tagFirst TimeOddball Ch. 04

Oddball Ch. 04


*Disclaimer: Any persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.


Chapter 1

The portly man put a smile on his face as the Farmers came out of the small building. He did not like the Farmers; John Farmer made less money than his wife, and it was quite obvious to all that his wife wore the pants in their family. The Bible clearly stated that the man should be the Head of the household. How any man could allow his wife to work outside of the home anyway was a mystery to him.

But he did like their money; Leah believed in tithing at least one-tenth of her monthly income. She was also quite generous with their income when Christmas time approached.

Now, their child, Mary Farmer, she was a real cutie pie. Even with the clothing that went from throat to ankles, he could tell she had a sweet, ripe little body underneath all the clothing. Even before his wife left him, he'd noticed how little Mary was growing into a fine young lady. And her meek and humble demeanor matched her beauty in his eyes.

"Oh, I bet she'd cry and beg me to stop," he thought and shifted his trousers slightly, to disguise his growing erection.

"Morning, Reverend," John said.

"Good morning Brother John," Reverend Smith smiled.

"Got a question for you," John said, no smile on his face.

"Mm?" Zechariah waited.

"What do you know about Alcoholics Anonymous?" John asked.

"Why, what do you mean?" Zechariah asked.

"Well, I'm just wondering, you were pretty quick to condemn them, so I'm just wondering if you've ever been to their meetings," John asked.

"Brother John, I do not need to stick my hands into the fires of Hell to know I do not want to go there," Reverend Smith intoned.

"So, without ever having been to any of their meetings, you just pass judgment on them?" John asked.

"Again, Brother..." Zechariah Smith sanctimoniously sneered.

"Have a nice day," John snapped and walked away.

Leah squeezed his hand as he drove the car toward their home.

Once home, she asked Mary to fix their lunch; she had to talk with Daddy. Leah pulled John into their bedroom.

"I have been thinking," she said quietly. "I have been thinking that it may be time for us to look at attending another church."

"You're joking," John said, stunned.

"John, I know," she said.

"What?" he asked still stunned.

"I know. I know where you've been going on your lunch breaks," Leah said.

"Oh," he said and looked away.

"And I know I've never been prouder of you, never been more in love with you, and to hear that bubble butt just stand there..." Leah said.

"That WHAT?" John laughed.

Leah smiled a self-conscious little smile.

"That FAT ASS just stand there and condemn a place that gave me back the man that I love, well, John, what else has he been wrong about?" Leah asked.

"How long have you known?" John asked her.

"A couple of weeks," Leah admitted. "And John, I'm so proud of you I could just bust; I know they're not sinful, they're not a cult. And to hear that man not even bother to answer your question, well I just don't know."

"We'll pray about it," John decided.

"Good idea," Leah laughed.


Amber was pissed. Amber was beyond pissed. She didn't know what kind of power game Babette was playing, not answering her phone, and when she did, acting like she was just too busy to talk, but Amber didn't like it one bit.

"Fucking dyke," she snarled under her breath when the cheerful little message came up again.

"Oh damn! Must have lost my cell phone again! I hate that when that happens! Oh well, leave a message and when I find my phone again I'll give you a call, okay? Bye!" Babette's cheerful voice said.

Tank didn't answer his phone either. Grace's mom wouldn't let anyone come over and wouldn't let Grace go anywhere.

Amber called Tyrell Landry; he was always good for a fuck and, if he had the dope, would share it. She smiled, wondering how Babette would like that; her lover fucking a black guy.

Babette was busy doing her aerobics exercise and did not hear the cell phone ringing.


Oscar had damned near given his cock brush burns reliving and re-reliving that good night kiss.

Her arms had gone around him, around his shoulders; he could feel her forearms against his neck. Her breasts were nice and firm, but had just a little bit of give to them when they pressed against his chest. Her lips had been so nice and soft; her tongue had felt like nothing he'd ever imagined. Her skin smelled nice and clean, her perfume smelled a little of musk.

He sighed and wandered back down the hall to the bathroom again, his trousers tenting out in front of him.


Meals in the Kowalski home were normally quiet, tense affairs. You just never knew what kind of mood James Kowalski would be in. If he'd had two or three beers, he'd be in a fairly good mood. If he'd been into the bourbon, he'd be in a mean temperament. He was most foul, quickest to lash out with fists or words if he'd had no alcohol at all.

"This is pretty good,'" he said and Thomas and Jim let their breath out.

Theresa also let her breath out and beamed with pride.

He'd had a couple of beers; he was in a good mood.

"So, Tommy, tell me about this midget you've been screwing," James said.

"Dad!" Thomas exclaimed.

"What?" James asked. "I'm not supposed to know about her?"

"We're not 'screwing,'" Thomas grumbled.

"Oh?" James sneered. "Why not? Bitch don't put out?"

"Dad, she's a really nice girl," Thomas sighed. "Real religious, you know?"

Sometimes he hated his father. The knowledge made him sick, though. It's wrong to hate your own father.


Britney bubbled as she went on and on about Oscar and their date.

Under the table, Allison nudged Charlie. He put his hand on her leg and smiled sadly.

Radcliffe's, huh?" Tiffany asked.

"Yeah," Britney smiled.

"How was the food?" Charlie asked.

"It was all right," Britney shrugged. "Really, Mom's cooking's a lot better."

"Why thank you, Honey!" Allison laughed. "Just for that, you get a chocolate sundae for dessert!"

"What about me?" Tiffany asked.

"You haven't said anything nice yet," Allison teased.

Under the table, Charlie's hand was getting closer and closer. She looked at his bland face; no one would ever be able to beat Charlie Wertmuller at poker. She smiled when a quick little jerk of his eyebrows was the only indication that he'd discovered her lack of panties.

He turned and smiled at her as he drove two fingers into her wetness. His thumb rested against her clitoris and she stifled a groan.

:I like your cooking very much," Tiffany said. "And no one makes ice tea as good as you do."

"Hmm," Allison said. "A little too artificial, you know? I can tell you were reaching on that one."

"Please?" Tiffany begged. "Please can I have a chocolate sundae too?"

"Terrible, just terrible," Allison laughed as Tiffany really mugged up a begging face.

"How about me?" Charlie asked and pulled his fingers from her pussy.

She looked at him, torn between gratitude that he'd stopped before she could no longer hide her reaction and disappointed that he'd stopped.

"Yeah, he ain't said anything nice either!" Tiffany said.

"Sure I did," Charlie smiled. "Why just this morning I told her her ass isn't THAT big yet."

"Girls, I know you will miss your father very much when I kill him," Allison said as she picked up their dinner plates.

"'Bye Daddy," Britney and Tiffany said. "We'll miss you."

"If I help dig his grave, can I have his sundae?" Tiffany asked.

"Good God, yes Tiffany, you can have a sundae!" Allison laughed.


She drove the Toyota west on I-10. Her headache was nearly mind numbing and she'd left the bottle of medication back at the apartment.

She was on the outskirts of Houston and traffic was really starting to get thick. She should have taken his truck. A van cut right in front of her, narrowly missing her bumper by millimeters, but she dared not slow down; a Peterbilt was directly behind her.

Lilly was always the one that drove through Houston, Lilly was just as aggressive and daring as these drivers. Lilly didn't give an inch and had no trouble swerving in a doubt of the small spaces. Theresa always just shut her eyes until they were on the other side of the huge metropolis.

That was how she was when Lilly would drag her onto the roller coasters; she would shut her eyes until the ride was finished. Lilly would shriek and squeal and demand to go on it again, but Theresa would just close her eyes until the safety bar was released and she could get out and stand again.

She fished Lilly's sunglasses out of the console and put them on. That seemed to diminish the headache slightly. Damn, but that semi was right on her bumper.

Chapter 2

John was a little surprised; the garage was not open yet. Usually, George would have the garage bays wide open and would either be in the office drinking that swill he called coffee or already hard at work under the hood of a client's car.

The side door was open, though and John let himself in and turned on the lights to the office and garage.

"Mother of God, help me," John said as he saw his big brother's body, half in his chair and half on the floor.

The police were quick to respond; DeGarde had relatively little in the way of crime, being a small town. Once they'd photographed the entire office and dusted for fingerprints, they asked John to do a quick visual survey of the office and the garage to see if he could notice anything missing.

He opened the office safe; the combination was Mary's birthday, and shook his head no. There were several thousand dollars in the safe, untouched.

"Any wise, girlfriends, jealous husbands or boyfriends?" Detective Bordelon asked.

"No, no, well, he was dating this little college girl, but I doubt she had a husband or boyfriend," John said.


Babette burst into tears as she listened to amber's nasty message.

"Yeah, he pounded my pussy real good, got it all full of cum, want to come over and eat some cum out of my pussy, fucking pussy eating dyke?" Amber said.

"Was going to let him fuck me up the ass, but I think I'd rather shit on your ugly face," Amber went on.

Babette hit the number seven on her keypad, erased the rest of the hateful, hurtful message.

"Mom, I don't feel good," she sobbed and Mrs. Boudreaux shrugged her shoulders and called the school office.


"About time y'all come out here," the old lady that lived next to Lilly's apartment complained. "I called yesterday about what sounded like a gunshot and y'all hung up on me!"

"You called the police yesterday?" Detective Bordelon asked.

"That's right, about ten o'clock in the morning," the woman snarled. "And y'all hung up on me!"

"Ma'am, you remember what number you called?" Detective Bordelon asked, reaching for his cell phone.

She recited Rapid Cab's phone number and Detective Bordelon almost smiled.

"That's right, neighbor said she heard what sounded like a gunshot," he told his commanding officer.

"Ma'am, you wouldn't happen to know where a key to this apartment might be found, do you," He asked the old woman.

"Try under the flower pot," she suggested.

He did and there was a spare key.

"Send the M.E. out here," he told his commanding officer. "Got us another one in side. And get Crappit's phone records; next door neighbor called them to report the gunshot; I want to know what time that call came in."


Oscar Coutre was a new man.

Normally Oscar the Geek was the butt of ridicule, of scorn. He was the one that got tripped when he walked down aisles, the one that found 'kick me' taped to his back, the one that found a thumbtack on his chair. He usually found those hard way, with his rump. He was the one that found him being shoved into a locker by the jocks, or teased by the cheerleaders and other popular girls.

But he was a new man.

Jeremy Leblanc stuck his foot out in the aisle as Oscar came stumbling along.

"Ow, mother fucker!" Jeremy howled as Oscar very heavily stomped down on the toes of Jeremy's tennis shoe.

"Oh, gee, I'm sorry," Oscar said, in a tone of voice that let Jeremy know he was not sorry at all.

He brushed the thumbtack off of his seat and sat down.

Britny and Tiffany Wwertmuller burst into the room and nearly every head swiveled as Britney smiled widely and traipsed down the aisle to take the seat next to Oscar.

Yes, Oscar was a new man.

"Latent homosexuality is quite common in the early stages of adolescence, male and female, as the increase of hormonal levels also dictate sexual identity..." the book very dryly informed Mary.

Again, she furtively looked around the library before continuing to read about sexual development, sexual responses, and sexual identities.

"Well, that certainly makes sense," she thought to herself.

Never having developed friendships, never having any social interactions until now, it was quite normal to have these sexual feelings for Britney Wertmuller. She had also noticed, nowhere in the few pages that she'd read, did it say she would be condemned for all Eternity for having these feelings; they were normal. Another thought came to mind; she looked around again to make sure that no one was looking at her, and thumbed through the index.

"Anal sex, page 47," she said and flipped to that page.

Again, a very dry, scientific description was given, giving no real useful information, other than lubricant should be used as the rectum did not provide any lubricant of its own.

:Finding everything okay?" Miss Barbara asked and Mary nearly jumped.

"Um, yes, yes ma'am," Mary stammered.

Miss Barbara smiled; at one time or another, nearly every one of their students had flipped through the pages of that book. She liked to joke that it was the most read book in their library, even though it had never been checked out.

Mary quickly replaced the book on the shelf and returned to the table to sit next to Thomas.

She looked at his crotch and wondered how much lubricant would be necessary to accommodate a penis of his girth.


"John, I am so sorry," Leah repeated.

"Oh, my God," John said. "Mary! How am I going to tell Mary about this?"

"Oh God, you're right!" Leah said. "She's going to be devastated!"

"Who's Mary?" Detective Bordelon asked.

"My daughter," John answered. "George, she was George's favorite, he loved her more than anything else in the world."

"That the little girl's pictures hanging all over the place?" Detective Bordelon ask.

"Yeah," John agreed. "We named her Mary Angel Farmer; George wanted us to name her Angel."

Fresh tears began to fall.

"God, Leah, what am I going to do?" he asked.


Theresa pumped the gas, ignoring the rude comments of the van's occupants.

Her headache was worse, if that was possible. Normally, she would have enjoyed the attention of the five or six guys, would have bend way over, letting her shorts crawl up her backside, exposing a good portion of her ass to them. She might even have 'pretended' to adjust them, flashing a good part of her pussy to their hungry eyes. Then she and Lilly would have had a good laugh at that and Theresa would have masturbated while Lilly drove.

"Hey baby, give you ten inches best meat you ever had," one of the guys said and grabbed himself.

"Oh yeah?" Theresa asked.

He was asking for it, and she was going to give it to him. Stupid motherfuckers; she hadn't invited their unwanted attention, hadn't encouraged them in any way. But did that matter to them? No; they were stupid pigs.

"Ladies restroom," she said and locked her car door after grabbing her purse.

His buddies laughed and hooted and cheered as he followed the hot little red head toward the bathroom.

Some of his bravado melted away as they entered the cramped foul smelling room.

"Well?" Theresa asked. "Come on, show me the ten inches you got."

"Come on," she snapped and yanked him by his belt to the stall farthest from the door.

She roughly shoved him backward and he sat down with an 'oomph' on the dirty toilet.

Her bullet got him right between the eyes.

The sound echoed and reverberated off the tile walls and Theresa's headache was intensified. She vomited from the pain of the headache, spraying her bile all over the dead man's lap and chest. If she had not wanted to endure the deafening roar of the gunshot again, she would have shot him again, out of anger, for making her throw up.

A thought came to her and she checked her wallet. Funds were running low. She gingerly patted him and located his wallet. Jackpot. He had four hundred and seven dollars on him.

His buddies laughed and jeered when she came out of the bathroom and she smirked at them before driving away.


Mary felt like crying when she was paged to the principal's office. She'd only looked at the book; she hadn't stolen it, or torn out any of the pages.

Her mother and father were sitting in Principal Desmond's office, eyes red from crying.

"What happened?" Mary barely dared to ask.

Chapter 3

George's funeral was a somber affair. Even the presence of Thomas next to her was of no consolation to Mary. She tried to compose herself, tried to stop crying, but just when she thought she'd get a handle on herself, the overwhelming sadness would hit her again and she would start bawling again.

John gave a heartfelt eulogy that would have embarrassed George. But the people there had to agree; John's description of his big brother was an accurate one. George was a businessman, but never ever let business gets in the way of helping another person. He owned several homes in DeGarde ,Baylor Lake, and Bender, which he rented out. He rented them at a fair price, kept things in good working condition and often let his tenants slide for a month or two before he would start the eviction process.

"One family, they had eight kids, and the father got laid off," John remembered. "Instead of evicting them, he loaded up the back seat of the car with groceries and sent me down to Baylor Lake, to give them food. He didn't want them to know it was him sending the food, didn't want them to feel obligated. That's what kind of man my big brother was."


Despite her headache, she was hungry, so she pulled off the interstate and looked for a fast food restaurant. The small town in West Texas had a small diner/gas station.

"Why sure honey, you got a headache?" the waitress asked when Theresa asked about getting a bottle of aspirin.

"Yes, you dumb cunt, I have a headache; Why else would I need a bottle of fucking aspirin?" she muttered as the waitress waddled away.

The Houston police officers scanned the surveillance tape from the gas station.

"There, that's her," Officer Rodriguez said as the tape showed their victim following a short woman in very short shorts and tight tee shirt. "Damn, I'd follow her too."

A few minutes later, the tape showed her from the rear as she returned into the frame. She got into a twelve year old Toyota and drove away. The front license plate was a 'Saints' football team license plate.

"Should be easy enough to spot," he muttered. A Saints fan in Texas?"

Theresa left a fairly generous tip; even if the waitress was a dumb bitch, Theresa knew how hard being a waitress could be.

The food and the aspirin helped only a little, but a little was better than nothing. She ate three more aspirin, then started her car. She jammed the car into forward and lurched as the car ran into the concrete parking block.

"Dumb ass," she cursed herself, then threw the car into reverse and pulled away from the diner.

The Saints license plate lay on the ground where the parking block had torn it off of the front bumper.


"I'm real sorry about your uncle," Britney said into the phone.

Report Story

byJimBob44© 6 comments/ 37003 views/ 10 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

3 Pages:123

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: