Chapter 1

Lewis Zachary “Zach” Black

I reeled from the revelation my thought form just told me. Mrs. Augustine, the preacher’s wife and Susannah’s mother, had an affair with my own father. She was the unfaithful wife with the false marriage. My stomach heaved.

I had a second sister, and I had slept with her, too.

I had claimed her as my wife.

And Mrs. Augustine ... Did she know that Susannah was my sister? She never objected to me dating my half-sister. Maybe she believed Susannah was her husband’s child. I fought to keep my composure. It was the most shocking thing I had ever heard in my life.

“So how’s school going?” Reverend Augustine said, grinning at me. He was a tall man, his dark hair peppered with gray and starting to bald.

“Challenging, but I’m keeping my nose to the grindstone, sir,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t ring with my shock.

Mrs. Augustine and my father? That piece of shit asshole who left my mother with my sister and me to raise. Just went out for cigarettes, as the meme went, and never came back. Lewis Black, the man my mother named me after, was out there, somewhere. Probably dying of alcoholism if he wasn’t dead.

My mother still loved him. Still pined after him. It was like seeing a battered woman who could never admit her husband was a piece of shit. If he ever came back, I’d deck him. Then I’d probably kill him. Slowly. Stealthily. In a way that could never be traced back to me.

I’d killed one man ... That was the hard part, right? That first time.

“Going to graduate with a 4.0?” the reverend asked.

I forced a chuckle. “Maybe a 3.9. I’m not that good.”

“You inspire Susannah,” he said. “She wants to go off to the same college as you.”

“She’s a smart girl,” I said. “Must get that from her father.”

He laughed. “Probably, probably. At least she got her mother’s looks.”

That she did. Susannah was the spitting image of her mother. My father left hardly any of him in Susannah. She and Moira looked nothing alike. You’d never suspect them of being sisters. Clearly, Reverend Augustine had no idea.

God, I had to cuckold this man. I liked him. I had to fuck his mother. I’d already claimed his daughter. I’d add his mother to my, what, secret harem. Susannah was already okay with me fucking her mother if Nisha the “Angel” ordained it. She even said she’d commit incest with her mother.

My stomach churned. A sick feeling rose in me. My mother would be the last woman, wouldn’t she? The mother I had to claim. I’d hope it was that snake Charles’s mother I had to steal from him. Wrest her from his power and fuck her in front of him or something, but this...?

“You’ll be graduating in just a few more years,” Reverend Augustine said. “Got any plans.”

“Asking if there’s going to be a ring on your daughter’s finger?” I asked, needing to keep up the facade.

“I’d hate to see her end up with anyone else.” He chuckled. “She’s smitten with you. She’d make a good wife for you.”

“Like her mother did for you?”

“We’ve had far more good times than bad.” He looked serious. “They happen in every marriage. Each day, you start it up again, deciding to still love your spouse. Me and Mrs. Augustine keep making that commitment.”

Susannah said they made passionate love often. She could hear her mother moaning from the other bedroom. Yet it was clear that Mrs. Augustine craved me now. Hearing the poem caused so many little things to form a picture.

How she smiled at me. How she hugged me. I always felt how ... endowed she was. I thought it was innocent—I mean, it was hard to hug a man when you were as busty as her without rubbing your tits into him—but now ... I knew it wasn’t. She lusted for me. I just had to make my move.

Tonight? With the reverend here? I’d have to find a time. Susannah could talk about that. Fuck, how would she respond to learning the truth? I’d have to spin it. Divine will. God intended us to be this close. A merging of sacred bloodlines or something.

“Dinner’s ready, boys,” Mrs. Augustine said, appearing in the entrance of the living room, a big smile on her lips. She doffed her white apron, wearing a blue dress with a conservative cut, though it did fit snug in the hips and could not hide those tits. She had breasts as big as her daughter’s.

But staring at her, the words of the poem echoed in my mind.

Unfaithful and wanton,

the adulterous wife craves,

the son of the man,

who made her cum.

She craves the youth

who looks like him

The man who changed her life.

Made her a whore from wife.

While her husband watches

she craves to ride

the son of her lover.

The son of the man

who fathered her daughter.

To get her, I just had to be my father’s son. Anger burned in me that he had any connection to this. My hands balled into fists even as I smiled and said, “Smells delicious, Mrs. Augustine.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” she said as I headed toward her. She grabbed my arm, pulling me into the dining room while rubbing the side of her breast against me. I felt her softness. The warmth bled through her bra and skin. My cock ached. “Just a perfect gentleman.”

“He is, Mom,” Susannah said. She wore a pink dress in a similar cut to her mother’s. She looked good in it as she sat a bowl of mashed potatoes down on the middle of the table. A platter with the roast was there. “If you’d cut the roast, Dad.”

“Sure,” he said, coming around behind me and his wife who still held onto me for a moment longer. In fact, she pressed tighter against me for a moment. Her perfume filled my nose. She was here to seduce me.

Fuck.

Mrs. Augustine broke away from me as Susannah brought out the peas. She flashed me a happy smile, clearly so glad to have me over for dinner. I smiled back at her. It was hard not to. Susannah was this brilliant light, unsullied despite what she had done behind closed doors. Pure. Precious.

The roast was cut and slices were divvied up onto plates. I sat in the middle of the table with Susannah across from me, her father to my left, and her mother to my right. We all took hands to say grace before we dug in.

“Father, we wish to thank you for having Zach over,” Mr. Augustine said while his wife’s warm hand gripped mine, her thumb rubbing against the back of my hand. “He’s a good lad who has such promise for the future.”

A foot rubbed at my right leg, pushing up my pants to rub at my calf beneath. My heart beat faster as I glanced surreptitiously at Mrs. Augustine. She had her eyes closed and a smile on her lips as she stroked me with her bare foot.

“Bless this food that we’re about to consume,” Reverend Augustine continued, “and bless our home. Thank you for this bounty that you have provided to nourish us. Amen.”

“Amen,” I muttered, my heart racing. That foot stroking my leg sent heat rushing up to engorge my cock. It was ... exciting having her do that beneath her husband’s nose. He had no idea this was going on.

I swallowed as the mashed potato, gravy float, and peas were passed around the table. I cleared my throat and said, “Thanks for having me. It looks good.”

“I made the mashed potatoes,” Susannah said with delight. “And the gravy.”

I took a big mouthful of them. I groaned at how good they were. No faking it. She had all the wifely skills down. “That’s great. Creamy and the gravy ... Perfect.”

She blushed happily while her mother smiled at me, her bare foot still rubbing at my calf. I smiled back at Mrs. Augustine, letting her know I liked what she was doing. If I had to claim her, then I would claim her. I would make her into my cum-dumpster.

A wave of anger shot through me. Not only had she fucked my father, but she was an adulterer. A liar. She put up this facade, and it was all a lie. I could see it now. A wanton harlot simmered behind her mask of a loving wife.

I would fuck her so hard. Jizz on her face. Her tits. I would fuck her ass and make her suck my dick clean. I wouldn’t make love to her. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved to be degraded. I would give her to Sable when I was done and let her have fun with the woman.

Clearly, Mrs. Augustine would tie me to a man of faith to show the world that I was a righteous man and had the backing of my reverend. She must have her husband wrapped around her finger. He had no idea what sort of woman he had married.

That had to be why she would be bound to me.

I momentarily put my hand beneath the table and placed it on her thigh, squeezing her. She arched an eyebrow at me before I pulled it away. No one else noticed. Her smile grew wicked for a heartbeat.

“Susannah is lucky to have caught your affection,” Mrs. Augustine said. “You’re such a fine young man, Zach. Just fine.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her. “I want to do right by her.”

“Good, good.” Her foot slid up and down me, caressing me. “I want her to find a man who I will cherish her. Be a good companion for her. She has good judgment. If I was here age, well ... and I had to choose between you and my husband...”

Reverend Augustine laughed. “Lucky me, I didn’t have that sort of competition.”

“And you’d have to compete with me, Mom,” Susannah said, so innocent of it. She smiled at me.

“That would be a tough one,” I said. “You inherited your mother’s beauty, Susannah. She must have looked just like you at sixteen.”

Susannah giggled. “Then we’d be like you and Moira. Only...”

“One of you would have to be the bad one,” I said, my gaze flicking to Mrs. Augustine.

A smile played on her lips for a moment. Oh, yes, she knew she was the bad one.

I was so hard right now. I wanted to have Nisha suck me off. I could. My thought form was right here watching it all, drinking it in. She moved behind Susannah, those dusky breasts of my tulpa rising and falling. Only I could see her. Interact with her.

I could control my cock.

I devoured the meal. I was starving. I didn’t get many home-cooked meals. Mom had to work two jobs, so I grew up on Rice a Roni, Hamburger Helper, and Kraft Mac ‘N Cheese. Fish stick Fridays. Top Ramen lunches. Cereal for breakfast.

This was a treat. I mixed my roast with the mashed potatoes, savoring eating them together. The peas had butter on glazed on them with some light seasoning. It was a meal that had me thrilled to be here even with Mrs. Augustine flirting.