Ugly Turkey

*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 using Microsoft Word Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

**..**

"Oh! Augh, oh God, you, you're fucking killing me!" Rena Lugami barked, her words a guttural grunt. "God, wait, wait, augh!"

Bryce Adams did not pause in his forward momentum. Rena might be protesting but even as she swore he was killing her, she was pushing back to meet his forward progress.

The latex sheath did help delay the imminent ejaculation. The first time Rena and Bryce had engaged in anal sex, they'd not used a condom and the inevitable mess had disgusted Rena. With some promises and a little drunken coercion, Bryce did have Rena on her hands and knees again but this time with a condom.

That was the only time Lorena Lugami and Bryce Adams would use a condom. All other forms of intercourse were bareback.

Bottoming out in the petite girl's incredible tightness, Bryce held himself still for a long moment. He smirked; this long pause always spurred Rena to new heights of vulgarities.

"Fuck! Come on, cock sucker, fuck me!" Rena demanded. "Come on, fuck my ass, fuck my ass you God damned mother fucker!"

At this point, Bryce grasped her small breasts in his hands and cruelly pinched and twisted her rock hard nipples. Using her nipples as reins, Bryce pulled his cock from her protesting rectum until just the head of his cock remained inside of her. Then he jerked her small breasts back to aid in his forward thrust. When her vulgarities slipped into incomprehensible wails, Bryce released her nipples and reach down to her hairless mound and briskly diddled her clitoris. Her pussy was drooling her excitement and his previous ejaculation down her muscled thighs.

That final powerful orgasm caused Rena to slump forward, too weak to continue holding herself upright. Bryce hammered in and out of her tight ass until he filled his condom.

With a love bite to her left shoulder, Bryce pulled himself from her raw bowels, grimacing slightly at the sight of the soiled condom. Stepping into the bathroom, Bryce peeled the sticky condom from his cock and dropped it into the small wastebasket. Then he jumped into the shower to rinse off the two hours of sweat and other fluids he'd accumulated from their marathon fuck.

"Fuck! No more of that shit, hear?" Rena groused as she wobbled into the bathroom. "My fucking ass is so God damned sore."

"Uh huh," Bryce said, smirking through the clear glass shower door toward the mirror.

Through the clear glass, Bryce could see the small Italian-American beauty as she plopped onto the commode. Her dark waist length hair, normally wavy and full, lay plastered to her head in a sweaty clump. Her light brown areolae and nipples were slightly reddened from Bryce's rough treatment. Sensing his eyes on her, Rena smirked and spread her legs wide, affording him a glimpse of her hairless mound.

After toweling off, Bryce stepped into the bedroom. The smell of sex was evident and just underneath the raw animal smell there was an unmistakable smell of fecal matter. Ignoring the smells permeating the bedroom, Bryce pulled on a pair of briefs, then pulled on his thermal underwear. His last act was to pull on the thin socks, then the heavy woolen socks.

"Big titty baby," Rena smirked, as Bryce shuffled through the bathroom to the large walk-in closet.

"Whatever," Bryce said as Rena stepped into the large shower to wash off their lovemaking. "It doesn't get down to minus five in Louisiana, you know."

"Oh! Oh my God you ginormous titty baby!" Rena hooted. "It's not even thirty five outside! What are you going to do when it really is five below?"

Bryce selected a comfortable sweater and a pair of flannel trousers. His suede loafers were cut just a little wide, perfect for the heavy socks Bryce wore. Bryce could withstand just about any kind of cold until his feet became cold. When his feet became cold, all of him became cold.

His suitcase was already packed, waiting by the door. His heavy winter coat was draped over the large suitcase, waiting for him. Bryce made sure he had his cell phone; his charger was in the suitcase. Wallet, keys, tube of lip balm, and two clean handkerchiefs went into his trouser pockets.

Just before sending for an Uber to take him to the Commonstead Municipal Airport, Bryce grabbed the thin liner from the bathroom wastebasket. He dropped the empty tube of lubricant and the condom wrapper from the nightstand into the small garbage bag and carried everything to the kitchen of his three bedroom ranch style home. He then took the kitchen garbage to the garage and dropped both garbage bags into the large outdoor garbage can. A 'ding' let him know the Uber was on its way.

"Uber's just about here; love you," Bryce called out.

"Love you too. God I'm going to miss you something bad," Rena said, toweling her long hair.

Bryce shrugged into his heavy coat and pulled his large suitcase out of the front door. Stepping into the brisk November air, Bryce shivered slightly.

"I don't care what you say, Ms. Lorena Lugami, this is cold," Bryce muttered and waved as the Uber driver pulled up to the front of the house.

The DC-10 flew from Commonstead, New Jersey to Fairway-Young airport in Fairway County, Utah. There was a brief layover, a refueling stop in a small airfield in Paulton, Louisiana. Bryce got a cup of coffee and three fried balls of dough dusted with powdered sugar. The airport kiosk called the balls of fried dough 'beignets' but Bryce kept his opinion to himself.

Jason Fasterling met Bryce at the Fairway-Young Airport in Cutler's Field, Utah. Stepping from the terminal, Bryce breathed a sigh of relief and unbuttoned his heavy winter coat. Jason smirked slightly.

"You're flying out on Friday? Don't worry; you'll need that coat before then," Jason promised, opening the trunk of his sedan for Bryce's suitcase. "There's a Home Comfort Inn in Polanski and a Do-Drop Inn in Cutler's Field but honestly? There's four bedrooms in my house so it just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to book you into a motel."

The home was beautiful and the guest room he was shown to had an adjoining bathroom. Bryce wasn't stupid; he knew, even as the interview was scheduled for tomorrow at nine thirty am, he was in the interview process right now. So, Bryce made a show of putting his clothes neatly into the closet and the low dresser's top drawer. Then he joined Jason for a bite to eat.

The conversation was light, genial. Jason Fasterling was a gregarious man that loved the sound of his own voice. He had several stories about growing up in Sweet Oak, Texas. He also had several stories about the culture shock of moving from sun baked Texas to Fairway County, Utah.

Even though Jason consumed several glasses of bourbon after their meal, Bryce made sure he limited himself to two glasses of the excellent amber liquid. Then, admitting fatigue from the long flight, Bryce excused himself and went to his bedroom.

He and Rena had a brief conversation. Professing her undying love for Bryce, Rena soon ended their conversation. Bryce fell asleep, thinking of his beautiful, oversexed pixie waiting for him at his home in Commonstead, New Jersey.

During the interview process the following morning, an interview conducted by Jason Fasterling and the CFO Brian Eckles, Bryce spoke about his brief tenure with King Sanitation & Disposal. King Sanitation & Disposal was Bryce's first job since graduating from the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. He'd done well, he had excelled at the Baylor Lake KS&D Headquarters. He had interned there during the summers and had worked at the Baylor Lake location for the first three months after graduating. Then Gordon King decided to open up another office and picked Bryce to be his man at the North Atlantic office.

Within weeks, it was clear to Bryce that he was in over his head. He muddled through, hoping against hope that he would somehow soon acclimate to the frenzied pace.

It had been clear to Bryce within weeks that he was incapable of adapting to the needs of KS&D's corporate structure. And, within a few months, Gordon King also realized that his golden boy was a tarnished gold-plated toddler. Reluctantly, Gordon King relieved Bryce of his title and position.

But, by the time Gordon cut Bryce, Bryce was in a commited relationship with Rena and had bought a home in Commonstead. His first two months were spent putting several feelers out in the immediate area. After the third month, Bryce widened his search area. Five months into his unemployment, Bryce put his search out to nationwide searches.

Bryce caught the look between Jason and Brian. He'd not sugar-coated his spectacular failure with KS&D. Bryce knew it would be foolish to do so; one phone call to Gordon King would expose any exaggeration, omission, or blatant falsehood. So, Bryce told the truth, laying his cards face up on the table.

That evening when they spoke on the phone, Rena seemed a little distracted. She blamed it on the stress of school; final exams were scheduled for the week after the Thanksgiving break and she was worried about failing two of her classes.

"And Thanksgiving is next Thursday," Rena needlessly reminded Bryce. "I mean, it was stressful enough when it was just my Mom and Dad coming up but I just found out they invited my Aunt Sylvie; she's my Mom's sister and her husband Uncle Joey and God, he is so disgusting and..."

"Uh, bitch? Ain't your house," Bryce thought. "I didn't invite your Mom and Dad and sure as fuck didn't invite your Aunt Sylvie and her husband whoever."

"Listen, tomorrow night? There's a cold front coming through; my secretary, shit, forgot, can't call them secretaries anymore; my executive assistant managed to get you an earlier flight out," Jason informed Bryce the following morning.

Bryce packed everything quickly and Jason drove him to Fairway-Young Airfield. Jason promised Bryce he'd hear from him within three days and Bryce and Jason shook hands at the gate.

"Hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving," Jason said amiably.

"Same to you. And if I don't see you? Merry Christmas," Bryce agreed.

"Shit, boy, let me get through Thanksgiving first, huh?" Jason said, waving in parting.

Bryce returned to his New Jersey home just before four o'clock in the afternoon. He sent a text to Rena's phone announcing that he was home and she responded with a series of kissy face emoji's.

Bryce dumped everything into the laundry hamper; his clothes could wait until the morning. Returning to the bedroom, Bryce pulled open the nightstand drawer to put his mother's Bible into the drawer. It was silly superstition, he knew, but Bryce could not travel without his mother's well-worn Bible. Even though he never read it, he packed it every time he left his home for an anticipated stay of longer than twenty four hours.

Looking into the drawer, Bryce felt an icy hatred descend. Placing the Bible into the drawer, Bryce resisted the urge to throw something or hit something.

When Rena waltzed into the house, she hugged Bryce tightly, then pulled him into the bedroom. Bryce then noticed she'd changed the sheets. He had expected this; the last time they'd been in the bedroom, the sheets had been a jumbled, twisted sweaty mess. But Bryce only had two sets of sheets. The sheets they'd fucked on, sweated on were the blue sheets with lace trim. The other set of sheets for the queen sized mattress was beige in color with small red and green roses. The set of sheets and pillow cases was the blue set. There should have been the beige sheets on the bed; the blue sheets should be washed, dried, folded and placed into the cedar chest.

They made love, hot, sweaty love. Rena playfully protested when Bryce pulled the half-used tube of lubricant from the drawer but got onto her hands and knees. Bryce lubricated her anal passage with two, then three greasy fingers. He made sure his thumb batted against her hypersensitive clitoris as he did this.

"Augh! I, oh Jesus, Jesus! God damn, you, you're killing me," Rena screamed out when Bryce pressed the condom covered head of his cock to her greasy hole.

"Augh! Shit, shit, God baby, go, augh, go slow," Rena panted.

Bryce continued to push himself into her. Reaching around her slim hip, Bryce began to diddle her clitoris. Rena clamped down then screamed in orgasm. Bryce waited until she quit shaking, then thrust himself fully into her squirming bowels.

"God! God damn, what, what the fuck got into you?" Rena panted after Bryce diddled her to a second orgasm. "Fuck! That, that's not the way we do it."

"Want me to stop?" Bryce teased and immediately diddled her clitoris again.

A few moments later, he bellowed and filled his condom. Rena lay in a sweaty heap, babbling nonsense. When he pulled his cock from her stretched, raw bowels, she immediately hustled to the bathroom.

A few moments later, Rena wobbled from the bathroom. Bryce had already stripped the bed and was rummaging in the small cedar chest at the foot of the bed.

"Where's the sheets?" Bryce asked and Rena stumbled slightly.

"I uh, oh! Oh, they're probably in the dryer," Rena said. "I'll go check."

"Still? They're still in the dryer? When did you wash them?" Bryce asked but Rena had already hustled from the bedroom.

Wednesday was spent pre-preparing everything that could be pre-prepared. The five pound ham had been pre-cooked and spiral cut so it simply needed to be defrosted. Bryce was grateful the previous owners of the home had been frequent hosts; the kitchen had a double oven. The turkey was marinating in a brine of ice cold water that had been seasoned with kosher salt, freshly cracked black pepper, several cloves of garlic and two onions that had been chopped. Cornbread stuffing had already been prepared and was just waiting to be baked. The green bean casserole was also ready to go into the oven.

"OH? Really?" Rena squealed happily into the phone.

Bryce had tuned out her conversation with her mother or her Aunt Sylvie or whomever she'd been yammering with for the past two hours while he diced, stirred, grated, chopped. She did look cute, though, dressed in just an apron and fuzzy socks.

When Bryce had met the petite former Olympic gymnast hopeful, Lorena Lugami admitted she'd once been an ultra-conservative Christian. Stepping onto the campus of Wallchester University had opened her eyes to other lifestyles, other beliefs than the beliefs she'd been raised with. There was more to life than what she'd been taught in Hadderly, Pennsylvania.

A fall that had shattered her fibula ended Rena's Olympic dreams; the recovery process would take far too long. During her physical rehabilitation, Rena learned more about the world around her, learned to observe rather than to judge. Her physical therapist had been a lesbian Muslim. Rena grew up believing Muslims were all Godless savages and lesbians were vile, loathsome deviants. Anissa Al-Pharek was neither Godless or loathsome.

By the time their paths had crossed, Rena was just beginning to find her sexual self. Bryce reaped those benefits and helped further her sex education.

"Guess what?" Rena whooped, finally ending her marathon gabfest with the squeaking, squawking voice at the other end of the cell phone.

"They're not coming?" Bryce said hopefully, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"No! My brother, remember I told you about him? Frankie? Anyway, he's coming and he's bringing his girlfriend Amy. I've never met her but..." Rena said, squeezing Bryce in an excited hug.

"Need to run to the grocers; we completely forgot about sweet potato casserole," Bryce interrupted her happy chatter. "Be right back."

After fixing a frozen pizza for dinner, an exhausted Bryce fell into his bed. Rena, who had done very little actual cooking crawled into the bed and rubbed her naked body against him.

Bryce rose to the occasion and used her mouth for his pleasure. It always amused him; Rena acted like she got no greater pleasure than to suck cock. After blowing a load down her throat, Bryce feasted on her wet slit until she cried out in orgasm.

"Want to..." Rena coyly asked and Bryce opened the drawer and grabbed the tube of lubricant.

Five o'clock came far too early. Bryce rushed through a shave and shower after turning the oven on to 350 degrees. While Rena showered, Bryce again changed the sheets and sprayed some air freshener; he could still smell the sweat and sex in the room.

Aunt Sylvie and Uncle Joey were the first to arrive; they lived in Carlton, New Jersey. Bryce disliked them on sight and further disliked them when they entered his home, noses turned up at his serviceable furniture.

"Happy Thanksgiving; you're Bryce? Hmm, well, Rena did say you were from the South," Aunt Sylvie sniffed, grimacing at Bryce's forest green leather sofa.

"Happy turkey day. Joey. Joey Andreo," Uncle Joey said, lightly slapping Bryce on his cheek. "Heard the name, eh?"

"Andrea? Yeah, a time or two," Bryce said, peeved at the light face slap this obnoxious buffoon had given him. "Yeah, Happy Thanksgiving."

"No, no, not Andrea," Uncle Joey said, frowning. "Andreo. AHN dray oh."

Rena greeted her Aunt with squeals and hugs. Rena endured a far too familiar hug from her Uncle Joey. Bryce returned to the kitchen, grateful to have a reason to limit conversation with the overbearing aunt and uncle. His eyes and nose burned from the gaudy, overpowering perfume Aunt Sylvie had marinated in. Uncle Joey's cheap aftershave wasn't much better but at least he had only put on a quart of the offensive scent.

"Notice my white trash Southern couch fits your fat ass just fine," Bryce thought as Aunt Sylvie settled herself onto the leather couch.

Danny and Marie Lugami were next to arrive. Bryce was sure 'Big Dan' had seen every 'Godfather' movie at least twice and had faithfully watched 'The Sopranos' when it had been on the television. The man was a caricature of the Italian-American males. His manner of dress, his manner of speech all screamed 'Mafioso.'

"Lunch is just about ready," Bryce said, trying and failing to be cheerful. "Rena, the wine's on the sideboard, already opened and breathing. Why don't you offer your, our guests some wine? The cheese and crackers are right there on the coffee table."

"Don't need no wine, boy," Uncle Joey informed Bryce. "Found you're what's this, your St. Elizabeth's is Pretty good stuff."

"My St. Elizabeth Superior? Yeah, I bet it is pretty good, you horse's ass," Bryce thought darkly. "That's why I was saving it for when I did finally find a job, prick."

"And, who the fuck told you to go into my den? Who the fuck told you to help yourself to my liquor cabinet?" Bryce muttered to himself as he stirred the giblet gravy.

"I'll get you another bottle," Rena whispered as she found three wine glasses in the cabinet.

The arrival of Frankie and Amy was heralded by squeals from the women. Big Dan and Uncle Joey played off the new guests' arrival as if it was no big deal.

"Oh God, this, Sweetheart, you, you're not going to believe this," Rena hissed as Bryce took the perfectly browned turkey from the larger oven.

The ham was resting on a large wooden board, waiting for the guests to serve themselves. Bryce checked the smaller oven and pulled out the sweet potato casserole; the marshmallows had achieved that perfect light brown crust to them.

"Problem?" Bryce asked, wishing this day had never arrived, wishing that this day was already over.

"Frankie? And his girlfriend? They're vegan," Rena whispered.

"Well, would have been nice to know that shit before now, huh?" Bryce exploded in anger. "What the fuck are they going to...no, no, what the fuck are they doing here? Jesus, Thanksgiving is all about meat."