New Mother For The Boys Ranch
by Jane Tanner


FOREWORD 

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 
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-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." 

"You've done remarkably well, Father," Marsha commented. 

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. 

"Ohh, fuck her, fuck her!" Marsha whispered hoarsely. 

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! 

"AAH, AAH ... OHHHHHH ... OHH, GODDAMN ... YOU MAGNIFICENT BEAST! 
AAGGAAHHHH! OH CHRIST ... OH SHIT ... OH FUCK ... FUCK, FUCK, FUCK ... 
UUUMMM ... OOUUMMMM ... PUSH ME ... I'M GONNA CUM!" 

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. 

"BEAT IT, BABY!" Marsha screeched. "FLOG IT! WHIP IT!" 

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. 

"IT'S NASTY, ISN'T IT, FATHER? BUT NICE! OHHHHH ... SOOO NNIICCEE!!!" 

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. 

"CUMMING! OHHHHH ... OH, GOD, GODDD ... CUUUUMMMMIIIINNNNGGGG ... OOOUUUU, 
OOOUUUU ... WHAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!" 

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. 

"AAAAHHH! SIS! UNG, UNG! OH, BABY! SUCK IT! OHHHHHHH!!!" 

"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: 

"STOP ... OHHHHHHH ... OH, P-PLEASE STOP, UNCLE DAVE! YOU'RE D-DRIVING ME 
CRAZY! IT'S T-TOO GOOD! AAAH, AAAAAHHHH! I CA-CANT TA-AAKKEE IT!!!" 

"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. 

"OOOHHHH, OOOHHHHHH ... OHH, YES, DADDY, YESSS ... MMMMMM ... OHH, GODDAMN 
... OOOHHHHHH!!!" 

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. 


THE END
