Swill

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*

It was a beautiful April day in Scribeltz, Arkansas as the nine boys took their positions around the diamond. A tenth boy stood with Bobby Finnegan, the coach of the nine and ten year old boys. After nodding his head, Bobby stepped behind the boy at the catcher position.

"So, which one is yours?" Samuel Connor asked the slightly chubby red head as parents and siblings lolled on the aluminum bleachers

Greta Gratchley peered over her shoulder at the handsome older man and blushed when he smiled. She returned his easy smile and pointed to the boy at second base.

"That one, the one digging for gold in his nose? My baby brother Davie," she said. "You?"

"The one skipping around in the right field; where there's about a one in a million chance he'll ever see the baseball," Samuel said. "As you can tell, Sammy's not even paying attention to the game."

"He your son or your brother or..." Greta pressed.

"Hmm? According to his mother, he's my son," Samuel said easily.

"She here?" Greta asked, scanning the faces of the others on the bleachers.

"Hmm? No, no, dropped him off then told me I needed to get him here for his practice," Samuel said. "Then afterward, need to feed him then get him home and God help me if we're one minute late."

"Divorced?" Greta deduced.

"Very happily. And how did big sister get roped into baseball practice?" Samuel asked and applauded for Brandon, the boy at bat that managed a weak grounder to the shortstop.

"Mom's working the late shift at the Pak N' Sak," Greta said.

"On one nineteen?" Samuel guessed.

Bobby had each boy come in and take turns batting. With only eleven boys on his roster, he could only pull one boy at a time in from the field.

"All right, Sammy! All right, keep your eye on the ball, keep your eye on the ball," Samuel loudly encouraged when Sammy came in from the outfield.

"Strike three," Bobby called out as Sammy attempted to hit a wild pitch that the catcher had to dive four feet over to get to.

"That's all right buddy, we'll work on it," Samuel said, clapping for his son.

"Woo! Yay Davie," Greta called out when Davie did manage to hit the ball.

"We, uh, we're going to the Monjuri's on Simpson; you and Davie want to join us?" Samuel asked as Bobby called an end to the practice.

Greta took a closer look at Samuel Connor. There were a few threads of silver among his sandy blond hair. His face bore some wrinkles; apparently, Samuel Connor spent a few hours in the sun.

"I uh, Mister? I don't even know you," Greta said as Davie ran up.

"Hmm? Oh! I'm Samuel Connor," Samuel smiled. "Sorry; thought I'd introduced myself."

"Davie, you hungry?" Greta asked her baby brother.

Up close, it was very apparent that Greta and Davie did not have the same father. Davie was a scrawny boy with Latino blood whereas Greta was a very pale red head with a multitude of freckles on her round face and chubby arms and thick legs. If he had to guess, Samuel would say that the five foot, two inch red probably tipped the scales at a hundred and fifty, a hundred and sixty pounds.

"Daddy, you seen me?" Sammy crowed when he ran up to his father.

"Sure did, buddy," Samuel said, smiling.

The foursome met in the strip mall parking lot. Once inside, Samuel guided them to a table away from the jukebox.

"So what y'all get?" Greta asked.

"Small cheese for Sammy and I usually get the House," Samuel said.

"Everything in the house goes on the house special," Greta read. "Eww! Even them anchovies?"

"Mm hmm, but let me guess; you don't like anchovies," Samuel smiled.

"What y'all want to drink?" the waitress demanded.

"Samuel, you get a beer?" Greta begged under her breath.

"Robin even thinks she smells beer on my breath..." Samuel hissed in reply.

"Ain't for you, dummy," Greta hissed. "What you usually get?"

"Diet Pepsi," Samuel hissed as the two boys argued with the waitress about Pepsi products versus Coca-Cola products.

"Sammy, you know you're not supposed to have caffeine after four o'clock," Samuel reminded his son. "Please just bring him a seven up and I'll have a draft beer."

Samuel smiled as Greta gripped his thigh. She returned his smile and ordered a diet Pepsi.

"Mommy lets me have Coke," Sammy argued.

"Might have noticed, Sammy, but I ain't Mommy," Samuel said.

"So, how old are you?" Samuel asked as the waitress returned with their drinks.

"Nineteen; but thanks to stupid Reagan, got to be twenty one to drink," Greta hissed.

Davie wanted pepperoni. In order to curry friendship, Sammy agreed to a pepperoni pizza. Samuel and Greta agreed on a House, hold the anchovies.

Samuel ordered a second beer when the pizza came and got a happy kiss on his lips from Greta. They then plowed through the pizzas, rarely coming up for air.

Paying for the meal, Samuel then herded his son outside. Greta and Davie met them by their car. Greta boldly asked Samuel for his phone number and Samuel dug a business card out from a leather card holder.

"Connor equipment and supplies? That big place over on Warren?" Greta asked, goggling at the card.

"That's right," Samuel smiled. "Come on, buddy, get in the car."

"This is my weekend with Sammy, plus we got that big John Deere sale this Saturday," Samuel said. So, guess I'll see you at the game on Saturday, but then I'll have to run right back to the store."

Samuel was not at the game, where the Bloutchen Bombers soundly trounced the Scribeltz Dragons, 12 to 2. Greta saw Sammy being hugged and pampered by a very attractive blonde woman in her late twenties or early thirties. The woman's clothing and jewelry indicated that she had money. Her 1988 Corvette also said the woman had money.

"But you played a wonderful game, sweetheart," the woman said to Sammy. "It's not your fault that none of the other boys can play as good as you."

"Oh, give me a break, woman!" Greta thought as she herded Davie toward her 1972 Chevy Nova. "Kid dropped every ball came his way and struck out twice."

"Didn't see you on Saturday," Greta commented when Samuel did appear at the Wednesday practice.

"Uh huh, and believe me, Robin let me know what a horrible father I am," Samuel shrugged. "Rep from the Deere distributorship showed up; there was no way I could get out here. But, I understand I didn't miss much."

"Watson's? Fried chicken tonight," Samuel offered as Bobby called an end to the practice.

"Sure," Greta smiled.

Samuel ordered a Sprite for Sammy, over the boy's whining that he wanted a Coke, his mother would let him have a Coke, he didn't like Sprite. Samuel ignored Sammy's protests as he ordered a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer for himself. Greta ordered a Sprite for Davie and a Diet Coke for herself.

"She gets a Coke, how come she gets a Coke and I don't?" Sammy whined.

"If you want a butt warming, keep it up, hear?" Samuel finally hissed through clenched teeth at his son. "All right? Just keep it up, hear me?"

"Saturday's game's in Innewda; you going be there?" Greta asked as they trooped out of the family style restaurant.

"Hoe so," Samuel said. "I mean, it's Robin's weekend, but yeah, I should be there."

Samuel did show up for the game and sat with Greta. He ignored his ex-wife's attempts to get his attention, which clearly perturbed Robin greatly.

"I, well, shit, I took the whole day off hoping we'd advance in the tournament," Samuel admitted when the Innewda Indians managed to squeak out a win over the Scribeltz Dragons, 3 to 2. "You uh, want come out to the farm?"

"Yeah; my mom's off," Greta agreed. "She can watch Davie."

Samuel Connor lived on an eighteen hundred acre farm. He showed Greta that he was growing rice in the northeast and southwest quadrants and growing peanuts in the northwest and southeast quadrants. His home was a sprawling three story plantation style home that had been built by Samuel's great-great-great grandfather in 1867, to replace the home that them damned Yankees had burned to the ground during the war of Northern Aggression.

"Robin saw the house, saw the tractor store, and saw dollar signs," Samuel said as he quickly grilled two thick steaks on the back porch of the home.

Their first kiss was a tender kiss, just lip to lip. Greta put her chubby arms around Samuel's slim waist and rested her head against his muscled chest. She sighed as his calloused hands combed through her waist length red hair. She looked up expectantly when Samuel's hand rested on her pudgy buttocks.

Samuel softly kissed her again, then opened his mouth. Greta opened her mouth and sucked on his tongue. She could taste the diet cola drink and the baked potato and steak on his tongue.

"Mm, you uh, want take this inside?" Samuel quietly offered.

"Yeah," Greta agreed, guzzling her second Heineken beer.

In the comfortable family room with large stone fireplace, Samuel and Greta kissed, reclining on an old horsehair sofa. Samuel soon had Greta out of her blouse and 34B bra. Her arms and shoulders and belly were slightly pudgy, very pale in color, except where freckled. Her small breasts were capped with reddish brown areolae and hard nipples.

"Mm, oh augh!" Greta cried out as Samuel licked, sucked and nibbled on her very sensitive nipples.

She eased her tennis shoes off her feet without untying them and Samuel eased her very snug jeans down her chubby legs, exposing her thin wisps of carrot orange hair and very wet pussy.

"Mm, oh, oh augh, oh yes," Greta cried out as Samuel hefted her stubby legs over his shoulders and feasted on her pussy.

When he pried her plump buttocks apart and tickled her anus with his tongue, Greta froze, green eyes opened wide in shock. She had fucked a lot of boys; only a handful had ever put their mouths on her pussy. Of those boys that had actually licked her pussy, only two of them even knew what a clitty was. But none of them had ever put their tongues on her hiney hole.

"Mm, Samuel, oh, that's just so dirty!" Greta complained, even as she wiggled about on the firm couch.

"Ack! Augh, oh, oh, what you doing?" Greta cried out as Samuel wormed a very thick finger into her rectum.

"You, you got to let me fuck that ass," Samuel begged hoarsely.

"I, you what?" Greta asked, wiggling to take more of his finger into her rectum.

"That, you got, you got the perfect ass," Samuel said, worming a second finger into her rectum.

"Augh, that, that's going hurt, ain't it?" Greta panted as Samuel's fingers thrust in and out of her backdoor.

"Little bit," Samuel agreed. "Until you get used to it."

"I okay, I what we do?" Greta panted, belly heaving as she drew nearer and nearer to climax.

Samuel positioned Greta onto her shoulders and knees on the carpeted floor. He returned a moment later, holding a can of Crisco shortening.

From her position on the floor, Greta looked at Samuel's large hard cock. She could see the tip of his cock dripping his excitement as he approached.

"I, we get the first one out the way, you be able last a lot longer," Greta suggested, rising up onto her hands.

Both Samuel and Greta moaned as she wrapped her pouting lips around the head of his meat. She gave a little squeal as Samuel reached over her back and fingered her clenched anus with a greased finger.

"I, I'm 'bout to..." Samuel groaned.

Greta could taste Samuel's excitement; a salty bitter clowying taste on her tongue. Her small fist jacked the four inches of meat she could not fit into her mouth.

"Augh yes!" Samuel hissed and pumped a stream of semen into Greta's throat.

Then he again pushed her head and shoulders onto the rich, thick carpet. He made her reach back and pull her fleshy globes apart.

"Mm, augh, oh," Greta sighed as she again felt Samuel's tongue tickling her anus.

She began to pant as she felt him pushing one, then two greasy fingers into her rectum. She could feel his fingers sliding in and out, rasping along her anal walls. The feelings seemed to be directly connected to her pussy; each push of his fingers, each pull of his fingers was bringing her closer and closer to climax.

"Augh, oh, oh! Oh God, wait, wait!" Greta cried out as the blunt head of Samuel's cock pressed firmly against her greasy anus.

Samuel did pause for a moment, one hand on her hip, the other toying with her hard nipples. Then, when Greta ceased shuddering, Samuel grasped both hips in his powerful hands and pulled her haunches back to meet his forward thrust.

"Augh! Augh! Stop, you got to stop!" Greta cried out as waves of pain bolted through her body, radiating from her tightly clenched anus outward.

"Shh, shh," Samuel soothed, holding on to her hips and pulling firmly as he continued to push forward.

"Ack, oh, ow, mother fucker, stop," Greta begged as she could feel only the white hot pain of her anus being split open from his fat cock.

"Ack, Jesus fucking Christ!" Greta screamed when Samuel pinched her clitoris, causing an intense orgasm.

"Augh, ack, oh, oh, oh," Greta grunted as she felt Samuel's cock battering in and out of her slimy rectum.

"Oh God yes," Samuel bellowed and Greta could feel his white hot jets of semen pumping into her raw insides.

Afterward, Samuel sponged Greta's sore anus clean, then kissed her softly. He brought her a third beer and they again sat on his couch, nude. And kissed.

"My hiney hole hurts," Greta complained as Samuel's fingers now toyed with her pussy.

"Uh huh," Samuel agreed and once again pulled Greta's plump thighs onto his shoulders.

After tonguing Greta to orgasm, Samuel knelt between her thighs and pressed the head of his cock to her pussy. Greta wrapped her stubby legs around his middle and screamed out in orgasm as he hammered into her.

She drank another beer as they rested. Then, hearing the one hundred year old grandfather clock chime out ten chimes, Greta reminded Samuel that she needed to be home no later than eleven o'clock; tomorrow was a Church day.

"My hiney hole still hurts," Greta complained as she wiggled and jumped, easing her tight jeans up her fat legs.

"Uh huh," Samuel agreed, watching her pale buttocks wiggle and wobble. "You don't wear panties?"

"No; hate them," Greta stated.

They pulled up to the trailer at ten minutes 'til eleven. Greta still didn't get inside of the trailer until five minutes after eleven, with another load of Samuel's sperm on her breath.

"Connor's equipment and supplies," Samuel answered the phone Monday morning. "Connor speaking."

"My hiney hole still hurts," Greta happily complained.

"Aw, bring it over here and I'll kiss it and make it all better," Samuel smiled.

"No. That's how you got started last time," Greta laughed.

Greta did pout when Samuel reminded her that this was a business phone and he did have a business to run. Getting off of the telephone, Greta wandered into the kitchen of her mother's trailer and looked through the pantry until she located the old can of Crisco shortening at the rear of the pantry, underneath a ten pound bag of white sugar that felt as if it had hardened into a brick.

Greta went into her bedroom, dug out her old set of hot curlers and grabbed the largest curler. The bulky hard plastic curler had several rows of pointed nubs running up and down along the length. The pointed ends of the fifty or sixty nubs did give Greta cause to hesitate, but she greased up the plastic sleeve, then dipped two fingers into the greasy shortening and fingered her willing anus.

"Augh, oh, oh God!" Greta cried out as the pointy nubs did rasp very painfully against the walls of her rectum.

"Mm, oh, oh," Greta cried out, rubbing her clitty until she shuddered in orgasm.

There was a moment of panic when she couldn't dislodge the fat curler from her hiney hole. Pulling the curler out created a new and painful sensation as the nubs rubbed very painfully along her rectal walls.

Greta put the can of shortening into the pantry again and winced in pain as her snug blue jeans rasped and rubbed against her tightly clenched anus. Then she prepared herself a lunch of two double decker peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and a large bag of Doritos Nacho Cheese flavored corn chips. There was one can of Coors beer in their refrigerator, but Greta knew better than to drink her mother's beer.

A few parents did look over with some curiosity when Greta and Samuel greeted one another with a kiss and hug. A few of the women did scowl at the thirty two year old man and the nineteen year old woman, but the men nodded their approval.

"Monjuri's? Samuel suggested when the dismal practice ended.

"Why we can't go to that Mickelwhite's deli?" Sammy asked.

"For the bagels? Know what? That sounds pretty good," Samuel agreed.

Sammy got a bagel with cream cheese and a bag of chips. Once again, he argued, bartered and pleaded for a can of Coca-Cola and pouted when he was given a can of Sprite. Davie jeered and mocked Sammy as he did order a can of Coca-Cola. Samuel ordered a can of Schlitz and Greta smiled as she ordered a can of Diet Coke.

"Let me taste that," Greta demanded as Samuel took a bite of his Reuben on rye bagel.

"Mm," Greta approved, then offered Samuel a bite of her pastrami and American cheese on whole wheat bagel.

It was Samuel's weekend with Sammy as the Scribeltz Dragons faced off against the Scribeltz Bears. Greta sat on the bottom seat of the bleachers and looked around for Samuel and Sammy. She also kept one eye on the skies; it looked like a rain shower was eminent.

"So, you think you got a chance to take him away from me?" Robin Connor sneered, standing in front of the chubby girl.

"I uh, what?" Greta asked, staring up into the haughty face of the beautiful woman.

"Hmm? You really think he'd ever settle for a fat ass freckle faced porker like you?" Robin now tittered.

"I uh," Greta stammered, close to tears as the woman's cutting words hit their target.

"Her beauty's not just on the outside, bitch," Samuel snarled from behind Robin. "Her beauty goes all the way through to the bone. So, Barbie, why don't you take that plastic bony ass of yours and go find another Ken doll to play with?"

"I was just having a little woman to woman talk with your latest trailer trash," Robin cooed sweetly.

"If I give you a quarter, will you go fuck yourself?" Samuel snarled.

"Your latest? Trailer trash?" Greta sniffled as Robin strode triumphantly away.

"Since our divorce? You're the second woman I've had in my life," Samuel admitted.

"What happened to the first one?" Greta asked, wiping a tear away.

"Got stupid and started believing everything that plastic bitch was saying," Samuel said.

He pulled Greta's face to him. He gave her a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Don't. Don't even give Robin a second thought," Samuel urged. "She's just been one miserable bitch since she found out leaving me to go fuck the next Elvis meant she doesn't get any more of my money."

"That's kind of why I really don't think Sammy's mine," Samuel admitted. "Kind of real suspicious timing there."

The Dragons managed a victory over the Bears. So, Samuel went to Mickelwhite's and got two corn dogs, a pastrami and American on whole wheat, a reuben on rye, and two cans of Coca-Cola, a diet Coke, and a Schlitz beer. Then the Bloutchen Bombers again trounced the Dragons, ending their tournament for the day.

Sammy and Davie agreed that they'd do a sleep-over at Sammy's house. Greta smiled and agreed that she ought to come along, just to supervise her baby brother.

"And don't think you getting into my hiney hole," Greta whispered to Samuel as they trooped to the parking lot.