Chapter 22

Michelle hugged Melissa as they laid Walt Wilson to rest. It was now 1952 and the twins were in their mid sixties. Their age was showing even though they made several trips to the salon a week. They even flew down to the hot spings in Georgia to try to bring their beauty back to them. But the spa could only do so much. They spent hours in mud packs, getting massages, using multiple oils and creams, plus anything that was on the market at that time. It did little good. They learned that they could not turn back the clock.

Melissa wept as Michelle steered her back to the limo for a stiff drink. Michelle lost Ray Smith when he walked out on her the year before. "You're getting too old," Ray sneered as he packed his things. "Your cunt is just like sandpaper." "You're no spring chicken yourself," Michelle shot back. "You can't get it up like you did a few years back." Ray stopped his packing for a moment to look at her, "How can I get it up when I have to put my dick into a wrinkled pussy that's probably full of yeast and other shit." "Not a penny," Michelle screeched. "You won't get a penny from me you fucking leech. All you were good for was a decent fuck and now you can't even do that. Talk about getting old, you're cock can't get hard even if I have to suck it."

Mike and Marilyn were in the the limo with Melinda on her lap. The pregnant girl was well on their way to having their second child. The heat of the day was too much for her so Mike stayed with her in the air conditioned funeral vehicle. "This one is much worse than when I carried out little girl here," she complained. "You look beautiful being pregnant and all," Mike smiled at her. "Oh sure!" Marilyn sneered even though her husband was joking. "Big fat and with stretch marks already and about to get some more. You know, I wouldn't fuck myself the way I look." "Honey, since you won't, I will," Mike smiled at her. Since he met her at age thirteen he never looked at another woman like he did her. Yes, he stared at attractive ladies in the past especially when he was in Hollywood to consult on a cheap 'B' grade movie of his heroism; he stared at Elizabeth Taylor. She even smiled at him a few times with the knowledge he was a war hero. His thoughts were only of the luscious little blonde waiting at home for him. "It's getting to the point I'm going to have to jerk you off or give you blow jobs." "I won't complain, and I'll even eat your pussy so you can get some pleasure."

Michelle was guided into the back seat by her sister. "Get us a drink, will you, Mike?" Melissa asked as she continued to comfort Melissa. "No trouble," Mike said, dropping to his knees to open the small refrigerator. "What's your poison, Mom?" "Bourbon straight," she replied, wiping the dampness off her forehead. "Aunt Michelle?" "The same only if there is some ice, put in a couple of cubes." "Honey?" he asked his wife. "Nothing! I'm not feeling well," she said.