On more than one occasion she had slipped beneath the covers and sucked him till he came for her. On one really memorable occasion they had too much to drink at the New Year’s party and she had blown him on the coffee table in front of everyone at the party. Not that they were the only ones, more than one couple was actively engaged in some type of sexual act at that party…they’d nearly lost their charter because of the party. They were, however, the only ones who received a standing ovation for their performance.
The end of their senior year was approaching fast, and he decided to ask her to marry him. Her short answer, “No!” had shocked him. She refused to talk to him about it, and they split up for weeks. He started losing sleep and his grades started falling. He lost weight, he drank too much. Finally, one of his brothers approached her and told her what was happening.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asked him on the sidewalk in front of the Student Union. He was a mess. His clothes hung loosely on his already lean frame, his hair was unruly, and he had bags under his eyes. “What difference does it make to you?” he asked her blearily, looking at her through bloodshot eyes. She stood quietly in front of him, clasping her books in both hands “Because I love you” she said. “You’ve got a helluva way of showing it!” he told her. She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards our tree. “We need to talk” she said.
Angie threw her books to the ground, and pushed his back to the battered old oak. Grabbing his shoulders, she forced him to the ground, sitting astride his lap so that her dark brown eyes would be level with his own. “I do love you,” she said, “and that’s why I can’t marry you.” “That makes absolutely no sense at all…” he began. She shushed him with a forefinger to his lips. She began to recount everything he’d ever told her about his family and his upbringing. Fourth of July, Christmas, Thanksgiving with his family, his proms, tennis at the Country Club, even the church he was barely active in. “Do you remember telling me all those things?” she asked him.
He nodded, not understanding the need to rehash his life. She kissed him slowly and softly, climbing off his lap, for the first time not wanting to stare into his eyes. “Have you ever wondered why I love to have a cock in my mouth? Why the taste of cum is good to me? I know I’m not like other girls.” Her voice faltered as he tried to talk, “No, let me finish” she said.
“My papa was a lonely man after my mama died. He worked so hard and so long. He never ate until after my brothers and I did, and no matter how late we had to stay up, he was always the last to go to sleep. He only drank his tequila or smoked when some friend of his would drop by and share on weekends when the work had been good and there was extra money. There was only the one room in the house, so we all slept in the same room, though we scattered about. When he thought we were all asleep, some nights my papa would cry.” He glanced at her face and, though she looked sad, there was no trace of tears, only a fierce gleam.
“I told my friend Nina about it at school, and she told me to get my papa a girlfriend. I wasn’t sure what difference that would make and she told me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, I was so shocked. What she described sounded so outlandish that I didn’t believe her at first. She quickly called over some of the other girls to verify what she was telling me.
There was soon a large group of us giggling and laughing, each tying to tell a racier story than the last. One of the girls, Maria Alvarez, suddenly quieted us all down. She said that her papa wouldn’t even try to get a girlfriend because they couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. Several of the older girls were shaking their heads in agreement. Maria said that since her papa couldn’t try to find a bride, she had decided to take care of her papa herself. Most of us were shocked into silence, but again, I saw some of the other girls nodding in approval. We all were a little awed, because one of the things the Sisters were constantly lecturing about was the sanctity of our virginity. When asked about that mortal sin, Maria laughed. She told us that as long as her hymen was intact, she was a virgin. There were other ways, she whispered, to take care of her papa’s needs.”
“We all leaned forward to hear her quiet voice,” Angie said, “as she explained how a girl could use her hands, her lips, her breasts (though none of us had any yet) and her ass to satisfy a man, to make the white stuff shoot from the end of a man’s penis and make him happy. She said once she had made her papa understand that she wanted him to be happy and that she was proud to finally be more than just an empty mouth to feed, that her papa had become almost normal. She also said blushingly, that it helped to keep her brothers in line too. I looked around me and saw that very few of the other girls were shocked, that they seemed to find this a perfectly sensible solution to a seemingly insurmountable problem. I made up my mind.”
Angie still refused to look at Brad, though no trace of tears appeared on her face. “I went to the village pump and got extra water to bathe with after school was out, and I went home and washed myself all over. When my papa and brothers came home, I had supper ready for them to eat, and water for them to wash with even though it was only Wednesday. I lay on my pallet in my nightshirt until my brothers slept.
Papa thought I was asleep too, so he went to his own pallet after washing. He wore only a pair of the loose white linen pants that I had washed for him when I got home from the mission school. He sat for a while and lay down on his mat, and I very quietly went to him. I stood before him as he lay there, and I shrugged the nightshirt from my shoulders. He looked at me, completely at a loss for words.”
Angie again looked at him again. “That night I learned what it was like to suck a cock, and to feel the warmth of sticky cum in my mouth. I also learned what a joy it was to be able to bring peace and happiness to a man who had so little. At first he was consumed with guilt, but I told him what Maria had said about keeping her hymen intact and remaining a virgin. I never slept alone in that hovel again, and my Papa didn’t cry any more. I learned that first winter that after the first few times, it doesn’t hurt any more to have a cock in your ass. I also learned that my brothers hurt from the same need of a woman’s touch. I remember that winter as the most joyous time of my life. My papa and my brothers sang to me and treated me like a queen. We had no more to eat, and no luxuries at all, but we were happy and we were together. We lived like that until the hurricane took all three of them the same day.”
Her eyes finally filled with tears as she remembered the death of her family. “I am not ashamed of what I did,” she said, “I loved my papa and my brothers and I made them happy, I kept myself from being their burden to carry and became the joy of their lives.” She wiped away her tears. “When I was adopted by the Andersons, wealthy farmers in the Mississippi Delta, I had more than I ever dreamed I would have…but a year later Mrs. Anderson died and Mr. Anderson had a mild stroke. I cared for him until he died. I sold what was left after his medical expenses and came to school here. There will just be enough left for me to live until I find a decent job. It won’t be much, but I can get by.”
“Brad,” she said, “there’s no way I can marry you and fit in with your parents and the lifestyle you’ve had all your life. I’ve blown half your fraternity brothers. I’m not ashamed of living half my life in an incestuous relationship with my father and brothers. I’m proud of what I did, and I’m not going to hide from it or pretend it didn’t happen. Imagine what’s going to happen when your parents or your sisters find out! There’s no way I’m going to marry you and destroy what you have with your own family.”