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  “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 dick. 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. The 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, also.

  But, being tired, and 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 pussy, 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 any more. 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 upthrust 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 pussy 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-nip-pled 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 bumping 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 pussy. 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. Hex 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 dickie 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 tallywhacker 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 ag
ainst 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 licked 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 dick 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.