Message-ID: <31536asstr$995728204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Return-Path: <onegallus@yahoo.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20010720032059.89072.qmail@web10307.mail.yahoo.com>
From: One Gallus <onegallus@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Kentucky Wonder 3 (MF, cheat, inc)
Date: Sat, 21 Jul 2001 11:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/31536>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, t4425
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get personalized email addresses from Yahoo! Mail
http://personal.mail.yahoo.com/
<1st attachment, "KW 3.txt" begin>
Kentucky Wonder (Cheat, MF, Inc) Part 3
Synopsis
Corrine Deere tells her own story. It
is the tale of a servile wife and mother
whose effort to be a person in her own
right is frustrated by her boorish
husband. A full-blown compulsive, Leon
masks his abuse and bigotry with self-
righteousness. His repressive control
results in a stinging backlash that
neither she nor he could have predicted.
Disclaimer
This story contains graphic sexual
scenes of incest and adultery. If you
are under the legal age of adulthood in
your state, find another story. This
story is not to be read where it is
illegal. The possible resemblance to
actual characters, living or dead is
purely coincidental. This story may not
be posted or changed or otherwise used
by anyone anywhere without the
permission of OneGallus.
"Kentucky Wonder"
Part 3
I awoke at 5:00 AM and felt the need to
urinate. I staggered to the bathroom,
peed, and as I returned to the bed, the
cottony haze of sleep was still padding
my eyes. I slid under the covers, and
turned on my side, pulling an extra
pillow down between my knees. I felt
good.
Almost immediately I drift into a foggy
dream. There is an assembly of men with
beards and women in long dresses with
bustles. They are milling about,
murmuring. They gradually come to
attention and the men remove their top
hats and turn toward a freestanding
stage with a white painted railing
around it, hung with bunting. An
enormous American flag hangs in back of
the stage. I see a gaunt tall man in a
black suit with high cheekbones rising
from an ornate chair. He removes his
stovepipe hat and I see he is bald, with
only a gray fringe of hair encircling
his pate. He stands next to the lectern,
not behind it, and his elbows are
sticking out at a ridiculous angle. I
see clearly that a bulge is pushing
against the front of his pants. He
opens a Bible and begins to speak:
"Four score and seven years ago . . ."
A little man with a nickel-plated pistol
in his hand steps out from behind the
flag and I tense up with dread.
I feel a slowly increasing, pressure on
my face. Soon I can't capture a full
breath through my nose and the
smothering sensation brings me back to
consciousness. The pressure graduates
into pain and I am suddenly terrified.
My eyes open and I see the blur of
Leon's fist against my nose, pressing,
pressing. My eyes follow his arm up to
his shoulder and then to his face. It
seems there's a blackness across his
eyes but I can see his bared teeth
plainly. My heart is about to burst
from my chest. I want to wake up, but I
finally realize I am not asleep.
"Listen, you . . . Listen you . . .You .
. ." Leon said, trembling, snarling.
"It's been over two weeks now and you
ain't got up and made me breakfast in
all that time. You think 'cause you got
a two-bit job you can live like a queen
and do anything you want? You . . . You
still got a husband and you still got a
house to take care of!"
Leon had never hit me, and he wasn't
hitting me now, but he was hurting me.
He was mashing and grinding and
twisting. My nose felt as if it would
split away and slide down my face. I
became aware that a sound was coming
through my clenched teeth "nnnnnnnnnn,"
broken by some kind of sick whimper.
"You . . . You . . . You're a . . .
You're a . . ." Then he suddenly let me
loose, He stood up, shuddered, his
teeth still bared and his nose wrenched
into a snarl. He whirled around, and
tramped out of the room. My nose was
seeping blood and I was crying through
my teeth. I looked over at the clock;
it was 6:30 AM. I had not spoken a word.
I went to the bathroom and washed my
face in cold water. I was afraid to
look into the mirror. I washed till the
water wasn't bloody anymore. Then I
carried a cold wet towel back to the
bed. I put the towel on my nose and lay
on my back for a half-hour, tears
running out of my eyes, but I made no
sound. Then I got up at 7:00, knowing
that by now, Leon had left for work. I
walked to the kitchen. I got a pot from
the pantry, carried it to the
refrigerator, opened it and dug into the
ice bin, scooping a handful of ice-
crescents. I carried them back to the
bedroom, locked the door, and retrieved
a clean towel from the bathroom closet
and dampened it. I turned off the
lights and crawled back into bed. I
formed a little fist-sized hollow in the
towel and put in a half-dozen pieces of
ice. I held the ice on my nose till the
wet freeze drove away the pain and all
the feeling from my face. When the
numbness turned into a pain of its own,
I would rest until the nose started
throbbing again. Then I would replenish
the ice and reapply it. I was very
quiet, so Lonnie would not hear me when
he awakened.
When he did, I heard his door open and
his feet shuffling down the hallway to
the bathroom. Then I heard him stirring
about, getting ready for school, trying
to be quiet, trying not to disturb me.
After a while I heard the side door open
and close and I knew he had gone. I
went back to the kitchen for more ice
and then back to bed for the same
routine. The phone rang at 10 o'clock
but I let the answering machine answer
it.
"Corrine?" George said over the speaker,
"I was expecting you at 9 o'clock. I
hope everything is OK. Give me a call.
Bye."
At 11:00 it rang again, "It's George.
Please give me a call." He stayed on
the line for ten seconds more, then
said, almost begging, "Please call,
Corrine."
At 11:20 the doorbell rang. I walked
down the hallway from my room and looked
at the front door. A three-foot long
oval window, with an translucent curtain
on the inside, showed George's lean form
standing there, his weight shifting from
foot to foot. When he turned to look
toward the driveway, I realized he was
looking at my Dodge Shadow. He pounded
hard on the door with his fist.
"Corrine, I know you're in there!" he
called, "For God's sake, open this door
or I'm going to break in this window!"
I walked unevenly to the front door and
unlatched the chain, turned the dead
bolt and opened the door.
George blinked when he saw me. He stood
silent, looking at me with incredulous
eyes. "Good Lord! Corrine, what
happened to you?"
He stepped in, closed the door behind
him and I immediately pulled him to me.
His hands were moving on my back and I
realized I was in my nightgown, naked
beneath, but it didn't seem to matter.
I could not cry, but I clung to him and
wouldn't let him go from my vise-like
embrace for a long long moment. He was
silent too. I had already begun to move
my hands on the spareness of his back
and side when I realized what I was
doing. I finally released him and
stepped back and he gazed at me
anxiously again. I looked down and saw
that the bodice of my gown was stained
with blood. Tracks of it had dried on
my breasts. My nipples were in blood-
stiffened cups of satiny material,
molded wet and now dried.
He asked again, "What happened, Corrine?
Did Leon do this?"
"I'm sorry George, I'm a mess. You sit
down and I'll clean up."
He walked over to the couch and sat down
on the edge with his hands on his knees.
He looked terribly worried and uncertain
as he stared at me, then he looked
steadily at the floor. I padded back to
my room and into the bathroom. I looked
at my face in the mirror and to my
surprise, my nose was not dangling loose
by a cord of flesh. Aside from a little
redness, a slight swelling and a thin
crust of clotting around my nostrils, I
could see I was OK. The blood on my gown
looked far worse than any injuries I had
sustained. My upper lip was a little
swollen. I lifted it, and noticed that
my teeth had cut into it. I brushed my
teeth, careful not to scrape the lip. I
stripped away the gown and stepped into
the shower, which I ran lukewarm. After
that, I patted damp-dry with a towel and
put on my thick terry cloth robe. It
felt wonderfully cozy as it continued to
dry me. I brushed my hair, looked at my
self, and not caring to do more, I
returned to the living room on bare
feet.
When I walked back into the room, George
looked as if he had been about to cry,
he stood up at the couch. "Oh Corrine,
you do look better! I'm so sorry,
Corrine. Does he do this all the time?"
"No, he's never done it before, except
for words. He hits with his words. He's
never hit me before with his hands.
Actually, he didn't hit me this time.
He just mashed his fist into my face,"
I found my fist doubled against the palm
of my other hand, grinding, and my teeth
bared.
I sat down on the couch, and George sat
again too. A sharp blade of sadness ran
up under my ribs and shifted around
inside my chest, yet I could not cry.
"Mostly, he just puts me down" I said,
"He says I'm fat and lazy and stupid."
"Corrine, I want you to know, you're not
any of those things."
"Well, I don't think I'm stupid," and I
realized just then that I was speaking
pure truth. It was what I actually come
to believe about myself "I'm not lazy,
but I am slow, George, I am slow. But I
like slow. Slow is me."
It felt good to say that, just the
matter of fact truth of the situation.
"I am overweight," I admitted, relishing
the honesty. Then I snorted, "I'm just
fat," I looked at George, "I'm a little
fat, George." I felt a slight smile at
the corners of my mouth.
"No!" George rebutted, "Even if you
were fat, that's no way to treat another
human being. Anyway, Corrine, you're
not fat. You have a very pleasing
figure, a classical figure. You know,
like Peter Paul Rubens."
"Who's he?" The name sounded a bit
familiar.
"A painter, an artist, I think about the
16th or 17th Century, Dutch."
"Was he fat?"
George threw his head back and laughed,
"No, and neither are you! You're like
the beautiful women he did, you know, he
painted them."
Then I laughed, relaxing now and
realizing that a fist in my nose was not
the whole of my life.
"George," I said, stretching my legs out
in front of me, crossing my ankles and
wiggling my bare toes. "I just think of
Sandra. She's so beautiful and willowy,
and I'm so squat and short!"
"You might be short, Corrine but you're
not squat. You're different than
Sandra. You're physically beautiful in
a different way, besides being the great
person you are."
I felt myself blushing, happily
blushing. "Ralph said that to me," I
said.
"Who's Ralph?"
"My little brother. He's been dead a
long time."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Corrine, but he was
right about you, you know," George said.
Then sadness jabbed at me again and I
sighed. "Then why doesn't Leon think so.
Why does he treat me like the farmer's
step-cow?"
"Now, that is a mystery!" he nodded and
smiling at 'step-cow.' "I think I need
to get to know Leon a little better,
maybe try to love him more than I do."
"He won't talk to you George, if that's
what you have in mind. He thinks he
already knows what's right and nobody
else is going to tell him different."
"But he can't love unless somebody loves
him!"
"I'm not sure that I want his love
anymore and I don't feel much love for
him right now. And I'm not sure he'd
welcome it even if I did." I said,
shaking my head.
"Sometimes we have to pray for strength
to love some people."
"George, that's easy to say for you and
Sandra. She feels loved. You feel
loved, and it's easy for you to love.
Leon is not a loved man. He used to be,
but not now. I'm not a loved woman."
"Nonsense. Your son loves you."
"Yes, but that's different, you know
that."
"Ummm, I'm not so sure. Others love you
too, I love you Corrine."
"What?" At first I was puzzled, Then I
said, "Oh, you mean as a Christian,
that's a different."
"Who says?" George asked.
"Well, there's family love, and married
love and Christian love," I answered.
"Who says?"
"Isn't that what the Bible says?" I
asked.
"I read about synonyms of love, but I
never read that there are categories of
love. The Bible just says to love.
Love is the basis of our being. We're
suppose to love both neighbors and
enemies." George was grinning like he
had just solved all the problems world.
"But, you don't have sex with your
enemies!" I said, then immediately
thought how silly that sounded.
George said, "No, but I don't have a
sexual desire for my enemies," he was
smiling, "and I don't have a sexual
desire for everybody I love," he said.
"But you do for your wife," I said,
trying to reason it through out loud.
"Ahah! That's my point, Corrine. I both
love and desire my wife." George's eyes
glanced down at my leg.
I looked down to see that my robe had
separated halfway up my thigh. I didn't
feel like pulling it to. I didn't want
to pull it to. I don't know why,
unless, it was because George said I was
beautiful and he loved me and I wanted
him to see me. Could it be that this
pastor actually felt an attraction for
me? The very fact that he was a pastor
made this situation exciting to me. I
felt reckless. I felt like saying, My
husband just tried to mash my face in,
George. I have a right to be reckless,
if you think I'm driving too fast, then
you grab the wheel and put on the brake.
When he raised his eyes to mine, I held
his gaze. "George, what if you had
sexual desire for somebody you loved,
but it's not Sandra?" I asked. I moved
my right foot along the instep of my
left.
"Well, if I truly loved her, Corrine, I
wouldn't do anything to hurt her, or
injure her, would I?" He watched my
feet.
"No, I suppose not," I agreed.
"So," he said, "if I wanted to have sex
with a desirable woman, but it somehow
would hurt Sandra, or even this other
woman that I loved . . . Well then, if I
did, that wouldn't be love, would it?
Or it might hurt the people that she
loves, so I couldn't do that, could I?"
"How could that be? How would it hurt
her the people that she loves?" I asked.
"Corrine, suppose you and I made love .
. ." his statement was exciting to me,
even though I knew he was only
hypothesizing.
"Well that's interesting," I said
recklessly, and shifted in my seat. I
grinned, but he ignored it and went on.
"How would that affect Lonnie?" he said
seriously, "How would it affect Leon?"
I tried to sober up and be serious. I
nodded my head. I could understand
that, at least the part about Lonnie.
However, with Leon, at the moment, I
didn't really care.
"But what if they . . ." Then I caught
myself. Should I ask this question I
was burning to ask? I felt like I was
driving out of control but pressing the
accelerator anyway. "What if they
didn't know? What if Lonnie and Leon
didn't know?"
He paused. "Well," he said, "that's a
lot to think about, Corrine, you know,
doing everything you do because you love
people." He blinked his eyes.
I looked at George, knowing he was
evading my question. I uncrossed my
ankles and separated my knees slightly.
The robe, already somewhat opened,
revealed a bit of my inner leg. I
watched his eyes as they dropped quickly
to my legs and then back to my face.
They narrowed as he studied my
expression.
"George," I said, "You're not answering
my question." I braced myself for
rejection. All he'd have to do was say
that even if Sandra or Leon didn't know,
his love would keep him faithful.
"Corrine, Have you ever heard of the
term 'polyamory?'" he asked, clearing
his throat.
I wondered if he were trying to change
the subject. I spread my knees a little
more and then brought them back
together, not quite as close as before.
If he liked plump ladies, here was a
plump lady to look at. I badly wanted
this man to want me, maybe because he
was "unattainable."
"No, what is it? Poly . . .?"
"Well, 'poly,' means 'many' and 'amory'
means 'love.'"
I thought it over. "Yes?" I said,
asking for more.
George looked openly at my legs, and
shifted around at a right angle and put
a knee up into the couch. His big brown
wing-tip bobbed as he rotated his ankle.
"It carries the idea of having loving,
responsible sex with more than one
person, but not injuring the loving
relationships you already have," he
said.
"So," I said, "as long as I keep it a
secret, I won't injure my relationships
with others? Is that what you're telling
me George?"
Then time I shifted my position, and put
my knee up onto the couch also. I clung
to other side of the robe, keeping my
naked crotch covered, but my inner leg,
from toe to thigh was open to George's
eye. George could kill it now. All
he'd have to do is stand up and say that
even if our spouses never would find
out, our love would keep us from
adultery.
I looked at his enormous foot compared
to my size six. I thought of the old
Kentucky wives' tale, "Big Feet, Big
Penis." George reached toward my bare
foot, touched its arch with his knobby
fingers, and traced its length. It
tickled a little, but it felt heavenly.
I concluded that with that gesture,
George was saying yes, he would do it.
Now the ball was back in my court. I
was wavering whether or not I should
take a shot, when George called a time
out.
"Well, some of us have agreed not to
keep things secret from people we love.
It's a 'trust' sort of thing. We never
lie to one another."
I swallowed hard, wondering if I should
have come down this road so far. "You
mean if we . . .You mean you'd tell
Sandra?"
He stilled his finger on my foot,
studying it as he did. An angled shadow
threw his face into a brooding
expression as he considered my question.
His cheekbones looked as if they had
been carved out with a chisel. There
was a tiny mole just to the right edge
of his mouth. God, he looked like
Lincoln.
"Yes, Corrine, Sandra and I share
everything," he said, encircling my
ankle.
The prospect of Sandra knowing I had
been dallying with her husband cooled me
considerably. I pulled my leg off the
couch and my robe over my knees. George
sat there with his index finger hanging
limply in the air. Then he dropped his
hand to the couch.
"She knows how I feel about you, he
said, She knows you're unhappy in your
marriage.".
"You mean you told her about Leon and me
and . . .?"
"Oh, no, I'd never break your
confidence, but she's a smart lady.
She actually pointed it out to me before
you ever said anything. She sees these
things."
"Good Lord, George, what must she think
of me?"
"She loves you, Corrine, just like I
do."
I thought that one over. Did she love
me like a sister, a friend, or was it
this "poly-love" stuff George had
mentioned? I sat, confused and feeling
that it was just too much to take in at
once.
"George, thanks for talking with me," I
stood up, and he followed. "You
probably don't want me to come back to
work for you after this conversation."
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, rubbing his
big hands together, smiling.
"After we . . . I mean, after I . . ."
"Corrine, dear, there is enough loving
friendship between you and me that
whatever you do, you will not offend me.
Don't you feel that way too?"
"Yes," I said tentatively, feeling I was
saying more than I should.
"I mean, have I said or done anything
today that would offend you?"
I thought, it should have, George, it
surely should have; but I said, "No."
"OK, then, tomorrow is an off-day for
you, but since you missed today, you
want to come in then?"
I blinked. "That's fine, George."
"Here," he handed me a folded check,
"It's not much, but better things will
come, I think."
I took my first paycheck and looked at
it. Only then did I remember that I had
been working for pay.
"Now, give me a hug," he said, and
opened his arms.
When I hugged him, I sensed his stiff
penis against my navel. He held me
tight, the feel of his erection obvious
to us both. Perhaps he even rolled
himself against me slightly. He was not
hiding it and I was not tearing myself
away. Yet, I had already dismissed him,
and he was not one to press it.
When he left, I went back to bed, closed
my eyes and tried to assimilate
everything that was coming down. The
faces of three men superimposed
themselves alternately on my brain.
Leon was nowhere in the trio.
End of Part 3
Go to Part 4
Comments to OneGallus@yahoo.com
<1st attachment end>
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format. The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+