because he was a priest and couldn't marry her-but she couldn't help how she felt about him. He was so good and kind and patient, all the things a fattier and husband should be, and he was upsettingly virile and good-looking, to boot.
Staying at the isolated ranch provided safety from the callous hoods of the vindictive syndicate, but the close proximity of Father Shannon and the six young boys, every one of them so pure and wholesome they were all but irresistible, was turning into a sort of delicious private hell for Marsha. Combined with her normal sex urges, the strong cravings of her peculiar perversion resulted in her womanly loins being almost constantly congested with the hot blood of carnal desire. At times she felt as if she were being turned inside out. It got worse with each passing day. By the end of the first month, Marsha didn't know how much longer she could stand it. She needed to stay on a while yet, for safety's sake, but it was getting to be damned tormenting to need sexual relief so badly and have to force herself to act like a female eunuch.
Marsha withstood the undercurrents of her private hell for two more weeks, and then things came to a head. It was on a Saturday afternoon, an unusually warm day. It was still spring, but the temperature rose to summer levels. Father Shannon and the boys, their work done until milking time, took towels but no swimsuits and trooped out to the stock pond some distance behind the barn.
A pair of binoculars rested on the mantel above the fireplace. They belonged to Father Shannon. So did the automatic shotgun hanging above them on the wall. Marsha knew she shouldn't do it. It would only make things worse. But when the priest and his six exuberant boys went out the back door of the house, she walked over to the mantel and picked up the binoculars.
The dogs were trailing after them. Marsha thought of calling Goliath back but didn't. She'd thought of this several times during the last few days and had rejected the disgusting idea, although it was becoming more difficult each time. She waited until the entire troop had disappeared behind the barn before she let herself out of the house and hurried across to the barn's front entrance, the binoculars clutched in her hot little hand.
By the time she'd climbed up into the hayloft and focused the binoculars, Father and the lads were in the pond and stripping. Marsha watched intently as they shed their clothes. Her beautiful eyes-three shades of green, delicately blended, and flecked with gold-covetously examined each of the seven penises as they came into view.
"God!" she moaned, for it was a mouth-watering sight. "I wish I had them all here with me! Lying in a row! So I could go from one to another, sucking all seven of them off!"
The younger boys had tiny little goobers, but they looked good to Marsha in her present frame of mind. The bronze peters of the two older Chicano youths evoked a surge of saliva large enough to necessitate swallowing.
It was another matter with Father Shannon's and Coleman's organs. The sight of their heavy hammers grabbed her right in the cunt. Beads of female dew formed on the walls of her vagina as she stared longingly at the two largest of the seven male organs.
"Cole is only sixteen!" she whimpered, clenching her thighs together. "But damned if he hasn't got a tool almost the size of Dave's!"
Coleman's long dong was the first black one Marsha had ever seen, and he was just a boy. It made her wonder if, after all, it was really true what they said about Negroes having bigger cocks than white men.
They waded into the pond and started swimming, and Marsha couldn't see their appealing peckers any longer. It made little difference to her mounting fit of sensual discomfort, for the imprint of each dick was burned into her feverish brain. All she had to do was close her eyes and she could see them, all seven.
She heaved a sigh and lay back in the hay. Even as she lifted her skirt and put her hand between her legs, she told herself that she wasn't going to do it, that she would just touch her itching slit through her panties. For a moment that's all she did. Through the secretion-moist band of nylon, she scratched lightly up and down the length of her elliptical orifice with the tips of her fingernails. Then she was rubbing her slot, still through its covering of sheer material, and then the next thing she knew, her hand was inside her panties and she was ramming three fingers into the sopping maw of her hairy hole.
"OHH, NOOH! NOOO!" she wailed, and jerked her Judas hand away. She despised female masturbation, which was ironic considering the way she loved to see a male beat his meat. "I'd rather screw Goliath than sink so low as to diddle myself!"
But the sex-starved young beauty had no intention of doing either. She'd had all she could take. Six weeks had passed now. She could spend two more weeks traveling to California-because she was damned sure going to stop often and get herself laid and laid until this sexual torment was over and she could think straight again.
Marsha had her bags packed and was dressed for traveling when Father Shannon and the boys returned to the house. She called the priest into her room, so she could explain to him in private the reason for her sudden departure. She confessed to spying on him and the youngsters while they were swimming in the nude, and admitted that she'd been lusting for every one of them.
"I'm no damned good, Father, so I'm leaving ... before I corrupt the lot of you one by one."
"I won't buy that, Marsha," he objected. "You're a good woman. You've got a kind, loving heart."
"You're blind," she told him bluntly. "I'm a perverted tramp. I'm going to pick up the first decent-looking male hitchhiker I see, and fuck him till he can't walk. Does that sound like a good, kind woman with a loving heart?"
He smiled ruefully. "Yes, it does ... if you add hot-blooded to the list of your attributes. You're a healthy, beautiful young woman. Take off your clothes, my dear. You've suffered long enough ... and so have I."
"Father Shannon, do you know what you're doing?" she asked calmly, her gold-flecked green eyes widening almost imperceptibley as he started unbuttoning his shirt. He had on jeans and a denim shirt today, for he'd been plowing with the tractor all morning.
"I'm going to make love to you, if you'll let me. Yes, I know exactly what I'm doing, Marsha."
"If I'll let you?" she sighed. "Do you think I can stop you? The way I'm feeling now? Touch me and I'll melt all over you!"
"Then take off your clothes, unless you'd rather I do it for you, because I want you naked this time."
"Oh, yes, darling," she sighed, and began disrobing. She was in too much of a hurry to wait for him to do it for her. "Go lock the door, just in case. And, Dave, if I stay, you're going to have to take care of my sexual needs on a regular basis from now on. You know that, don't you?"
"It'll be my pleasure, sweetheart," he replied.
He locked the door so none of the boys could barge in unexpectedly. When he approached Marsha, he was nude and she was standing beside the bed, stepping out of her lace-trimmed briefs. She had on nothing but her sheer nylon stockings and a frilly garter belt. He liked the effect and asked her to leave them on.
This suited her fine. She could refuse him nothing. The womanly urge to give herself to him body and soul welled up inside her. She knew full well that in the end he would break her heart. He was a priest, and could never marry her. But she was willing to settle for today, to take whatever love he wanted to give her and savor it to the fullest, and let tomorrow worry about itself.
She glided into his embrace and kissed him with open-mouthed urgency. Their tonguetips met and circled. She whimpered submissively and drew back her tongue, taking his into her mouth and sucking it hungrily as his work-callused hands caressed the soft globes of her exposed behind and his hot, hard prick bored thrillingly into the feminine softness of her abdomen.
"Take me! Use me!" she cooed, clinging to his powerful body and rubbing her cheek on his hairy chest. "Any way you want to!"
His fingers hooked over her shoulders and he kissed the top of her head. Gladly she allowed him to ease her down and bring her to her knees, and she kissed repeatedly at his chest and stomach on the way.
"Do you want me to lick your lovely balls and suck your sweet dick, darling?" she mewled, weighing his heavy testicles in one hand and grasping his turgid pole with the other.
"Yes."
"Then I will! Oh, I will!" she sighed.
But she was in no great rush now. The sight of his genitals pleased and excited her. She fondled his hairy nuts and his big fat dick, her appreciative eyes drinking in the male beauty of his boldly aroused sex organs.
"Sit down, Dave. On the edge of the bed."
He did. She pushed his legs apart and crawled in between them on her knees. A little tugging positioned him the way she wanted him, with his walnut-sized testicles hanging down over the side of the mattress and his large prong angling up above them.
"You've got a big old fuckstick, baby!" she sighed. "I adore it! Your balls, too! Ohh, they're precious!"
She arched her back and lowered her head. In a very licentious mood, she palmed his nuts and lifted them to her pursed lips. The wild coarse hairs tickled her tender lips as she planted wet, rapid kisses all over his wrinkled, sweat-stinking scrotum. It gave her a lascivious thrill to pay oral homage to the balls of this handsome young priest. She extended her pink tongue and laved his nutsac till it shone with a coating of her saliva.
"MMMM!" she sighed, her soft, red lips closing around his crinkled skin bag as she sucked his masculine morsels deeper into her warm, wet mouth and snuggled her face right up to his groin.
"Aaaah, aaah!"
She could hear him sighing, and the sound of his pleasure spurred her on. The sharp edges of Marsha's front teeth clamped down carefully, and she nibbled gently at his rolling sperm tubes as she sucked sweetly at his hot, quivering balls. She drew down on his elastic sac, and made a deliberate lewd slurping sound when finally she allowed his testicles to slip free of her encircling oral petals.
"Lie back! Pull your knees up to your chest!"
Unquestioningly Father Shannon did as she directed, and Marsha thrust her face into the cleft of his hairy buttocks.
"Mmm, mmmmm!" she mewled as she stuck out her tongue and licked unhesitatingly up and down the musky-smelling crack of his clerical ass.
There was nothing in the world she wouldn't do for this man. She felt as if she could eat him alive. Even his asshole was irrestible. She kissed it wetly and teased the pointed tip of her tongue into it. His holy rectum had a dark brown churchy taste, but this in no way deterred her.
Her trembling fingers slipped into the saliva-wetted gorge of his rump and she pried apart his Minister buttocks. Round and around the edge of his puckered, partly open anus raced the tip of her naughty tongue, making the young priest cry out and shiver with bliss.
"I'm rimming your sweet clerical asshole! Do you like it, Father?" she squealed. The boys had the TV blaring in the other part of the house, so she wasn't worried about them hearing anything they shouldn't. "Tell me! Shall I lick your butthole some more? And stick my tongue up it?"
"Yes! Ohh, yes, yesss!" he gasped.
It was all she was waiting for, his approval, so she gave him exactly what she'd so lustfully suggested. She'd never done this for a man, only innocent young boys, but she wanted to do it for Father Shannon. She licked his rubbery rectum a dozen times in rapid succession. Then she took a deep breath and pressed her red oral petals firmly to the crinkled brown area surrounding his holy anal aperture.
She dipped the tip of her tongue into his tiny buttonhole and worked it deeper bit by bit. The elastic ring of his small rectum yielded to the pressure of her wetly probing lingua. Marsha had an inch of tongue into his feverish papal butthole when the lewdness of what she was doing overwhelmed her and, with a moan, she plunged the rest of it to him.
"AAAHHHHAAAA!" he whined, his entire body quaking.
"NNN, NNN!" came the nasal tone of her own excitement as she swabbed her tongue around in the murky recesses of his quivery anal canal.
There was no mistaking the tart Catholic taste her tongue collected from the satin-smooth lining deep inside his steamy asshole, but it was in no way offensive to her in her present state of arousal. She'd been hot and bothered before he touched her; now she was turned on full blast, ready for anything and everything. She'd meant it when she told him to use her any way he wanted. She began tongue-fucking him, holding his asscheeks apart as she shot her insatiable tongue rapidly in and out of his gripping anal sphincter.
I LOVE HIM, LOVE HIM, LOVE HIM! she thought joyously. BUT MA YBE I SHOULDN'T BE SUCKING HIS ASS! JESUS, IT IS A NASTY THING TO DO! BUT ITS SO EXCITING ... AND HE DIGS IT ... I CAN TELL HE LIKES IT! BUT HE'S SO INNOCENT AND INEXPERIENCED! WILL HE THINK I'M A FILTHY ANIMAL FOR LOVING HIM THIS WAY? WHAT IF HE WON'T KISS ME AFTER THIS?!
Marsha had to know. If he rejected her for doing to him out of love what she'd never done to any other man, she wouldn't be able to stand it. She thrust her tongue all the way into his butt and licked around gluttonously one last time. Then she backed it out through his clinging rectum and kissed his asshole lovingly, making a loud, lurid smack.
"DAVE!" she moaned, and flung herself on top of him, her body forcing his legs apart. Her large breasts flattened warmly against his manly chest and her dense cuntrug enveloped the forefront of his thumping erection. She licked his lips and rubbed against him. More than anything she wanted him to kiss her. But she didn't ask him to. She couldn't. He had to do it of his own free will or it would mean nothing.
He grabbed her and kissed her with open-mouthed passion, hugging her so tight she could hardly breathe while he accepted unflinchingly the ass-flavored tongue she snaked into his suctioning mouth.
"OH, DARLING!" she sighed with relief. "YOU LIKED IT, DIDN'T YOU? HAVING ME MAKE ORAL LOVE TO YOUR HOT ASSHOLE?"
Clearly Father Shannon wasn't much of a talker at a time like this, for he only grunted his affirmative reply. But then he swung into action, rolling over and pulling Marsha to the center of the bed. She thought he was going to screw her now, but that wasn't his intention. He flipped her onto her stomach and lifted her up onto her knees, spreading her legs and getting down between them on his elbows. Her lovely bottom was completely at his disposal, and he wasted no time in showing her what he thought of it. His warm lips rained adoring kisses all over the alluring contours of her full, soft buttocks.
"OHH, YES, YESSS!" she cried, shivering with pleasure as his wet tongue flashed ardently over the silky skin of her fleshy globes.
The passionate prist didn't stop licking her rump until both of its creamy hillocks glistened with a coating of his saliva. But he wasn't through. Far from it. He emitted a mournful sigh and stuck his nose into the crack of her ass, taking a deep breath.
Marsha hadn't bathed since the previous evening, so the lingering fragrance of her perfumed dusting powder was very light. It was sweaty and damp in the cleft of her rear end, and she'd taken a shit not two hours earlier, faint traces of which were still evident if one examined closely her rosebud anus and the hairless area immediately surrounding it. In short, the fleshy valley of her beautiful behind had a distinctly assy smell.
The heady aroma stung Father Shannon's nostrils. He exhaled with a whimper. Then he sucked air in through his nose till his lungs were filled to capacity. The musky odor of Marsha's slightly soiled ass drove him mad. He wagged his head furiously, working his face in between her buttocks like a hungry hog rooting into a sack of corn.
"YESSS! OH, GOD YES! DO IT IF YOU WANT TO! LICK MY ASS GOOD! SUCK IT! TONGUE IT!"
"PULL IT OPEN!" he husked. "REACH BACK AND SPREAD IT FOR ME!"
Her tits and shoulders hit the bed along with the side of her enraptured face as Marsha reached back and grabbed the twin mounds of her rump, her fingers slipping in between them and jerking them wide apart. "CAN YOU GET IN THERE NOW, BABY? DOES IT SMELL GOOD? TASTE IT! LICK MY BUTTHOLE!"
Without the slightest hesitation, Father Shannon extended his tongue and licked the sweat-dampened crack of her ass from the bottom of her juicy cunt clear up to the small of her back.
"AAAAHHHH!" she sighed. "GET IT, GET ITTT!!!"
The first complete swipe of his salacious tongue had washed the tinges of brown from her rosebud rectum. This appealing morsel of womanly assflesh shimmered wetly now, pouting just a bit, standing out like a bull's-eye in a target awaiting the thrust of his lingual spear. He licked it fervently. He formed his lips around her rosy aperture and tried to suck it into his mouth.
"AARGH, AARGH!" Marsha mewled.
Finally the horny holy man heaved a guttural groan and pierced the rubbery ring of her tiny anus with one swift lunge of his slippery taste organ.
"UUNNGG, UUNNGG ... AAAAAHHHH!"
Marsha nearly swooned when she felt the full length of his long, hot prayerful tongue spearing into her forbidden rear portal. It stretched her anal opening delightfully, and she could feel it lurching around way up inside her bowels. This was something she'd always enjoyed, but never quite as much as she did now. It gave her a tremendous thrill to have the celibate tongue of a priest crammed up her erogenous shit chute, licking around deep inside her sinful body.
"TONGUE IT! SUCK IT! EAT MY ASSHOLE!"
Following her earlier example, Father Shannon returned in kind her oral/anal favor. He was wild for her, eager to please her. A constant stream of tiny moans escaped his nostrils as he sucked her dilated rectum and plunged his tongue rapid-fire into the roiling depths of her hot, slick, tangy-tasting butt.
Without meaning to, Marsha farted right into his mouth, with her asshole flapping lewdly around his tongue. It nearly embarrassed her to death. But when he groaned and gulped down the gas she expelled, only to suck her ass all the more avidly, she was glad she'd done it. She farted again, this time deliberately. She loved him, but he was a priest, and it gave her a perverted pleasure to defile not him but what he stood for. She couldn't help it; it just did, even though it went against her basic nature.
"ENOUGH! I LOVE IT, BUT YOU'RE MAKING MY ASSHOLE RAW!" she protested nearly five minutes later.
"I CANT GET ENOUGH OF YOU!" he wailed, pulling back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I NEVER DREAMED A WOMAN COULD BE AS SWEET AS YOU!"
Smiling, she whirled around and French kissed him. "Oh, darling, you're just horny, is all! You're learning how good sex is, and you're starved for it, aren't you?"
"I must be," he admitted. "But it's more than that, Marsha. I love you! Don't ever leave! Stay with me!"
"Oh, yes! I'll stay, Dave ... as long as you want me, precious! You don't know how good it makes me feel to hear you say that, because I love you, too ... with all my heart! Lie down, my beloved, and let me suck your sweet dick!"
Father's nuts were aching, so he gave her no argument.
Looking sexy as hell in her garter belt and nylon hose, her curly, jet-black hair fetchingly mussed, Marsha knelt beside the reclining body of her priestly lover and wrapped the fingers of both her small hands around his upward-angled stalk. "What a big old juicy prick!" she sighed, gazing hungrily at the rosy red head protruding from her top hand. "And it's mine ... ALL MINE!"
She squeezed it and lowered her head, extending her tongue to scoop up the drop of clear fluid oozing from its slitted tip before she started licking all over the velvety skin of his entire knob. "GOD, HOW I LOVE YOUR COCK! I WISH YOU HAD TWO OF THEM ... SO I COULD EAT ONE RIGHT OFF YOU!"
With her left hand she fondled his heavy testicles, while her right gripped his pulsing stem and raced up and down its length. Her gold-flecked green eyes took on a lustful glaze as she watched her fingers run his foreskin flag rapidly up and down his pole. Finally she pulled up on his rod and made his preputial folds distend out past the tip of his hidden glans. Then she stuck her finger up his ass and rolled his nuts in the palm of her hand until the pouch formed by his protruding foreskin had become full of his delicious precoital fluid. She put her lips to his foreskin container and began sucking out the colorless viscosity, making a vulgar, exciting sound, as she eased down on his dick and let his prepuce draw halfway back over his bulging crown.
"MMMM, THAT'S GOOD STUFF!" she exclaimed, clucking her tongue against her palate like a wine taster savoring a rare vintage.
A wet popping sound could be heard when her retreating finger departed the gripping ring of his tight asshole. Feeling deliciously wanton, Marsha chanted, "MMM, MMM, MMM," as she kissed peckingly down one side of his fat dong and back up the other.
"OHH, FATHER, ITS BEAUTIFUL ... THIS HOLY HORSECOCK OF YOURS! I LOVE IT!"
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! came the salacious sounds of her cockworshiping kisses, each of them applied with fervent zeal directly to the bald dome of his swollen crown.
"HAVE YOU GOT A BIG LOAD FOR ME THIS TIME? OHH, I HOPE SO! IT'S MANNA FROM HEAVEN, YOUR CUM! GIMME ALL YOU'VE GOT, LOVER! I'VE NEVER BEEN SO THIRSTY FOR ANYTHING IN ALL MY LIFE!"
With that, Marsha opened her mouth and engulfed the top three inches of his huge pecker. Her soft red lips wrapped around his upright pole like a couple of clinging vines that might die without its support. She sucked down ravenously, her cheeks sinking inward and quivering from the force of her suction, while her worshipful tongue slavishly washed every fraction of his taut-skinned penile bulb.
"MMMMM!" she moaned in delectation, savoring the meaty flavor of his salty-tasting cockhead.
She was in her element now, grooving on cock. There was nothing in the world to compare with the terrific thrill of sucking a big fat dick.
I LOVE IT! she groaned inwardly, sucking and licking for all she was worth but not yet bobbing her head. GOD, HOW I LLOOVVEE IITTT! I'M A HOPELESS COCKSUCKER ... AND I WOULDN'T HA VE IT ANY OTHER WA Y!
Marsha didn't get to bob her head once. Father Shannon was too far gone. Her hot, wet mouth vacuumed the load right up from his tight, twitching balls. He'd been storing up semen for six weeks, and he had a lot of it. When he started shooting off, his first few jets would've damned near hit the ceiling if Marsha hadn't caught them in her delighted mouth.
"AARRGGHHHHH ... UNG, UNG, UUNNGGHHHH!" Father Shannon sighed and grunted and groaned. It felt like the top of his head was blowing off.
"MMMM, MMMM, MMMM!" Marsha chanted, her throat working reflexively as she gulped his forceful streams of hot, thick cum quick as he gave them to her.
"AAAAAH ... OHHHHHH ... AAAAHHHHHH!" he puled ecstatically, his mighty organ expanding and contracting as it blew torrents of pungent cream into Marsha's voraciously sucking mouth. It felt as if she were sucking the marrow right out of his bones.
She took every bit of his massive load this time, without spilling a drop, and kept right on sucking his spongy prick when it quit gushing its delicious passion fruit.
Using his semisoft dong as a pivot, Marsha swung around and climbed aboard him in the classic 69 position. "EAT MY CUNT! WE'LL SUCK EACH OTHER AT THE SAME TIME!" she squealed, taking her mouth off his saliva-glistening penis barely long enough to say the words before she engulfed it whole again, mashing her lips into the coarse hair surrounding its base, and she lowered her dripping pussy to his face.
If Father Sannon was shocked, he didn't get a chance to mention it. All at once he was staring at her asshole, with the steaming slot of her hairy snatch covering his nose and mouth and nearly smothering him. It had a pleasant, exciting odor, but he dragged his nose out of it so he could breathe, and replaced it with his tongue.
The shimmering red sweetmeats of her cuntal vestibule tasted even better than they smelled. He recalled an old saying from his youth-Once you get past the smell, you've got it licked-and he snaked his tongue all the way into her slippery sheath, licking as he probed ever deeper. That old saying made no sense at all, he was discovering, for Marsha's pussy smelled better than any perfume and tasted absolutely delicious.
He slithered his tongue around inside her, collecting the scrumptious droplets of her clear cuntal nectar. "UUUMMMMM!" he sighed, and his tongue went, SLURP, SLURP, SLURP! as he lapped at the puffy red lips of her inflamed elliptical slit.
"MARSHA ... OHHH, MARSHA!" he moaned, his words drifting out all muffled by her cuntflesh, for he was busily gluing his lips to the hair-ringed edges of her labia majora and preparing to do some serious muff-diving.
"UUUNNNMMMMM!" she groaned through her nose, and she attempted to swallow his prong when she felt his mouth attaching itself to her blood-engorged twat like a hot, wet suction cup.
When the lust-lost priest really got going, he was sucking so hard Marsha could feel the suction drawing the walls of her vagina together and tugging down on her womb. It was divine. He was an eager cuntlapper. What he lacked in skill, he more than made up for in enthusiasm.
And he was regaining his erection, which was what Marsha wanted most of all now. She made a blissful gurgling noise in her throat and plunged her head down when his prick was full up again. He was so huge-so long and hard and thick-that she didn't know if she could do it. It was a labor of love, though, so she pressed on. It stretched her throat. She could feel his enormous cockhead popping jerkily through each of the rings in that portion of her throat. And then it was past that part, gliding easily on down into her neck as she took the rest of it like a sword swallower working upside down. It felt like his throbbing crown was entering her stomach itself when at long last she gulped the final inch of his horsecock and mashed her puffy red lips obscenely against his sweaty groin.
GOD, I'LL BE HOARSE FOR A WEEK! she thought without really caring. BUT IT'LL BE WORTH IT! ITS GLORIOUS TO HAVE SO MUCH SWEET COCK IN MY MOUTH AND THROAT! I CANT BREATHE! OHH, DIVINE!
Marsha stayed down as long as she could, shivering with thousands of illicit thrills as she swallowed rapidly around the gigantic phallus lodged in her contented throat. Finally she had to come up for air, and as she did she sucked down fiercely and let her trembling red lips pull out lewdly around inch after inch after inch of throbbing, wet, ungodly sweet holy man-meat.
"UNG, UNG!" she moaned as she gasped for air, and her voice did sound a bit hoarse, for the girth of Father Shannon's rod had reamed her throat good. "OHH, DARLING ... MY DARLING!"
She was in such a state of delirious lust that she let down a terrific cum when suddenly he caught her elongated clitoris between his suctioning lips and began scrubbing it roughly with the scratchy upper surface of his flashing tongue.
" ' AAAAAGGGGGAAAAAHHHHH!!! OHHH, GODDAMN, GODDAMN ... THAT'S IT, BABY! MY WOMB ... SUCK IT OUT OF ME ... OHH, OHHH ... GGAAAAHHHHH ... CCCUUUUMMMIIIINNNNGGGG!!!"
"FUCK ME, FFUUCCKK MMEEEE!" she groaned while she was still in the throes of orgasmic ecstasy, and ripped her spasming sex hole from his mouth.
She flopped onto her back and Father Shannon dived atop her. He penetrated her with one womb-jolting thrust of his giant dong, and started cumming with her the instant he hit home in the moist heat of her convulsively gripping depths. The pulsing spray of hot sperm plunged Marsha nonstop into a second climax, the intensity of which dwarfed the toe-curler she was already having. They clung to one another, shuddering and groaning gutturally as they rode out the roaring tidal wave of excruciating agony/ecstasy which their simultaneous orgasm sent crashing over them.
"I love you, Marsha, I don't want you to be my mistress. Marry me, darling. Be my wife."
"But, Dave," she protested, "you're a priest! You can't ever marry me ... can you?"
"I can," he said. "And I will, one way or another. If you'll have me."
"If I'll have you?" she squealed with child-like delight. "When? Set a date!"
He wouldn't set a date. But he assured her they would be married, even if he had to renounce his priesthood and quit the Church. He explained that he didn't think it would come to that. There was such a thing as married priests, he told her, men whose roles did not require them to perform religious services or administer sacraments. Since he was running a boys ranch not a parish, he said he thought they would be able to marry with the Church's permission and blessing.
"If not, then I'll chuck it like a lot of other young priests are doing. But I'd rather not. Religion has been my life until recently. I'm afraid I'd be lost if I were completely cut off from the Church. Be patient, my darling. It'll take a little time."
"I've got plenty of time, and for you, Dave, I can be patient as Job. But there's something I've got to tell you. I'd rather cut off an arm than do it. You've got to know, though. I won't deceive you. You're too fine a man, and I love you too much for that. You may not want to marry me when you know the truth about me."
She'd already told him about her son and her first husband, who'd been killed in Viet Nam. Now she told him about Frank Cobos, and how their whirlwind courtship had resulted in a hasty marriage only ten days after they'd met. She told him the truth, that she'd unwittingly married a bigamist, and hadn't realized it until less than a year ago, at which time the sadistic Cobos, whom she hadn't known was a gangster until after she'd married him, had made her a virtual prisoner. It was then, she said, when she had started searching for a way to get revenge and break away clear once and for all in one fell swoop. She told him everything down to the last detail, including how she feared for her life if the syndicate's hoods caught up with her, and her son's life too, if she rushed things and went for him too soon. Marsha told him about stealing the $176,000 which her underworld ex-husband, who was now in prison because of her testimony against him, had had in their apartment safe. She made him aware that the money had come from illegal gambling, prostitution and dope...." so now you know it all. It's not a very pretty story, is it? Stupid, that's what I was. Do you still want to marry me, Dave?"
He did. He told her her past was her business, that it was her future he was interested in. She said she would do whatever he wanted her to do with the tainted money. He told her there was no such thing as tainted money, and that they would have to figure out all the angles before they decided what to do about the $176,000. They both agreed there was little likelihood of its being reported as stolen; they also agreed the syndicate wasn't likely to let her off any easier if she returned it to them.
One thing they did decide on definitely; that it would be safer for him to make the trip to California, unannounced, and bring her son Wesley back to live with them.
CHAPTER FIVE
They waited three more weeks, giving the syndicate just over two months to get tired of waiting for Marsha to show up in Caliofnria. Then Father Shannon left in the pickup to go get Wesley. His old car was running again, but he was afraid to take it on such a long trip, and they'd decided it wouldn't do for Marsha's car, which might be recognized, to pull up in front of her brother's house. The mob's gunmen, if any were still watching the house, would never suspect a priest in a pickup truck, they agreed. Marsha wrote a letter to her brother, explaining only what was necessary and introducing Dave Shannon, and he took it with him when he left. They had everything figured out carefully. It should go off without a hitch. But when Marsha stood on the porch watching the pickup disappear down the ranch road, she had a feeling of foreboding. A cold shiver ran up her spine and there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't help thinking they might be underestimating the syndicate's desire for vengeance.
Father Shannon left on a Tuesday morning. When Marsha drove down to the highway that afternoon and picked up the boys from the school bus, two of them were coming down with something. She thought of taking them to the doctor but didn't. She couldn't call; there was no phone at the ranch. They didn't seem very sick. She told herself they were probably catching colds, was all.
The next morning she knew better. They were still not really sick, but Timmy was speckled with measles. She wouldn't have known what was wrong with Coleman, the sixteen-year-old, very big-cocked Negro youth, had it not been for the red specks on the younger boy's fair skin. It was only the 3-day measles, not the serious kind. Her own son Wesley had had them, so she knew from experience that all they needed was to be kept home and relatively quiet until they got over them. She sent them back to bed after breakfast and took the other four lads down to the highway to put them on the school bus.
When she returned, she decided she'd better look in on them and take their temperature, just in case. To her chagrin, the only thermometer she could find proved to be the rectal type. It needed to be done, however, and she reminded herself that Timmy and Coleman were only boys. They thought of her as their mother.
Armed with the thermometer and a small jar of Vaseline, Marsha entered the bunkroom to perform her motherly duty. There were seven bunks in all, five of them neatly made up. She glanced at Dave Shannon's. She was worried about him and Wesley. Dave had only been gone about 24 hours, and already she missed him. He still slept with the boys so they wouldn't suspect any wrongdoing. But he'd been spending a couple of hours in her bed each night after the boys were tucked in ever since they'd made plans to marry. Marsha smiled to herself. Under her sensual tutelage, Father Dave Shannon was fast becoming a really magnificent lover.
Coleman was asleep, his face toward the wall and snoring softly. She would not wake him just to take his temperature. An hour or so wouldn't matter. She slipped off her sandals and padded barefoot past the Negro youth, making her way with only the rustle of her skirt down to the other end of the large room, where Timmy was in his bunk reading a comic book.
She put her finger to her lips as she sat down beside the child. "Cole is asleep. How do you feel now, Timmy?"
"Pretty good," he replied, speaking barely above a whisper, as Marsha had. "The aspirin took care of my headache. It wasn't very bad to begin with."
Marsha felt his forehead and his boyish chest. He was warm, but not alarmingly so. "I'd better take your temperature. Roll over onto your stomach."
His eyes registered distaste as he watched her dip the thermometer's bulb into the Vaseline, but he did as she said.
"Pull down your shorts for me. This won't hurt, Timmy."
She scooped a small amount of Vaseline onto the ball of her middle finger while he tugged down his shorts. Then she eased her finger in between his cute little buns and smeared it over his hot, buttonhole rectum. An illicit thrill rippled through her. It came as a surprise. Dave had been giving her plenty of loving for three weeks now, so she didn't have the excuse of sexual deprivation to blame her sudden desire for this young boy on. It was her old sickness, her perverse craving for pure young boys, rising to the surface again.
Dear God, will I never be free of it? she worriedly asked herself as she held apart the lad's asscheeks and pushed the thermometer up into his appealing anus. I'm not going to do anything this time! I can control it! I have to!
Perhaps she could've controlled herself if she hadn't noticed the way Timmy squirmed with the thermometer up his behind. She knew it was giving him a charge. Her hand was shaking when she drew the thermometer from his body and took the reading. 100 degrees. Certainly nothing to worry about.
She swatted his butt playfully, out of nervousness, intending to tell him he could pull his shorts back up. The words remained unspoken. Her lewd desire to possess this adorable child was just too strong. In sort of a daze now, she stuck her finger palm-deep into the tight little aperture of his greased asshole.
When Timmy only sighed and shivered, she knew she was lost. Time stood still while she indecently finger-fucked the whimpering kid's feverish butthole. By the time she turned him over onto his back, his little goober was stiff as a board.
Neither of them said a word. Timmy just lay there with his eyes closed. Marsha could hardly breathe. He was irrestible. With a whimper-like sob, Marsha dropped to her knees beside his bunk and began sucking him off.
It was heaven and hell rolled into one. His feverish little peter was unbelievably sweet, and clean this time, for Father Shannon made sure the boys bathed often and properly. Marsha despised herself for being so weak. She couldn't stop blowing the darling boy, even though she knew full well her lustful action would cost her dearly. After this, she would have to take Wesley and go away. She wasn't fit to marry a fine man like Father Dave Shannon, and she wouldn't let him renounce his priesthood for the sake of a boy cocksucking tramp like her. He deserved a good and faithful wife, and Marsha knew now that she would never be able to remain true to him or any other man-not as long as there were boys with fine little pricks like Timmy around.
Coleman was standing nearby when she swallowed Timmy's cum and turned away from his bunk. Her vision was blurred by tears of shame, but she noticed that the strapping Negro youth had a tremendous erection. The huge bulge in his Jockey shorts made her mouth start watering all over again. He'd seen her going down on the younger boy. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The pleading look on his dark face and the obscene bulge in his shorts said it all.
In all honesty, Marsha couldn't say she was entirely free of racial prejudice. Though she was very fond of Coleman, he was still a nigger, and in the back of her mind she considered him beneath her. She'd taken great pains to conceal her true feelings from the good-natured black youth, though, and she fully intended to go on doing so for the few remaining days she would spend here at the ranch. She was willing to bend over backward to keep from hurting the kid's feelings.
"Come here, Cole. Do you know what I did to Timmy?"
"Sucked him off," the youth gulped as he approached unsurely.
"I shouldn't have done it. You know that, don't you?"
"Yass'um."
"Do you want me to suck you off, too?"
"Yass'um."
"All right. I want to do it for you," she said honestly. The damage had already been done, she reasoned, and she did want to taste his black dick, partly out of curiosity and partly because she already felt rotten and had a perverted urge to further degrade herself in this way. "You have to promise not to tell any of the other boys. Can you keep your mouth shut?"
"Yass'um."
She lowered herself to her knees and pulled his shorts down his legs. He had a beautiful penis, almost as big as Father Shannon's. It was coal black, hard as a rock and hot to the touch. She ran her hands over it, caressing it as if it were an expensive piece of sculpture carved out of ebony.
Her small white hand gripped his stalk at the midway point and she began masturbating him slowly, her tear-dampened eyes shimmering with a mixture of shame and lust as they riveted themselves on the hypnotizing sight. White fingers with long red nails, moving up and down a heated column of turgid nigger dick; it had a strong effect on her.
She whimpered. She sighed. She flogged his black prick with gusto, the juices of desire dribbling from her cunt. The lowest thing a white woman could do was get down on her knees and suck a nigger's black cock. Her tongue crept out and moistened her full red lips in eager preparation as she watched Cole's black-satin hood pop on and off his blood-engorged bulb of blue-black cockhead.
Caught up in the very sordidness of her lustful action, Marsha skinned back his member for the last time and held it tightly in her trembling hand. She pulled his dong down to the level of her mouth and moved her head forward. With her eyes open so she could see what she was doing, she extended her pink tongue and licked off the colorless fluid oozing from the tiny mouth at the tip of his glans. Then she tongue-washed his entire knob, her eyes savoring the vulgar sight of her pink tongue slithering over his blue-black crown.
Finally she formed her soft red lips into a pouting circle and took the nigger youth's spit-slick dickhead into her mouth. An obscene thrill rippled through her when she began sucking his salty-tasting pecker. She felt deliriously dirty, utterly depraved. Her head bobbed leisurely back and forth, her puffy oral petals working fish-like around the saliva-coated shaft of his throbbing organ.
Tiny moans escaped her passion-flared nostrils. She knew Timmy was watching, and this sent her perverse pleasure soaring even higher. She wondered what the white kid was thinking as he saw the fat black dick fucking her face.
Marsha clung to the muscular thighs of the Negro teen-ager, her head arcing faster and faster. Her moist lips dragged luridly up and down Cole's glistening stem, her tongue laving its taut-skinned head in a cum-coaxing manner. There was no discernible difference in taste between light and dark man-meat, but the ebony color of Cole's peter was having a psychological effect on her. She couldn't recall ever having enjoyed a mouthful of cock quite as much as she was enjoying this one.
Going down on a nigger made her feel filthy through and through. She loved it. She savored the vulgar thrills which debasing herself in this way sent careening around inside her voluptuous body. It struck her that she might enjoy life more if the syndicate did catch her and force her into whoredom.
When Cole shot off in her mouth, Marsha heaved a whimper-like sob and sucked for his gluey hot cum as if her very life depended on draining every drop of it from his quivering black balls. Gluttonously she gulped down his pungent cream, like a woman dying of thirst. The lad's testicles were shriveled and dry when she finally allowed his spongy pecker to slip jerkily from the hungry wet circle of her still-sucking lips.
Figuring she'd already ruined her chances of a decent life anyway, she stripped off her clothes and climbed into the bunk with Timmy. She took the young white boy between her shapely legs and with her fingers-his stiff little peter wouldn't reach through her hand-she helped him stick it into the sopping slit of her hairy sex hole.
After she'd taught Timmy the joys of fucking a woman, she took on the strapping Negro youth and gave him the same lewd lesson. They screwed for more than two hours, the boys taking turns on her. Marsha couldn't help herself. She wouldn't let the boys stop. Toward the end, she had to suck their cum-smeared pricks to help get them up again, and she did it gladly. She knew exactly how a bitch dog felt when it was in heat now. Sex was the only reality-sweating and grunting and panting, with a belly full of cum and a cock sawing incessantly away within the fluttering ring of her raw, red cunt-lips.
Only when her frantic oral efforts failed to revive either of the boys' heavenly peters did she stagger from the bunkroom carrying her clothes, fuck juices streaming down the insides of her thighs, pattering like summer rain on the board floor between the weakly slapping soles of her fleeing bare feet.
Marsha was too ashamed of herself to look in a mirror, much less face any of the boys. She stayed in her room, disgraced and dishonored. A hundred years passed before there was a timid knock on her door.
It was Cole. He said it was past time to pick the boys up from the school bus. She pushed her car keys under the door and told him to go pick them up, and to leave her alone.
The boys had to take care of themselves that night. Marsha wouldn't come out of her room. Cole knocked several times, inquiring about her concernedly. She ignored him.
Toward noon of the next day, Cole wouldn't be refused. He pounded on the door until she opened it and let him into the room.
"I got the boys off to school this morning, Mom I told 'em you was sick."
"I am," she whined. "Sick at heart."
"About what happened yesterday?"
She nodded miserably.
"Timmy won't tell nobody. Me either."
She turned away, shuffled to the window and stared out blankly.
Cole came up behind her and, without touching her, kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, Mom. We all do. Don't go away."
Marsha choked back a sob but couldn't contain her tears. It surprised her to feel them cascading warmly down her cheeks. She'd thought she'd already cried herself dry.
"Suppose we just forget about yesterday," he said. "It won't never happen again. Timmy swore it. I did too. Father Shannon, he'd forgive us if he knew. But he don't, and me and Timmy, we don't see no reason to tell him. Do you? I mean, why hurt him when it's done over with and there's nothing anybody can do about it? You know what would hurt him most of all? If you was to leave, that's what. I know how he feels about you. What do you say, Mom, can't we pretend it never happened ... and go on like we was before?"
For a moment, Marsha didn't reply. Then she turned around and hugged him fiercely, and kissed the end of his broad, flat nose. "We can try, Son. And we will. We'll try hard, won't we?"
He heaved a sigh of relief and smiled his best smile. "You bet, we will. It'll be all right, Mom. You'll see."
CHAPTER SIX
There was no way Father Shannon could've known he was being followed back from California by two gangsters in an ordinary looking Buick. The hoods trailed his pickup by a distance of from one half mile to about three miles at all times, monitoring a radio signal from the tiny transmitter they had attached to the undersurface of the truck's cargo bed.
Marsha's son Wesley rode in the pickup with Father Shannon. They were getting along famously. The kid liked Dave Shannon. All boys did. And Wesley was eager to see his mother.
Immediately behind the pickup was a four-year-old Ford sedan driven by Edgar Yarborough, Marsha's brother. With Edgar was his thirteen-year-old daughter Julie, his only child. At 33, Edgar was two years older than Marsha. Their faces resembled one another's slightly, but Edgar had brown eyes and dark brown hair. He was 5'8" and slender, a carpenter by trade. At the moment Edgar was very despondent. He'd been laid off from his job a month ago, and a week later his wife, who'd never been faithful longer than six months at a time since she'd given birth to their cute little girl, had run away with her current lover.
Despite Edgar's personal misfortune, there was an air of tempered gaiety in the ranch house on the evening of their arrival. But Marsha could sense the weakness in her brother-Edgar's male ego had suffered two of the most serious blows a man can take, loss of wife and job, and he was staggering under the double chop to his self-confidence. Just the opposite was the strength and self-assurance emanating from Father Dave Shannon. Marsha could almost feel Dave reaching out to her troubled brother and her pretty little niece Julie and her precious son Wesley. She would've had to be blind not to notice the respect, admiration and hope in her son's eyes every time he looked at the priest who was soon to be his stepfather. Realizing how much her little boy needed a good, stable home and a strong father figure to mold himself after, Marsha gave up her inner struggle of right and wrong. She determined to keep her mouth shut and marry Dave despite her feelings of sinfulness and unworthiness over seducing the two boys during his absence.
Outwardly, Julie was taking the loss of her runaway mother better than her father was, but Marsha could tell the young girl was crying on the inside. When they went to bed that night, she took Julie with her. Her son and brother shared a bedroom, and Dave Shannon went off to the bunkroom with the other boys.
It was after midnight and they were all asleep when the two thugs broke into the house, taking everyone by surprise, and herded them all into the living room at gunpoint. Marsha recognized one of them, Tony, a studdish young man in his late twenties who would've been handsome if it hadn't been for the cold way his steel-gray eyes always glinted and the perpetual smirk he wore like a mask. Tony had been Frank Cobos' best collector. But that was only one of the tasks he performed for the syndicate. Tony could turn a morally upright, reluctant girl into a docile cock-emptying whore in three days time or less.
Tony introduced the other man, who looked half gorilla, as Gus the Brute. Though she'd never met him, Marsha's slim hopes for life were obliterated by the sound of his name. Gus the Brute wasn't part of the syndicate, although they used his services occasionally on a contract basis. The Brute was an independent professional killer. His specialty was torture slayings.
"What do you want?" Father Shannon demanded.
"Sit down, Padre, and keep your mouth shut," Gus the Brute snarled, his ham-like hand closing around Father Shannon's face as if it were a football and sailing him ass-over-teakettle across the room. "You'll live longer that way."
Dave got up shaking his head dazedly. Doggedly he started back toward the sadistic killer, his hands drawing up into fists.
"Do as he says, Dave," Marsha warned. "He'll kill us all if you don't. Let me handle this, please." Marsha hoped she sounded calmer than she felt. She was afraid to die, but nothing could save her now. The best she could hope for was to turn over the money and herself, and pray they would take her away and kill her somewhere else, so the others wouldn't be witnesses who had to die too. She turned toward Tony, who was holding his pistol to Wesley's temple. "You want the money, don't you?"
The suave gunman nodded. "And you, baby."
"If I get it ... and go with you quietly ... will you leave the others alone?"
"Sure," he smirked, twisting Wesley's arm behind his back till the boy cried out in pain. "Get it before I break the kid's arm. And don't try anything. He's dead if you make one wrong move."
"Don't you think I know that?" Marsha hissed as she hurried from the room.
She disappeared into her bedroom and returned a moment later with the attache case containing the syndicate's $176,000. She gave it to Tony, who shoved Wesley at her. She took her terrified son in her arms and, together, they backed away as the swarthy hood opened the case and counted the packets of bills, all of them twenties or larger.
"Didn't get a chance to spend a buck of it, did you, bitch?" Tony slurred. "That'll give Cobos a laugh. And he needs one, after what you done to him."
"He had it coming, and worse," Marsha said. "Do I get dressed, or what?"
"Sure. We got time. Bring the boy here. I'll hold him for insurance while you go wrap the package. Better put on your Sunday best, humm? And don't bother packing a bag."
Marsha understood. She wouldn't need a change of clothes. Whatever she wore out of the house, that's what she would be found dead in, or near if they stripped her and mutilated her first. "Please don't hurt him," she pleaded, when Tony took her son again.
"No need to now," he smirked. "You're cooperating. Keep it up and no one gets hurt but you."
"I'll only be a minute," Marsha said, and she made a beeline for her bedroom.
While she was getting dressed, she could hear her brother and fiance trying to reason with the mobsters, and then begging them to spare her life. It would do no good, but how could she tell decent men that? She didn't try. There was no way Edgar or Dave could understand the mentality of a man like Tony, and certainly not a man who killed for pleasure as well as profit the way Gus the Brute did. She said a silent prayer that they wouldn't attempt to stop the criminals from taking her. Everyone in the house might die if they did.
Just as she was reentering the living room, she saw Dave rushing Gus and her brother making for Tony.
"NO, don't," she screamed. "YOU'LL GET US ALL KILLED!"
Tony's gun went off. It sounded like a cannon inside the house.
"OH MY GOD! WESLEY! MY BABY!" Marsha screeched.
Edgar's face mirrored his disbelief as he stood shaking like a leaf just two feet short of his goal. Wesley slumped to the floor between the gunman's feet. His hair, blond-turning-brown, was powder burned, but the slug had only grazed his scalp. He'd fainted from terror at the sound of the gun going off in his ear. The boy was unconscious when Marsha reached him and discovered he wasn't seriously hurt. Heaving a sigh of relief, she knelt over her son protectively, stroking his head as she began to sob. Her brother had stopped barely in time. Had Edgar waited a split second longer or charged a foot closer, Wesley's brains would be scattered all over the walls which the slug had passed through.
"I ought to drop you!" Tony spat, his pistol pointed right at Edgar's guts. "Move, bastard! Get back and give me room to breathe! I won't pull the gun for you!"
It sounded like there was one helluva fight going on, but it was completely one-sided. Father Shannon had managed to land the first punch, only to feel pain clear up to his shoulder. He could've sworn he'd swung at a soft, fat belly, but when his fist hit it, it had turned into the trunk of an oak tree.
Gus the Brute had laughed with glee and slapped the astonished priest away like he was a bothersome puppy. Now he was using him for a punching bag. He had Dave Shannon backed into a corner. "Come on, Padre!" he kept taunting, and every time Shannon tried to step out and swing, the Brute knocked him back into the corner again.
Finally Father Shannon's knees buckled and he hit the floor holy ass first, unconscious, bleeding from the nose and mouth, his eyes turning livid as they swelled shut.
Little Julie and the six orphan boys had been frightened before. Now they were afraid to move or make the slightest of sounds.
"Get up, Padre," Gus chuckled, and he kicked the priest's rump. "What a tough guy you are! Ha, ha! Come on, are you playing 'possum on me, or is that all she wrote?" He kicked him again, this time in the side.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Marsha wailed. "YOU'VE BEATEN HIM TO A PULP! ISN'T THAT ENOUGH?!"
"Can it, sister," Gus growled as he turned away from the heap on the floor that was now Father Shannon and stalked toward Marsha. The hairy backs of his hands were bloody from batting the priest around, and little of it was his own blood. There was an evil gleam in his beady eyes and a crafty smile on his ugly face. "You're playing in the big league now, you thieving cunt."
"I know," Marsha gulped. "But they're not in the game. You've got what you came after, the money and me, so let's go and get it over with."
"Don't rush it, pig," Tony warned. "We do this our way. I think your noble knight got Gus worked up into a playful mood."
"That's right, Tony boy. I think maybe well wait till the padre wakes up, and I'll see if I can kill him with these." He held up his huge, blood-dripping hands.
"Oh God! Nooh! Please!" Marsha begged. The color drained from her face.
"Maybe I'd change my mind and spare the padre," Gus the Brute drawled, "if you was to strip naked and kneel down here at my feet ... and give me a real good blow-job. A good suck-off always makes me easier to get along with for an hour or so after I've spunked my load. How about it, bitch? Want to cocksuck me, and see if you can make it good enough that I'll forget about finishing off Prince Valiant over there?"
Marsha glanced quickly around the room. At the six frightened boys who'd come to think of her as their mother. At her slender young niece Julie, who was shaking with fear. At her brother Edgar, whose spirit was virtually crushed now. At Father Shannon, who lay on the floor unconscious and bleeding. At her son, who was coming out of his faint now, blinking his fearful eyes in a state of semishock. And finally at Gus the Brute, who was staring at her as he took out his half-erect organ and began fondling it.
"Get naked, babe," Gus slurred. "A suck on this will buy the padre's life."
"Go to Cole. Hell look after you," Marsha told her son, and gave him a push toward the Negro youth. Then she turned toward the Brute. "All right. Let's go into my bedroom."
"No dice, babe. Here and now," he chortled. "Get naked."
There was no choice. Marsha knew she had to do it. If she didn't Gus the Brute would rip Dave apart with his bare hands. She couldn't allow that to happen to the man she loved. If blowing the Brute would save Dave's life, she would do it his way, in front of the others. She didn't dare refuse him. They were all at the mercy of these two merciless hoods. From Gus the Brute's reputation, she feared he would slaughter them all right here in the living room if she didn't do her damnedest to satisfy his every whim.
Refusing to look at the others, she started stripping. Her cheeks burned with shame. She told herself it didn't matter, that this was near the end of the road for her anyway, that by disgracing herself before the eyes of her loved ones she was doing everything in her power to save their lives. Naked, her large lovely breasts swaying and her full, womanly buttocks jiggling, she walked to the Brute as bravely as her ebbing courage permitted.
He slapped her face hard, snapping her head to the side and causing her to suck in her breath. Then he captured the tender cones of her coral nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pinched down brutally on them.
"AAARRRGGGHHHH!"
Suddenly he twisted and jerked her punished nipples, and it felt like he was ripping her tits right off her.
"AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!"
His fingers locked in her hair, snapping her head back and sending a shooting pain through her scalp.
"On your knees, cocksucker! And make it good!"
In a daze, fighting the vertigo that precedes fainting, Marsha bore the intense pain in her titties and scalp as she sank to her knees before this animal who called himself a man. She couldn't afford to pass out. If she didn't drain the Brute's balls, and hopefully some of his sadistic tensions at the same time, she feared the others would suffer horribly before he and Tony drove away leaving the house littered with battered and broken bodies.
His penis was hard as a rock now. It was short but very thick, and felt hot and gummy as he held her head and rubbed it all over her pretty face. It stank too, especially when he skinned it back and worked the cheese-smeared head in between her reluctant lips.
"Lick it! Let me feel your tongue! You'd better make me think you like it, whether or not you do, or that God pusher will pay!"
Marsha extended her tongue and licked his unclean glans. It was all she could do to keep from gagging, but she didn't dare. If she displeased this ape-like creature in any way, he might take it out on the innocent children whose lives she'd endangered by coming here in the first place. It was all her fault, the mess everyone at the ranch was in, and Marsha was willing to suffer anything in order to pacify Gus the Brute, so he and Tony would take her away and leave the others alive without damaging them further.
"Mmmm," she forced herself to sigh, when actually she felt like puking, and she grabbed his stem as if suddenly it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
Her tongue slithered wetly all over his foul-tasting dickhead, swiping up the putrid cock-cheese as if it were fresh, sweet-tasting country butter.
"Aaah ... that's the way, hot lips!" he sighed, and released her head. "Lick it! Ohhh, shit yesss!"
She had to swallow several times as her tongue scooped up more than it could carry, and each time she thought she would throw up. She couldn't help making choking noises as she swallowed each tongue load of his massive accumulation of filthy peter butter. But finally her servile tongue had washed his enormous crown cleaner than it'd been in months. It looked like a large plum now, purple and swollen, shiny and wet with her saliva. Marsha drew back her head and stared at it.
Despite the churning sensations in her protesting stomach, the Brute's dong was getting good to her now. She glanced swiftly around at the sympathetic faces of her brother and son and niece and the six boys who'd thought they'd found a mother at last.
"don't LOOK AT ME!" she moaned. "CLOSE YOUR EYES! OR LOOK THE OTHER WAY!"
But they couldn't. Each and every one of them was spellbound with horrified fascination. Their eyes were riveted upon her and the Brute. Their morbid curiosity demanded they watch every disgusting detail of this humiliating perversion which was being forced upon Marsha.
DEAR LORD, THIS IS THE WAY THEY'LL REMEMBER ME! she groaned silently as she turned back and began kissing avidly at the bloated head of the professional killer's short, fat dick. A T LEAST DAVE'S STILL UNCONSCIOUS, AND I HOPE HE DOESN'T COME TO TILL THEY'VE TAKEN ME AWAY! I DON'T WANT DAVE TO SEE ME LIKE THIS!
"Just so!" Gus laughed derisively. "You do like my cock, don't you, bitch?"
SMACK! "YES, GODDAMN YOU!" SMACK, SMACK! "I CANT HELP IT!"
"You're a slut!" the sadist hissed. "A dirty, cocksucking whore! Admit it! Confess!"
"YESSS!" she wailed, clinging to his shaft with one hand as the other worked to unbuckle his belt, her tongue laving luridly over the smooth skin of his purplish crown. "I'M A SLUT ... AND A DIRTY, COCKSUCKING WHORE! LET YOUR PANTS DOWN! I WANT TO LICK YOUR BALLS, TOO!"
He slapped her hand away. "Huh-uh, dick-licker, all you get is what sticks out through my fly! Make the most of it! Get busy! Open up nice and wide! I'm going to fuck your pretty face now!"
Marsha licked her lips and opened her mouth, making an inviting red O for him to stick his prong into. She felt awful for behaving this way in front of her son, but she couldn't help it.
I'VE GOT TO DO IT ANYWAY! HE'S FORCING ME! HE'LL BEAT DAVE TO DEATH IF I DON'T! she told herself as the turgid tube of pulsing man-meat slipped in through her welcoming lips and entered her eager mouth.
Her tongue met the invading cockhead and curled over it worshipfully. Then her tongue flopped submissively to the floor of her mouth, acting as a doormat for his conquering phallus, flicking enticingly at the large vein along its undersurface as he fed it to her.
Inch after inch of the sturdy cudgel penetrated her moist oral cavern. She wrapped her yielding lips around the girthful shaft and whimpered softly, taking it and loving it. When the enlarged knob pressed into the satiny membrane lining the back of her throat and her lips were mashed flat against his gaping fly, she emitted a moan and sucked down hungrily on his fat dick. He grabbed her head again and started grunting as he hunched her face, fucking into her mouth and the top of her throat as if it were a pussy. "SUCK IT! SUCK IT!"
It wasn't necessary for him to order her into action, because Marsha was gobbling his knob for all she was worth. She'd never felt so utterly degraded. Everyone but Dave was watching her, and this was beginning to give her a perverted thrill that was brand new and hellaciously intense.
THEY'RE WATCHING! THEY'RE WATCHING! THEY'RE WATCHING! her lust-fogged mind screamed silently as she clung to the Brute's trouser legs and mouthed his tangy tool rapaciously while he rammed it in and out of her hot, wet mouth. IT'S GOOD! DELICIOUS! I LOVE IT! LORD GOD, WHAT A HOPELESS COCKSUCKER I AM! MAYBE THEY'LL THINK I'M ONLY ACTING LIKE I LIKE IT! OH, DOOO ... PLEASE ... ESPECIALLY YOU, WESLEY! IF THERE'S ANY DOUBT IN YOUR MIND ABOUT WHY I'M ACTING THIS WAY, PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME, SON! THINK KINDLY OF MOTHER WHEN SHE'S GONE! MOTHER'S DOING THIS FOR YOU AND FATHER SHANNON, SON, AND FOR ALL OF YOU!
But she wasn't. It had all started out that way, with Marsha making an obscene sacrifice of herself so the others might live, but that was behind her now. No matter how she tried to delude herself, the voluptuous beauty was caught up in the raging lust of fellatio now, sucking cock because she loved it and for no other reason. She would be dead in a matter of hours, or a few days at the most, and knew she would suffer horribly before the end came; somehow this certain knowledge of the gruesome ordeal ahead of her affected her in a strange way and made her frantic to wring every ounce of pleasure she could out of this fat, juicy prick, for it could well be the last one she would ever get to wrap her greedy lips around.
Her fingers twisted the material of his trousers as she batted her eyelids and sucked voraciously at the musky tasting pecker being thrust rapidly in and out of her suctioning mouth. The pulsing shaft was coated with her bubbly spit, her puffy lips gliding smoothly over the slippery hunk of tubular meat, sinking inward when he crammed the blood-engorged head down her throat and pulling out around it on its way out of her vacuum-like oral cavern, her lips distending out vulgarly from her face, trembling and making obscene sucking noises. Her creamy cheeks were folded inward, quivering like those of a nursing baby from the force of her oral action. And her tongue, eager for the taste of semen, wasn't idle for a fraction of a second. She licked his prong constantly, making her tongue flail whip-like at his taut-skinned glans as desperately she attempted to bring him off and vacuum the load out of his trouser-hidden testicles.
If there was a better dick eater in all the world, Gus the Brute had never run into her. He enjoyed watching the beautiful Marsha work for her creamy reward, but her mouth was too damned hot and good for him to hold back long. "AAAHHH ... GODDAMN!" he yelped, and locked his fingers around the back of her head, jerking her forward to mash her face against his loins and plant the throbbing head of his member deep in her throat. He knew she was wild to have his load in her mouth, and this was his way of finding relief while further tormenting her at the same time.
Muttering and choking, Marsha shoved frantically at his legs, trying to back up and catch in her sperm-starved mouth the torrents of ropy, thick cum his orgasmically twitching cock was gushing fountain-like down into the ringed portion of her straining throat, where there was no taste buds whatsoever.
To no avail. She was no match for the man's superior strength. With callous disregard for her own desire to experience the flavor of his steaming ejaculate, he held her face crushed against his groin, smothering her cruelly while he shot off down her throat and into her stomach, depriving her of any of the pleasure which was rightfully due a hungry cocksucker like her. Between his grunts of fulfillment, Marsha could hear his peals of raucous, sadistic laughter. By the time he released her head, she was dizzy from lack of oxygen. She didn't shove away, though.
Instead, she drew back until she had only his deflating crown in her mouth and, after sucking three deep breaths of much-needed air through her dilated nostrils, she began mewling and sighing as she sucked down on his spongy penis and gluttonously drained it of the few lingering drops of delicious if somewhat sluggish cum within his urethra.
"Suck, you filthy bitch!" Gus the Brute goaded. "You like that cum, don't you? Strip my dick, you hungry whore! Milk every drop of that slimy scum out of it!"
"YOU BASTARD!" Marsha whined, scaling tears of bitter shame overflowing her eyes when finally she allowed his sperm-stripped penis to slip from her puffy lips.
He let out an insane cackle and shoved her head between his thighs. Grabbing up two handfuls of her lustrous, jet-black curls, he dried his pecker with her hair and then flung her away as if she were a soiled towel.
"OHH, FATHER IN HEAVEN!" Marsha sobbed, struggling to get up off the floor where he'd hurled her several feet away. "I DID WHAT YOU WANTED! NOW TAKE ME ... AND THE MONEY ... AND LET'S GO!"
"I'm gonna hump her first," Tony husked, throwing a glance at Gus the Brute, who was stuffing his limber but clean rod back inside his pants. "Get your gun out and keep 'em covered, Gus. I'm gonna ram my dong up that fine ass and cornhole the living shit out of her before we split!"
"Be my guest, pal," Gus said with an evil grin, taking his pistol from his shoulder holster for the first time while Tony put his away and strapped it in securely. "Give it to her rough! Make her scream!"
"You like to hear them scream, don't you?" Tony panted, unzipping his fly and pulling out ten inches of throbbing, wrist-thick cock. "Me too ... sometimes ... LIKE NOW!"
The swarthy, well-built gunman pounced on Marsha. He dragged her up onto her hands and knees and took his position behind her.
"NOOH! OH, GOD HAVE MERCY, NOOO! YOU'LL SPLIT MEEE!!!"
Edgar rose halfway to his feet with the strong brotherly instinct to protect his younger sister, but a vicious snarl from the ape-like mobster froze him in his tracks. One quick glance at the sadistic killer's grotesque face told Edgar the man would welcome a reason to cut him down. The Brute's gun was aimed right at his chest, and Edgar could see the knobby finger twitching with eagerness on the trigger. He wouldn't even get to Marsha, and there was no way he could help her if he was dead. He sank back to the floor and buried his face in his hands, feeling miserably inadequate. He knew he was no coward, but he sure as hell felt like one. Common sense could keep him from making another foolish and dangerous mistake like the one which almost cost Wesley his life, but no amount of rationalizing could salve the festering sore of his outraged conscience.
"AAAHHH-GGAAAHHH!" Marsha groaned, her face contorting with pain when Tony impaled her with his monster cock. And then he was plunging it in and out, and all she could do was grunt, "MMMPPHHH, MMMPPHHH, MMMPPPHHHHH!!!"
But he'd socked it into her dribbling cunt, not her asshole. He was only coating it with her slippery pussy juice, getting it ready to penetrate the impossibly small opening of her rear portal. It felt like it was twice the size of Father Shannon's big fat dick, which it wasn't, of course, but it was a couple of inches longer, and bigger around, too, and it stretched her vagina and bruised her tender womb.
It looked like a yard of meat when he backed it out of her hairy hole all shiny and slick with her vaginal secretions. Like a true whore master, Tony held the struggling young woman by her pendulous breasts, ignoring her piteous pleas as he leaned over her servile form and fitted the bluntly rounded tip of his enormous cockhead into the tiny aperture of her cringing, rosebud rectum. There was no mercy in him Though she was doomed to death, he was giving her part of the treatment he used when breaking in virtuous, unwilling girls to prostitution.
"HOLD STILL, GODDAMN YOU!" he barked, mauling her left tit as he grabbed her hair with his right hand and jerked back her head brutally.
"AARRRHHH, AARRRHHHH!" she gasped, her mouth hanging open and her frightened, pain-filled eyes growing large as half dollars.
With total disregard for the suffering of his helpless victim, the smirking gangster held Marsha in position and pressed on toward his lecherous goal of sodomite rape. Laboriously he applied pressure, forcing her buttonhole anus to yield grudgingly and take in the very tip of his mushrooming glans.
"OHHH ... OHHHHH!" she moaned, shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth against the pain.
He drew back unexpectedly and sank his stalk into her pussy again.
"AAAAHHHHHH!" she sighed, for this time it sent a surge of illicit pleasure washing through her to feel his mighty member sheathing itself to the hilt in her proper receptacle. "YESSS! FUCK ME! LEAVE IT THERE ... MMMMM ... WHERE IT BELONGS!"
This didn't suit him, however. All Tony was after was more lubrication, and once he had it he withdrew from her twat and renewed his torturous assault on her vulnerable butthole. He wedged in the tip and paused briefly where he'd let up a couple of seconds earlier. Then he hunched her viciously, the muscles in his abdomen and back working together as he attempted to burst through the barrier of her resistent anal sphincter and bury his lance into her shuddering body.
"AAAAAARRRR RRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!"
Marsha's agonized scream rent the air. But the worst was yet to come, for his brutal effort to ream her tiny rectum to size had been only partially successful. He'd only managed to cram in an inch and three-quarters of his bulbous, two-inch crown. The broadest portion of his glans, the gig-like flare of his tufted coronal ridge, remained locked on the outside of her tautly stretched anal ring.
Again he dipped into her sopping snatch, but only with the head of his rod, and then he was right back at his perverted task, boring into her forbidden rear entrance with the slick, hot knob of his too-big dick. He released her hair and breast at the last second this time, and enclosed her trim waist with his hands suddenly and harshly, jerking her roughly back toward him as he snapped his hips and drove his dick into her with all his might.
" ' A A A A A A E E E E E E I I I I I ... AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!"
The shrill double scream of Marsha's gut-wrenching pain reverberated soul-rendering off the walls of the large living room. It felt like he was ramming a fence post up her asshole. She would've screamed more, except she couldn't, for it took her breath away. She gasped and sputtered and choked, the back of her head trying to dig in between her shoulder blades. Her back bowed up with shock, her entire body quaking and jerking like a rabbit impaled on a sharp stick. She was sure he was ripping her flesh when the giant head of his mulecock burst in through the gripping ring of her ruined rectum and bludgeoned its way lurchingly into the roiling depths of her stunned bowels.
Once he'd opened her anal canal to penile traffic, Tony wasted no time. Unlike Gus, Tony didn't necessarily want to deprive her of sensual pleasure. If she got over her shock and enjoyed having her ass screwed, fine; if she didn't, that was fine with him too. It was his own pleasure he was concerned with, and Tony liked nothing better than to force his mammoth organ into a virgin butt and rape hell out of a lovely woman in this unnatural way. He held her by the upper flare of her feminine hips and started powering the pole to her with turd-packing thrusts.
"AARGH, AARGH, AARGH!" Marsha chanted with the ripping pain of being sodomized by such a huge dong.
It felt like he was ramming it clear up into her chest each time he hunched into her and flattened the resilient cheeks of her cringing behind with the lower part of his fully clothed abdomen. Bright red sheets of flesh-searing pain accompanied each inthrust of his punishing penis. There was no blood, for her healthy female flesh had yielded sufficiently to accept the length and girth of his conquering male staff, but it hurt like hell! He hadn't given her time to adapt, had started riding her roughly the instant he'd penetrated her shit chute all the way."
"UUNNNGGGHHH ... HHUUUNNNGGGHHH!" she groaned, her head hanging down now, her curly black hair sweeping the floor.
On and on his massive organ skewered into her, with Marsha groaning piteously and both of them grunting. He was giving her a thorough buggering, using powerful eight-inch strokes. The inside of her incredibly tight butt was steaming hot. Her feverish flesh felt smooth and moist to him as it rippled delightfully around his pumping prong. The elastic ring of her asshole was dilated to the limit, clinging grippingly to the shit-streaked shaft of his swollen member. Her anus sank in around his rod when he plunged it into her, and during each out-thrust her raw rectum distended out from her body, skidding and fluttering around his retreating, wrist-thick organ.
To Marsha's amazement, the intense pain began to vanish rapidly. It was horribly degrading to be abused in such a vulgar, wicked way before the eyes of her son, brother, niece and the innocent young boys who thought of her as their mother, but she could not deny that the physical sensations of this perverted sex act were getting to her. The pistoning dong violating her butt was now pumping out the pain and replacing it with a strange new pleasure, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"OHHH, OHHH, OHHH!" she heard herself chanting against her will, for this was a crime against nature and she didn't want to like it. But it was good, and getting better and better! She was being taken and used in a way she would never have willingly permitted.
SODOMY, SODOMY, SODOMY! her outraged mind screamed, for the very word had always sounded so vile and gross, so utterly debasing for a woman. And it still did. Only now it was being forced upon her. The biggest prick she'd ever seen was reaming her defenseless asshole, stretching it and pulling it this way and that, and her sinful body was responding to it wildly.
At first she'd been afraid it would kill her, but now she didn't care. She was soon to die anyway, so what difference did it make? Tony was a no-good bastard, a hardened criminal, and he was mastering her the way he'd mastered countless young women the syndicate wanted for their whorehouses. She should hate him but she didn't. Not now. His cock was divine! Marsha knew full well that if the cruel, handsome stud wanted to, he could turn her into his slave and make a submissive whore out of her, too. Because he was ravishing her mind as well as her body, and she loved him for it. Marsha dimly understood the hidden nature of her response, for she'd experienced it on a lesser scale many times with Frank Cobos, though he'd never abused her anally. She'd come to loathe her ex-husband, but be that as it may, she'd never failed to respond to him when he'd chosen to sexually dominate her. What Marsha didn't understand was that most women are made this way, that submitting to the forceful male is built right into their female nature.
She could hear herself moaning as she gave in to the wicked thrill of this lurid defilement.
"Gettin' good, is it?" Tony panted, and he held her by the hips as he threw a volley of extra-hard jabs into her rump.
"AAAAH! AAAAHHHHHHH!" Marsha puled, licking her lips. She let herself down to her elbows and began working with him, her dangling tits dragging the floor as she rocked her body back and forth. "YES, DAMN YOU, YESSS! DO IT ... MMMMMMMM ... HARDER!"
"Do what harder?" he taunted.
"MY ASS! FUCK IT! OHHHHHHH ... BABY, BABY ... GIVE IT TO MEE ... HARDER ... AAARRRGGGHHHHH ... FASTER, OHHH ... OHHH ... SCREW IT TO GOOD ... MY ASS ... UNN, UNNMMMM ... FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF MEEE!!!"
Tony proceeded to give her exactly what she asked for. It was giving him a charge to turn her on to fanny fucking against her will, and in front of an audience, to boot. He especially enjoyed the agonized expression on her brother's face and the horrified disbelief mirrored in Marsha's son's gawking eyes.
"Your mother's a tramp, son," Tony told the boy as he slid his hand under her heaving belly and crammed three fingers into the hairy split of her secretion-dripping pussy. He trained his triumphant gaze on Edgar and asked gloatingly, "Do you want to risk your neck to save your darling little sister now? Look at her, man! Take a good look! She's a hunk of fuckstuff right from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes! She's got a tight, hot ass, and she loves having it stuffed with cock! Don't you, bitch? Tell your brother and son how much you love being cornholed!"
"YOU DIRTY SONOFABITCH!" Edgar yelled at Tony. But he could plainly see that the man was right, and Gus' gun prevented him from hurling himself at the perverted devil. It was torture to sit there helpless and watch his sister being driven out of her mind with unnatural lust.
"LOVE IT ... LLOOVVEE IITTTT!!!" Marsha cried mindlessly. The added stimulation of his fingers stroking her juicy pussy and his thumb massaging her blood-swollen clitoris while he sodomized her with body-jolting thrusts of his deeply penetrating mulecock, all this was pushing her into a state of preorgasmic rapture. Nothing mattered to her now except the ungodly pleasure she was receiving from this demented carnal misuse of her febrile body. "HUMP ME! OHHHH ... SODOMIZE ME! GOD, IT'S GOOD, SOO GOOODDDD! MAKE ME CUM! NOW! NOW! CRAM THAT BIG SWEET DICK UP MY ASSHOLE AND SHOOT YOUR LOAD DEEP INTO MY FUCKIN' BUTT!!!"
This was all he'd been waiting for. When Marsha's bowels signaled to his member the onset of her climax, he lunged all ten inches of his throbbing turgidity up her fluttering asshole and left it there, his fingers working in her silky cunt and his thumb batting her raw-nerved pleasure button rapidly back and forth.
"AAAAAH, AAAAAHHHHH, AAAAAHHHHHHHH!" she sighed, her head swaying like an elephant's trunk as she chewed her lower hp. Her curvaceous body quivered and twitched, and then it hit her, the most blindingly intense orgasm she'd ever experienced. Her head snapped up and back onto her shaking shoulders, and she let out a guttural howl of climactic fulfillment, "GGGGGAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
It felt like a charge of dynamite was exploding in her guts. Her mouth dropped open. Her toes curled over the balls of her feet. A series of spine-wrenching tremors racked her sweat-sheened body. Her eyes rolled up in her head till only their whites showed.
Her insides went wild. While her inflamed clit drew jerkily back into her shuddering body, her pussy gulped at Tony's fingers and her bowels grasped harshly at the turgid length of his fully planted organ.
The convulsive spasms of moist, super-hot ass flesh surrounding his stalk carried the whore trainer into orgasm right along with his sobbing victim. He gritted his teeth and threw back his head, emitting the age-old cry of the male planting seed as his pulsating cock irrigated Marsha's churning blowels with geyser-like gushes of hot, gluey cum.
"OHHHHHHH ... OHH, YESSS!" she screeched, undulating her rump tight against his belly with his erupting organ stuffed gut-deep into her trembling torso. "SHOOT ITTT ... AAAAAHHH ... HOT AND DE-EEPPPP! CUM, CUUMMMM! OH, LORD GOD, YESSS ... OOOUUUU ... SQUIRT ME FULL OF ITTT ... YOUR HOT CUM ... BLOW IT UP MY ASS TILL IT STARTS RUNNING OUT MY EARS! UUNNMMM, UUNNMMMMM! OH, JESUS ... AM I EVER CUUUUMMMMMIIIIINNNN-NGGGGGGGG!!!"
The full impact of their simultaneous cumming caught Marsha up in a delirium of agony/ecstasy, rendering her speechless. She shuddered uncontrollably, gasping for air between her broken sobs of sheer orgasmic bliss.
Father Shannon fought his way back to consciousness in time to see ten inches of shitty dick being backed from the winking asshole of his moaning fiancee. He tried to get up but couldn't. He was too weak, and he ached all over. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from the vicious beating he'd taken. Knowing nothing about the forced cocksucking, he silently cursed the man who'd sodomized his beloved as he watched Marsha collapse to the floor in a sighing, blubbering heap.
With very unpriestly emotions, he witnessed the beginning of another rape. Gus the Brute, who'd nearly beaten the life out of Shannon, was saying he wanted a cherry and you had to get a girl when she was very young to find one. Then the Brute grabbed little Julie and ripped off her nightie as he wrestled her to the floor and forced his way in between her legs.
The slender thirteen-year-old was frightened out of her wits. She quit struggling when the ape-like man slapped her. Julie lay there shaking like a leaf, whimpering but otherwise unprotesting, as the sadistic killer ran his hot, ham-like hands all over her slender, little girl's body. Gus made over the fact that there was only a small amount of silky down on the fatty mound above Julie's virgin pussy.
Shannon could not permit this vile atrocity. He couldn't understand why Julie's father wasn't attempting to stop the monster. But someone had to. Father Shannon was in no condition to fight, but as long as there was a breath of life in him, he had to try to save this innocent child. He struggled up into a sitting position. Every movement hurt clear through his muscles and into his bones. He had to pause and catch his breath.
The sight of Gus the Brute taking out his erection forced Father Shannon on up to his knees. He knew he wasn't going to reach the little girl in time to save her. From where he was kneeling he could see the man wedging his huge hands into the tiny slot of the child's pouting pink vulva. Just as he gained his footing, he heard Julie scream.
Through the slits of his swollen eyes he saw the Brute lunging downward, sinking his turgid column with one brutal thrust into the cringing body of the suffering adolescent.
It was too late. Bright red hymenal blood bubbled from her enlarged orifice and trickled luridly down the crack of her squirming bottom. Evil had triumphed again, for the piteously screaming child had been robbed of her purity. Her tapering little legs flopped helplessly about as the animal atop her started hunching her viciously, driving his thick penis in and out of the blood-gushing pussy he'd violated by rape.
What galled Father Shannon the most, and stunned him into momentary inactivity, was the fact that Julie's father had sat there and let it happen without lifting a hand to defend his only child.
Shannon shook his head to clear it. He had to think. There was no reason to risk his life for a prize that was already stolen. How much time had passed since Julie's first scream? Five seconds? Ten? A minute? He didn't know. But she wasn't screaming now. He could hear her sighing, and beginning to moan. It seemed impossible that the little girl could be enjoying her misfortune, although he had to admit it sounded like she was beginning to like what was happening to her. The realization that an innocent child of God could be corrupted so swiftly and easily infuriated the priest all over again. For the first time in his life, he felt like killing a man.
His heart beat faster. Adrenalin was pumped into the blood racing through his veins, giving him the strength to do what his primitive emotions urged upon him. If it was the last thing he ever did, Shannon intended to get his hands around the neck of Julie's rapist and drag him off her, and choke the life out of him or die trying.
Evidently Edgar had finally had all he could take, too, for suddenly he howled in anguish and charged like a bull. Edgar grabbed Gus around the neck, and the momemtum of his lean body dragged the much larger man off the panting, whimpering little girl he had pinned to the floor.
The barrel of Tony's pistol stuck Edgar's head with a grazing blow. It addled him. Ready to pistol-whip him into unconsciousness, Tony lifted his gun again and aimed for Edgar's head while he was staggering to his feet.
"Keep the others covered!" Gus snapped, advancing toward Edgar with the blood of his daughter's ruptured maidenhead dripping from the short, thick prick standing out hard as a rock through his fly. "I'll finish fucking the girl after I ruin her old man's face! Come on, daddy, and fight for your little girl! She likes cock! Couldn't you tell? I'm going to ram it up her ass next, and then make her suck the shit off of it. How does that grab you, daddy?"
Edgar roared his rage and charged blindly, which was precisely what Gus wanted him to do. He side-stepped and tripped Edgar, and then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and rubbed his face in little Julie's bloody crotch. "Taste your kid's cunt, daddy! That's what you really want, ain't it, to fuck her yourself?" He laughed like a fool and stepped back, waiting for Edgar to come after him.
Father Shannon was disgusted by Gus the Brute's perverted sense of humor, but in a way it was a Godsend. While the sadist toyed with Edgar, he himself was forgotten on the other side of the room. Tony's back was toward him now, and the gunman's attention was divided between the two men and keeping the others covered with his pistol. Realizing that Edgar wouldn't last long-he was landing a few good blows but he was no match for the Brute-Shannon began inching his way unnoticed toward the loaded shotgun hanging over the mantel. It was their only chance. He had to get it, and use it when he did.
He made it to the fireplace and was reaching for the gun, his hand less than a foot from it, when Tony saw him and opened fire. Three rapid roars echoed around the room. The hoods first two shots missed, but the third one ripped through Father Shannon's side.
By then he'd snatched the shotgun from its rack, and he hung onto it as the impact of the slug flung him around. He lost his footing and hit the floor, bringing the stock up to his shoulder as he fell.
The Brute was cursing, charging toward him, coming between Shannon and Tony. He yanked his pistol out of his shoulder holster and was pulling the trigger with it pointed at Father Shannon's head when the shotgun went off.
BAALOOOMMMM!
The walls shook from the blast of the 12-gauge. Gus the Brute's shot missed its mark. His slug dug into the board floor beside the priest's face. Splinters flew into the air as the hulking killer staggered back clutching the raw hamburger that was now his stomach.
"YOU GODDAMNED SONOFABITCH!" The Brute roared, his ugly face twisting with a mixture of hatred and pain as he took aim with the pistol again. It was clear that he meant to take the priest with him, but he didn't get to fire this time.
BAALOOOMMMM!
Father Shannon's second shotgun blast took the murderous expression off Gus the Brute's face. In fact, he had no face when he was hurled up and back. His massive body hit the floor like a ton of manure and didn't move again.
"FREEZE!" Shannon yelled, but it was too late. Tony was down on the floor, hidden by a couch.
"I've got the money and Marsha!" Tony called. "We're getting up now! Don't shoot! I'm using her for a shield!"
"Let Marsha go," Father Shannon said. "Take the money and leave."
"No deals, Father," Tony said as he stood up slowly, holding Marsha in front of him. "If I go back without her, I'm a dead duck."
"I won't let you take her," Shannon warned.
"Don't make me shoot you, Father. I don't want to kill a priest!" Tony said, backing toward the door, taking Marsha along with him. "Don't be a fool. You can't get me without cutting her down too."
"SHOOT, DAVE!" Marsha begged, struggling with all her might to break free of Tony's encircling arm. "THEY'LL KILL ME ANYWAY! OR FORCE ME INTO PROSTITUTION! I'D RATHER DIE NOW! don't LET HIM TAKE ME! SHOOT! KILL US BOTH! PLEASE!"
The swarthy gunman stood more than a head taller than Marsha. Dave Shannon drew a bead on his face. His finger tightened on the trigger. It was no use. He couldn't do it. At that distance the buckshot would scatter and get Marsha, too, and he couldn't bring himself to kill her, even with her begging him to do it. He cursed himself for having a shotgun instead of a rifle.
"All right," he said reluctantly. "Take her and go."
He was thinking he could follow and alert the police, or something. Anything. As long as Marsha was alive, there was hope of saving her, but if he fired now, all was lost.
But Marsha was determined not to be taken from the house. She managed to get her right hand behind her and in between Tony's legs, and when she did, she grabbed his balls in desperation and tried to tear them off him. He let out a howl of shocked agony and relaxed his hold on her. The instant he did, Marsha dived for the floor, screeching, "NOW, DAVE! SHOOT!"
Even with a clear target, Shannon hesitated. He'd taken no pleasure in killing the Brute. It'd sickened him. He didn't want to kill again ever. If Tony would take the money and go, he would gladly let him, in spite of the fact that he knew the man had sodomized Marsha.
Tony wasn't made that way, however. Without his human shield, he expected to be fired upon and acted instinctively to protect himself. He was choking from the excruciating pain in his nuts, nearly throwing up, but that didn't prevent him from opening fire on the man hugging the floor with a shotgun trained on him. The room was filled with a deafening roar of staccato-like gunfire. Slugs rained all around the priest. He took a bullet in the left shoulder. Another bit a hunk out of his right ear.
This was the price Shannon paid for his humaneness before he realized he had to kill or be killed, for Tony was panicked and pumping the trigger of his recoiling pistol as fast as he could.
BAALOOOMMMM!
The third shotgun blast peppered the wall. Not a single shot of the load found its mark. The weakened priest's vision had been fading and his arms shaking when he pulled the trigger, and he passed out immediately afterward, the shotgun clattering to the floor as his head drooped and fell.
Tony hobbled over to him, holding his crushed testicles, and squatted down beside him. He placed the muzzle of his pistol against the unconscious priest's temple and squeezed down on the trigger.
One shot rang out. Tony groaned and fell over dead with a small hole in the center of his forehead and a much larger one in the back of his skull. Coleman had shot him with Gus the Brute's dumdum loaded pistol.
Marsha was hysterical, crawling naked toward Father Shannon, who was unconscious from being beaten and shot three times and had come to within a hairsbreadth of taking a fatal bullet in the head. Julie was crying. Wesley was in a state of shock. Edgar had been beaten senseless by Gus the Brute, and he too was unconscious.
The Negro youth who'd saved Father Shannon's and Marsha's lives took over now. "COME ON, BOYS! WE GOT TO GET 'EM TO THE HOSPITAL!" At the moment, Coleman wasn't worried about the two dead gunmen or the money.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The fact that he'd killed a man did not set easy with Dave Shannon, regardless of the circumstances which had made it necessary, and it was because of this that he renounced his priesthood while he was in the hospital. As far as the law was concerned, he was in the clear, as was Coleman, and both were looked upon as heroes. The incident drew national attention. Shannon refused to be interviewed, however, and Coleman followed his example, so all the details were never made public.
The judge who exonerated Shannon and Coleman also took it upon himself, with Marsha's consent, to deposit the $176,000 of syndicate money in the bank with the stipulation that it be used solely for the operation of Shannon's Boys Ranch. His reasoning was that it was not returnable to its rightful owners. Since there was no report of the money being stolen, the judge assured Marsha that she needn't worry about criminal prosecution. And then he married Dave Shannon and Marsha Cordell, and said he was honored that they'd asked him to perform the ceremony.
At Shannon's request, Edgar and Julie stayed on at the ranch temporarily. Edgar was a carpenter and Shannon now had the money to expand and take in more boys. He wanted a large new bunkhouse built separately from the house. He asked Edgar if he could handle the job. Edgar assured him that he could. Shannon hired him and the two men began planning the building.
It was toward the end of July, a bright, cheerful morning, and Mrs. David Shannon was humming softly to herself as she went about the yard watering her flowers with a garden hose. The humming stopped abruptly when she reached the window of the bedroom she shared with her new husband. She shut off the water with the nozzle and squatted down for a closer look. The previous evening she'd weeded this flower bed and freshened the earth with a hoe, and now, in the loose dirt, there were two distinct footprints.
Marsha frowned. And then, recalling that she and Dave had left the bedside lamp on last night while they made love with the sheet kicked back, she could feel her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Someone had been peeping through the window, and from the looks of the footprints in the flower bed, she was afraid she knew who that someone was. Edgar had started taking nightly walks recently, leaving the house just before bedtime and returning anywhere from a half hour to two hours later, and the canvas shoes he wore for these nocturnal jaunts had ridged crepe soles which were the exact positive of the two negative impressions in the loose dirt of the flower bed.
The shell of the bunkhouse was up now, and Edgar was working on the interior. Rising suddenly, Marsha flung the garden hose to the ground and stamped toward the rear of the house. Her indignation propelled her straight to the bunkhouse, and she stormed inside to find her brother working alone, putting up plasterboard for the walls.
"I want to talk to you!" she shouted over the sound of his hammering.
He drove two more nails to secure the sheet of plasterboard before he turned away with a quizzical expression on his handsome face. There were a couple of small scars left by Gus the Brute's ring, but otherwise the vicious beating he'd taken had left him unmarked.
Marsha picked her way through odds and ends of two-by-fours, planks and plasterboard and, with two sawhorses separating them, she accusingly confronted her brother with her angry suspicions.
Shamefacedly he admitted that he'd been window peeping when she and Dave had intercourse. The nightly walks had just been an excuse to get him out of the house.
While Marsha ranted and raved and paced about kicking at bits of boards, Edgar sat down in embarrassed dejection on one of the sawhorses and stared blankly at the plywood subflooring between his booted feet, worrying his hammer with both hands. When Marsha demanded to know why he would do such a thing, he answered with a sheepish smile and a guilty shrug of his shoulders.
Once her anger had run its course and she began to cool down, Marsha started feeling sorry for her brother. She couldn't help it. Edgar offered no excuses for his sneaky voyeurism. He'd just sat there looking guilty all the time she was giving him hell, like a pitiful little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
She walked around behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. "What's your problem, Edgar. Tell me, so I can understand why you'd want to see Dave and me balling."
"Hard up, I guess," he mumbled.
Of course, she thought. I should've known. He has no sexual outlet. He probably hasn't had a piece since that damned Julia left him.
"You could go in to Portales or Clovis, you know."
"I guess I could," he murmured. "But I wouldn't know where to go when I got there. I'd have to ask a cab driver. Naw, it's no good that way. I've only been to a whore once. I didn't like it."
"I wasn't suggesting that you go to a cathouse, honey," Marsha replied sympathetically. "You're a good-looking guy. You wouldn't have any trouble picking up a willing girl."
"Been so long," he muttered. "I wouldn't know how to go about it."
Marsha could tell the conversation was making him uneasy. She supposed she ought to shut up and leave him alone. But she couldn't. He was her brother, and she loved him. Edgar's pride had been severely damaged when he'd lost his job and couldn't find another one. And she knew it must have been a terrible blow to his masculine ego when his wife had run away with another man. He was still reeling from that, so lacking in self-confidence that he was apathetic to the idea of trying to pick up a girl who would go to bed with him. It struck her that he might be afraid of rejection and further hurt. Either that, or could he possibly be impotent? Perhaps that was it. She hadn't known until Edgar came to the ranch that his wife Julia had been cheating on him on and off for years, and she'd wondered why he'd let her get away with it. She asked him why now.
"Because I loved Julia in spite of it," he said. "And for Julie's sake, too. A kid needs a mother."
"Are you impotent, Edgar?"
He flinched but said nothing.
"Oh, darling, I'm sorry," Marsha soothed. "Is that why Julia was screwing around?"
He shook his head. With some difficulty he said, "It's tied in with my wife's infidelity. Every time I caught her playing around, that's when I had trouble. For a month or so was all. Then everything would be all right until she took a new lover."
"The bitch!" Marsha hissed. "The filthy, castrating bitch! She was doing it to you on purpose, wasn't she?"
He nodded miserably. "I think she was."
Marsha's kind heart went out to her suffering brother. "Listen, honey, I'm sorry I yelled at you about peeping. I understand now, and if you want to keep it up, I won't mind. I won't tell Dave, either."
He said she was the best sister he had but declined her offer, saying he was ashamed of himself for peeping and would never do it again.
She smiled. Marsha was his only sister. When Edgar told her she was the best sister he had, that was his way of saying he loved her. "I love you, too, Big Brother," she said, and hugged him. She felt closer to him now than she had in years, and she wanted to help him. If he didn't get himself straightened out right away, Marsha feared he might never again be the man he once was.
What her brother needed most of all right now was not simply a piece of ass from a whore or a pickup; he needed some fucking heaped with kindness and love, from a woman who cared deeply enough about him to show him he was a desirable man as well as a good and worthwhile person. It was up to Marsha to salvage her beloved brother's damaged ego and boost him out of his depression. Edgar had helped her many times when she had nowhere else to turn, and now she was going to start paying him back.
She sat down beside him on the sawhorse and took his hand, locking her fingers through his and giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. "What did you think when you saw your little sister sucking cock? Did it excite you, honey? Did you get a hard-on?"
Edgar gulped and nodded.
"Then you're not impotent now, are you?"
He shook his head, looking at her unsurely out of the corners of his eyes. She was smiling enigmatically, moistening her red lips with her dainty pink tongue. He didn't dare believe what he thought her action implied.
"You wished it was your prick I was having, didn't you?"
"Marsha, I...." he choked up and couldn't finish.
"It's all right, honey," she cooed, and slipped her hand between his legs to caress his genitals. "I used to wish it too, every time I stayed overnight at your house and heard you and Julia doing it in the next room. I wished you were doing it to me instead of your wife. I was jealous of Julia. You never knew that, did you, darling?"
Once she got started on him, Marsha knew she'd been right. Her brother needed exactly what she was giving him. At first he was sort of stunned by her boldness, but it didn't take her long to get him over that. She French kissed him, letting him suck her tongue first, and then swapped off to take his in her mouth and suck it suggestively. In no time she had him turned on and loosened up. The barrier he'd been erecting around himself came crashing down, and he opened up to her more than he ever had before. He confessed that he'd desired her intensely when she was a cute teen-ager but had been afraid to try anything with her because she was his sister.
"I'm still your sister," she reminded sultrily as she unzipped the fly of his khaki work trousers. "That's not going to stop you now, I hope."
"No way," he said, slipping his hand inside her blouse and bra cup to fondle her luscious breast flesh, while she eased her small hand inside his shorts and gave the upstanding column of his turgid penis the same intimate attention. "Where can we go? How about the hayloft?"
"Oh, that's a lovely idea, Edgar! Come on! Hurry! I can hardly wait to get with you, darling!"
They could've just as easily gone to the house, or anywhere else for that matter, for they had the whole place to themselves. Dave Shannon, the ex-priest, had gone to a livestock auction in Clovis. He'd taken Julie and all the boys with him. He was buying breeding stock carefully, a few at a time, building up the herd with quality cattle when he could buy at a bargain, and he wanted the children to feel they were part of the operation.
Now, Marsha loved her husband dearly, but at the moment Dave and her marriage vows were the farthest things from her mind. She loved her brother, too, and Edgar needed her. Besides, her period was due to start in a few days, and she was always hot to trot during the week preceding it. The fact that she was about to commit incest was very much on her mind, but this excited rather than troubled her.
Like two playful children without a care in the world, the full-grown brother and sister emerged from the back door of the partially constructed bunkhouse and ran hand in hand toward the barn, Marsha with her blouse open and her brassiere pushed up, her big, beautiful titties flopping enticingly about, and Edgar with his rampant erection boldly protruding through the gaping fly of his trousers.
Up the ladder they climbed, Marsha leading the way, squealing gaily as Edgar, climbing up right behind her, goosed her repeatedly.
"Stop that! Stop that!" she cried laughingly as she neared the top of the ladder. "You'll make me tall, honey!"
"I'll catch you if you fall, but I can't stop. God, that's a gorgeous ass, Sis! I can't keep my hands off it! I want to shower it with kisses and lick it all over!"
"Yes, yes! I'd love that!"
Marsha clambered into the hayloft and ran teasingly from her pursuing brother. The board windows at each end of the loft were latched open for ventilation. Morning sunlight streamed in through the east window, its Midas touch making the mound of last year's hay below it glitter like gold. With a cry of joyous anticipation, Marsha dived into the pile of sweet-smelling softness and kicked off her sandals.
"You're beautiful," Edgar husked.
He'd stopped short of the haymow and was gazing down at his barefoot sister. Her skirt had hiked up to her hips when she'd rolled over onto her back, revealing all of her long, shapely legs. The shadow of her dark triangle showed alluringly through the sheer nylon of her pale blue panties. The soft curls of her jet-black hair were liberally sprinkled with sparkling bits of golden hay. Her blouse stood open, the bottom edge of her pushed-up bra creasing the very tops of her exposed, coral-tipped breasts. She was a vision of loveliness, the sexiest-looking wench he'd ever seen.
"Take off your clothes," Marsha urged. "And then strip me naked too and make wild, passionate love to me!"
Edgar shed his clothes in record time and, with trembling hands, divested his sister of hers. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She guided his sweet cock into her furry slot and hugged him tightly with her arms and legs. Joined prick and pussy, they rolled about in the hay with tongues entwined, sighing into one another's mouths.
She kept her legs around him so tight that he couldn't hunch her. When Marsha thought he was about to cum, she made him take it out of her moist, hot pussy and lie back. She knelt between his legs and engulfed the top four inches of his secretion-slick organ with her hungry mouth. Just in time, too, for the instant she sucked down on his twitching rod it erupted.
"MMMMM!" she mewled through her nose, her tongue slithering wetly over the ballooning bulb of his cum-spurting cockhead.
Marsha's brother had a massive load built up, and she drank it lovingly as he shuddered and moaned ecstatically, his juicy dick pumping big, spiraling streams of his scrumptious sperm. She'd never tasted better. It gave her a tremendous thrill to have her own brother shooting off in her mouth. Gurgling sounds of delight rose from her spasmodically gulping throat. Her soft, red lips were coated with whitish cum when she straightened up. She sighed and licked them clean.
"My brother! My darling, delicious brother!" she crooned as she flopped down beside him on her stomach. "Now, Edgar! Shower my ass with kisses! Lick it good, if you still want to, baby!"
His ardent lips rained wet kisses all over the twin globes of his sister's gorgeous rump, his hand brushing away bits of hay and his tongue flashing out repeatedly to drag over the thrilling warmth of her soft, creamy skin. Her back received the same oral homage, and he took great pleasure in tongue-washing the backs of her smooth thighs. Finally he heaved a groan and pried her buttocks apart with his fingers. Overcome with emotion, he thrust his face into the fleshy valley of her asscheeks and began licking and sucking the appealing rosebud of her erogenous rectum.
"AAAH, AAAAAHH! YOUR TONGUE, DARLING! GIVE IT TO ME!"
He shot his tongue all the way up her asshole and whimpered soulfully as he licked around inside her murky depths.
"UUUMMMM! OH, YESSS! BROTHER! OHHHHHHH!!!"
Edgar couldn't get enough of his sister's tart-tasting anus. He ate it as if it were a cunt, and couldn't stop even when Marsha begged him to turn her over and fuck her. In his mind's eye he could see the gigantic dong of the swarthy gunman reaming her butthole while he screwed it with his tongue.
"IN THE ASS!" he wailed, and dragged her up to her knees. "I WANT TO FUCK YOUR GORGEOUS ASS!"
"THEN DO ITTT!" she squealed, and she reached back to grasp his peter and help him get it into her anal opening. "YOU'RE DRIVING, ME OUT OF MY MIND! I'M ON FIRE!"
The forbidden penetration was painfully pleasant for both of them, and once he got it into the super tightness of her furnace like rear hole, Marsha emitted a guttural groan that told clearly how she felt about having her brother sodomize her.
"OHHHHHHH ... OH, FUCK IT ... BABY, BABY ... DEEP AND HARD!" she moaned, shivering with a thousand lewd thrills when she felt his rock-hard shaft begin sawing in and out through the clasping rim of her elastic rear portal.
He leaned over her and slid his hands under her, using her dangling tits for handles as he kissed her back and humped her with rapid, deeply penetrating thrusts.
"OOOUUUU, OOOUUUU!" she puled, loving it, savoring every stroke of her brother's pistoning dick.
"IS IT GOOD?" he panted as he tweaked her sensitive nipples and increased the tempo of his screwing motions.
"UUUMMMM! IT'S WONDERFUL! OHHHHHHH ... OH, EDGAR ... MY BROTHER ... MY LOVER ... MY PRECIOUSSS!!!"
Edgar pulled out all the stops then. He began sodomizing her like crazy, both of them grunting and groaning as his blood-bloated organ-only slightly smaller than her husband's-lunged fiercely in and out of her quaking body through the fluttering ring of her pleasured asshole.
Wantonly Marsha manipulated her. clitoris and finger-fucked her hairy hole while her panting brother-reveling in the manhood she'd helped him regain-cornholed her with keen delight. She attained orgasm a split second before he rammed his throbbing prick balls-deep into her butt and let his second load fly into the heated depths of her churning bowels. They shuddered and shook, locked together in sodomite rapture, her spasming asshole clutching at the thick base of his pounding, sperm-spewing cock, the excitingly different sounds of their male and female orgasmic ecstasy echoing lasciviously through the sweet-smelling air of the cavernous hayloft.
They lay in the hay for some time afterward, content with hand holding and a little mutual fondling and an occasional tongue-sucking kiss, as they opened their incestuous hearts to one another and talked freely. Marsha was delighted when Edgar told her that he'd nearly went out of his mind on her first wedding night, confessing that he screwed his wife five times with his eyes closed, pretending he was doing it to her instead of Julia.
She took her brother into the house and washed his brown-tinged penis for him, and then she took him into her marriage bed.
When her husband and the kids returned to the ranch that afternoon, there was no doubt in Marsha's mind about her horny brother's virility.
In addition to sucking him off and taking his dong up her ass in the hayloft, she'd had three glorious fucking from Edgar in the comfort of her and Dave's bed. And for some strange reason, cuckholding her brother made her want Dave like mad. Marsha could hardly wait for bedtime that night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Little Julie had been rolling those big innocent brown eyes of hers at him quite a lot lately, and Shannon thought he knew what was on the willowy thirteen-year-old's mind, especially when she would deliberately switch her cute little bottom at him. He wanted the young girl. Damned if he didn't. And it was pure hell the way she seized every opportunity to hug him and rub her warm blossoming, little girl's body up against him. His thoughts about the adorable child made Shannon feel like a dirty old man. The ex-priest was on his guard constantly when Julie was around because, no matter how much he wanted her or how willing she was, he was not going to let himself weaken to the point of actually doing anything about their strong physical attraction toward each other. Or so he thought.
But opportunity often has a way of knocking that proves to be irresistible even to a saint, which Shannon had never claimed to be. He was just a man, no better or worse than millions of others. The one thing that set him apart and made him stand taller than most other men was his sincere desire to do as much good as he could with his life. He was totally free of prejudice, and there wasn't an ounce of hate in him. Riches meant nothing to him. So far as Shannon was concerned, money was only a tool for him to use in making a good, decent home for as many unwanted boys as he possibly could. This was what made him tick; this, and his lovely bride who was proving herself to be a helpmate in every sense of the word. Shannon's life was richer now, and fuller, because of the love he and Marsha shared. He liked being married, and in no way regretted the renunciation of his priesthood. His determination to be a good and faithful husband was another reason he had to resist the sexual temptation of his wife's pretty little niece.
It was by accident that Shannon noticed Julie romping off across the pasture with Goliath at her side that hot afternoon in early August. The scene appeared as innocent and wholesome as a picture on a Girl Scout calendar, what with Julie smiling and her long hair, the color of sun-ripened wheat, billowing softly out behind her.
Only Shannon wondered just how innocent it was, for a mental image of Marsha lying beneath that big, shaggy dog flashed unbidden through his mind from out of the past. So far as he knew, his wife had succumbed to bestiality only that once. But Julie had had a taste of sex, and apparently wanted more, and Goliath had sampled a woman's pussy, so....
A surge of unwanted excitement welled up in Shannon. He hoped his suspicions were a mile off base. But he had to know. When the little girl and the big wolf/dog disappeared into the arroyo at the far side of the pasture, it was as if a powerful magnet was pulling him toward the spot where he'd last seen them.
Julie had the animal on its back when Shannon peered over the rim and down into the arroyo without alerting her to his presence.
"Nice boy," she was saying, rubbing Goliath's belly with one hand and jacking off his long, beet-red penis with the other, her twinkling eyes riveted to the hand doing the most interesting work. "Oh, it's pretty! So hard and hot! Slick too, and such a bright red! I'm going to kiss your peter this time before I let you get on me and stick it in my cunny!"
Shannon could scarcely believe his eyes and ears. He knew he should stop the lustful child and take her to her father for punishment, but he couldn't force himself to do it. From what Julie had said, this wasn't the first time she'd done it with the dog. He recalled guiltily how he'd gotten an aching erection and lost control of himself when he'd caught Marsha screwing the animal, and the same vulgar emotions were rising within him now. His desire to do the right thing was overruled by the much stronger desire of his baser nature. With a delicious sense of sinking into sin, he yielded to his perverse yearning. His penis gave a throb and started growing rapidly. He could hardly wait to see his small niece being fucked by his huge dog.
Little Julie did exactly what she'd said she was going to do. She knelt over the dog, petting him to keep him docile, and kissed his dick. Then she licked it, not once but several times, and finally she took the front of it into her mouth and had herself a suck on it.
Plainly she was enjoying herself, but sucking off the animal wasn't her goal. Suddenly she jumped up, smacking her lips, and whisked off her panties.
"Come on, Goliath! You know what to do!"
Julie panted. She was on her hands and knees now, with her dress up around her waist, wagging her bare bottom at the worked-up dog.
Goliath knew what to do, all right. He mounted her as eagerly as if she were a bitch in heat. His forelegs wrapped around her and he sank his long, red dick into her slender, little girl's body with one swift thrust.
"YYYIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!" the child shrieked, her fingers digging into the dirt of the arroyo's floor as she threw back her head in shock. Her eyes were big as half dollars, rolling about, and her mouth hung open. "YOU'VE ... GOT IT ... UP MY ... POOPER! AAAARRRHHHHHHH! STOP ... TAKE IT OUT AND ... PUT IT IN ... MY CUNNY!"
But the canine creature was humping blissfully away, driving the heated spear of his long, tapering pecker a mile a minute in and out of Julie's compact little butt, and he wasn't about to stop. In mere seconds Julie changed her tune, however, and began shivering with pleasure.
"OOOUUUU, OOOUUUU! NO, don't STOP, GOLIATH! AAAAAAAHHH ... DO IT, DO IT ... HARDER ... OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH ... OH SHIT, IT'S GOOD! SCREW MY POOPER GOOD ... HUMP IT ... FUCK MY BUTT!"
Feeling like a lecher, for he coveted the cute child himself, Shannon kept his mouth shut and watched until Goliath had slipped his nuts into her. He'd intended to leave without letting Julie know he'd spied on her, but it didn't work out that way. Her asshole was such a tiny, tight little opening. When the canine bulge moving up the dog's organ popped into her, it wouldn't come out again. The small girl was hung up with the big animal, and just as hopelessly as if she'd been a dog herself.
"AA A A AAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE ... AAA AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" she screamed, scared to death.
And the frenzied way Goliath was instinctively pawing at her back and yelping like crazy in his frantic effort to pull his captured cock out of her, didn't help matters a bit. The more frightened Julie became, the tighter her anal sphincter squeezed down on the dog's organ, locking it ever more securely inside her. Unless she relaxed, and this seemed un-likely, Julie wouldn't be rid of the huge dog until she had taken a butt full of his cum.
Without thinking what it might lead to, Shannon leaped down into the arroyo and held the horrified little girl's hands, talking to her, trying to calm her down so her muscles would relax enough to lose their grip on the section of penis behind the knot of sperm locking it inside her quaking butt. It was all he could do. He didn't dare try to pull the animal off her, for fear of tearing the flesh of her terror-cramped anal muscles.
It was impossible for Julie to relax, though. Shannon had caught her in a shameful, secret act, and this made her tense up all the more. It wasn't until she felt a great flood of super-hot canine cum gushing into her bowels that she was finally free of the impaling length of Goliath's fiery-red prick. She heaved a sigh of relief and, toppled over in a semiswoon the instant she felt the pointed tip of the dog's long, tapering organ depart the gripping ring of her still-cramping rectum with a lurid, wet popping sound.
When she was able to speak, the first thing she said was, "don't TELL ANYONE, UNCLE DAVE! PLEASE don't TELL ON ME!"
He assured her he wouldn't, and he took the frightened, terribly embarrassed little girl into his arms to cuddle and comfort her. This was where Shannon made his mistake, for he was dying to get his cock in her, and holding her only made it worse.
Within five minutes he had got her over her scare. He asked her if she was ready to go back to the house. She shook her head no. She was still embarrassed, but there was a hungry gleam in her big brown eyes. A tense little smile played hopefully over her pretty face. Her small hand darted between his legs and captured his erection through his trousers.
"You've got a hard-on, Uncle Dave!" she breathed, her fingers clinging to his shaft as he whimpered and attempted to push her hand away. "Take it out! Let me suck it! I want to suck your dick so bad, Uncle Dave! I've wanted to ever since that awful night! I want you to do it to me, too! It's you I want! I was only using Goliath because you wouldn't have anything to do with me! I swear it! Oh, fuck me now! And let me suck you off! I'll never bother with the dog again if you'll let me love you!"
Against his better judgment, Shannon gave in to the cute little girl. It was she seducing him, not the other way around, and he simply couldn't resist the hot-natured child a moment longer. He leaned back against the wall of the arroyo, with the hot summer sun beating down, and watched in fascination as her small hands unzipped his fly and eagerly fished out his aching erection.
"It's so big!" she sighed, grabbing it with both hands. "Oh, Uncle Dave, your peter is just beautiful!"
Julie stared down at his organ in utter enthrallment as she stroked it instinctively, her innocent brown eyes riveted to the purplish plum of his foreskin on and off it. Lower and lower her head moved, until he could feel her hot breath bathing his glans.
"Kiss it!" he husked, and cupped the back of her head, pushing her on down till he felt her feverish little lips forming over the slitted tip of his knob.
SMACK! she kissed it once, and sighed, "OOOUUUU!" and then she went wild. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! came the lewd report of her worshipful lips planting wet kisses avidly over the sensitive surface of his blood-engorged dickhead.
"Aaaah, aaah! Lick it, baby!"
Only too happy to obey, the passionate child stuck out her scratchy little tongue and licked every bit of his huge glans, mewling her pleasure as she coated it with glistening saliva.
"Ohhhh ... oh, Lord, forgive us!" the ex-priest sighed, and applied pressure to the back of the adolescent's head. "Open wide, Julie! Suck it now, sweetheart! Take my cock in your sweet little mouth and blow me all the way!"
"YESSS! GIVE ME YOUR CUM! SHOOT IT IN MY MOUTH!" she moaned before her lips attached themselves to the bluntly rounded tip of his dong and glided warm and wet over the whole of his bloated crown.
"Ahhhh ... ohhhh!" he cried automatically, shivering with pleasure. He could feel her lips working fish-like around the top of his thick shaft as she started sucking his nerve-rich bulb and laving it with her tongue at the same time.
The moist heat of her oral cavern surrounding the most sensitive part of his anatomy was divine. His cute little niece by marriage was only thirteen, just a baby, really. Shannon knew he should be shot for what he was doing. He also knew he could be sent to prison for statutory rape if they got caught. But he didn't care now. There was something extra special about having his cock in this little girl's mouth. He was tainting an innocent child of God, turning her into a cocksucker, and it gave him such a tremendously wicked thrill that he could almost see Satan himself gloating over this evil victory.
"MMM, MMM, MMM!" he could hear her chanting, her head bobbing at his loins with her brownish-gold hair fanning out in all directions.
"You like it, don't you, you little earth angel?" he husked, tightening down with his inner muscles to hold back his massive load of pent-up semen. "DO YOU LOVE COCK? DOES IT TASTE GOOD? ARE YOU READY FOR A BIG DRINK OF CUM?!"
"UUMMMMMMM!" she moaned around her mouthful of meat, and began sucking all the harder, her hair switching jerkily as her head rose and fell furiously, her puffy lips clinging hungrily to his pulsing shaft.
"OHHHHH ... AAAAHHHHHHH!" he whimpered, losing control. His prostrate gland convulsed harshly, ejecting a mass of its creamy contents up the length of his twitching stalk. "UUNNGGHHH!"
The first jet of his pressurized load flung open the tiny slit at the tip of his enlarged dickhead and gushed forcefully into the child's suctioning mouth. The spiraling stream of glutinous jism splashed over her pink tonsils and trickled down her throat.
"MMMMM-GGAAWWKK-MMMMMMM!"
The nasal sound she emitted was part moan and partly a choking gag, for she was having her first mouthful of sperm and lacked the experience to accept it gracefully. It excited her, though, and she was determined to get it all. Julie didn't give an inch. She gulped reflexively and sucked greedily for more of the pungent male nectar.
"UNG, UNG, UNG!" Shannon grunted, his ballooning cockhead spraying torrents of hot ejaculate into the moist chamber of his delightful little fellatrice's small but eager mouth.
But try as she did, Julie couldn't contain it all. The huge dong of the full-grown man was blowing thick cum faster than the inexperienced little girl could take it. She swallowed fast as she could, loving the acrid taste and grooving on the thrill of having him shoot off in her mouth. But her cheeks began to puff out, and her lips, too. Her eyes bulged and blinked while her throat worked gulpingly. And then she made a choking noise, and backed up coughing. Her lips lost his crown and she spewed her mouthful of whitish jizz over the front of his pants. He was still cumming and, as Julie gasped for air, his final jets of frothy cream splattered obscenely over the delicate features of her pretty face.
As she picked up her panties and wiped her face, she apologized for not doing it right. Julie promised to suck him better the next time and began cleaning him up as best she could with her cum-stained panties.
Of course Shannon was delighted with the sensual child and he told her so. He was in a relaxed, lustful mood now, and in no hurry to climb out of the arroyo. Neither was Julie. She was more than willing to let him draw her into the shade of the west bank and strip her naked.
She had virtually no tits at all, just the buds from which they promised to grow. Her tender little nipples were tumid with desire, standing out like pink strawberries from their convex supporting mounds. Shannon sucked the child's excitable small titties while he held her by her tiny waist, his thumbs and middle fingers touching around her.
Julie's hips were filling out, and her buttocks as well, and Shannon carressed these portions of her blossoming body while he kissed his way down her palpitating tummy, his tongue leaving a zigzag trail of saliva over her baby soft skin.
"My cunny! Ooooh ... kiss my cunny!" she pleaded, stroking his head when she felt his lips working their way over the fatty, nearly bald mound directly above her soft pink crevice.
He took off his shirt, spreading it and her dress like a blanket, and laid the panting thirteen-year-old down on her back. The youngster wasn't old enough to have pubic hair, but her immature little pussy contained plenty of sexual dew. Her pouting pink slit was a bubbling spring of hot girl goo.
There was a strong odor wafting up from Julie's steaming crotch. It was the heady aroma of pure, juiced-up snatch, for she used no perfume and hadn't learned about douching yet. The fat little lips of her puffy pink cunt shimmered wetly with their liberal coating of her copious vaginal secretions.
Shannon inhaled deeply of the maddening, all-girl scent. The heady fragrance of her swollen sexual flower stung his nostrils and drove him wild.
Heaving a mournful groan of sheer lust, he thrust his head in between her trembling thighs and claimed the succulent prize of her fluttering sex hole with open-mouthed urgency.
The taste of her tiny gash was every bit as strong as the smell it was giving off. Shannon savored the unadulterated flavor of her hairless little twat. He pried open her vulva with his fingertips and lapped longingly at the red sweetmeats within her cuntal vestibule. The potent taste of her unwashed snatch stung his tongue in a most satisfying manner. Again he groaned, and glued his mouth to her dribbling elliptical opening.
Time stood still as he feasted gluttonously on the wholesome goodness of her little girl's pussy. She was delicious, especially the hot, slippery oil her grateful vagina sent down in trickling abundance to his voraciously sucking mouth. Shannon snaked his greedy tongue deep into the snugness of the child's velvety sheath and began licking up the beads of her clear nectar as they formed on the sweating walls of her youthful vagina.
Julie cried out soulfully again and again, for his pleasure-giving mouth had her cumming every few seconds. The first in her series of orally induced orgasms had been much better than the weak cums she'd been giving herself with her finger, and each one after the first was twice as good as the one preceding it. Her little body shivered and shook constantly, until finally she couldn't bear the intensity of it any longer and began begging:
"YOU'LL TAKE IT, ALL RIGHT!" he rasped, his mouth glistening with pussy juice as he swung up to his knees and unbuckled his pants, shoving them and his shorts down his thighs. Cock in hand, he walked up between her wide-splayed legs on his knees and lowered himself into position. "NOW, YOU HOT-ASSED LITTLE BITCH!" he hissed, wedging the huge head of his rampant member in between the swollen, twitching lips of her tiny little immature pussy. "YOU WANTED A FUCKING AND, BY DAMN, YOU'RE GOING TO GET IT!"
"OOOUUUU, OOOUUUU!" she mewled, her compact bottom squirming about as she bit her lower lip and gazed up at him, her big innocent brown eyes mirroring a mixture of fear and anticipation.
He bore down slowly, gritting his teeth as he forced the bulbous knob of his massive man-sized organ in through the inflamed labia of the frail child's yielding sexual aperture. She was ungodly tight. He took it easy so as to hurt her as little as possible. Julie didn't complain once, but he could tell by her expression that she was experiencing pain. The tautly stretched lips of her tiny child's twat bit into his huge turgid cockhead like a tight rubber band.
"OOHHH, OOHHH!" she cried, closing her eyes and making a face.
He had her dilated almost to the limit now, and the mushrooming coronal ridge at the back of his oversized crown was still outside the fluttering petals of her feverish kid's slit. Shannon could wait no longer. He felt as if he would die if he didn't get the whole of his huge bloated organ into the adorable little child immediately.
Suddenly he lunged downward, penetrating the infant to the hilt with one deft thrust. His hard-rubber man glans snapped into her infant's vagina and raced deep into her heaving belly, ramming into her immature womb and shoving that most feminine of all organs higher up into her body. His hairy pubis crashed down upon her fatty, hairless mound and his large, dangling testicles swung forward to slap resoundingly into the crack of the gasping child's quivering bottom.
"AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!" she shrieked, shuddering from head to toes as she bit her lip so hard it drew blood.
Shannon left his long dong planted taproot deep in the moist heat of her rippling abdomen, letting it soak while her infant tissues adapted to its enormous length and girth. The snug fit of her silky child's sheath was fantastically good, and the way she gasped for breath, moaning and whimpering in between, heightened his lewd pleasure all the more.
"OOOOOHHHHHHHHH! IT'S SO BIG, UNCLE DAVE! A A A AHHHHHH! I LOVE YOUR BIG DICK! IT FILLS ME CLEAR UP TO MY TITTIES!!!"
He chuckled and began fucking her unhurriedly, using smooth strokes that reached deep into her sweet little girl pussy.
"OOOHHH ... OH, YES, YESSS!" she panted, throwing her arms around him. "I KNEW IT WOULD BE GOOD! DO IT ... AAAH ... FUCK ME TO PIECES!"
In no time the little rascal had her legs over hk and was working with him, hunching her tight immature box up to meet his mammoth inrushing prong with joyful exuberance. Julie was a natural little fucking machine. When he increased the tempo of his thrusting, she stayed right with him, grunting and sighing as she kept her infantile encircling sex hole skimming up and down the fat shaft of his enormous secretion-slick member.
"OHHH, OHHH ... IT'S SO GOOD, uncle DAVE! I JUST LOVE TO FUCK, don't YOU?"
He had to admit that he did. She was a sheer delight. Having his big dick in the passionate child was affording Shannon the greatest pleasure he'd ever had. Marsha was considerably better at the mechanics of screwing, but her adolescent niece was giving him her all. Julie was sweeter than sweet. There was something extra special about fucking such a young and tender little girl which he knew he'd never find with his gorgeous wife, and that extra something was absolutely divine, even if it was indescribable.
It was hot despite the shade of the arroyo's west bank. Soon, they were sweating profusely, their stomachs slapping together rapid-fire. The wet sounds of flesh smacking flesh rang lasciviously in their ears. The heady scent from Julie's smelly little girl pussy hung in the still air about them. The odors of sex and sweat mixed together, assaulting their nostrils and driving them on, making them wild.
Julie's tiny kid's hole clung tenaciously to the thrusting shaft of Shannon's powerful man-size prong. Her tautly stretched child's sex flesh sank inward when he socked the slick dick meat to her, only to be pulled out salaciously during each out-thrust, her cuntal petals distending out from her steaming crotch around his gigantic thick rod as if reluctant to lose it even for a fraction of a second. The child's cute, compact fanny pumped jerkily up and down, keeping time to the rhythmic cadence set by the big man's hairy rump.
The entrance to her hot little girl snatch was plugged up tight, and the juices built up in her dilated vagina until it was making an obscene squishing sound each time the mighty man organ plunged into her feverish depths.
"OOOH, OOOH, OOOH!" she chanted mindlessly, her head lolling about in rapture as her small hands clung to the muscular hairy cheeks of Shannon's arcing ass, for she was pulling him into her now as well as hammering her sopping little split up to meet his every thrust. "OOOHHHHH ... FUCK ME, FUCK ME ... MAKE ME CUM!"
"ARE YOU READY?" he panted.
"YESSS ... ALMOST ... AAAHHHHH ... PUSH ME ... GIVE IT TO ME HARDER ... AARRRGGHHHHH ... FASTER ... OHHHHH ... OH, FUCK, FUCK, FFUUCCKKK!!!"
Shannon was reaching for the brass ring himself. Her little girl's pussy was unbelievably good. Her fluttering sex flesh felt soft as velvet and slick as glass. The heat inside her thrashing body was like a furnace. Her juiced-up vagina was sucking wetly at the throbbing length of his pistoning pole. The pleasure of fucking the forbidden pussy of this sweet little infant had Shannon nearly delirious with lust. His huge testicles were hugging his groin, quivering and twitching, aching to release their pent-up load of bubbling semen into he moist heat of her alluring little tummy.
He grabbed her by the cheeks of her frantically bobbing bottom and rammed a finger palm-deep into the tiny ring of her winking, slick-with-dog-cum rectum.
"AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!" she howled.
A growl rumbled in his throat. He started fucking her like a madman with his finger up her gripping asshole, the sleek head of his rampaging dick jarring her womb as his loins slapped resoundingly against her with body-jolting rapidity.
"AAAHHHH, AAAAHHHHH, AAAAAHHHHH!" she moaned, burying her face in the sweat-dampened crook of his neck. "OHHH, DO IT, DOO ITTT! UNNN, UUNNN! A A AHHHHH ... IT'S GOOD ... SOO GODDAMNED GOOD!"
He had her skewered both fore and aft, and was fucking into her like some demented wild creature. It was impossible for the small girl to keep up with him. She could scarcely move. All Julie could do was lie there and take it, but that's all she wanted to do by then, because the reaming action of his roughly thrusting organ was pushing her into a cum that promised to shatter her soul itself.
"UUNNN ... UNN-GGAAHHHH!" he groaned, and crammed her full of rock-hard cock for the final time, grunting in the typical male fashion while his pounding prick erupted like a volcano, spewing pressurized streams of white-lava sperm into the roiling depths of the girl's soft tummy.
"OOOOUUUU, OOOOUUUUU!" she puled, shivering and shaking. "YOU'RE SHOOTING OFF ... AAAAHHHH ... INSIDE ME!!!"
With every jangling nerve in her aroused body, the adolescent girl could feel keenly the forceful jets of hot semen splashing luridly over the mouth of her immature womb and ricocheting thrillingly about in the business end of her trembling vagina.
"OOOHHH, OOOHHH, OOOHHH ... SHOOT IT, UNCLE DAVE ... SQUIRT ME FULL OF YOUR HOT CUM! AAAAHHHHHH ... I LOVE IT! IT'S MAKING ME GO OFF TOOOOUUUUUU! OHHH ... OH, SHIT! CUMMING! I'M CUUUMMMMIIIINNNNGGG ... GAAAAHHHHH ... OHH, LORD, LLOORRDDD ... UUNNGGHH, UUNNGGHHHHHHHHH ... CUUUUMMMMMIIIIINNNNGGG!!!"
They clung together shuddering uncontrollably, Shannon grunting and groaning while little Julie shrieked out her ecstasy and then fell back sobbing brokenly, her spasming little pussy clutching convulsively at the twitching length of his huge, fully planted, sperm-spurting cock.
Before they left the arroyo, separately and from different, widely spaced locations, they had agreed to secrecy. Julie wanted to continue their affair, and Shannon, despite his guilt, knew he would be screwing the little doll every chance he got from now on.
CHAPTER NINE
It was eleven o'clock on a Wednesday night when Wesley, who'd gone to bed at nine, barged sleepily into the bathroom to find his beautiful mother drying her nude, freshly bathed body as she stood beside the draining tub. He mumbled an apology, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and started backing out through the door.
"It's all right, Wes," Marsha said, continuing to dry her healthily glowing pink skin as if her son weren't even there. "Come on in, if you need to. Mother won't think anything of it. You used to use the toilet in front of me all the time when you were little."
Wesley nodded, mumbled that he had to pee and came on in. But it was different this time, and both of them realized it in a matter of seconds. Wesley was no longer a little boy. He was almost thirteen, only two inches shorter than his stacked mother, and the hormones of puberty were coursing through him.
The kid couldn't keep his eyes off the gorgeous body which had given him birth, and Marsha noticed this. It made her uneasy to be naked in her maturing son's presence, especially with him looking at her tits and densely haired snatch the way he was. She tossed a towel away and picked up her fluffy body puff, turning her back toward him while she dusted her body with perfumed powder.
He was still standing beside the John, glancing at her over his shoulder, when she finished powdering herself.
"Aren't you done yet?" she asked a bit irritably. "I can't pee," he replied nervously. "It's all swollen up, Mom! Look at it! What's wrong with me?"
When her son turned toward her, Marsha realized why she hadn't heard him urinating. His penis was stiff as a bone, making it impossible for him to pass water. It was Marsha's turn to gawk now. She couldn't rip her gaze off his small but perfectly formed peter, and the gleam in her gold-flecked green eyes was a mixture of motherly pride and something else that no mother should feel for her own son. But Marsha had been having intercourse with her brother regularly, so her defenses against incest were in a dangerously weakened condition. To make matters worse, she and Wesley were alone in the house. The bunkhouse was finished now, and the boys, other than Wesley who had his own room, were sleeping out there. Edgar was in Amarillo. He'd found temporary work with a construction company there. Dave had gone to Albuquerque to pick up two new boys who were wards of the juvenile court, and he'd taken Julie with him to buy her some clothes for the upcoming school year. They weren't due back until late the next afternoon.
The temptation was sudden but overwhelmingly strong. Marsha had to touch her son's pecker. On the pretext of examining it for him, she put down the lid and seated herself on the crapper. "It is all swollen, isn't it, darling? Does it hurt? Drop your pajama bottoms and unbutton the tops, so I can get a good look at it."
Wesley said it ached kind of funny like, but insisted that it didn't really hurt. He untied the string of his pajama bottoms and let them fall, and began unbuttoning the tops.
"My goodness, Wes!" Marsha exclaimed-he'd asked her to call him Wes because Wesley sounded sissy-as she enclosed his stony erection with her cool, slender fingers. "Has this ever happened to you before?"
This was the first time his "pee-pee" had swollen up, he claimed, and he was so worried about it that Marsha knew he was telling the truth. She skinned back his foreskin and was slightly disappointed to find it immaculately clean, the way his stepfather had taught him to keep it.
"I'm afraid your pee-pee isn't just a pee-pee any longer, Son," Marsha heard herself saying as she gave his warm column of turgid dickflesh a loving squeeze. Marsha knew what she was doing but it seemed unreal. She was slipping into a sensual daze which imparted a dream-like quality to this incestuous happening. "You're growing up. There's nothing to worry about. You've got a hard-on, darling. It's perfectly natural for a boy your age to start having hard-ons. Most boys like it when it happens to them. Does it feel sort of good? How about when I do this?"
"Aaaah!" he cried, and sucked in his startled breath when his mother's gripping hand began drawing the foreskin on and off his rosy glans. "Don't, Mom! You shouldn't be doing that ... should you?"
"I don't see why not? You like it, don't you? And you won't be able to pee as long as your pretty peter is all stiff and hard like this. Mother's going to help you, sweetheart. You'll be fine once you've had an orgasm. Just stand still and let Mother fix it for you."
She drew back his foreskin and kissed the bare head of his peter with her warm, moistened lips. Then she extended her eager tongue and lapped avidly at the salty-tasting glans penis of her little boy's dick. The taste of prick thrilled her, as always, but the fact that she was licking the pecker of her own darling son made her feel lightheaded and dizzy. She knew this was terribly wrong but she couldn't stop herself.
"Oooh, Wesley, Wesley!" she cooed, and took more than half of his throbbing penis into her mouth. She wrapped her lips around the youthful shaft and began sucking it lovingly, her insatiable tongue gliding over and around and under the taut-skinned bulb at its end.
"AAAH ... AAAAAHHH!" he sighed, trembling all over as his mother's head started bobbing smoothly, her hot, wet mouth working expertly to drive him up the walls with pleasure.
Marsha wanted her son to enjoy his first blow-job, and she concentrated all her oral expertise on this sweetest of all penises. Wesley was the fruit of her own womb, the purest, most innocent boy she'd ever seduced. His state of pristine innocence gave her a tremendous lewd thrill, but the fact that she was going down on her very own son excited her almost to the point of orgasm. Her hairy snatch gushed a wave of hot, clear fluid that splashed over the edge of the toilet lid and trickled down to the floor in a silvery, elastic string.
"UUUMMMMM!" she moaned, and sucked down rapaciously on his stem.
This was incest at its very worst, sex between a mother and son, the most forbidden sexual act in the entire world. It was extremely perverted, blatantly indecent, and yet it was ungodly sweet and fantastically stimulating. Marsha was amazed at how intensely gratifying it was to be sucking off her untainted little boy. Her cheeks sank inward and her full, red lips worked fish-like around the spit-coated shaft of Wesley's pulsating peter. Her head arced faster and faster while she fondled his small hairless balls with one hand and caressed the denuded mounds of his tensed boyish buttocks with the other.
"HUUUNNGGGHHHH ... MOTHER ... OHHHH ... OH, MOTHER, MO-THERRR!!!" He grabbed her head, shaking all over, and cried out with a mixture of fear and awe as the incredible pleasure of orgasm swept over his pre-teen body for the first time in his life. "AAAAHHHHH ... OHHH ... OOOHHHHH ... UNG, UNG ... AAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
It took three dry throbs to prime his heretofore idle pump, and then his orgasmically twitching peter began spitting the most delicious cum Marsha had ever tasted. Mewling her delight, Marsha held his pulsing organ in her greedily sucking mouth and made him squirt out all the load he had. It wasn't much, but it was the quality not the quantity which counted this time. The teaspoonful or so of sperm jiggling on her grateful tongue had come from the virginal testicles of her offspring, her own flesh and blood, and it was the most scrumptious nectar in the whole goddamned world. She gulped it down with a sigh of sheer rapture and gluttonously drained his deflating penis of every drop it contained before she finally allowed it to slip with a wet slurp from between her still-hungry lips.
There was no turning back now. Marsha was too hot and bothered to stop after a single act of fellatio. They had the whole house to themselves and all night to do anything and everything they wanted to do in complete privacy, and this seductive mother intended to make the most of this incestuous opportunity.
She removed Wesley's pajamas completely and held his spongy, saliva-wetted penis for him while he pissed. Her slender fingers milked out the final drops of yellow urine and, after she'd shaken it considerably more than was necessary, she took the perplexed but willing child into her bed for a motherly lesson in the fine art of fucking.
As a baby, he'd instinctively suckled her big strawberry nipples for the warm, life-giving, mother's milk her luscious breasts had contained, but now she had to teach him how to pleasure a woman's sensitive titties with his mouth and tongue. It was a lesson she enjoyed giving, however, because he was a fast learner and soon had her sighing constantly as her tender nipples received the undivided attention of his hot, hungry mouth and scratchy, darting tongue.
They were wild for each other. When they kissed, Marsha taught her son how to swap tongues and spit with her as if they were young lovers just discovering one another rather than mother and son caught up in the fascinating pleasures of incest.
"YOU'RE MAKING ME SO HOT, YOU LITTLE BUGGER! WHY don't YOU GET DOWN BETWEEN MOTHER'S LEGS AND SUCK HER JUICY CUNT?!"
No sooner had she suggested it than the horny little devil scooted hurriedly down and began eagerly, if somewhat awkwardly, rubbing his face in the hairy gash through which he'd entered the world. In no time she had him doing it right, though, and he seemed to love the flavorful secretions bubbling up in copious abundance from her vaginal well.
Marsha's adolescent son dove her succulent muff with gusto, drinking her clear cunt cream as ardently as he used to drink her mother's milk when he was a baby nursing at her lovely breasts. She had cum after spine-tingling cum as her only child feasted on the wholesome goodness of the secreting hairy split between her wide-flung shapely legs. It was heaven to lie there with her precious little boy sucking her off. Marsha had never dreamed sex could be so fantastically sweet as this unholy passion between mother and son was proving to be.
"SUCK ME, TONGUE ME, YOU LITTLE ANGEL! EAT MOTHER'S HOT PUSSY ALL NIGHT IF YOU WANT TO!"
After another fifteen minutes of having her twat eaten, with at least one climax per minute racking her sweat-dripping body, Marsha changed her tune, however, and dragged Wesley up over her. Snatch oil was smeared over his lips and nose and chin when she kissed him with open-mouthed urgency and accepted his pussy-flavored tongue into her mouth at the same time her hand guided his thumping erection in through the inflamed labia of her sopping slot. Her feverish sex hole clamped sue kingly around the five inches of boyish prick her womb had manufactured along with the rest of him from the seed his deceased father's cock had planted in her fertile belly on that night so long ago.
With a moan of pleasure from each of them, muffled by their tongue-sucking kiss, the lust-crazed mother and son were off and fucking, reveling in the wild joys of abandoned incest. Marsha taught the panting lad to ride her high with the uneven upper surface of his handsome dick stroking abrasively against the nerve-rich tip of her elongated clitoris.
"OH, GOD!" she screeched, when they attained their first simultaneous orgasm and she could feel his second load of hot semen jetting into the moist depths of her convulsively clasping pussy, splattering against the very womb which had carried him for nine months prior to his birth. "IT'S MARVELOUS ... AAAHHH ... SUBLIME ... SHOOT IT, BABY ... CUM DEEP INSIDE YOUR HOT-ASSED MOTHER! IS IT GOOD, WESLEY? don't YOU JUST LOVE IT, DARLING? OHHHHH ... FUCK MOTHER ... SHE LOVES YOU, AND YOUR WONDERFUL COCK ... AAAAAHHH ... ME TOO ... I'M CUUUMMMIIINNNGGG WWIITTHH YYYOOOUUU!!!"
Wesley was having sex for the first time, and he was caught up in the lustful mood of his permissive mother. He was a strong boy and, with Marsha's helping hands and mouth, he was able to hump her three more times before they fell into exhausted slumber.
CHAPTER TEN
It was about one a.m. when Edgar drove in from Amarillo. The construction job he'd been hired for was finished. He had money in his pocket and another job starting on the following Monday. The foreman had liked his work and the company was starting a new job that would mean three months of steady employment for Edgar. The foreman, Logan, had also liked Edgar, and the two men had become friends. In all likelihood Edgar would soon be going on the company's regular payroll if he decided he wanted to stay with them and move to Amarillo.
And he was tempted to do just that. Logan had a 27-year-old daughter who'd lost her husband in an auto accident, and Edgar had taken Marlene out several times. Their personalities clicked in a pleasant, relaxed manner, and their sexual organs fit together in a way that was most satisfactory to them both. Marlene was a pretty girl with simple, inexpensive tastes. She had two small children, but she also had a job and a bank account, and she owned her own home and car free and clear since both had been paid off by insureance after her husband's death. Edgar and Marlene thought they were falling in love, and if they fell all the way, well....
There was a light on in Marsha and Dave's bedroom when Edgar arrived, and he noticed that Dave's car was gone. His prick tingled with anticipation. If Dave was away overnight, what was to keep him and Marsha from catching up on the sexing they'd been missing? He let himself in the house and made his way quietly to the lighted bedroom, the door of which was standing open.
Edgar was somewhat taken aback to find his sister in bed with her son, both of them naked. They lay there side by side on top of the covers sleeping soundly. Wesley's peter was still shiny with a coating of pussy juice, so Edgar knew they'd been screwing only brief moments earlier. Edgar didn't know what to think about this. He was half a mind to take off his clothes and climb in bed with them, but he decided that wouldn't be such a good idea. It might embarrass Marsha and Wesley both, and Edgar had never been one to push his way in where he might not be wanted.
Figuring the best thing he could do was keep his mouth shut and mind his own business, he let himself out of the house and crossed to the bunkhouse to spend the night there. In addition to Dave's old bunk, there were several new ones waiting for homeless boys, so there was no problem in finding a bed. Edgar didn't want to disturb the boys, so he entered without turning on the light. He didn't need a light. He'd built the bunkhouse and knew it like the back of his hand. He found an empty bunk by the moonlight filtering in through the windows and bedded down for the night. He was still awake when a car drove up outside. He heard Dave telling Julie to go on in the house and get to bed, and a moment later Dave entered the bunkhouse and switched on the lights.
Dave had two new boys with him and he was happy as a lark. The old boys were coming out of their beds smiling, swarming around Dave and the two newcomers to welcome them and make them feel at home.
Julie had noticed her father's car but the light in his and Wesley's room was off so she supposed he was asleep. She was eager to see him but didn't want to wake him. The light was on in her aunt's bedroom, though, so, thinking that her father and Marsha had surely talked, the girl decided to ask her aunt the many questions she had for her father.
Well, ril be damned, the erotic child thought with a grin when she found her aunt and cousin in bed together bare-assed naked.
Immediately Julie sized up the situation. It pleased her, because Dave had been feeling guilty over their continuing affair and had got her to feeling a little bad about it, too. In the Albuquerque motel he'd told her they would have to call a halt to their sexing, and they had, which was the reason they had driven home tonight instead of staying over as planned and leaving in the morning. Julie hadn't told Dave that she suspected her father and his wife of carrying on an incestuous relationship, because she wasn't positive. But now she'd caught her cousin, whom she'd thought was a dummy about sex, in bed with his mother, and this changed everything so far as Julie's conniving little mind was concerned.
She stood beside the bed for a moment, admiring the curvaceous form of her beautiful aunt's nude body, and then her big brown eyes attached themselves hungrily to the appealing morsel of her good-looking cousin's limber dick. When she moved, quietly so as not to awaken them because she wanted Dave to find them out too, she tiptoed around to Wesley's side of the bed.
There was a drop of aftercum resting in the slitted tip of the boy's drooping penis. Little Julie wanted it the instant she saw it. She could think of nothing more sensual than to lean over him and lick the drop of yummy stuff off his rosy dickhead, and she convinced herself with no trouble at all that she could get it without waking Wesley.
Holding her long hair, the color of sun-ripened wheat, in one hand so it wouldn't tickle his thighs and belly, Julie leaned over the sleeping boy, extending her dainty pink tongue as she lowered her head toward his flaccid peter. She managed to lick off the drop of sperm with nothing more than a soft sigh from Wesley, and he slept on as if nothing had happened. The tiny bit of air-cooled cum was barely warm, but it was delicious just the same.
The lad's foreskin had crept forward until it covered most of his glans, but the exposed portion was the best part and Julie couldn't resist kissing it. One kiss led to another, and then she impulsively started teasing the eye of his crown with the tip of her tongue.
Wesley began to stir a bit. She knew he would wake up and catch her if she didn't quit it. But she didn't want to stop. Julie was turning herself on, and like her aunt, she dearly loved to have a fat dick in her mouth. Fucking was lovely, and she dug it the most, but sucking a juicy cock was what grooved her the best of all.
No one knew it, because Coleman had kept his word and they'd been very careful, but Julie had been sucking his long black dong almost every day since that afternoon with Dave in the arroyo. The Negro youth had seen her and Dave Shannon emerging from the arroyo and had cornered her and got her to admit it. Then he'd shown her his dick. It had required no threats and precious little persuasion to get Julie on her knees and sucking, for just the sight of his black member had made her drool. She hadn't let the black boy screw her yet, but she kept thinking about letting him, especially when she was going down on his lovely coal-black organ.
However, Coleman was the farthest thing from Julie's lustful little mind right then. Her lasciviously lapping tongue and soft, nibbling lips were having their effect on the erectile tissue of her cousin's sexual appendage. His white penis, small compared to Dave's and Coleman's but equally appealing nevertheless, was glutting itself with blood, growing fatter and longer before the young girl's excited eyes.
It was halfway up when she took it in her hand and skinned it back. This woke Wesley up, of course, only by then Julie didn't give a damn. She put her finger to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet. When she saw he wasn't going to give her any squawk, she grinned up at him and then hand-held his thickening shaft while she stuck out her tongue and began licking it's swelling head like it was a scoop of her favorite ice cream.
Cock is my favorite flavor, she thought licentiously, and it struck her that the ice cream manufacturers were missing a million-dollar idea. What a blast it would be to go into 31 FLAVORS and order a cone of COLD COCK or FOR WOMEN ONL Y or LADIES' DELIGHT!
She chuckled softly to herself as she opened her mouth and took inside it the saliva-coated crown of her cousin's fully erect penis. Her lips tightened like drawstrings around the top of Wesley's shaft and she began sucking the plum-like bulb of his musky-tasting pecker.
"Go ahead to the kitchen and put on the water," Dave Shannon said as he and Edgar entered the house to chat over coffee. "I'll say hello to Marsha and ask her to join us."
Fearing the worst, Edgar nodded but said nothing. He went into the kitchen and put on water for instant coffee. A moment later Dave was back, alone, and he looked pretty uptight.
"What's the matter?" Edgar ventured.
"It's Julie and Wesley," Dave muttered. "She's going down on him."
"Oh," Edgar said, nothing more, and his dick quivered.
"Wesley's in bed with his mother," Dave went on compulsively. "They're nude. It looks to me like they've been...." his voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. "Didn't you hear what I said about Julie?"
Edgar nodded. His prick was stiff as a board now, tenting his trousers.
"What are you going to do about it?" Dave asked cautiously.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Edgar countered, "What are you going to do about Marsha and Wesley?"
"I don't know," Dave mumbled.
"Me neither. But, Dave...."
"Yeah?"
"There's more, and you might as well know it now," Edgar said worriedly, and he tersely confessed that he and Marsha had been carrying on.
. The punch in the nose Edgar had expected never materialized. Instead Dave sort of grinned sheepishly and heaved a sigh of relief. His brother-in-law's strained confession of incestuous relations with his wife made it much easier for Dave to tell Edgar that he'd been screwing his little girl. Edgar wasn't in the least angry. He admitted that he'd been dying to screw Julie himself since she was twelve.
"Is she a good little piece, Dave? Do you enjoy fucking her?" Edgar had to ask.
Dave put his arm around Edgar's shoulders. The ex-priest's whole moral outlook had undergone a drastic change since the day his voluptuous bride had arrived at the ranch with an attache case full of I stolen money and running from death at the hands of the syndicate. Dave said, "You know what I honestly feel like doing, Edgar, and it's about time for complete honesty, don't you think? I feel like going in there and climbing into bed with Marsha and the kids. What do you say we do it? Come on, don't ask me if your daughter is any good in the sack. Stick your cock in her, man, and find out for .,-yourself."
Edgar reached over and turned off the burner under the water. "What are we waiting for?" he f asked, grinning with nervous anticipation.
Strewing clothes as they went, the two men entered the bedroom nude, their throbbing dongs angling upward from their loins. Wesley saw them coming, and the kid's eyes grew wide with alarm while his voice stuck in his throat. Marsha was still asleep, and Julie was too engrossed in performing fellatio to notice anything else.
"What do you think you're doing, you little cocksucker?" Edgar asked in a tremulous voice.
"DADDY! OH MY GOD!" Julie wailed, leaping to her feet as her cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment.
"W-WHAT THE HELL IS," Marsha sputtered, trying to shake herself awake, "G-GOING ON-UUMMmmmmm?" Her startled voice trailed off to a soft purr as her husband smiled down at her, patting her head while he fed his skinned-back pole into her shocked, gaping mouth.
Julie couldn't say anything else either, for suddenly she found herself in her naked father's strong arms, having her tummy bored by his rock-hard phallus while she blinked and whimpered and then gave up and began sucking hungrily at the warm spear of his suggestively thrusting tongue.
As for Edgar, he could taste the lingering flavor of his sister's son's pecker in the hot, wet mouth of his darling little daughter, and this excited him all the more. He wanted Julie to have cock, yards of it, and especially the seven inches of it which had" planted her in her mother's belly.
"Julie! Oh, you little angel!" Edgar husked, and he began stripping her.
The sensual nature of the surprised young girl caused her to accept without question the erotic situation in which she found herself. The smoky look in her father's eyes, brown like hers, was nothing new to Julie, for she'd seen it often during the last year when she'd happened to glance up and catch him looking at her. She hadn't understood his wistful expression and quickly averted gaze then, but she did now. Only this time he wasn't looking away, and the hunger in his eyes was infinitely more intense, and he was doing something about it.
"You're not a bit mad at me, are you, Daddy?" Julie asked, knowing damned well that he wasn't. "What are you going to do to me when you get me naked?"
"The same thing your Uncle Dave has been doing to you, unless you've got any objections to having your father's dick in that sweet little cunt of yours."
"So Uncle Dave told you about that, did he?" Julie asked saucily. "Well, I'm glad he did if it means you'll let me sleep with you when we move away. Will you fuck me all the time, Daddy Dear? I want you to, and I want to suck your big old juicy dick, too! Are we moving to Amarillo?"
"I don't know yet. I'm thinking about it," he replied. "Help me, girl! Get your panties off and lie down! Can't you see I'm going out of my mind?!"
"You can't wait to get your cock in your little girl, can you, Daddy?" she breathed, whisking her panties down her slender, girlish legs. "Ohh, you're such a naughty man! And I love you to pieces! Damn right, I'll help you! Where do you want me? On the bed or on the floor or where? I love to fuck, and I want you to ball me! Oh, Jesus, my own father! This is so exciting! Look at Uncle Dave feeding cock to Aunt Marsha! Poor Wesley is all alone! Move over, Wesley, I'm going to lie down beside you! I'll jack you off if you want me to, while my darling Daddy fucks me!"
"You've been screwing your mother, haven't you?" Dave asked as his utterly confused stepson slid to the center of the bed in order to make room for Julie and Edgar.
"Yes, sir," Wesley gulped, admitting his guilt like a man, offering no excuses.
"Do it again right now, Son," Dave urged, holding Marsha's head while he stroked the front half of his turgid masculinity in and out of her voraciously sucking mouth. "Go on, Wes! Get on your mother and sink your peter into her hot snatch! I want to see you giving it to her!"
The lad could scarcely believe what his stepfather was saying. He'd expected to be punished, not rewarded. "Yes, sir!" he sang out, and snapped to. He'd been about to cum in Julie's mouth when their fathers had barged into the room. Wesley had cooled down some, but he still had a respectable bone up, and he wasted no time in scrambling between his mother's legs and burying it in the moist heat of her furry slot once Dave had given his okay.
"MMMMMM!" Marsha sighed, taking her mouth from her husband's musky meat when her son's smaller pork roll stabbed in through the hairy maw of her dribbling twat. "My stars, Dave, I never dreamed you'd go in for anything like this!"
Dave shrugged. He circled the cute tip of his wife's nose with the purplish head of his saliva-wetted dong and then rubbed it back and forth across her puffy red lips. "It's as much of a surprise to me as it is to you, honey. What's the matter, don't you like having two pricks at the same time?"
"Hell, yes, I like it, you horny darling, as long as the two I'm having belong to my precious son and my wonderful husband! I'd like to have my sweet brother's too, and make it three at once, but I wouldn't think of depriving little Julie of her father right now! What do you think of that, husband?"
"Maybe we can fix you up later," Dave told her, and he stuck his aching rod back into her randy mouth. "AAAHHH ... THAT'S IT, MARSHA! SUCK IT, BABY! FUCK HER, SON! CRAM IT TO HER HARD AND FAST! SHE LOVES IT THAT WAY! OHHHHH, OHHHHH, OHHHHH!!!"
Julie's pouting pink pussy had a sparse growth of golden down around it now. It was sopping wet with the liquid proof of her desire. She still knew nothing about douching, so the young girl's slot was giving off that steamy, snatchy smell that drives horny men wild. Edgar had to get his mouth on it, and he moaned with pleasure when he did. He stuck his head between his daughter's parted legs and took a deep breath, then thrust out his tongue and licked her appealing privates from her puckered anus clear up to her swollen clitty.
"AAAHHH!" Julie sighed, grabbing his head and holding his face tight against her crotch. She opened her legs wider and rubbed her dribbling crack over his mouth and nose. "YES, DADDY, SUCK ME! EAT MY CUNNY UP! I LOVE THAT!"
Pressing his lips to her puffy, sex-slick labia, Edgar slid his hands under her and cupped the squirmy cheeks of her cute bottom. He snaked his tongue into his little girl and swabbed it around in a circular motion, collecting the plentiful beads of nectarous dew from deep inside her honeyed well.
"OHHH, OHHH!" Julie sighed. She reached in between her groin and his face, her fingertips slipping into her soft pink crevice, pulling it wide open and holding it that way so her father could lick and suck the tender inner folds of her febrile sex flesh to his heart's content. "DEEPER, DADDY! AAAHH ... LICK DEEPER! AND SUCK HARD, TOO! OOOUUUU! SUCK ME INSIDE OUT, DADDY!"
The tip of Edgar's nose was inside his daughter's juicy little box, batting her raw-nerved clitty about while he alternated between lapping lewdly at the fluttering red sweetmeats in the vestibule of her held-open orifice and sucking down harshly to vacuum the delicious cunt cream from the depths of her bubbling vaginal well. He couldn't get enough of her. Julie was his own flesh and blood, his precious little girl. Edgar felt as if he could devour her, hair, bones, toenails and all. She was incredibly sweet, this sensual child of his. Even her asshole was delicious, he discovered when he deserted her pussy in a fit of passion and licked the sweaty crack of her undulating ass with demented glee. He pierced the tiny aperture of her feverish rectum with the tip of his insatiable tongue and then shot it as far as it would go into the tart-tasting depths of her girlish asshole. The tangy flavor of her murky tunnel couldn't have pleased him more, and he moaned with the vulgar thrill of his abandoned actions as he ate her butthole with gluttonous delight, giving this forbidden portal the same oral attentions he'd joyously bestowed upon her succulent little cunny.
"MMMMM, MMMMM ... OOOUUU, DA-DDYYYY!" Julie squealed, drawing her knees up to her chest so his hungry mouth could get at her erogenous rectum better. "YOU'RE SUCKING MY POOPER! OOOHH, SHIT, SHIT! IT'S GOOD! AAAHHH ... EAT IT, EAT IT! OH, DADDY, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! IS IT YUMMY ... OHHHH ... MY BUTTHOLE? DO YOU LOVE IT? DO YOU WANT TO SCREW IT? OHH, DOO ... STICK YOUR BIG OLD DICK UP MY POOPER AND GIVE IT A GOOD CORNHOLING, DADDY!"
"OH, YOU ANGEL! YOU HOT-ASSED LITTLE BITCH!" Edgar exclaimed, and he dived atop her, ramming his rampant prick balls-deep into the moist heat of her snug, snapping pussy.
"GGAAAAHHHHHH!" she puled. Julie flung her arms and legs around her father, squeezing him, holding the full length of his throbbing dong inside her. She clamped down with her internal muscles and caressed his pleasure-giving cock.
"OOHHHH ... OOOHHHHH!" Edgar groaned, his eyes closing tight and his lips drawing back over his clenched teeth.
Recognizing the signs of his preorgasmic helplessness, Julie squealed with delight and began working her inner muscles with a rhythmic tightening and relaxing that made her pussy suck wetly at his fully inserted organ. "CUM, DADDY!" she yelped. "don't HOLD IT BACK! SHOOT OFF IN ME! SQUIRT YOUR LOAD IN MY BELLY ... OHHHHH, DO ITTT ... FUCK IT INTO ME THE WAY YOU FUCKED IT INTO MOTHER WHEN YOU MADE MEEE!!!"
There was nothing Edgar could do but give his lustful daughter what she wanted. Her hot hole was literally milking the semen out of his body-hugging nuts. "UNG, UNG, UNGGHHHHHHH!" he groaned as his aching testicles released their burdensome load and his twitching prong pumped it gushingly into the sperm-starved tummy of his overjoyed thirteen-year-old daughter.
"OHH, DADDY! YES, DARLING, YESSS! I CAN FEEL IT ... AAAHHH ... SHOOTING INTO ME ... OHH, OHH ... ALL DEEP AND HOT!" Julie moaned, writhing ruttishly beneath her father as his veteran cock hurled geyser-like gushes of steaming cum into her rippling belly. She could feel the scalding ejaculate splashing all gluey and thick over the supersensitive neck of her uterus. This was the thrill of her young life, having her father shoot off in her, and the screaming indecency of taking his load was what she loved the most. The pleasure of this forbidden moment made Julie shiver with illicit bliss, and the flood-like inundation of his hot, spiraling cum triggered her release mechanism and carried the sensual child into a simultaneous incestuous orgasm right along with her grunting father.
"OH, GOD ... SHITTT!" Julie screeched, her body quaking and her flung-back head burrowing into the pillow. "ME, TOOO ... OHHHH ... OHH, DADDY, DADDY, DA-DDYYYYY ... I'M CUMMING ... WITH YOUUU ... AAAAAGGGGAAAAAHHHHH ... OOOUUUU ... IT'S RIPPING ME APART ... AAGGHHH, AAAGGGHHHH ... OHH, LORD GOD ... IT'S TOO MUCH ... OOOHHHHH ... I'M DYING ... AHH, AAHHHH ... JESUS, AM I EVER ... CCCUUUUMMMMIIIINNNN-GGGGG!!!"
She clung to her father, rubbing her enraptured face in the sweat-dampened crook of his neck, emitting broken sobs of orgasmic ecstasy while her little girl's body shook uncontrollably and the snug sheath of her immature pussy clutched convulsively at the bloated length of his sperm-spurting cock.
Marsha, Dave and Wesley were finished with their three-way hookup, sitting there on the bed, Marsha in the middle and being fondled by her son and husband both, the three of them smiling approval as they watched and listened while Julie and Edgar shared the agony/ecstasy of their father/daughter copulation.
"Did you two have a good cum?" Dave asked, when Edgar uncocked his little girl and rolled off the sighing child.
"It sounded terrific!" Marsha exclaimed, her eyes glittering as she watched a wave of frothy jism belch from Julie's gaping pink slot and trickle luridly down through the milk-white valley of the child's quivering buttocks. "Don't look now, Julie dear, but your little loving cup runneth over with fuck juice."
"Lovely!" Julie sighed. "Oh, Aunt Marsha, let's have them fuck us all night!"
Marsha chuckled and gave her niece's small hand an affectionate squeeze. "My sentiments exactly, dear. Is there anything special you might like to try? I know Dave has been screwing you, so you needn't be bashful. I don't mind a bit. In fact, I'd like to see his oversized dong working in your tiny little cunny right now. Will you let my husband fuck you, Julie, while the rest of us watch?"
"Oh yes, Aunt Marsha! I'll let Uncle Dave ball me any time!"
Marsha grasped the slippery eels of her son's and brother's deflated peters and gave them a simultaneous tug. "Come on, boys, let's get off the bed so they'll have plenty of room. I want to see this!"
Apparently Edgar and Wesley wanted to see it, too, for they allowed Marsha to pull their dicks and ease them off the bed. Marsha stood beside the bed, with her son on one side of her and her brother on the other, holding them by their reawakening penises while they felt up her ass, snatch and tits, the three of them looking on while Dave lay on his back with Julie sucking his cock and massaging his balls to get him back into shape for the action to come.
When Julie had brought her uncle's penis to a thumping erection with her mouth, the voluptuous child swung above him and straddled his loins. Holding to his saliva-glistening pork roll, she worked herself about on her knees until she had her virtually bald little twat hovering over his bare crown at just the right angle. The young girl knew what she was doing, and she was hot, eager to let herself down onto his horn and ride it. The mixture of her vaginal secretions and her father's cum dripped from her pouting slot, pattering like warm summer rain upon the purplish head of Dave's big prick and trickling down over his thick shaft and Julie's small, encircling hand.
"Oh, golly, it really moves me to have you all watching us!" Julie crooned, licking her lips absently as she glanced toward her father and aunt and cousin, who had their hands all over one another while they kept their gazes riveted upon her and Dave.
"Go on, Julie!" Edgar husked, egging his daughter on. "Sit down on him, baby! Take every bit of your Uncle Dave's big fat dick into your hot little puss!"
Marsha and Wesley said nothing, but they were as eager as Julie's father to see her skid down Dave's massive pole. An enigmatic smile played over Marsha's beautiful face, while her son, who had three fingers in her furry slot, gawked with open-mouthed wonder at his cousin's tiny slit and his stepfather's huge, spit-coated penis. Wesley couldn't quite believe this was going to work. It looked to the inexperienced lad like Julie was just too little to take all the meat standing rigidly up from his stepfather's sandy-colored pubic thatch.
"ALL RIGHT, NOW!" Julie breathed, letting herself down. "WATCH IT! HIS BEAUTIFUL COCK! WATCH IT GO INTO ME!"
The slick pink lips of her puffy little twat settled over the bluntly rounded tip of Dave's bulbous cockhead. She bore down slowly, forcing the petals of her sexual flower to open up around him like a small rose engulfing a huge bumblebee. The smooth, glittering labia of the little girl's well-lubricated vulva were stretched tautly as she wriggled about, sighing and rolling her head from side to side. The expression on her face was one of longing to have this magnificent phallus inside her, and it was twoard this lustful goal which she was avidly working. But it was a struggle, for Dave's excitement had his organ swollen larger than usual. The head of it looked like a giant plum, and Julie was straining to take it in through the dilated opening between her slender, girlish legs. Her cunt-lips were stretched almost tissue-paper thin by the effort to connect sexually with her big-dicked uncle. When she had forced into her tiny aperture all but the broadest part-the tufted coronal ridge at the back of his mushrooming crown-she took three rapid, gasping breaths and then threw all of her weight downward.
"AAAAIIIIEEEEE!" she cried, her eyes blinking and her mouth dropping open when the turgid knob of sleek man-meat burst through the yielding gates of her inflamed portal.
Julie came crashing down, her tight hole skidding jerkily around the .stanchion-like shaft of Dave's mighty member.
"HHHUUUOOONNNNGGG!" she groaned as she took in the final inch and impaled her shuddering, little girl's body on the massive length and girth of her uncle's pylon prong.
Her distended vulva disappeared into the dense growth of Dave's crisp pubic hair. Julie sucked in her breath raggedly and let it out with a soulful sigh. Then she drooped forward, bracing herself with her trembling hands on his chest, and began gasping for air.
"Jesus!" Edgar muttered, his rock-hard organ transmitting his thumping heartbeats to the palm of his sister's gripping hand. "She's stuffed with cock! The head of it's got to be in her chest! Julie? Honey, are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?"
"GOOD!" Julie gasped. "OH GOD, DADDY, IT ... HURTS ... SO ... GOOODDD!!!"
After she'd worked so hard to take Dave's pole, Edgar wasn't about to make her get off it. It was way and again too big for her, but she seemed to love it anyway. Somehow it pleased him to realize how dearly his little girl loved cock, for it had thrilled him to the core of his lecherous being to see her skewering her willowly body onto the one now sheathed inside her.
"THEN RIDE HIM, SUGAR!" Edgar rasped. "GET THAT HOT LITTLE ASS TO MOVING AND BUCK ON THAT HORN!"
"OH, DADDY!" she whined, the muscles in her legs tensing as she lifted herself. Her gripping hole pulled out from her body, clinging suckingly to the sex-wetted shaft of manly dong as she climbed it inch by laborious inch. She paused at the top with only the huge glans locked inside the stretched ring of her fluttering labia. "DADDY, TELL ME WHAT TO DO! TELL ME DIRTY, DARLING!"
"YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO, YOU COCK-CRAZY LITTLE BITCH!" Edgar shouted, only too glad to let himself go and say what he thought. "FUCK HIM! GET THAT CUTE BUTT INTO GEAR! BOUNCE UP AND DOWN! FASTER, GODDAMN IT! GO, GIRL! REAM THAT SWEET, STINKING CUNT OF YOURS! YOU LIKE TO HAVE THAT SLIMY SLIT POKED CHOCK-CULL OF HARD MAN MEAT, DON'T YOU, JULIE?! YOU'RE A COCK-HUNGRY SLUT, JUST LIKE YOUR WHORE OF A MOTHER! NEITHER ONE OF YOU IS WORTH A SHIT UNLESS YOU'VE GOT A FAT DICK INSIDE YOU! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR, YOU FUCKIN' LITTLE PIG?!"
"YES, YES, YES!" she shrieked, her long, golden hair switching the air as she flung her head and bounced furiously up and down, her juicy pussy making squishing and slurping sounds around the tight fit of Dave's massive member. "THAT'S THE KIND OF THINGS I USED TO HEAR YOU SAYING TO MOTHER ... AAAHHH, AAAAHHH ... AFTER SHE'D BEEN OUT FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE! YOU LOVED HER MOST OF ALL THEN, DIDN'T YOU, DADDY ... OOOHHHH ... WHEN SHE WOULD COME HOME WITH HER CUNT ALL STICKY WITH CUM FROM FUCKING ANOTHER MAN?!"
"God help me, but I did," Edgar murmured.
"WILL YOU SUCK MY FILTHY SNATCH AFTER UNCLE DAVE SHOOTS IT FULL OF FUCK JUICE ... OOOUUUUU ... THE WAY YOU USED TO SUCK MOTHER'S?!"
Edgar shook his head, his face taking on a stern expression. "No, I won't, sweetheart, and I'll never speak to you that way again, either. Your mother and I, we were sick. I won't have you emulating her, do you understand me? People who love and respect one another shouldn't do and say things to deliberately hurt each other, the way your mother and I used to do, and I'm going to make damned sure you-"
"This isn't the time or place for a lecture, honey," Marsha interrupted gently. "Relax, Edgar, and leave Julie to me. I've finally learned my lesson-that sexing is healthy only when it builds people up and makes them feel good and worthwhile-and I'll be glad to straighten Julie out for you. Right now, I think it would make your little girl feel good and worthwhile if you got on the bed and found some way to show her you love her and want her."
"YES, DADDY!" Julie panted, her glassy eyes pleading for attention from him as her sweaty little body rose and fell rapidly, keeping her sopping slot shinnying up and down Dave's thick rod. "I STILL WANT YOUR DARLING DICK IN MY POOPER! WILL YOU STICK IT UP MY BUTT NOW AND ... A A AAAHHH ... CORNHOLE ME WHILE I'M RIDING UNCLE DAVE?!"
It was the most lascivious idea Edgar had ever heard. He didn't really think she could take another prick, because Dave's had her so full already. But his precious little girl wanted his, too, and he was willing to try to get it in her. He climbed onto the bed and knelt behind her, between Dave's legs. His hands closed around his child's waist, stilling her, and he eased her down until she had the entire length of Dave's long dong inside her slender body with her blood-engorged cunt-lips pressed snugly to the hairy area surrounding its flared base. He pushed his daughter down until the front of her feverish body was pressed tight against his brother-in-law's hairy torso. Then he scooped some of his own sperm from the wide-open crack of her appealing ass and smeared it over his stalk.
"I don't want to hurt you, Julie," he said, wedging the forefront of his bulging glans into the slippery ring of her tiny, puckered anus. "Tell me if it hurts too much, sweetheart, and I'll quit."
"PUT IT IN ME, DADDY! HURRY! I WANT IT SO BAD!" Julie cried.
She was ungodly tight. He worked his crown into her elastic rectum slowly, dilating her rear portal with tender loving care, ready to stop the instant she asked him to.
Julie groaned. She gritted her teeth. It hurt like hell, but she wasn't about to admit it. Because it was an erotic pain, a hot, exciting sensation, and she loved it.
"AAAAGGGGAAAAHHHHH, UUUUNNNNGGGGHHHHH!!!" she groaned, when the bulbous head of her father's stony tool finally dilated her anal region sufficiently to pop in through the tiny ring of her cringing asshole.
The force he'd been applying carried him forward suddenly. "OOHHH, OOHHH!" Edgar cried involuntarily as his pulsing ramrod bored lurchingly into the furnace-like heat of her quaking bottom. He was into her adorable fanny right up to his balls before he could check the forward momentum of his penetrating thrust.
It wasn't necessary for Edgar to ask if she liked it, for her voice was hoarse with pleasure. "TIGHT ASS! HOT ASS! OH, LORD, IT'S GOOD, JULIE! HANG ON, BABY, 'CAUSE DADDY'S GOING TO BUGGER THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!"
"AAAHH, AAAHH, AAAHH!" she chanted mindlessly as her father started stroking his fat dick in and out through the gripping orifice of her nerve-rich asshole.
Little Julie was delirious with lust in a matter of seconds. Dave was fucking into her from below, his terrific prong pumping her dribbling pussy with short, jerky jabs, while from above her father's prick sawed incessantly away at her sensitive anus, its glans plunging fast and hard into the churning depths of her pleasured bowels. The sensual child emitted a continual stream of whimper-like sobs as she gratefully took the lewd double fucking. It was fantastically good now that they were hooked up and going at it. Julie couldn't move a muscle, but that didn't matter. It wasn't necessary for her to do anything. They were giving her a glorious fucking, her father and uncle, and with every jangling nerve in her sweat-soaked body she thrilled to the obscene way the two incestuous male organs brushed against one another through the thin membrane separating her cock-stuffed vagina from her sodomized shit chute.
"OHHHHH ... DO IT, DO IT!" she moaned. "NEVER STOP! FUCK ME LIKE THIS FOREVER!"
Deciding Julie was ready for a third peter, Marsha swatted her son's bare behind and pushed him onto the squeaking bed. "Get with them, Wes! Crawl right up there and stick your pecker in Julie's mouth! Go on, Son! Trust Mother! Julie will love it!"
And Marsha was right. Julie gurgled her joy as Wesley slipped his dick into her mouth and began fucking her pretty little face. The young girl moaned through her nose and started sucking greedily at his turgid stem.
"MMMMM, MMM, MMMMMMM!" Julie groaned through her passion-flared nostrils, for receiving the third hunk of cockflesh had plunged her into a soul-rending orgasm that swept over her with only a split second of warning.
Her youthful vagina clamped down like a velvet vise, locking the whole of Dave's throbbing organ inside her. Her internal muscles rippled spasmodically around Dave's primed member, and the moist heat of her sucking cuntflesh was irresistible. He heaved a mournful wail and bathed her convulsing, immature womb with torrents of steaming, forcefully expelled semen.
"AAAHH, GODDAMN!" Edgar howled, for his daughter's anal sphincter had captured his dick when it was in her to the hilt. He feared for a moment that her cramping anus was going to shear off his cock at its base and suck it up into her heaving body. Then her red-hot asshole began relaxing and tightening with a rhythmic, heartbeat-like cadence, and he let fly his pent-up load deep inside her indescribably delicious butt.
Empathic dribbles of cunt cream ran in twin rivulets down the insides of Marsha's shapely thighs, because she could tell her precocious little niece was having a terrific cum. She envied the sweet girl, for at thriteen Julie was having an experience that Marsha herself had never had. Wesley was cumming, too, shooting off in Julie's mouth while her father blew his load up her quaking, compact butt and Dave's huge dong squirted his steaming sperm deep into her cute little belly.
It sounded divine, the four of them cumming together. Marsha could hardly wait to take Julie's place and have the three best cocks in the world all working in her every erogenous orifice at the same time.
Edgar withdrew first and flopped crossways on the bed, and then Wesley pulled the spongy tube of his drained dick from Julie's mouth. Dave didn't move. Julie snuggled against him and laid her head on his chest, content to lie atop him and let his organ soak in her quivering pussy while it deflated. The little girl had a fatuous smile on her pretty face. She was whimpering and sighing as her willowy body trembled and twitched with the final weak spasms of her all-consuming climax. Her puffy pink lips were streaked with strings of Wesley's spunk, and her winking anus oozed foamy white trickles of the load her father had shot up her butt.
There was no doubt about it; Julie was totally satisfied. She'd had all the screwing she wanted for a while, but Marsha hadn't. The pungent odor of sex hung heavy in the air, and the room was filled with the pure vibrations of the best kind of love.
"That's right, darlings," Marsha crooned. "Rest now. Julie, was it wonderful, dear, having all three of them give you their cocks and their love at the same time? It sounded marvelous! Don't think you're through, boys, because when you catch your breath, Julie gets to watch while I take the three of you on!"
Bursting with love and reeling with desire, Marsha climbed onto the bed and began embracing the contented members of her sexually liberated family. They were precious to her, each and every one of them, and this night was only the beginning of bigger and better things to come, because they had so much love to share.
In the new bunkhouse Edgar had built with some of the money Marsha had brought to Shannon's Boys Ranch, the orphaned, unwanted boys slept safe and secure, each in his own bunk, with the opportunity to grow and develop into whatever their individual potentials would allow them to become when they reached manhood.
Only no one could say these boys were unwanted now. They'd had a loving father before Marsha had arrived. Her presence had cost them a priest, but it had given them something they needed much worse, for in addition to a father, the boys now had a mother, as well. Mother Marsha. And Marsha, being made the way she was, had never met a boy she didn't love.
Ah, yes, kind hearts, you may rest assured that the lads who find a home at Shannon's Boys Ranch will never again suffer deprivation of any kind, because whatever their need may be, it is sure to be fulfilled, either by their kindly Father Shannon or their lovely, and loving, Mother Marsha.
