Retribution Ch. 1

Story Info
Reverend Bushman can't answer a question.
4.4k words
4.18
84.6k
3
0

Part 1 of the 4 part series

Updated 10/20/2022
Created 08/24/2002
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Author’s Note: The following story is completely fiction. Some location material is non-fiction, but none of the characters or events are real.

Some have said my stories are too long. This one is also long, but I have broken it into four chapters. Hope this works better for you.

Chapter One

Reverend Robert A. Bushman, in one word, is conservative. His approach to everything in life; dress, politics, family values, and most importantly, his position on religion is conservative. To be honest, conservative does not do justice to Rev. Bushman’s positions. Terms such as ultra-conservative and extreme rightwing are closer to the mark.

Among the major goals in Rev. Bushman’s life is to correct what he sees as the moral decay of American society. Constantly, he preaches from the pulpit of his church, and any other stage he can gain access to, on the need for reform, a return to basic Christian values, a complete and total condemnation of homosexuality, and a return to the true purpose of sex; continuation and propagation of the species, and nothing more. The podium he is using this evening is as a guest on “The American Right,” a live interview television program dedicated to conservative values.

“Rev. Bushman on the line we have Ronald from West Virginia; go ahead Ronald.”

“Good evening and thank you for taking my call. I want to hear your answer so I will ask and then hang up. I have never heard any public statement by you that was anything other than extremely conservative. I am pretty sure I know your answer, but would you give us your thoughts about using anal intercourse as a form of birth control? Thank you.” The caller disconnected, while the host and guest were left with astonished looks on their faces.

Rev. Bushman’s neck changed colors through various shades of red as anger attempted to take over his emotions, but he maintained control; “This is clearly not an appropriate venue to ask or answer that question, however, since it is on the table let me say this; anal intercourse is not a prescribed way for a man and woman to join their bodies. It is unnatural, vile, contemptible, and it is an abomination on the face of God. There should be no question of birth control. There should be no question of anal intercourse. There is only one purpose, and correct connection of our sex organs. A man joins with a woman for the continuation of mankind. This is accomplished by insertion of the man into the woman for the length of time necessary, and only that minimal time, to discharge his seed. These actions are an obligation of man to his maker. Any other use of our sexual parts is deviant. I want to stress that sexual intercourse is not for pleasure. To use it as such is an affront to God’s word.”

Six people, from the comfort of their home in the mountains near Camp David, the Presidential retreat in western Maryland, carefully watched Rev. Bushman’s interview. They watched with amusement because they suspected a different side of Robert Bushman. Gathered around the TV were Jake Adams, his wife Tanya, as well as Bill and Gail Jones along with their children Tom (20) and Toni (18). This small band was only one of many similar groups that would like nothing better than to expose the true nature, and abuse of power wielded by Rev. Bushman and many of his associates and contemporaries.

Jake picked up the phone and dialed the 1-800 number for listeners to call with their questions. It was answered on the second ring. “The American Right;” do you have a question for today’s guest?”

“Yes, can I ask live?”

“It will be a few minutes, but if you are willing to wait I think we can get you in before the program ends.”

Jake waited for almost fifteen minutes before they told him he was next. “Rev. Bushman, thank you for taking my call. During the program today, you have given us very specific guidance on the appropriate use of our sexual beings. Rev., those statements do not seem in accordance with the events of April 15, 2000? Would you plea…….” The microphone with Jake’s call went dead, but the TV didn’t.

To the most casual viewer, Bushman was visibly shaken, and the announcer a bit flustered. “We seem to have lost our caller. We’ll take a short commercial break while we get our next caller on the line.

Roger Green, a Washington based freelance reporter and writer, regularly watched and taped the program because his political views were completely at odds with “The American Right.” He watched to find out what crap the right-wing extremists were feeding to the public. It was not unusual for guests on the program, just as guests on many other live interview programs such as Larry King, to receive crank calls, but Bushman’s reaction before the cameras panned off piqued Roger’s curiosity. Roger, speaking out loud as if there was someone else present; “How fuckin strange was that? That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bushman flustered?” Roger hit rewind to watch the segment again. What he saw confirmed his evaluation of Bushman’s reaction, he also noted that Andrew Whittaker, the host, went as pale as a ghost.

There was something to this that begged investigation. Roger wasn’t sure what or exactly where to begin. Two broad fronts came readily to mind. One was to see what he could find out about the person who called in the question. There was probably not much hope there. Neither the show, nor the station would likely release any information of that nature. However, he did have some friends, actually one friend, who might be able to extract the info out of the station computer system. Front number two was to find out about Bushman’s itinerary on April 15, 2000. If Bushman was doing something on the side it might not show, but it was a start. To Roger it seemed a little ironic that a possible solution to problem number one was his dinner date for this evening; Maddy Davies; more correctly Dr. Madeline Joyce Davies, PhD, from MIT, in 1990, and the current holder of the Mason Chair of Information Science at Georgetown University.

Among the many things to occupy Maddy’s time were several research projects, her information systems security company, Davies System Security, and when she wasn’t doing anything else she exercised the most immature desire to hack into every computer system she could find. Actually, there was a justifiable if not legitimate motivation for the hacking; you break into a company’s system to convince them they need a new security system.

Maddy and Roger first met during their undergraduate days at a small college in central Texas; Tarleton State. How all of the liberals, Maddy and Roger in particular, survived their time there is a mystery. It wasn’t the school so much as the Bible-belt ultraconservatism in the surrounding communities. As an example, consider that in those days each county in Texas could decide if it was wet or dry as related to alcohol. Of course Erath County was dry, but it was hypocritically humorous to watch all the strait-laced churchgoers who publicly opposed the consumption of alcohol in their county drive up to the liquor store located not more that 100 feet on the other side of the county line. But enough of those woes; Maddy and Roger gravitated to each other and found a common interest. They discovered they liked to fuck, and they especially liked to fuck and to get fucked in the ass. They enjoyed it then, continue to enjoy now, and they looked forward to a repeat this evening.

From his seat at the bar Roger saw Maddy walk through the door of the Tilted Glass; a favorite hangout of theirs in McLean; a Virginia suburb northwest of D.C. She saw him wave and walked over. As she neared, Roger placed a drink order, and moved toward an empty booth. “Hi Maddy, how are you this evening?” he asked as he kissed her cheek and slid into the booth across from her. His move to sit down was not so quick that he missed the flash of stocking and thigh as Maddy swung her legs under the table.

“To be honest Roger, I’m horny. I tried to call before you left the office to ask if we could skip drinks and go directly to your place. Let’s finish this one drink and go fuck.”

Just then the drinks arrived. “You’ll get no argument here. But, while we’re sipping this one round I want to ask a favor. Did you see Bushman on TV earlier?” Maddy shook her head no. “Near the beginning of the show he responded to a question about anal intercourse.” Maddy’s eyebrows shot up at the topic. “Later there was a call that asked him about events in April of 2000. Bushman almost exploded before they cut the call and went to a commercial break. And guess what; Whittaker was almost as shook as Bushman.”

“I’m all for anything that upsets Bush-ass; bet it was fun.”

“Yea, it was cool, but I wonder what happened, and can you help me. Can you, ----- no, will you crack the station’s system to find the origin of that call?”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult. Let me think about it and I’ll tell you after your mandatory performance.” Maddy downed her drink, started toward the door, then turned and said in a voice loud enough for several sitting at the bar to hear; “How long you gonna be? I’m interested in some of your cock up my ass.”

With a speed as if a cattle prod was poking him in the butt Roger jumped out of the booth and rushed to meet her just as she went through the door. Very rarely did either of them spend the night, so they both drove the five blocks to Roger’s two-bedroom, two-story, tastefully decorated townhouse. There were only three areas of this place Roger cared about; the dining room, master bedroom suite, and the kitchen. At the moment the bedroom was the most important.

Maddy and I first fucked in 1981. After twenty-one years I can tell you exactly what she looks like down to the tiny moles on her labia next to her clit. We know what we look like, and we know what each expects from our weekly liaisons. Between us there is no need for subtly, but in all our time together I have never overcome my awe at her beauty, nor of her ability to fuck me into the ground. Tonight is no different. She is standing on the other side of the bed casually opening her blouse buttons when she glances up to see me staring; “Like what you see big boy? It’ll cost you to see more. I’m not going to let you see my naked body until I have a promise.”

This was new. This was something different, and very unlike Maddy; “What kind of promise? I don’t know if it’s something I can do.”

“The question is not can you, but will you.” Maddy’s voice deepened, and while her head was tilted down her eyes stared up and directly at me; “If you want to possess my body tonight you must promise two things. First you must promise we can do it again, and again, and again. Second, you must promise that by the third again you will put a diamond on this finger.” With her right hand she pointed at the ring finger on her left hand. “You have asked me about a dozen times over the years, and now I am demanding it of you; I’m demanding you marry me.”

It may seem she is issuing an ultimatum, but what Maddy is doing is finally agreeing to a request Roger had posed to her many times. Until tonight the answer was always no; she wouldn’t even consider living in the same apartment building let alone getting married. Roger couldn’t imagine what had caused her to change her mind, but right now was not the time to ask questions. “Madam, your wish is my command, but are you sure?”

Maddy crawled across the bed toward Roger; “Yes Roger, I’m sure. I’ll explain later, but right now will you please make love with me?”

Her arms reached around my neck and pulled my lips to hers while I did my best to place our bodies as close together as possible. The kiss and embrace were physically no more intense than others we had shared in the past, but to me they were different. She was no longer just the love of my life. She was now my fiancée.

We explored each other as if we had just met. Each new piece of exposed flesh brought fresh sensations of excitement and pleasure. I rubbed my hands up and down her back for several minutes as we kissed, but the time came to move onward. I stepped around behind her; adroitly unsnapped the hook of her bra, stood away from her body, and allowed my hands to move under her arms to gently cup her breasts in my palms. At age 43, her unsuckled breasts sagged just a little, but it only added to the sensuous of her being. I rubbed my thumbs over her still unexposed nipples feeling them come erect, and causing her to tremble with each pass. I played with her mammary appendages for a moment then reached to help her remove the blouse and bra. Maddy crawled on her knees into the middle of the bed where she momentarily posed for me briefly caressing her breasts before she reached to her side and unfastened the button and zipper of her skirt. With a push and a wiggle, the material slipped to her knees to reveal a bright purple garter belt attached to shear black hose. No panty blocked my view of her pubic hair and the jewels beyond.

“I’ve a surprise for you later.” She said as her hands ran down her body and through the mass of hair on her pubic mound. “But first there’re some things I want to do.” Maddy stepped off the bed, and began to undress me. She moved slowly, just as I had done to her, to make each revelation of skin a new and thrilling experience. First my coat, tie, and shirt after which she kissed, licked, and nibbled my nipples. Then downward her mouth moved so her tongue could penetrate my belly button, and her hands began to unbuckle, unsnap, and unzip my trousers.

“Roger,” Maddy said teasingly; “the way your pants are straining you must be extra hard tonight. Did what I say excite you? Did it turn you on?” As she asked the questions, in what seemed a single action, her hands thrust my trousers and underwear to the floor, and her mouth engulfed my throbbing cock. Without any hand support, Maddy placed her tender red lips around the bulbous head, sucked very hard, and then slid down the shaft until my prick was lodged in her throat; an act accomplished only after much practice; an act Maddy performs with great skill. There is no accurate way to describe what it feels like to have your cock jammed as far down a woman’s throat as possible, but I can tell you it feels damn good.

Maddy backed off of my pulsating prick until her lips rested on the head then she slowly descended along the shaft so once more my cock was fully ensconced in her throat. Gradually, she increased the pace at which she face-fucked me moving me ever closer to spewing my seed down her gullet. The pressure and pleasure were exquisite, but I know my limitations, and I want at least one other of her holes tonight. I place my hands on her head, and at the end of an outward stoke I force her to stop, disengage, and bring her mouth to mine.

“You don’t know how good that feels, but I want to play too.” I laid her on the bed and began to fervently kiss every inch of her body. No spot was untouched, but erogenous areas such as tits, clit, pussy hole, and most importantly her asshole received extra special attention. Those areas were not only kissed, but also licked, slurped, and nibbled upon. Apparently I was doing things correctly because as I traveled around Maddy’s body her moans became more frequent, louder, shriller, and longer. Lastly I concentrated all my tongue action on her clit, but to add impetus toward a cascading orgasm, using fingers on both my hands, I plunged two fingers each into her pussy hole and past her anal sphincter. The passage of my fingers into the inner sanctum of her body drove Maddy over the edge. She leapt into an orgasm that made her body stiffen, and forced a stupefying moan of ecstasy from her upper lips. The lower lips didn’t scream with sound; they simply soaked themselves and everything around them with clear, sweet smelling, orgasm induced, cunt juices.

She calmed, but I was not through giving her oral and digit inspired pleasure. Again and again I unleash my tongue to lave her perianal area. I lick up her sweet juices while I rapidly shove my fingers in and out of her most private body parts. Maddy writhes, and moans with pleasure, and when I think she can withstand nothing more I throw her legs up high and plunge my cock into her ass.

She screams, but not with pain. Maddy loves to have things in her ass. Cock, dildoe, fingers, tongue are all welcome in her shit-chute. I pump with long powerful strokes pushing her ever closer to the major orgasm building in her body. Her orgasm was not the only one I was concerned about; my own was approaching with every stroke. At last I climbed the mountain and reach the crest with a huge squirting of seminal juices and sperm into the deepest recesses of Maddy’s rectum. As she feels my hot sex juices wash along her anal walls she too erupts into orgasm; an orgasm as pleasurable as any she has ever known before. Our muscles become tense. Our mouths yell. Our bodies collapse. It was not our normal habit, but the intensity and passion of our actions exhausts us and we sleep in each other’s arms until the bright light of sunrise forces our eyes awake.

Sun shining through his window also awakens Robert Bushman. It wasn’t difficult, as he slept fitfully because of concern created by the caller. He thought the incidents of that infamous day were behind him, but clearly someone remained who knew what had happened. Bushman punched in a number on his cell-phone; “Andrew, do you have any new information?” He knew there wasn’t any, but he had to ask; Andrew would have called him with any news. In a brusque manner, before hanging up the phone, Bushman said; “Meet me at 10 in the Watergate office.” He racked his brain, but nowhere was there any clue as to whom, and how much they knew.

As the sun rose over the Maryland mountain tops Bill Jones could feel the hard-on between his legs. It was a pisser, but why waste a perfectly good erection. There were several people within his immediate reach to act as a receptacle for his cum juices. The closest was Toni, his 18-year-old daughter. She was a beautiful girl with honey-blond hair, nice round tits, and an absolutely perfect ass; perfect to take his nine-inch cock. Bill was one of those men who exceeded the norm by more than a couple of inches.

Toni was able to sense her dad as he came near her. Of all the men she regularly fucked her Daddy was her favorite. The man’s cock was huge, and he knew how to use it to make a woman feel good. He could put his cock in any of her holes any time he wanted, but she knew there was only one hole that would interest him this time of morning; he would slip that monster cock up her ass, piss inside her lower bowel, and then literally fuck the piss and shit out of her. As Bill neared, Toni rose on to her knees, grabbed and spread her ass cheeks to expose the little brown hole for his exploitation.

The woman was so experienced she could relax and permit the hard piece of man-meat to slide with ease into her anal opening. “Good morning Daddy, does a little bit of ass-fucking interest you? Daddy, please do me my favorite way. You know, piss in my asshole before you start pounding; you know how much I like that.” Bill likes it that way also, and is more than happy to accommodate his daughter’s request. He shoves his boner into her cunt to get it wet, and then into her exposed anus until he is as tight against her butt cheeks as he can get, and after Toni slightly relaxes her anal sphincter he allows his bladder to empty. The depravity of pissing in his daughter’s ass adds multiples to the excitement level; adds beyond the sensations of Toni’s anal walls contracting around and rubbing his cock. An additional excitement comes from the mental visualization of his piss impacting on Toni’s turds; it acts much like a hydraulic mining hose and an enema.

12