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The Juices

Zoe Jasmine

Smashwords Edition

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Coby Blaze Designs

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The juices in her cunt gushed. Her body throbbed. She sucked her son’s erect heatedly, rubbing her fingers across her button and between her slithering cuntlips. Good God! She knew it was a sin. She knew it. But she couldn’t cease with her son’s honey, unfermented body piercing her angle cried out for satisfaction.

No man had ever eaten her quite so well or so thoroughly or had seemed to enjoy the feast quite so much.

Marcella Plummer, first deaconess of the Church of Holy and Mysterious Revelation was on a mission to search of a site for a new congregation assigned by her pastor, Thaddeus Polk.

In her series of somewhat fortunate events, she met a married middle-aged farmer who freely yanked hard on her spongy pillows and squeezed them, crushing her plushy, moist snatch against his mouth. He shamelessly sucked and tongued her tangy-tasting cunt.

The Lord had never told her she should dislike what she did at His direction.

Chapter One

"Mommy, can you figure out what’s wicked with it?" twelve-year-old Timmy asked as his mother inclined over the fender of their ancient Ford and stared at the engine.

"Silent!" said the lad’s duplicate sis, Beth. "Let Mom think."

Marcella, sensing the approach of a vehicle along the back-country road, bent a bit farther and elevated her hips. The wind, which had been gusting across the prairie, dipped underneath her loose skirt and billowed it up above her bottom.

The approaching utility got a sharp, surprising view of her benevolent bum, which packed and dilated the transparent fabric of her pastel panties. Her thighs gleamed, pale and beautify, above gartered stockings. Rubber screeched.

Marcella waggled her bottom, causing her buttocks to wobble in her panties. The pink nylon shimmered in the late-afternoon sun. The crotch bed of her underpants pressed against the abundant softness of her ass.

Eventually she pushed her skirt downwards and turned to face the tenant in his rattletrap truck which had descend to a skidding break beside her. His grizzly eyes glinted and a grin came to his worn face as he gazed at the pretty woman in her late twenties. She wore no makeup except for a pinch of lipstick, and she had a sassy and nourishing dimension that contrasted with her voluptuous figure. The breeze aroused her auburn hair against a cheek as she smiled almost bashfully.

"I seem to have some car trouble," she said in a confectionery expression. "I wonder ... ”

The middle-aged farmer licked his cadaverous lips. "Want me to take a look at it? I’m pretty great with engines."

"Oh, would you? I’d be ever so glad!"

"Sure. Just let me pull off the road."

He guided his truck to a stop on the margin in front of the stalled car, and he walked back, a lanky figure in bib overalls.

"It just stopped," Marcella said, and gave a minuscule shrug. The bulky bulbs which filled her blouse shifted in a clear way, making it abundantly clear that she wore no bra.

Her plump nipples imprinted themselves on the bare color fabric .

"Let’s see now ..." the farmer said, and bent to look at the engine.

Standing close to him, Marcella bent forward also. His corrupt side-glance took in the gymnastics model of her breasts. She wriggled slightly, exploiting her tittyflesh to shake.

The farmer cleared his throat. A quick look told him that the woman’s kids were playing at the back of the car and that there was no traffic approaching on the road.

He reached up underneath her skirt and grabbed a handful of her panty-sheathed bottom.

She acted as if nada had happened, except that there was a lean catch to her voice as she asked hoarsely, "Can you tell... what’s wrong?"

Stagnant at her compensate view, he squeezed her left buttock, his fingers lengthened along its quivery formation as his moulding pressed the fabric of her panties into the crack of her ass. Marcella squirmed more, making her overweight construction sway in his influence.

With his remaining hand he pretended to experimenter with the engine. But his bravery wasn’t in it.

The fifty-five-year-old farmer had an iron-hard erection, such as he hadn’t enjoyed in life.

"Can’t quite figure what’s wrong," he said huskily as he fiddled with the carburettor.

The tips of his fingers coiled around the left leg whippy of the woman’s thin underpants, and he stretched the elastic toward him, at the same indication soaring his hand inside her panties. He felt her soft and springy bottom, then let his fingers glide beneath her plump bum and into her hairy crotch. Her cunt lips were moist and impressionable.

Still she acted as if he wasn’t doing anything to her, except that she was breathing hard and continuing to squirm.

A sensation told of an approaching automobile. The farmer dragged his cunt moistened mid finger a short distance up the bare, abysmal crack between the woman’s silky bum, and he concentrated on the provocative wavy dimple that he felt there.

The car came closer. Too engaged in lust by that moment to free up his lustful plan or plane to wait until the car had passed, the arcadian deviant twisted his slithery finger at the woman’s impermissible aperture and ... pop! Up her hot, clenched asshole his impetuous penetration glided.

"Ooooooo ...!" Marcella moaned, and she bumped her bottom against his plunging fingerbreadth, causing it to settle even deeper into her ass.

The car filled with teenagers who were approaching saw the duo bowed forward across the fender of the stalled car. The two boys and their Saturday farewell dates were nosey and looked intimately. Tho' they approached the stalled car at forty miles an hour and speedily swept by, the glimpse that they got of the man in overalls and the youngish, well-built woman was rooted in their minds and memories similar to a photo:

Her skirt hiked by the man’s arm... her pink panties askew, his hand inside them... his finger between her bum, the panties having been stretched obliquely enough to pass the finger sinking in as it twisted, aiming straight up the lady’s ass!

Not far down the road, the teenagers pulled off into a plantation of stunted trees and made out, all four in the car unitedly.

Meanwhile, back at the side of the highway, Marcella twisted her ass while the farmer’s finger corkscrewed in her delightfully tight, elastic orifice. Her rubber ring clutched his finger and rippled across his knuckles as he pumped in and out.

“Hellfire!” he finally said, and pulled his finger from her asshole with a sucking pop.

He let her panties snap back into place, and her skirt fell to cover them. “I can’t fix this blinkin’ car of yours, but I’ll drive you into town.”

“Thank you ... very much!” Marcella panted. Her face was flushed.

“Ride in the cab with me and let the kids get in the back of the truck,” he said, and hurried to his vehicle, keeping his front turned away from her and the children so that they wouldn’t see the tent in his overalls.

He scrambled behind the steering wheel and, while waiting for Marcella to join him, grasped himself through the loose-fitting garment and happily stroked his vibrant bone, which made him feel like a youth again. He stopped stroking, but still had a splendid hard-on when the woman climbed into the cab.

He nervously put the truck into motion and gave her a tobacco-stained grin. “You ain’t from around these parts, are you?” he asked.

“No. My children and I have been on the road, searching for a sign from the Lord.”

The farmer did a double take.

“I now believe I have the sign,” Marcella added with a smile that seemed to emanate from her deepest being. “What’s the name of the town just ahead?” “Jasper Junction. Ain’t much of a town, though.”

“That’s all right. It’s where the Lord wants me to settle. Otherwise He wouldn’t have stopped my car.”

“Funny, I didn’t figure you for a religious woman,” the farmer said, and squirmed uncomfortably. His hard-on persisted.

“Religion is my whole life, Mister uuh...”

“Floyd Wilcox.”

“I’m Marcella Plummer, first deaconess of the Church of Holy and Mysterious Revelation. Our founder and pastor, Thaddeus Polk, sent me out in search of a site for a new congregation. He will be happy to know that the Lord has pointed one out to me. Aren’t you happy also, Mr. Wilcox?” she exclaimed, and gripped his thigh through his overalls.

He glanced quickly at her.

She maintained her grip, even inching it up his thigh a little, yet she still appeared perfectly innocent as she smiled in her childlike way and continued prattling about her religion.

His obvious confusion didn’t keep Floyd from taking advantage of what seemed like an invitation to have more fun with her. He slipped his right hand between her legs.

“Yes, Lord!” Marcella exclaimed, shutting her eyes as she wriggled.

So excited that he could scarcely keep his truck on a straight course, the farmer felt his way up her stockings until he reached her smooth, warm thighs above the gartered tops of her hose. She gradually spread her legs wider apart, to grant him greater access.

Floyd’s pecker stuck straight up in his overalls as he petted the pretty woman’s cunt through her sleek silken pants.

“My children and I badly need a place to stay until our leader gets here and makes arrangements for us,” she said. “Do you suppose that you and your wife ... that is, if you’re married, could see your way clear ... to take us in?” She was panting heatedly by that time as she wriggled against the farmer’s intimate caress.

“Hellfire!” Floyd said again, and stretched the left elastic of her panties once more, this time away from her cunt.

“Oooh, nooo-not hellfire!” she passionately corrected. “It is the power of the Lord!”

Amazed by what he was hearing, but even more impressed by what he felt, Floyd tickled her hairy cuntlips with his middle finger.

“Yessss!” she hissed hotly, and threw her hips forward with a corkscrew twist.

The farmer’s finger was entrapped-not as tightly as the finger of his other hand had been, but tightly enough, as it sank deeply into her moist, warm snatch.

Marcella bounced her bottom on the truck seat while he stroked his upward-curling finger in and out of her slippery channel, across the throbbing tip of her clit. From the corner of his eyes, he looked down and watched the bobbing of the large, creamy swells inside the neckline of her cotton blouse.

“Will you ... take me in ... Mr. Wilcox?” she asked gaspingly.

“I don’t know ... “ he said, breathing hard. “Ain’t got much room.”

Marcella’s hand moved to his lap and unzipped his overalls. Floyd fought to keep the truck on the road as she pulled his erect, heavily veined penis out of his pants and began to stroke the throbbing column in the curve of her thumb and fingers.

Her hand felt delightful as it glided slowly up and down on his cock. She gripped his shaft just hard enough, and his leathery foreskin unrolled and rolled back again across the ridge and bulbous swell of his corona. Each pumping, clasping stroke of her loving hand gave him added pleasure, jacking him toward heights of passion which he hadn’t reached with his frumpy wife in years.

The plunging of his curled finger up into her crevice increased in tempo, and she got slicker with every stroke until it felt to him as if he were sticking his finger into a slushy, overripe fruit which had been warmed by the sun. Her passionate writhing had worked her skirt high on her lap, and he stole glances at her lush thighs which were half-clad in sheer stockings. Her pale skin was marvellously enticing above the brown, expanded stocking tops. White garter straps pressed against her flesh. The leg elastic of her pink panties bit into the back of his wrist as his hand rapidly churned, hidden from view, obscenely stretching her silk briefs as his finger plunged up and down inside her.

Just as stimulating to the middle-aged farmer was the sight of his own prick standing proudly in the circle of the woman’s pumping hand. His veins throbbed with vitality which recalled his youth, and his cockhead swelled like a ripe tomato.

“Uuuuh!” he rasped. “Yeah! Keep doing it!” he begged, fearing she would stop just before he reached the payoff.

But Marcella didn’t stop. Her pumping of his prick grew even faster and more fervent, in time with his diddling of her flooded twat.

She squirmed frantically, finally crying out, “Ooooh, Jesus!” and her cunt seemed to gulp at the farmer’s finger.

Floyd’s cock, straining mightily, twitched in her tenacious grasp. His bulbous knob pulsated, sending a geyser of thick, whitish sperm spurting up past the steering column and all over the dashboard of the truck. Floyd’s garishly swollen cockhead ballooned visibly again and again, spitting out the product of his over-stimulated balls.

He groaned, his hands jerking as they gripped the wheel, and the truck snaked back and forth across the white line of the highway. Fortunately there was no other traffic.

“Goddamn!” Floyd said, still obviously finding it difficult to believe what had happened to him out of a clear sky on that lazy summer afternoon.

“You must not take the Lord’s name in vain,” Marcella cautioned in full sincerity as she stuffed the farmer’s softening sex organ back into his clothes. “God is good. He reveals to us what we should do and guides us in the completion of our work.”

Floyd quickly zipped his fly and stared at her. “Did you mean it about wantin’ to move in with my wife and me?”

“Oh, I certainly did!”

“Okay. Sarah might have a fit, but I reckon I can handle her. But I gotta warn you, we ain’t got a very big house. It’s gonna be crowded.”

“My children and I can sleep in the same bed,” Marcella replied.

“Huh? Why, they’s nearly teenaged, ain’t they?”

“They’re twin twelve-year-olds,” Marcella said proudly.

“Well, ain’t that a little old for a boy and girl to be bunkin’ together? Or for a boy to be

bunkin’ with his mama?”

“Mr. Wilcox, my children and I are pure in the sight of the Lord.” “Yeah. Well, what do you figger the Lord would think about what you and me just did?”

“Why, He wanted us to do that!”

Floyd blinked. “How do you know?” “Because He told me so. I am in constant communication with Him.”

“Hellfire ...“ the farmer muttered to himself in consternation.

Chapter Two

“So you see how the Lord constantly takes care of us?” Marcella said to her children as she walked nearly naked across the guest room that they occupied in the Wilcox farmhouse. “We had no money, and no place to go, but the Lord directed this nice man to take us in.”

Timmy and Beth were already snuggled into bed, and they gazed at their mother who strutted before them in her stockings, garters, and pink pants. The lad’s small cock was stiff as he stared at his mother’s bare titties. Perfect plump orbs they were, bulging with bouncy firmness, their rosy nipples cocked.

Timmy wriggled beneath the covers, and his sister gave him an inquisitive look. That funny thing, which she had noticed a few times, was happening to him again, she suspected. It seemed to happen when he looked at his mother, or at her, without their clothes on.

Beth wondered what it was all about when her twin brother’s pee-pee stuck straight up against his belly, exposing the small sac that hung at its base. She wondered what was in that sac and why boys needed such a thing. Of course, Timmy’s peepee was to pee with, but she couldn’t figure out why it sometimes stood up, stiff as a stick. Their mother always noticed when it did that, too, and she made little remarks about the Lord’s power and patted Timmy on the head.

Mama certainly has a big behind! young Beth thought as she watched her mother standing before the dresser mirror, wiping off the small amount of lipstick that she wore.

Marcella’s ass, while undeniably large, was nonetheless firm and shapely. Her panties were stretched to near bursting, the pink nylon drawn taut and thin around her lush buttocks. The lower portions of the pale hemispheres had escaped from her panty elastics.

Her thighs, above her stockings, were wide, promising a warm saddle for a man to sink into. But her children didn’t think anything about that, because they didn’t know about such things. Never having gone to public school or had any friends of their own age, because they were constantly with their mother and had spent their entire lives moving from place to place, they knew only what she had taught them.

She turned to face them, stretched the waist elastic of her panties, and stripped the pink silken undergarment down, exposing her dark-brown, glossy muff.

Beth studied it with interest. Her mother had explained, in response to her question some time ago, that Beth herself would have hair down there when she got older.

But she didn’t know if she really wanted to have any or not. It seemed kind of strange. Her mother had said that Timmy would have hair around his pee-pee, too.

Marcella bent forward, letting her breasts swoop and hang down while she ungartered her stockings. Beth knew, from the commercials on television and ads in the paper, that most women wore something called “pantyhose”, which came all the way up their legs and around their hips, in one piece. She had asked her mother why she didn’t wear pantyhose, and the answer had been the same as her mother’s answer to many other things: Because the Lord wouldn’t like it.

Beth couldn’t quite figure out why the Lord cared what a woman wore underneath her skirt. But it seemed that He cared about lots of things-and what He wanted was what Beth’s mother did.

Young Timmy had his own thoughts as he watched his pretty mama, bent forward, unfastening the garters from her stockings. As she turned slightly to reach the different snaps, and as she moved her arms, her dangling, full breasts quivered.

That made Timmy think about what a thrill it was when she lay in bed beside him and pressed those soft, smooth things against his face.

Sucking his mama’s titties gave him more pleasure than anything else in the world.

Marcella peeled her stockings down and off, hopping from one foot to the other, her breasts bouncing. Then she took her garter belt away.

She turned off the lamp, opened the window drapes to let some fresh air and moonlight into the room, and walked to the bed. She climbed in next to Timmy, as always, so that the lad was sandwiched between her and his twin sister.

The three of them had to lie very close to one another, since the bed had been designed for only two persons. Timmy faced his mother, who faced him, and Beth cuddled up to her brother’s back.

“Isn’t it wonderful,” Marcella said, “to have a nice soft bed to lie down in? We must thank the Lord for providing it.”

They never went through the ritual of kneeling to pray before they went to bed, because their religion taught that they should constantly express their gratitude for

God’s blessing, no matter where they were or what they were doing. And they should never ask for things. The Lord would guide and provide in His own way, and they had only to read the signs He gave them.

Timmy was grateful at that moment for the warm, soft breasts which were pressed against him. His childish hand took hold of one of the satiny masses and pulled its jutting rosy tip to his lips.

“Yes, darling ...“ Marcella purred, petting her son’s head. “Suck Mama’s titty like a nice boy.”

His moist mouth surrounded his mother’s plump nipple and drew at it. He got no tangible sustenance, of course, but he enjoyed sucking on it just the same. Marcella squirmed, vibrating her breastflesh against his lips, obviously enjoying it, also.

Looking over her brother’s shoulder, Beth watched what he was doing, and she asked, as she had asked before, “Why can’t I suck your titties, Mama?”

She got the same answer as always: “Because the Lord doesn’t like big girls to do that.”

This was something else that Beth didn’t understand. If it was good for a boy to suck his mama’s titties, why wasn’t it all right for a girl?

Marcella drew her moist nipple from Timmy’s eager mouth and stuffed her dry one in. She shut her eyes and squirmed voluptuously.

Her hand stole down underneath the bedclothes and found her young son’s cock, which was sticking out the front of his jammies. How stiff his little pecker was! It stuck up much higher than a man’s .

Timmy sucked all the harder at his mother’s big, rubbery nipple as she rolled his foreskin up and down across the ridge of his cock. He loved it when she did that.

Marcella worked her other hand between her own wide thighs, and she glided her middle finger between the already-lathered lips of her cunt. She sawed her finger in and out, across the throbbing tip of her clitty, while her son sucked and pawed at her breasts with unashamed ardor.

Beth rolled over and faced the other way, tired of watching her mother and brother having fun with each other while she was left out in the cold. She couldn’t help feeling resentful. She felt kind of funny down between her legs, but also being tired it wasn’t long before she dropped off to sleep.

Her mother and brother didn’t notice. They were too engrossed with each other, she slowly rolling and unrolling his snugly elastic foreskin along his stubby, slender stalk while he sucked at her breasts as if he were an infant once again. He champed noisily, tugging at and stretching first one of her plump, lengthy nipples and then the other. His eyes were shut in rapture.

Marcella lazily pumped two fingers in and out of her lathered cunt, not wanting to rush to a climax but striving to keep the good sensations going.

She murmured to her son, “What a beautiful, loving boy you are! You like to suck

Mama’s titties, don’t you? And Mama likes it, too. It’s what you are supposed to do, darling. It’s part of the Lord’s plan.

“Mmmmmm! Your little cock seems to be getting bigger every day. Soon it’ll start getting hair around it, and then Mama won’t be able to pet you like this anymore. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oooooh, Mama, never stop playing with my pecker!” Timmy begged as he pulled his mouth from the big rosy nipple he’d been sucking. He stared at the wetly gleaming stem of champable, suckable flesh, with the hairline slit at the end of it. The stem

was surrounded by a firm and pebbly disk as rosy as the jutting part of the nipple.

“When you get a little older,” Marcella purred, ‘You’ll find a loving girl who will play with your pecker for you. She’ll let you put it into her body, too, and pump it in and out until something really wonderful happens. But you’re too young for that now, and you could never do it with your Mama, anyway, because it would be a sin.”

Timmy didn’t argue. He accepted his mother’s word about everything. And he was happy just to cap his eager mouth around her nipple once again and resume sucking her firm, pleasure-giving titty while she stroked his cock.

Since he was incapable of climax, his rapture spread throughout his body, gradually drugging his nervous system until he was lulled into sleep.

Marcella’s throbbing nipple slipped from his mouth, and his head sank between the warm, soft pillows of her breasts. His cock remained rigid, however, as she continued to hold and stroke it.

When she was certain that he was soundly asleep, and that his sister was asleep, also, Marcella lay back the covers and glided downward along his slim, young form.

She gazed close-up at his redheaded little rod, illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window, and her mouth watered.

I hope this will give you sweet dreams, darling! she thought, and stuck out her rosy, glistening tongue.

She licked the rounded head of her son’s up-thrust penis, delighting in the taste of it.

Her fingers speed up their stroking in her cunt.

Her lips softly brushed the tip of his twelve-year-old pecker, then widened and took the exquisite little knob between them. Her warm saliva bathed her son’s cockhead, which pressed her velvety tongue. She tightened the circle of her loving lips around the rigid shank of her organ ... and she began to suck.

Her mind went into a giddy swoon, helped by the now-rapid frigging of her fingers in and out of her twat. She began to bob her head, taking the lad’s entire erection into her mouth with every lunge. She sucked his delicious cock and swallowed frequently.

The juices in her cunt gushed. Her body throbbed. She sucked her son’s prick heatedly, rubbing her fingers across her clit and between her slippery cuntlips until she was at the very verge of climax.

Then she jerked her mouth away from the child’s penis, letting it slap against his pajama-clad tummy, and she turned quickly onto her back to take the hot orgasm which exploded in her body. She moaned and writhed as the tentacles of fire reached along her churning legs and up to her brain, giving her intense satisfaction.

And it was all right, she believed, because she was not climaxing with her son, but alone. The Lord had told her this was permissible, and she always accepted His word.

She immediately lapsed into a deep sleep...

Chapter Three

Marcella arose when the first light of morning flooded into the room. Her children were still sound asleep, and she shut the drape on the window so that the light wouldn’t disturb them. Wrapping a robe around her nakedness, she went to the bathroom across the hall and relieved herself. Then she brushed her teeth and combed her auburn hair, which tumbled in glistening waves around her shoulders.

Floyd and his wife were having breakfast when she walked to the kitchen.

“Hmph!” was all the plump, dowdy, gray-haired woman said in response to

Marcella’s cheery greeting, and she got up from the table to march out of the room.

“I guess your wife resents my being here,” Marcella observed sadly to the farmer, who was stuffing eggs and fried potatoes into his mouth.

“Don’t pay no mind to her,” he replied, and wiped his lips on a napkin as he stared at the enticing swells in the front of Marcella’s robe.

“Well, I would feel better about everything if she liked me.”

“You just concentrate on makin’ me like you, honey,” Floyd said, and reached for her.

His arm looped around her middle and he drew her close to his chair. His bony fingers parted the edges of her robe, spilling out her lush, rosy-nippled breasts.

She had to hold onto the temporary home which the Lord had provided for herself and her children. That was part of His plan. And so she let the farmer clutch and lift one of her large, squidgy tits, directing its nipple to his lips.

He groaned and fastened his hungry mouth around her inviting spigot. He sucked much more strongly than Timmy had done.

“Unnnnnnh ... “ Marcella breathed, annoyed because the farmer was so demanding but she couldn’t help enjoying the feel of his tugging lips and lapping tongue.

His hand rolled her other breast and roughly bounced it up and down.

“Mr. Wilcox, it’s ... uh ... early in the morning!” she said plaintively.

“I woke up with a hard-on!” he panted after pulling his mouth from her breast. “I couldn’t think about nothin’ else but you!”

He pulled Marcella’s robe open all the way down, and he stared at her auburn muff.

Groaning again, he bowed his shaggy gray head, driving his face into the abundant hairy triangle at the base of her belly.

Marcella thought about his wife, who had gone back to the bedroom but might return at any moment. However, if the Lord required that Marcella submit to the woman’s husband, in order to have a place for herself and her children to stay, she was prepared to do so. Sometimes adultery was permitted, the leader of her church had taught her, and this seemed to be one of the times when the Lord was telling her it was all right.

She spread her legs and squatted slightly, making her warm, soft-lipped cunt accessible to Floyd’s demanding mouth. He plunged his tongue into the meaty feast she offered, obviously preferring it to the eggs and bacon on his plate.

“Ooooooh!” Marcella breathed heavily, and worked her hips in a circle while still squatting. Floyd’s tongue reamed her elastic orifice and drew into his mouth the highly flavorful produce of several days’ sexual stimulation.

The middle-aged farmer got carried away, and he clutched the plump cheeks of Marcella’s ass, his hands underneath her robe. He yanked hard on her spongy pillows and squeezed them, crushing her plushy, moist snatch against his mouth. He shamelessly sucked and tongued her tangy-tasting cunt.

Marcella began humping uncontrollably, her bare knockers bobbling up and down.

She panted. Her spread-legged, bent-kneed pose was getting uncomfortable, and she wished that Floyd would sit her on the table.

But either he didn’t think of that or he didn’t want to interrupt his eating for even a moment. Marcella settled more and more into his hands as he held the cheeks of her ass. His fingertips were between the spread, satiny mounds, tickling very close to her anus. Marcella thought of how he had stuck a finger right up her asshole while they were out on the road, and she kind of wished he would do that again. But in the meantime, his tongue in her cunny felt very good.

The Lord had never told her she should dislike what she did at His direction.

Floyd rotated his hoary head, his hair tickling the inner surfaces of her smooth thighs. But she hardly noticed that, because of the wild things his tongue was doing in her cunt. No man had ever eaten her quite so well or so thoroughly or had seemed to enjoy the feast quite so much.

Just when she thought Floyd was through plunging his tongue deeply into her snatch and slurping the rich juices out, because he had withdrawn his tongue and was wiggling it through the lippy folds that surrounded her fuckhole, he drove it back up her channel, causing her to yelp with joy. Then out he went once more to lick through the curly hairs that covered her large lovelips. He found her stiff, tingling clitty and poked his tongue flutteringly at that. Again Marcella squealed. Now he sank his oral probe up her steamy twat once more.

“Ooooooh ... God in HEAV-eeennnn!” she panted, clutching Floyd by the head.

“What are you doooooo-ing to meeee?!”

She bumped her cunt fuckingly against the man’s face until she felt that if he didn’t let her set her ass on something solid she would collapse. Floyd didn’t, and she did.

Her big bottom slipped from his hands and landed on the linoleum floor with a smack!

“Hellfire!” he cried, and leaped to his feet, overturning his chair.

Marcella stared at the high-standing peak in his overalls, which was right in front of her eyes. Her brain went into a dizzy swirl. She wanted to free the farmer’s long, stiff love maker, which she had masturbated to a spurting climax yesterday-but she didn’t like the idea of having the thing rammed into her mouth, which was what she was afraid he might do, considering the position she was in.

Sucking her son’s little cockie was pleasurable, because it had a nice, delicate taste and wasn’t big enough to hurt her throat. But the large, thrusting bones of grown men tasted much stronger, she had learned, and she got scared sometimes when they stuck them into her mouth. Also, she did have some pride, and the Lord had never come right out and told her that she had to suck cock!

Her hesitation obviously frustrated Floyd, and he clawed at his fly, ripping down the zipper.

“No!” she cried, and tried to struggle to her feet, her titties shaking.

But Floyd pushed on the top of her head with one hand while he liberated his love tool with the other, and his eight-inch rod leaped out to stand quiveringly in front of her face. He clutched the blue-veined shaft and rolled back his foreskin, causing his lurid cock-knob to bulge while giving off a raunchy aroma.

Marcella’s eyes rolled. Her mouth went slack. She knew she was going to get fucked in the mouth whether she wanted it or not.

But Floyd didn’t push his prick right between her sensuous lips and start humping as she had feared he would do. First he played another little game:

Holding Marcella by the top of her head, with his fingers spread wide apart, he squinched her down to provide a better alignment. Then, gripping his tally hacker in his other hand, he slapped the bulb-ended truncheon back and forth across her face, literally clubbing her with the wild-smelling thing.

She bleated in humiliation as his cock struck her cheeks and rubbed across her face, right underneath her flared nostrils. Gusts of cock-scent rose steamily up her nose, making her brain giddier than ever.

“Aaaaaaw ... nooooh ... yessss ... oooh, give it to me!” she panted.

Floyd pushed down on his springy rod and shoved it at her mouth. By then she was ready, and she spread her lips into a wide, juicy O. When the farmer sank his raunchy cock deep into her mouth, she glugged. Her lips tightened around his hard column, and her tongue made a velvet cradle for his cockhead as her throat flared open. Her eyes were shut. Her entire body throbbed.

Floyd began to fuck his cock slowly in and out of the church-woman’s pretty face, and she responded by sucking heatedly on his randy-flavored bone. She gulped down a mixture of her own saliva and his sex-juice.

Just then Floyd’s frumpy wife appeared in the kitchen door. “Well, I never ...!” she exclaimed, staring at the obscene sight.

“I know it, you prudish old hen!” her husband rasped. “Whenever I wanted this kind of love, I had to buy it. But I’m gettin’ it for free now, and it’s goddamn good!”

He drove his hips, plunging his prick more deeply into Marcella’s mouth ... and into her clasping throat, as well! She shifted her eyes sideways to look at the farmer’s wife, then shut them in shame. If the Lord was with her at that moment, she didn’t hear His voice or feel His presence. All she felt was the big, bulb-ended pecker that rammed into her throat and held her lips wide apart as its veined, ridgy hardness stroked steadily between them ... tickling and teasing her ... turning her on, against her will.

She sucked gulpingly on the farmer’s cock, her cheeks flushed, her eyes remaining shut. She hunched against his rhythmic but not vicious plunges, and she found that her throat could accommodate his cockhead quite well.

Sarah watched for several shocked moments, through eyes that were wide open, then she turned and rushed back to the bedroom, sobbing in self-pity over the way her husband of thirty years was “defiling” their home.

He seemed unconcerned about her attitude, concentrating on the pleasure which

Marcella lavished on his prick.

“Lick it now!” he told her and pulled his gleaming plunger from her mouth with a lurid popping sound. It was jammed straight up in front of her face as he yanked her close to him, her moist lips smacking the underside of his shaft near the base. He reached into his overalls and brought his hairy balls tumbling out against her chin.

By that time she was as sensuously involved as he, and of her own accord she began to lick his velvety, big brown nuts, picking up a sharp tang of perspiration. He shoved down not too roughly on the top of her head, and her tongue dipped beneath his dangling gonads. As she ricked him down there, his balls straddled her nose.

Breathing in the super-raunchy aroma of his sweaty crotch had the strange effect of turning her on all the stronger, and she opened her wet mouth to take in a testicle.

As she let his throbby nut soak in her mouth, she rolled her eyes upward to study in response.

The farmer had his eyes closed, and his mouth was agape. His upthrust prick waggled like a semaphore across her forehead.

Marcella spit out his nut, licked his velvety sac some more, plastering down some of the wispy hairs that curled around it, then warmly swabbed her tongue up the underside of his cock until she reached the plump, flavorful head. She licked around the groove behind his cock’s ridgy collar, then covered the plumlike knob, thoroughly re-coating it with her wet, gleaming saliva. Her darting tongue took up some clear honey that oozed from the slit at the tip of his organ.

“Aaaaahhhhhngh!” she said, clasping his plump peckerhead in her hot mouth to suck some more.

She bobbed forward and back, entirely of her own accord, eagerly fellating him.

“Aaaaw, hellfire ...!” Floyd croaked. “I’ve gotta fuck you!” Yes! Oh, yes! she thought.

Please fuck me! Fuck me good! I haven’t had a real good fucking in a long time, and

I need it-even from an old codger like you! PRAISE THE LORD!

She let his big prick snap free, and it swayed to and fro as he grasped her underneath the arms and lifted. Her head lolled, like that of a Raggedy Ann, and her legs felt rubbery when she put her weight on them.

Floyd stripped the open robe off her arms, her lush breasts bobbling, and he shoved her backward onto the kitchen table. She sat in the middle of his breakfast, his eggs and potatoes squishing into the crack of her ass.

The plate had tipped, but fortunately it didn’t break under her weight, and she reached behind her to yank it free and slide it across the table.

Floyd pulled her legs wide apart and jerked them forward a little, so that her buttocks were perched on the edge of the table. This puckered her cunt, and there it was, staring at him-a wet rosy hole surrounded by a thick fringe of dark hair. He grasped his cock and moved up to her, into the fleshy V of her thighs.

His bulbous cockhead socked into the circle of her cuntmouth, spreading it, and

Marcella moaned. Her cuntflesh crept claspingly forward to embrace the fullness of his knob.

“Uuuuh!” she said as the rim of her vaginal mouth settled into the groove behind his

glans, and his bulb throbbed inside her.

“Ooooooohh!” she breathed heatedly as he shoved his cock deeper, sinking it inchby- inch into her fervid flesh until her vagina claimed his horny length and she was plugged from clitoris to womb!

“Fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me ... “ she panted, half under her breath, sounding not at all like a church-woman.

But as Floyd began to stroke his thick, long cock in and out of her, the Divine voice seemed to speak and tell her it was all right. It was the Lord’s power moving in her, she convinced herself.

She raised her legs at either side of the skinny, middle-aged farmer, bending them so that her bare feet swayed forward and back as she hunched heatedly. She clutched Floyd around his scrawny neck, because he wasn’t supporting her back.

Instead, his hands were full of her boobies, squeezing and rolling the resilient masses of smooth, nipple-studded titflesh.

He stroked forward and back, steadily and long, gliding his cockhead from her cunt’s mouth to the deepest part of her vagina. His jolts shook her titties in his hands. His hard shaft rubbed her clit-tip exactly right.

“Ooooh Goddd ... oooh, glory!” she said fucking fervently with him.

He thumbed her bristling nipples, making them tingle wildly as they snapped free.

They swelled so ruddy full of warm blood that they looked and felt as if they were about to burst.

The farmer kept pumping his lengthy hard-on in and out of her cunt, still moving deliberately so that the strokes stropped her hot clit to a fare-thee-well, while not giving her the rapid stimulation she would need in order to get her rocks off. She moaned and wriggled, kicking her legs. Her ass felt sticky from the eggs and potatoes, which by that time had been ground into a mush.

“Oooooh, fuck ... fuck ... fuck ... fuck me, you old fool!” she cried, and the farmer loved it.

She lasciviously imagined his wife listening from down the hall.

Floyd’s big prick felt better and better, ramming deep into her wet vagina, its ridge and veins rippling her clasping cuntflesh. She hooked her legs behind him so that she could hold on with them as well as with her arms about his neck, and this let her bounce her fleshy asscheeks right on the table’s edge, without fear of falling.

The man had magnificent endurance, something she had discovered with other older men, and she luxuriated in his ramming thrusts of passion. She hoped the luscious fucking would last all day.

But Floyd wasn’t that good a stud. He was already nearing the point where he would have to go for his payoff.

Thinking about what had happened yesterday, he wanted something more before he finished with this woman-something really rare and thrilling. He didn’t know if he would have another chance with the buxom female or not.

He pulled out of her sucking, clutching cunt, and his cock flipped straight up.

“Ooooh God ... NOOOH!” she cried. “Put it back INNNN!

Floyd’s answer was to give her flopping legs a twist, and she rolled roughly onto her face on the table, her tits and tummy smearing through his spilled breakfast.

OOOOOH!” she moaned, writhing, her big asscheeks quivering before him.

She was a mess back there, and he snatched up his napkin to rub it through the crack of her ass, wiping the eggs and potatoes away so that he could see the little gathering of brownish puckers that marked the spot where he had stuck his finger the day before.

“Oooooh, oooooh, please ... yes ... DOOOO it!” she panted, thinking he was going to ram her throbbing cunt from the rear.

But he had something more exotic and even more stimulating in mind as he directed his cum-coated, rigid pecker to the small depression between her wobbly buttocks.

When Marcella felt his cock-tip touch the dimple of her ass, she caught her breath.

Not that! she thought. Oh, God, I’ve never had it THERE!

A finger was all right-even fun-but a big, thick prick rammed up her anus was bound to hurt!

However, Floyd was not about to be stopped. Throbbing with a greater lust than he had known in years, the horny farmer twisted his slippery cockhead against her crinkly nest of puckers and pushed forward.

She bawled with pain as her asshole was forced to spread-wide, wide, wider than it had ever been stretched before. The man’s cock was so slippery, and he was pushing with such determination, that he quickly achieved a penetration of her rear.

The taut elastic rim of her anus felt as if it was about to pop as it skiddingly encircled the fattest part of his cockhead. Her asshole burned like a ring of fire.

Then Floyd’s knob was IN her, settled snugly and hotly inside her lush ass, and her rubber rim was allowed to relax just a trifle. This lessened the painful pressure right there, and she focused on the fullness in her rectum.

What a feeling that was! It was as if a flagpole, with a huge, bulging knob on the end of it, was being forced up her backside.

OOOOH ... AAAAH! PLEEEASE! OOOOH, GODDD!” the impaled woman cried.

But Floyd didn’t stop pushing, and his cock sank twistingly, inch by relentless inch, into her superheated, hotly clasping ass until she had at least four rigid inches sticking up inside her ... the wrong way.

She bawled, the tears streaming down her cheeks, as Floyd began to stroke, fucking her virgin ass with gusto. He didn’t push too deeply. He didn’t have to, because he was getting the thrill he wanted as her grippingly tight and slippery asshole rippled up and down across the ridge of his cockhead and along two inches of his veined, rigid shaft.

He yanked her squidgy buttocks wide apart and watched her rosy rear-ring claim his penetrating thrusts, folding outward as he withdrew and turning inward with each plunge. He let her buttocks slap against his pole, and enjoyed the sight of his poontanger sinking rhythmically between her vibrating, creamy, curved asscheeks.

She clawed at the table and flopped her head from side to side. The plunging pressure inside her was still intense, but she was getting used to it some. And her anus didn’t burn so much, although it remained stretched wide around the man’s stroking cock. What it did was to tickle pretty good. And it tingled even better.

She writhed, rubbing her clit against the edge of the table as her legs flopped in midair.

Her buttocks vibrated wildly. Up and down between them the man’s long, stiff lovemaker pumped, sinking into her rectum again and again.

Marcella’s yelling had attracted the farmer’s wife, and she appeared fearfully in the kitchen doorway once again, to see what new fiendish act her husband was committing. She saw. And her eyes registered at least as much shock as before.

“You see this, old woman?” he rasped as he fucked their houseguest’s hot ass. “I’m givin’ it to her right up the old dirt road! You’d never let me do that to you, either.”

“Oooh, you filthy man!” she screeched, and went scampering back up the hall.

“Do you think I’m filthy-huh, Bible-thumpin’ baby?” he asked Marcella as he kept stroking his hot rod up her tail.

“Uuuuh! Ooooh! Yesss, you’re so FILTHY! But I ... ooooh ...“ She began to bump. “I


She bumped her ass wildly as she clung to the edges of the table, and she thrilled to the asshole-pleasing plunges of the man’s thick, hard prick. His eyes rolled upward in their sockets, and he flung back his head. He fucked Marcella’s ass with all the fervor he possessed and, when he heard her squeal in frenzied climax and felt her asshole ripple spastically around his rod, his fiery bulk jerked in her rectum. He poured gush after spurting gush of thick, creamy cum into her bowels while she shook and climaxed deliriously.

Later she used the telephone to send a mail-gram to the leader of her religious cult, charging it to Floyd. The message read:


Chapter Four

The slim blonde girl knelt before the tall man in black robes, and she looked up at him with her face aglow.

“Please help me find the right answer through prayer, Pastor!” she said. “Should I run off with Johnny and become his wife, or should I give him up just so I can finish high school? He won’t wait for me. He’s going to leave tomorrow. And I love him so much!”

Thaddeus Polk looked down at her, and a smile of seeming compassion wreathed his lean, almost gaunt face. His dark eyes burned fiercely.

“Are you a virgin, my child?” he asked, stroking her golden hair.

“Ooooh yes, Pastor!” Nancy Davis blushed.

“And how old are you?”

“I just turned seventeen.”

“You say you love this lad Johnny, hmmm?”

“Very much!”

“But your parents don’t approve of him?”

“No,” she pouted. ‘They think he’s unreliable.”

“Mmmm. We will pray together. Please shut your eyes.”

Nancy’s long, silky lashes dropped, and Thad stared at her innocent upturned face.

She wore a skimpy summer dress that clung to the delicate hillocks on her chest.

“Lord, give us a sign!” Thad intoned, continuing to look down at her. ‘Tell us how this girl’s love should be tested, to see if it is real-for, if it is, she should surely run away with her young man, but, if it isn’t, she should let him go alone and forget him. Lord,

Lord ... show us please!”

Thad kept one hand on Nancy’s soft, silken hair as he slipped his other hand through the front opening in his robes. He silently lowered his zipper.

“Lord, we are awaiting your sign!” he exclaimed, his tone trembling rapturously as he removed his long, limber penis from his pants. He fondled the smooth, rope like shape and felt the sensitive ridge of his bare cockhead.

Firmness came into his organ, thickening it and stretching it out. Its purplish snout poked through the flap in his loose-fitting outer garments and, as he continued stroking the shank, his knobby-ended wand assumed up thrust rigidity before the naive teenager’s face.

Her eyes remained shut.

“Yes, Lord!” Thaddeus cried, his voice vibrating with power. “Thank you, Lord!

Amen!” He stroked the girl’s hair. “Nancy, we have our sign. You may open your eyes now, my child.”

Her lashes lifted slowly, and her blue eyes widened until they appeared about to pop.

“Oooh, Pastor!” she cried. “Wh-what is that?” She was staring at his erection, just inches in front of her face.

“It is the sign we asked for, my dear. The Lord gave it to me. Have you ever seen such a thing before?”

“Why, yes ... yes ...“ She blushed fiercely. “I’ve seen Johnny’s. I know it isn’t nice for an unmarried young girl to look at a boy’s thing, or to touch it, but Johnny and I are so in love that he showed me his ... and I did touch it ... b-but, Pastor ... why are you showing me YOURS? Is that RIGHT?

“I told you, child-it is the Lord’s doing. He knows that you played with your boyfriend’s penis, so He felt it would not shock you if you saw mine. And He wants to find out if you feel differently about mine. Or does it fascinate you too, just like Johnny’s?”

“Well ... I ... oooh, Pastor, you’re making me so embarrassed!”

“Hush, my child!” he intoned, his cock sticking up very stiff before her and quivering with the lustful power that bulged its veins and tissue. “This is the Lord’s doing,

believe me.” He held his erection around its base and waggled it in front of her.

“What do you call this-besides a thing, I mean?”

“A pecker?” the conservative, small-town girl said shyly. “At least, that’s what Johnny calls his.” “Very well. We’ll call it a pecker. That’s a good, old-fashioned name for it. What do you think of my pecker, Nancy?”

“It’s ... it’s bigger than Johnny’s!” the blushing teenager said.

“Is it? Do you think it’s as good to look at?”

“Well, I don’t know. Johnny has a skin around the outside of his, which covers that knobby part- until I roll it back. Why don’t you have a skin like that on yours, Pastor?”

“Because it was cut off right after I was born. That’s called circumcision. Some males are circumcised and some are not. It makes little difference. Tell me how you like my pecker, Nancy.”

“It’s... it’s long!” she said, still wide-eyed. “And it’s certainly very stiff! Oooh, my!”

“Do you want to touch it?”

She shifted her gaze just briefly to Thad’s face. “Wouldn’t that be wrong?”

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