Chapter 5

Having to attend Dads funeral was a fearful prospect for me.

The closer it came, the more paranoid I felt. I dident want to go because it interupted the good time I was having with his wife Laura. I knew that was so selfish of me; which pulled me down more.

But I knew I would have to go; knowing I owed to dad; and avoid being a heel to the relatives showing up for his burial. And It was being a burial that gave me the creeps also; cremation is clean and modern; where burial is creepy and incomplete. The body is still there; moldering in the ground; but still watching maybe?

Like for instance, what his smart-ass son was up to with his beatifull wife now that he was out of the way?

This was the kind of thing I suddenly had in mind when I was at the funeral with Laura; and it sure had an effect on the way we felt together.

Then near the graveside, amoung the mourners, there he was; Mr Baker the funeral man! He was a tall grey man; steel grey hair and clear grey eys; and his skin; that was also cold and grey. It was as though he had died, yet returned; for some unknown reason.

Just seeing him sent fear up my spine! There was no way of knowing how much he had witnessed of mother and I by the pool? At best it would still leave Mr Baker a witness to a very compromising situation for a grieving wife. At worst he might jugde that had encountered something far more in the eyes of God.

The service got underway and Laura had to play her part with myself alongside her as the chief grievers - then shortly the ordeal was comming to a close. But as the relatives were taking their turn to offer Laura their departing condolences I suddenly found Mr Baker at my side!

He toutched my arm as he spoke softly, as if arresting me?

“Well I’m pleased that the late Mr Harris has had a dignified funeral; as his son I’m sure you will now feel an easier pathway ahead, now that he is at rest...

... and as the man of the house I would be gratefull for you to call in at our office and settle the account with me Master Harris; shall we say tomorrow at noon? Good day to you.”

I simply froze and watched him leave, feeling stricken by his words, which to me had sounded like; ‘ I saw you and your mother together; I want to see you about it!’

He could well have blackmail in mind! Afterall, he has a whole list of our family and friends! Christ!

I rejoined Laura who was still being consoled by the nearest and dearest, those that still regarded her as a paragon of virture and dignity, and now a widow who would doubtless be forever in grief at the loss of her cherished husband; now burried in a grave that Laura would regard as a shrine to be visited dutifully for the rest of her life.

But my mind went back to the recent lurid milking session between us when she’d revealed her breast-pump equipment; the rubber tubes, suckers and clips that she was addicted to ... how I’d ordered her to strip off before tiying her arms behind, and placing a ball-gag in her mouth; before strapping her tits up; grotesquely tight with the black bands of rubber; the ball- gag muffling her anguished pleasure as her glistening nipples began spraying jets of milk! ... her naked son slapping her face, inducing her cunt to convulse into climax; another of the ‘aquired perversions’ taught by her father.

That’s what was really precious to this widow they were consoling and comforting in the graveyard! Would these same people to gaze with awe at the spectacle of my mother with her head back, her eyes closed as she relished the sensation of her tingling milk being forced from her breast in bondage. Would they then regard her as a wife to Saten?

How would the creepy funeral director, Mr Baker take to it I wondered. Well maybe that was something I would find out when I kept my appointment with him at noon tomorrow.