Chapter 13

The Next few weeks were hectic. There were those in the village that rebelled against Pastor Mouser, and the church. The church was part of a National church with its headquarters in Anderson, Indiana, and they sent an emissary to the Church to investigate the reports that it had been taken over by a satanic group, and was committing satanic rituals. More than half of the village’s homes had doors painted red. I was able to make a bit of money going from house to house with my can of red paint and my paint brush, charging $2.00. The homes that refused were abusive and called me the son of the devil.

What I did enjoy is being invited in for a cup of hot chocolate with naked women and children, and told to leave my clothes at the door. In most occasions I ended up being able to fuck one or two of the house ladies over sixteen. It was fun watching the little ones play with each other, and trying to imitate the adults, by playing sex, and trying to fuck, but failing miserably.

I was at the Hightower’s house, I was a bit nervous. They had the biggest home in Cove Orchard, and they were on the wrong side of the highway. The church is on the South side, as are most of the homes, and they had a beautiful home on a hill on the North side. The weather had turned, we had a bit of rain, the snow melted and washed away, so I was able to ride my bike. Mr. Hightower was working on his car in the garage as I pushed my bike up the hill; it was still cold enough so that he was fully dressed with coveralls, and a heavy coat.

“Good morning sir!”

“Good morning, you’re the Stinson boy aren’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“What do you have there?”

“Paint sir. Red paint, and a brush, and some rags. I’m going from door to door to paint doors. Can I paint yours?”

“How much you charging?”

“Two dollars sir I do a good job, you can ask anyone.”

“I bet you do. Okay, it’s a deal, but I need you to paint my mail box post down by the road also. No one will see my door from the highway. I’ll pay you $4.00, is that fair?”

“Yes sir.”

“Also, will you tell the Missus and the girls, so they don’t open the door and get paint all over themselves?”

“Yes sir.” I said. I lowered the kickstand on my bike and walked up the pathway to the front porch, and knocked on the door.

Mrs. Hightower opened the door, she was naked.

“You’re James, aren’t you?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Well hurry up and get in here before I freeze my tush off.”

“I hurried in.”

“Remove your boots and come into the kitchen where it’s warm.” I removed my boots and put them on a rack that was provided and followed her into the kitchen. “Are you here because of Max?”

“Yes, mom told me you wanted me to ... You know.”

“Yes I know, and Max has been excited. Angel is a bit upset, but she said she wanted to watch, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, that’s okay, if that’s what you want. Also, Mr. Hightower hired me to paint the front door, and he asked me to warn you and your girls so you don’t get paint all over you.”

“Well thank you. Why don’t you take off your cloths, new rules you know, and I’ll get you some hot chocolate.”

Now, I’m not sure I fully described Mrs. Hightower. She is, I would guess, about thirty, maybe older, her color is like coffee with a lot of milk in it, and her tits are full round, like a half of a muskmelon, and her nipples are a few shades darker. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as she moved around the kitchen.

She put the milk in a small pan and placed it on an electric stove, and moved to the cupboard to get the chocolate; she glanced my way and said. “They have that effect on people.”

“I’m sorry, I ... I mean I...”

“It’s okay sweaty, my tits and my ass are my best features.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Oh you don’t do you, and what pray tell do you think my best features are?”

“I love your eyes, and lips.” I said as I pulled off and folded my shirt, and pulled my pants and underwear down.

“Well how sweet. Your parents must be very proud of you, however, I do believe that you aren’t telling the whole truth, because my eyes and lips don’t have the effect of making a young boys cock swell like yours is right now.”

“Your pussy is nice to,” I admitted.

“Well I like your cock too,” she said. “How big is it, six inches?”

“Six and a half,” I said wrapping my hand around it.

“Oh, and you’re what, sixteen?”

“Yes,”

“I suppose it has some growing to go. Tell you what,” she whispered as she put chocolate and sugar in the hot milk. “I’m getting a bit tired of that piece of meat hanging between my husband’s legs. That’s why I talked him into joining the church, my poor pussy and ass needs a break, and I also didn’t want to be stingy with his cock. I saw how the woman in the village looked at the bulge in his pants, but he wouldn’t cheat on me. This way he gets to fuck around and so do I. What do you think of the new rules?”

“I love them. Up until the meeting I was a virgin, so I don’t think I’ll ever get enough pussy.”

“Even if it’s black?” she said spreading her pussy lips.

“It’s not black,” I said. “It’s kinda dark, but pink inside.”

“So you noticed.” She poured the coco into a large mug. “Sit,” she said. “Do you want a cookie?”

“Yes mam,”

She opened the cupboard and retrieved a package of cookies and placed them in front of me.

“Can I have some momma,” it was Maxine. “Okay, where is your sister?”

“she’s looking at the magazine dad brought home.”

“That girl,” Mrs. Hightower said. “Brad brought some nudist magazines when he was in Portland. I think they are illegal, but Angel just can’t get enough of them.”

“It’s not just nudist momma, there are some that are sex magazines.”

“Sex Magazines? Well now I understand her interest. How’s that coco Jim? Can I call you Jim or Jimmy?”

“Either Ma’am.”

“Good, so she’s looking at sex magazines when we have a real live cock in our own house, and a pink one at that.”

Now Max is in the ninth grade, and is sixteen, Angel is fifteen. We’re in the same school we go to high school and had to go to Yamhill High. I always thought the Hightower family was beautiful, and knew that Mr. Hightower was a famous boxer, making what people said was almost a million dollars. He retired when he killed a man in the ring. It was reported everywhere as an accident, but people were mad because the guy that died was white and Mr. Bradford Hightower, of course was a Negro.

“Mrs. Hightower, can I touch your tits?”

“It’s Ruth, son, and yes, you may touch my tits.”

She stepped forward and I reached a shaky hand out to hold the fleshy mounds. “Oh, they are firm, Momma’s are ... are”