Chapter 2

Maizie woke up to a very nice feeling that was building in her loins and starting to spread to her ample bosom. It was still too dark to tell who it was, but somebody with a great big dick was fucking the shit out of her in her sleep until she woke up.

Damn! It felt so good, but who could it be? Her mind went racing down the list of those she could imagine getting in her house somehow and fucking her without waking her up until she got going too good to stop.

She could hear the wind in the trees and the wonderful sound of the rain on the tin roof of the shed where she lived with her son, William. She always loved that sound, as well as the rumble of distant thunder. Every time it boomed, it seemed to happen just as that big dick hit bottom in her well-filled pussy. She felt like she was headed for the biggest cum of her life.

About the time the first tremors started shaking her body, lightning struck the old Oak tree in the front yard and Maisie looked up into William’s tightly squinched eyes as she began to cum.

“William! Wha’ chu doin’ boy? Don’t you know I’m yore momma?”

“I’m sorry, Momma. I couldn’t hep it. It hurt so much I jes had to plug it in you.

“Well, you cain’t be doin’ that baby. I’m yore momma. Now you hurry up and finish and git offa me.”

Jim welcomed the new preacher to his farm and showed him around. Jim was proud of how well he had things set up. He might just be sharecroppin’ for Mr. Wilson, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take pride in his work or in his home. Gladys had made a perfect wife for him and their two children, JC and Sissy, were good kids who worked hard and did well in school.

However, Jim’s pride and joy was his pack of Blue Tick hound dogs. They were so well trained that he could hunt ‘coons from his front porch. All he had to do was turn them loose and sit on the porch with his jug and his pipe. He could tell exactly where his dogs were and what they were doing from the different notes and types of bays that they made. The sound was music to his ears. When they treed a ‘coon, he knew exactly where they were and what they had done. All he had to do was walk into the woods, following their excited baying and get the ‘coon out of the tree.

After supper, Jim and the preacher sat on the porch in the darkness and talked. The preacher took a sip out of the jug every now and then, when he thought Jim wouldn’t notice, but he turned down Jim’s offer of a pipe. He preferred to keep a plug of tobacco in his cheek.

When the hounds were in full pursuit of an unlucky ‘coon, their baying filled the hollow where the farm was nestled.

Jim’s heart felt like it might burst from pride in his pack. “Ain’t that the prettiest music you ever heerd, Preacher?”. Jim’s eyes were misting.

“Sorry, Jim. I can’t hear a danged thang over all them dogs ahowlin’ so loud.

The preacher never understood why Jim never invited him back for more of Gladys’ wonderful pan-fried chicken and Angel food cake so light it might float off the table.

“JC, how come you late gittin’ home agin? That teacher git you back in the cloakroom agin?”

“Naw, Momma. The teacher didn’ keep me. It was the Principal. He whuppped my ass and kep’ me after school ‘cause I got in a fight.”

“A fight? JC, you know better’n that. Yore daddy is gonna bust yore ass agin whin he gits home. You know we told you if you got a whuppin’ at school you had anothern waitin’ fer you when you got him.”

“I know, Momma, and I’m adreddin’ it. Old man Phillips done cut my ass up pretty good with that big ol’ paddle that has all them holes in it to make blisters.”

“How come you got in a fight, in the first place?”

“Hit were that new boy from Mississippi. He said that the only virgins in Arkansas wuz four-year old girls that could outrun their little brother, so I popped him one.”

“He said that?”

“Yes, ma’am, he did.”

“Well, you jes rest easy. I’ll tell yore daddy what happened. I don’ thank he will whup you, but he might go after that Mississippi smart aleck.”

JC found himself a cute little thing from the next ‘holler’, over, and proposed to her. She was tickled to death, so they got the preacher to marry them and they headed out. JC headed over the hill with his bride, his gun and his dog.

The next day, JC came back with his gun and his dog. No bride.

“Whur is yer bride, JC?”, his daddy wanted to know.

“Well, Paw. I had to shoot her.”

“Whut fer? She shore wuz a cute little thang.”

“I had to, Paw. She wuz a virgin.”

“Well, son. You done right. If she weren’t good enough fer her own kin, she shore as hell weren’t good enough fer us.”

JC got a summer job The guys he rode to work with were a bunch of cutups and always trying to get one up on the others. They were about ten years older than he was and had families. One of the men was kind of a braggart and the others just sort of tolerated him. He got in the car one morning and couldn’t wait to tell his latest story.

“I just pulled a piece of meat about that long out of my wife.”

Nobody said anything for a while, as they pondered the meaning of his announcement. Apparently, he wanted the others to think that his manhood was as long as the distance he was holding his hands apart.

Finally, one of the others asked, “Whose was it?”