Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 13:48:23 -0700
From: Jack <strokebudaz@gmail.com>
Subject: Mama's Getting Married Part 1

Disclaimer: The following story is fictional. Any resemblance to actual
person, living or dead is purely coincidental. This work is the property of
the author and legal action would be taken if it is reproduced, modified or
reworked without the author's written consent. All rights reserved.

This is a fictional erotic story where men of different ages indulge into
sexual activities with each other. Some characters are related to each
other performing incest. If any such thing offends you, then you mustn't
proceed anymore further and perhaps click the back button. And for those
who are not supposed to read this because of their country's law or
cultural norms, age or other important things, well god help you if you get
caught.

This story may have grammatical errors, so please ignore that and don't let
it ruin your experience.

NOTE: Specific to the first part of the story. There is no sexual content
in the first chapter. Don't be discouraged. I am still very pleased with
the writing, I hope you enjoy how it sets the stage.

Let me know what you think about my stories at strokebudaz@gmail.com

AND the Very IMPORTANT one! Don't forget to donate to Nifty.

Mama's Getting Married
By strokebudaz@gmail.com

(One)
A Call From Home

It was just before lunchtime on an early Spring Monday. The phone rang on
my direct line, which was a little strange, but not unheard of.

'This is Ben Burditt. How can I help you?' And the squeal of glee followed
by a woman's bright happy voice exclaiming 'Benji! How good it is to hear
your voice! It's your mama. How are you, dear?' Her accent was unchanged,
full of the simple life and rich history of the hills and mountains she
grew up in, and where she raised me and my older brother Michael. I hadn't
talked to her in perhaps four years, and I suddenly felt a little guilty.

"Mama, I'm sorry I haven't called home in a while. My life's been kinda
crazy lately,' she shushed me up and replied, `Don't you worry none about
that. I know what a busy successful man you are.' She asked again how I
was, and I answered, 'I'm fine, Mama. I was just getting ready to go to
lunch.' I paused for a second, and asked, a little slower, 'Is everyone
okay there, Mama? What about Auntie Willa?' She was my father's oldest
sister, and had been battling diabetes and obesity for nearly the last
twenty years. Mama made a derisive sound and replied, 'Oh, that old goat,
she's doing just fine. Started taking the doctor serious when he showed her
pictures of some folks with the diabetes who got toes cut off, and she
takes her insulin like she should, and stopped drinking soda pop
altogether. Honey, I called with some good news. Are you sitting down?'

`Yes, I am.' I knew better than to push my mother to share her good
news. She sometimes liked to reveal these things bit by bit. I was just
grateful she wasn't the kind of person who would want me to guess the news
myself. I heard her take a deep breath and blow it out, trying to relax
herself. `Well, I guess I should just say it. It's just so weird to hear
the words coming out of my mouth. But Benji...I'm getting married!' There
was a slight giggle in her voice, as if she found the sound of the words
themselves funny. I stammered a bit myself, and said, `What? Married? Mama,
I didn't even know you were seeing anyone...' After a moment, a wickedly
humorous thought popped in my head, and I asked, my voice quiet and
serious, `Mama, you're not...in a family way, are you? Did he get you
knocked up? Is that why you're getting married?' I snickered a little, and
Mama replied with a bright high laugh, and exclaimed, `Oh, Benji! You and
your warped mind!' We both enjoyed a few more moments of laughter, and
after we regained our composure, I said, `So, tell me about him.'

She said his name was Doyle Heywood. He owned 3 Chevy dealerships, two in
Parkersburg, and one in Williamstown. She said they met a little over 3
years ago, at a community meeting to save the old Herald Theater
downtown. He'd lost his first wife, Alice, to cancer five years
earlier. They found they both enjoyed a lot of similar interests. He
occasionally accompanied her to Sunday church services, even though he was,
as she described him, `an unapologetic heretic'. She said she was still
'working on bringing him back to the fold'.

`I know there's a soul worth saving underneath all Doyle's coarse language,
his cigars and whiskey, and his...more physical desires.' I had a sudden
flash, an image of a sweating, grunting stranger grabbing hold of my mother
in a primal, hungry, lustful embrace, hunching and slobbering over her. I
shook my head to clear it of the disturbing vision. She continued to talk
of the enjoyable times they'd shared, and how he'd proposed to her while
they sat on the porch swing at home after a satisfying Sunday dinner.

`Mama? Do you love him?' I asked.

`Yes, Benji, I do. Not the way I loved your father, but in a way that feels
right for us.' I just nodded. Dad had been gone nearly 15 years, and I'm
sure she was glad to have a man around.

`Is he good to you?' She paused, trying to find the best way to answer a
question that could mean a lot of things. Of course, I didn't want to know
anything about their physical relationship, if there even was one. But Mama
was an adult, and she knew I how to phrase her answer in the most genteel
way possible. `Benji, he makes me feel like I have so much to look forward
to in life. He's shown me things I never knew, and made me feel things I
never thought I could feel. He makes life exciting.' I smiled, and felt my
throat tighten, my eyes brimming with tears.

I grabbed a tissue, and said, quickly, `So, when's the big day?' I grabbed
my small desk calendar, looking at the meetings, projects, and deadlines
looming in the next months. Screw it, I decided, this shit can wait. I'm
gonna go home for my mother's wedding.

`We thought it would be fun to have the wedding on the anniversary of when
we first met. Saturday, May 16th. And we're not going to have a church
wedding. We want to have the ceremony in the spot that brought us together
in the first place. We're going to get married at the Herald Theater.' The
way she said it made it obvious there would be no discussion of this
issue. I could imagine she'd already had many frustrating arguments with
some of her female friends, most of them also her church friends, about NOT
having a church wedding.

She continued, `Benji, I want you and Michael to walk me down the aisle and
give me away.'

The tears that threatened to spill earlier broke over my lids, streaking
down my face, moistening my beard. `I would be honored, Mama.' I answered
quietly, my voice breaking between tearful breaths.

I could tell she was overcome as well, even as she said, `Stop your
blubberin' boy. This is going to be a very happy occasion. And, according
to some of the customers at Merla's Beauty Boutique, one of the best
parties this town has seen in a long time. Doyle knows a lot of well-placed
folks in this area, and they're all going to be there.'

`Well, Mama, I'm really looking forward to it. I haven't been back there in
a long time, and I think I could really use a taste of home. I'll give you
a call when I know exactly what day I'll be in. By the way, have you talked
to Michael yet? Do you really think he'll be willing to drag Joanne there?
The last time she came to the house, it didn't end too well. If I remember,
she said `I'll only come back to this uncouth hick town to attend your
funeral...'

Mama finished the memorable rant that Joanne, Michael's wife, screeched as
she stomped down the porch steps toward their Escalade, followed closely by
a speechless, sputtering Michael. `...and spit on your grave!' We both
chuckled at the shared memory, and Mama continued, `I thought you'd heard,
Michael got a divorce. He came home one afternoon and found Joanne and the
boy from the pool cleaning service naked and humping like drunken
weasels. He gave her the Toyota, her clothes, and a check big enough to get
her to go back to Las Vegas. I even heard she got her old job back. They
may want to replace the pole she danced on, however. She's a lot bigger
than she was when Michael met her.. We both chuckled.

I looked over at my desk clock and realized my lunch hour was nearly
over. I quickly said my goodbyes to my mother, grabbed another couple of
tissues, wiped my face, and gave myself a quick assessment in the mirror on
the backside of my door. I decided I was good enough to bullshit my way
through a creative marketing seminar with a dozen store managers from our
southeast region, and I was out the door.



(Two)

Cambridge Park

I flew in to Charleston on the Wednesday before the wedding, figuring I'd
take a couple days before and a couple days after the wedding to indulge in
a little nostalgia and general relaxation. I called my mother to let her
know I'd arrived, and she said that they were having a barbeque that
evening. I told her I'd be over as soon as I got settled in my motel
room. Of course, I knew I had to make one small side trip first.

Life in the less urban parts of the country had become very foreign to me,
even though I'd been raised in the forests and hills of West Virginia. I'd
become too accustomed to life in Los Angeles. But as I drove the rental car
north along the state highway toward Parkersburg, I rolled down the window
and breathed in the country air. I felt my shoulders and neck relax, giving
up the tension of city life. I also felt a stirring down below my belt as
my dick began to throb, swell and lengthen, bringing to mind some of the
memorable encounters and great sexual discoveries I'd made while growing up
in this secluded little Appalachian paradise. And then I saw it. A faded,
broken sign stood leaning against an old telephone pole off to the
right. It read simply, `Cambridge Park 1 Mile Ahead'.

From a very early age, I knew I was more sexually attracted to men than
girls.. And it wasn't the boys my age that I wanted to have sexual contact
with, but grown up men. I jerked off thinking about the fathers of my
buddies from school. Almost any of the men in our little town. Some of my
teachers, the coal miners, police officers, the man who owned the hardware
store, even the pastor of the local Methodist church. But I also knew that
being too obvious about my attraction could get me in some very difficult,
even dangerous situations. I learned that with a little subtlety, and a
talented mouth, I could get some of our upstanding town elders to indulge
in their own secret, shameful fantasies. I was also fortunate that I was
gifted with a bigger than average cock, and a body that matured somewhat
faster than my friends. By the time I was 15, I had a nice curly mat of
hair across my chest and stomach, and my voice was deep and strong. I stood
at just under 6 feet, and could grow a beard that gave me the look of a man
perhaps 10 years older than I was. Besides learning about keeping secrets,
I also found out one of the locations that some of the frustrated men in
the area came to for some good, quick release of their sexual tension.

Just off State Highway 12, about 10 miles south of town was an old, mostly
abandoned park. Cambridge Park was originally a 10-acre botanical
garden. The land was gifted to the city in 1933 by Maxwell Cambridge, a
wealthy industrialist who owned the mining company that was the lifeblood
of the area. He had an elegant garden created as the centerpiece in honor
of his wife, Julia, who died of cholera in 1925. It was well maintained
through a family foundation, but when the family decided to sell the mine
to a Brazillian company in 1975, the foundation's funds were quickly
drained, and no one seemed interested in the park's upkeep. The gardens
became overgrown, the children's play areas rusted and broken. The rest
rooms in a large brick building at the side of the parking lot were left
unchecked and abandoned. But they continued to have regular visitors.

Reverend Erwin was the man who first showed me the bathrooms at Cambridge
Park, and I would bicycle there at least once a week. Sometimes I'd sit in
one of the four stalls, each with an adequate gloryhole carved into the
plywood partitions. Or I'd stand at the long metal urinal, stroking my
cock, waiting to hear a car pull into the parking lot, and the sound of
footsteps approaching the entrance. The men who came to the park were
varied. And their desires were varied as well. Not all were my type, and
some rejected my contact. I learned quickly to not take it personally. I
still managed to have a good number of memorable adventures here.

This was the place where I first took a cock up my ass, from a Mexican who
didn't speak much English, but made his desires perfectly clear when he
stood next to me at the urinal and pulled out a thick, dark uncut cock,
sliding the foreskin back and forth over the slick cockhead, shaking it,
and staring at my hard cock. I looked at his bearded face, and he smiled,
asking "You suck?". I answered his question by reaching over and grabbing
his dick, dropping down on one knee and immediately engulfing the entire
shaft in my mouth. His hand held the back of my head as he grunted and
fucked my face. After a few more moments, he pulled me to my feet, turned
me around, and pulled my pants to the floor. I held the stall partition as
I felt his big muscular hands grab my hairy ass cheeks, kneading them and
pulling them apart. He growled, saying, "Si, es bueno." before I felt his
rough bearded face press against my ass, his thick wet tongue immediately
pushing against my quivering hole. I gasped and shook my ass, feeling my
hole opening, his tongue sliding inside me. He licked and slurped and
pushed his tongue in and out over again, grunting and growling, the sounds
vibrating through my butthole, my nuts, my dripping, throbbing cock.

Then he stood up, wrapping one big arm around me, his hand massaging my
hairy tit. He pressed up against me, his beard brushing against my ear as
he said, "I fuck you good."

I felt the head of his cock rubbing up and down against my hole, He pressed
forward, and I felt my hole open up, a moment of pain, and then a heat
raidiating through my body as his cock slid all the way inside me. His
hands moved over my entire body, his face pressed against my neck. I loved
the feeling of his balls slapping against mine each time he plunged into
me. He began thrusting faster, his hands gripping my hips, and then one
final push, holding himself deep in my ass, he let out a long shuddering
groan as his cock throbbed 3, 4, 5 times, releasing his seed into my tender
hole.

I felt him pull out, and he gave my butt an appreciative smack. "Gracias,
amigo." he said as he tucked his semi-hard cock back into his jeans. I was
still too dazed to move, my breathing heavy, my ass tingling. He left
without any further conversation. I never crossed paths with him again.

That was only one of dozens of memories that flashed through my mind as I
approached the secluded entrance to Cambridge Park. Thick stands of
untended hedges blocked the main drive from the highway, as well as the
parking area and the vine-covered brick building with `MEN' and `WOMEN'
stenciled in faded white paint over the open entryway on each end. There
were a few feeble attempts at graffiti here and there, but nobody cared
enough to cover it. Some of the glass block windows had been broken out
over the years, and left unrepaired. There were no other vehicles in the
large gravel lot, so I parked near the opening to the men's room. I hoped
that in the years I'd been away, that this place had continued to be a
popular, albeit secret, spot for men to get together. I checked my watch,
seeing that it was just past noon, and remembering that lunchtime had been
rather active in the past. I got out of my car, and went into the restroom.

Surprisingly, it hadn't changed much. The trees, bushes, vines and hedges
had grown thicker and fuller, muffling the sounds of traffic from the
nearby highway. The bathroom itself was just as I remembered it. The odor
was a little stronger, but not nauseatingly so. A quick peek into each
stall showed minimal cleaning had been done over the years, but the toilets
looked as if they'd been cleaned recently .The gloryholes between each had
been maintained, sanded and painted. There was even rolls of toilet paper
in each stall. I didn't feel like sitting on the cold porcelain waiting for
a possible visitor. I leaned back against the partition next to the
stainless steel trough urinal. I undid my belt, opened my fly and pulled
out my half-hard cock. I undid a couple extra buttons on my shirt, running
my hand across my thick mat of chest hair, and began stroking myself,
licking my palm and covering my dick in saliva. I closed my eyes and
reminisced about some of the more memorable encounters I'd enjoyed in this
seedy, forgotten, dirty little building.

After maybe fifteen minutes, I was startled back to the present by the
familiar crunch of gravel under vehicle tires. My cock was fully engorged,
my saliva combining with the copious precum flowing from the head to coat
the entire shaft in a slick, shiny film. I heard a car engine stop, a door
open, and close, and a single pair of shoes crossing the parking lot toward
the bathroom. I stood at the trough, my hand gripping the base of my
erection, my balls hanging outside also, low and full. My hardon bobbed up
once, twice, releasing a shimmering strand of precum as the unknown visitor
entered.

I glanced toward him as he entered, and he met my gaze. We both gave a
quick nod, and I turned my head back to look straight ahead, occasionally
glancing down at my turgid dick. The visitor stood perhaps two feet away
from me, and I saw him glance over at my cock as he unzipped his fly and
pulled out his healthy looking dick. He looked straight ahead, shaking and
tugging at his dick to get the flow of urine started. I stole another quick
glance at him.

He looked to be somewhere in age between 60 and 70, with a head full of
pure white, wavy hair grown down nearly to his shoulders, but neat and
stylish. He also sported a thick moustache and goatee, also meticulously
maintained. The hair on his face was more mixed, silver/white with a
liberally sprinkling of dark red & brown hair. He was short, looking to be
perhaps five foot six-or seven. But he also looked rather thick, with a
broad chest stretching the fabric of the light blue polo shirt he was
wearing. The open collar also revealed a thick tuft of silver white hair
peeking from under the shirt.  He let out a sigh as his bladder released a
full healthy stream of piss, splashing against the bottom of the trough. I
glanced over again, and our eyes met, and we shared a light chuckle. My
dick had softened somewhat, but I was still tugging and stroking it,
shaking it occasionally. The visitor looked down at my cock and said,
`Sometimes it's got a mind of its own, don't it?" His voice was deep, rich,
and sexy. .And the accent was not the same as the folks in this part of the
Appalachians. It sounded more like Georgia. He smiled at me, a decidedly
wicked grin.

I continued to shake and tug on my dick, partially turning my head to
address him, replying, `I'm usually not shy about pissing in public. I
guess the little guy just wanted to come out and play.' We both chuckled
again. The visitor had finished pissing, but he left his cock out. He
casually gripped the base, making the shaft and head swell a bit, and
stroked the full length. He let go and his cock began bobbing, swelling and
rising as blood filled it. I released my cock, putting my hands on my hips
and watched my cock grow, stretching and thickening.

`It's important to let it out once in a while.' He glanced back and forth
between his cock and mine, and looking up at me. I was doing the
same. `Give it exercise every day.' He sidestepped closer to me.

`Yeah it's nice to give it a good workout,' I said. I took a step closer to
him, gripping my cock and slowly stroking the full length, Looking at our
dicks, I could tell I was nearly an inch longer, and thicker than him. His
cock, which he stroked to full hardness, had a nice girth and a large shiny
cockhead. It curved up slightly, and looked to be about 7 inches. The
precum ran down over his cockhead and dripped down his shaft, the veins
along the length bulging and pulsing. We moved toward each other, and when
our cockheads made contact, they slipped and slid around, above, under each
other, sharing and combining their sticky sweet precum.

Wordlessly, we reached out and grasped each other's rock hard peckers, both
of us letting out a deep animal growl, a shared primal sensation. Stroking
each other, he looked up at me with that `bad boy' grin and a deep throaty
chuckle. `Can I suck it?' he asked. I answered, stepping a little closer
and placing my left hand on his shoulder, guiding his open mouth toward my
cock, `Be my guest.' He slid the head of my cock in his mouth and held it
there. I gasped, `Oh fuck' as I felt his tongue circling the entire
cockhead, the suction he was applying making it feel like my dick was
swelling and growing even more. He sat back on his haunches, his hands
grasping my hairy ass cheeks. My hands went to both sides of his head,
holding it firmly, but not too hard. He looked up at me, and I looked down
at him, my expression asking him, `Are you ready?' His throaty moan and nod
of assent was all I needed. I slid my cock deeper into his mouth until I
felt it hit the back of his throat. He hitched slightly, took a deep breath
and adjusted his throat and I felt my dick bend and slide down into his
throat. His goatee pressed against my dark brown pubic hair, rubbing softly
against my testicles. He continued moaning and grunting as he held my
entire cock in his mouth, his hands gripping my ass a little tighter, his
throat muscles spasming and squeezing, warm and wet along the entire length
of my cock.

He pushed back, gasping for air as his throat released my cock. He looked
up at me again, his eyes glistening and watering, and with that same wicked
smile, he began to slide his mouth, tongue and lips back and forth along my
cock. His hands returned to my hairy ass and legs and began rubbing and
kneading, up and down, all the way to my calves, the inside and outside of
my thighs. I reached down and again held his head in both my hands. His
thick white shoulder length hair was rather disheveled, but I ran my
fingers through it, gripping it to hold his mouth still while I began
pumping back and forth, sliding my hard cock in and out of his hungry
throat. His hands let go of my butt and legs and began stroking his own
slick and throbbing cock. He groaned and grunted his pleasure as I pummeled
his willing, greedy throat.

`I fucking love a man who knows how to suck cock.' I said. He pulled his
mouth off my dick, and while milking its length, looked up, replying, `I
swallow, too. I want to taste your jizz, son.' He slobbered on my swollen
balls a couple times, then returned his attention to my hard aching
cock. He alternated between sliding the entire length down his throat, and
sucking only the head in his mouth, bobbing back and forth in short
strokes. I slid the front of my t-shirt up and over the back of my neck,
and grabbed, tugged and pawed my hairy chest and belly, pinching and
pulling my nipples also. The silver haired cock sucker looked up, and
moaned, releasing my cock. `Oh, fuck yeah. You're a real fucking stud
man. All hairy like a beast.' He swallowed my cock to the base again,
holding it deep in his throat. He let go of his own dick, running it up my
furry belly, across my chest and clamping firmly, but not painfully, onto
my left nipple. I sucked in a deep breath, bucking my hips forward, wedging
my cock deeper in his throat. His face was turning a bright shade of
crimson, the veins throbbing in distinctive relief along his neck. He
pulled back, releasing my hardon with an audible `pop' from his throat,
thick strands of saliva stretching from his mouth to my meat. Gasping for
air, he looked up at me. `Man, I am glad I decided to stop here today.' His
face was returning to a more normal color. `I haven't had a cock like this
in weeks.'

`Well, you're a great cocksucker, for sure. You ready to take my load? Cuz,
I'm ready to shoot.'

`Gimme that jizz, fucker.' He growled, as he gripped the base of my
cock. He smacked his face a couple times with my hard throbbing dick,
flinging drops of precum to stick on his facial hair. He looked up at me,
his eyes shining with lust, and swiftly he enveloped my entire cock with
his warm wet mouth and tongue, sliding back and forth in a steady rhythm. I
grabbed my hairy pecs, flicking my hard swollen nips. I felt his hand again
grab my furry ass, squeezing and kneading it, his fingers moving steadily
toward my flexing, puckered hole. When I felt his fingers pushing agains
it, I relaxed a bit and felt it slip in past the first knuckle.

`Awwww, yeah, fucker" I groaned. `That's what you really want, isn't? You
want my ass, don't you? Shove your hard prick in my hungry ass?' He just
nodded and continued to suck me and slip his finger in and out, feeling my
prostate throb and swell, releasing streams of precum down his throat.

I placed a hand on the back of his head, feeling my balls begin to draw
up. Feeling that initial clenching just below my navel, I took over,
fucking his face with a more insistent tempo, our breathing becoming
deeper. He pulled his finger out, pausing in his blowjob to stick them in
his mouth until they were covered with a nice thick coat of saliva, then
sliding two fingers back in. I pumped my dick in and out, and he pushed and
pulled his digits in and out of my hole.

I groaned, feeling my ass ring stretch, but not painfully. `Yeah, that's
it, man.' I said. `I want you in there. I want your cock in my tight
hole. I want you to breed me.' I was feeling my orgasm building, assaulting
this stranger's throat with my harsh thrusts.

Every thrust into his throat was accentuated with my desperate
cries. `Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!! Make me cum!' I cried out. He pushed his two
fingers deep into my clenching ass, holding them against my pumping
prostate. I held his face against my crotch, my pulsing shaft and cockhead
dumping out 4 or five thick shots of jizz. He struggled only slightly, and
I moved my hand. He pulled back enough that the head of my cock rested on
his tongue, and more cum drained out. He moaned greedily, swallowing each
drop.

I pulled my cock out, and leaned down to share a deep kiss, tasting my own
jizz, and pulling him to his feet. He stood up, our lips and tongues
battling. His hand was frantically stroking the length of his hard cock. He
pulled back just a bit. We opened our eyes, our gaze locked on each
other. My hand fondled and rubbed his quickly rising balls. He quietly and
breathlessly looked up into my face and said, `I'm cummin' buddy. You want
it?'

I kneeled down, his hand on my neck, and he slid his dick in my mouth,
grunting, My hand grabbed and rubbed his nicely muscular buttocks, covered
with thick fur. His cock slid back and forth, and my fingers slipped
between his hairy asscheeks, making contact with is quivering, spasming
daddy hole. I pushed and teased, but didn't go any deeper. I ran my finger
around the edge, feeling it gape open.

`Oh, yeah, fucker. Take it, swallow my fucking spunk!' He held the base of
his cock, and I felt it throb 3, 4 times, releasing a strong, salty, steamy
load of cum each time. I ran my tongue around his cockhead, causing him to
shiver wildly and pull his cock out. I swallowed the man juice, relishing
it. He stroked his cock, bringing another large drop of creamy cum out of
his slit. Instead of letting me lick it, he smeared it across my
mustache. Another drop he brushed across my nose. He stepped back, tucking
his semi hard prick into his pants, and I stood up, doing the same with my
tender, drained cock.

We both took a deep breath, chuckling together. The silver-haired stranger,
turned to leave, saying, `Thanks, stranger. Glad we could help each other
out.' I agreed. As he left, he said, `Maybe we'll run into each other again
sometime.' And he was gone. I heard his car door open and close, and his
engine start, and the crunch of gravel as his car pulled out of the parking
lot and out to the highway. I swiped my tongue across the spot on my
mustache where his cum was drying, and tasted his musky seed one last
time. Then I left the men's room, got into my rental car, and headed back
on the highway toward my family home.





(Three)

Dinner at the Homestead



I had convinced my mother that it was better for me to stay at one of the
motels that had sprung up in the area where the interstate and the state
highway crossed, and she relented, after some arguing. I rented a room for
a week in a small basic motel called the Sharidon, and casually surveying
the surrounding area, thought it might be a very comfortable stay. Two rows
of rooms extended behind the main office, facing each other across a grass
courtyard, with a few large oak trees creating ample shade throughout the
day. A few picnic tables dotted the grassy area, and a large wrought iron
barbecue was set up near a covered patio at the far end. The ice machine, a
snack machine and two soda machines were tucked into a grotto style area
nearby. I only saw 4 other vehicles parked in the lot as I stopped my car
in front of my room. There were 20 rooms on each side, and I assumed the
other side was probably as deserted. Hopefully that would make for a quiet
stay.

I brought my luggage inside, and slumped into one of the chairs placed by
the table in the corner. The air conditioning was already on, and the room
was delightfully cool. I leaned back, letting my body relax, kicking off my
shoes.

After a few minutes, I decided to give Mama a call and let her know I had
arrived safe and sound. She told me that my brother Michael had arrived
earlier in the day, and that the festivities would begin at 6 o'clock, and
that I'd better not be, as she put it, `fashionably late, like all them
phony baloney people in California like to be.' I promised her I'd be on
time.

I took a nap for a couple hours, showered, and dressed, and arrived at my
childhood home at approximately 5:50.

The party felt like it had already started. I was forced to park about
fifty yards from the front gate, with cars lining both sides of the road,
as well as the driveway up the hill to the house. Country music was already
playing from speakers set on top of the front porch, and smoke was
billowing from a large barbecue grill near the side yard. I approached the
kitchen screen door, when it flew open and there stood Mama, in a bright
flowered dress. She called out `Benji!' and held her arms wide. I strode
quickly and we embraced, kisses and tears and laughter shared in abundance.

The next 45 minutes were mostly a blur of unknown faces, broad smiles,
introductions immediately forgotten, vigorous handshakes and exuberant
hugs. Mama wanted me to meet all of her friends, and they all were eager to
meet me. At some point, I was handed a plate with BBQ brisket and coleslaw
and led to a seat at one of the many picnic tables scattered around the
yard. Some man handed me a can of Budweiser, which I gratefully
accepted. Inquisitive folks questioned me about the world in California,
and Hollywood, which seemed as mysterious and strange as the moon. I
answered as many as I could, before Mama returned, shooing them off.

`Benji, I want you to meet someone.' I heard her say. Her voice was full of
joy. I stood up, turning around, my hand extended in greeting. I tilted my
head down to see who was standing next to Mama. And I froze. My jaw
clenched, and I think I bit my tongue.

I immediately recognized the snow white hair, nearly shoulder length, and
the full, meticulously groomed goatee. The light blue polo shirt was
replaced with a dark grey sport shirt, but the same tuft of white chest
hair bloomed from the open collar. The broad chest, and wide smile were the
same. When his eyes met mine, I saw just a flicker of recognition, and a
slight twitch in the smile and a raised eyebrow. But then he reached out
and grabbed my hand, shaking firmly, and saying, `Howdy Ben. I'm Doyle
Heywood. It's great to finally meet you. Your Mama has told me a lot about
you.' I could only smile, and nod my head, unable to speak or think. I felt
a little dizzy, and I was hearing a high-pitched whine in my head. I
thought I might faint.

Yes, this was the man from the park bathroom earlier. The man whose cum was
still sloshing around in my belly, and who greedily swallowed my spunk. The
man who was going to marry my Mama...


End of Pt. 1