Chapter 32

“Alright, you folks, how many of you are married or have girlfriends ... or both?” Uncle Curtis demanded of his new playthings.

“I am ... married... , “ Oliver Stack declared, “and I’m ... Stick’s lover. He’s married, too.”

“You must not mind chaw stains or something!” Aunt Molly mocked him while Uncle Curtis and the rest of us laughed.

“Apparently, neither does his wife!” I added, getting a wide-eyed stare from Stick.

“I’m married, too,” Neil Purdy conceded, “and I’m screwing, or was, Stick’s wife.”

“Wow, this here’s a hillbilly soap opera!” Erin snorted now.

“That’s okay. I was banging Neil’s wife myself,” Kieran admitted now, “and Oliver’s. And my own, of course.”

“I was ... completely faithful to Mary Anne,” Jim Bob Current declared without any righteous pomposity such as he might usually attach to such claims.

“And she to you, oddly enough, but that won’t last anymore,” Gavin interjected now, “also, Oliver’s wife is what you rustics refer to colloquially as the ‘town tramp,’ not that I judge. She’s very promiscuous already, due to apparent nymphomania, or as some call it, hypersexuality. We spirits dislike that term, as it implies excess rather than a healthy libido. Apparently, she was also busy screwing every other man in the Klavern, except for Stick.”

“Guess you guys should have focused on fucking each other, not twisting all that lust, sublimating it into anger and hate,” I scoffed at the group, “any thoughts about going ahead and grabbing some new converts from among their wives to add to Uncle Curtis’s sixty-nine?”

“You lead, we follow, boss!” Lisa teased me now.

“Take us to your wives ... and girlfriends, boys!” I ordered the now nude ex-Klansmen to guide us to their humble or not-so-humble homes.

Mary Anne was first on the list, faithful wife that she was, mostly because she was most in need of emancipation. A strawberry blonde with rather distinctive freckles, she heard Jim Bob’s voice and rushed out of the house in her nightgown, only to find a whole crowd of naked men and women with tattooed asses, daggers, and one machete among us. Not being privy to the new developments of the past month or so, Mary Anne Current, nee Stack (yes, Oliver’s sister), was entirely thunderstruck by this gathering of mostly strangers and her hubby’s friends.

“Hello, Mary Anne,” I told her as she stood on her front porch...

Erin and I walked up to her and cut open her nightgown with our daggers, which exposed her thirty-three year old flesh for all to see.

“What ... who ... why?” Mary Anne stuttered a bit while we cut away the rest of her clothes and left her exposed to the humid Dog Days night.

“Uncle Curtis, she’s all yours!” I turned to my uncle, who grinned at Erin and me as he took possession of a Klansman’s wife still struggling in our grasp.

“There you go, sugar, bless your heart!” Aunt Molly snickered as she brought her nipples up to Mary Anne’s mouth to distract her while Uncle Curtis left his mark.

“Let’s take her back right here and now!” Uncle Curtis laughed as he slid into a shockingly wet and ready Mary Anne from the rear.

“She’s excited and aroused by being taken in such a rough and surprising fashion. The aggression, the public setting, the forcible disrobing, all of that turns her on, you see. She’s always been sexually repressed for the most part, but if someone else takes all of the risks and takes command of her, she tends to delight and exult in all things carnal. Add in the forbidden thrill of being ravaged by a black man when she knows that her husband is watching, well, you get the idea. Plus she hopes that he will prove fertile when Jim Bob isn’t,” Gavin clarified, reading Mary Anne’s mind in everyone, including her.

“Well, your wish is about to be granted, ma’am. Here we go,” Uncle Curtis laughed as he really began pounding her in earnest and Aunt Molly spread her cheeks to lick Mary Anne’s butt.

Meanwhile, Erin and I had grabbed Jim Bob, my sweet cousin parting his buttocks to ease my way into his cornhole with precious little lube. He might not be able to suffer injury, but Jim Bob definitely felt some discomfort from my growing, throbbing prick in his pucker. I grinned at Uncle Curtis, who gave me a high-five as I buggered the eunuch hubby while my uncle plowed his wife. It was a richly deserved humiliation for the ex-Klansman, to have to take it deep in his booty while his spouse was impregnated by a black man. Whatever racist views he might or might not hold by now, he now paid a high price for hatred and bigotry toward another person.

“Lawton, bugger Stick. Steve, sodomize Neil. Ewan, plow Kieran’s backfield. Bryan, ram Oliver’s rump!” I commanded some of my fellas with Uncle Curtis’s evident approval.