Incident at Pima Mesa - Cover

Incident at Pima Mesa

Copyright© 2004 by Amanda Pierce

Chapter 7

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Miranda's insatiable carnal desires are unleashed when she is given shelter by a minister and his wife in nineteenth century Arizona.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Reluctant   Rape   Coercion   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Cheating   Slut Wife   Incest   Mother   Sister   Daughter   Cousins   BDSM   Rough   Gang Bang   Anal Sex   Pregnancy   Exhibitionism   Slow  

"Mrs. Graves?"

The woman who answered the door was tiny, standing less than five feet tall. Her clothes were plain and although she wore no makeup, her features were pleasant. She was trim with green eyes and dark auburn hair which she wore long. She was younger than Miranda had imagined, not more than three or four years older than Miranda herself. Given a little attention, thought Miranda, she could be quite attractive.

The reverend's wife smiled self consciously.

"You must be Mrs. Willis. Please come in," she said, opening the door.

"We heard about your misfortune. Is your husband all right?"

"Yes," answered Miranda, "he will have to stay with the doctor a few days, but he will be fine."

"That's good to hear."

They walked into a small sitting room where Elijah Graves sat in a rocking chair. Miranda was shocked. The man in the chair was nearing seventy and not in the best of health. His hands, which rested on the chair arms, were palsied. His head and shoulders hung in a perpetual stoop. His gaze was downward and did not vary. He seemed unaware of their presence.

"Elijah..." her voice raised a bit, "Elijah darling, we have company."

His head slowly lifted to face them, but the eyes were dulled.

"This is Mrs. Willis. She and her husband were robbed and her husband was wounded. Mrs. Willis will be staying a few days with us."

He made a brief motion of acknowledgement with his hand.

"I... I very much appreciate your letting me stay until Tom is better. It's very kind of you," Miranda offered.

The wife motioned toward the door and they left quietly, Elijah returning his stare into space.

"This way, Mrs. Willis," said the young wife, moving to the stairs.

"Please, call me Miranda."

"All right, Miranda, if you'll call me Ellen," she answered, smiling shyly.

At the head off the stairs was a small bedroom. Ellen Graves opened the door and they entered.

"I'm sorry it isn't larger. It's where I sleep most of the time."

Oh, please, it's fine, but I don't want to take your room."

"No, no, it's all right. I will sleep with Elijah. I haven't done that in a while."

Ellen started to leave.

"Must you go?" asked Miranda, I'd like some company."

The young wife smiled slightly.

"That would be nice. Let me get Elijah to bed and I'll bring up some tea. We can talk then."

She left quietly.

Miranda washed and lay down on the bed, her mind racing. She had already determined that in the morning she would try to find employment at one of the stores in town, at least until Tom was on his feet again. There would be bills to pay and she would do what she could to help. This was one way, perhaps the only way, she could convince Tom of her sincerity and desire to make amends.

Eventually, fatigue overcame her and she drifted into sleep.

The knock at the door was soft, but it startled her. She sat up, disoriented and for a moment images of the events of that afternoon flashed through her mind. Again the soft knock. Gaining her composure, Miranda opened the door.

Ellen Graves stood with a tray of tea.

"Please come in. I must have fallen asleep."

"No wonder with what you're been through today."

The young wife set the tray down and poured the tea. They both sat on the edge of the bed.

"I can't thank you enough for giving me a place to stay. It's so very kind."

"To tell you the truth, I am glad to have some company. We seldom get out these days and..." her voice tailed off.

Miranda looked into the eyes of a woman aged beyond her years. A look of hopelessness drained what might have once been an attractive face.

"I know it's none of my business, but your husband is so..."

"So much older than I am?"

Her voice took on a tone of resignation.

"It was an arranged marriage. My mother died when I was a baby. My father became destitute and Elijah and his wife took me in. They gave me a place to live. After his wife died, he asked me to marry him. My father told me I owed it to Elijah and should be grateful to have a man to care for me. Father insisted. I really didn't have much choice. We were married eight years ago. I was sixteen."

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