Malory (Love Binge Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Malory

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Continue Reading

  Malory

  Love Binge 1

  Carrie Breeze

  Other works by Carrie

  Calico

  Stepmom Vacation

  PEG!

  Thirsty

  P CLUB

  Got Jacked

  Pork

  Big Bad Stepbrother

  Stepbrother Lover

  Malory

  by Carrie Breeze

  Copyright © 2016 Carrie Breeze

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED WORLDWIDE

  No part of this book may be copied,

  reproduced, or downloaded to the

  internet without prior written consent

  from the author.

  The characters and events portrayed

  in this book are fictitious and come

  Strictly from the mind of the author.

  All characters portrayed are 18+

  at the time of sexual activity

  Chapter 1

  Naked Highway

  *Dill*

  Holy shit that was close.

  Two deer just leapt out in front of me. My front fender nearly clipped the hind hooves of the second.

  I’m doing eighty per down the Old Mill Road on the edge of God’s country. That’s what we call the lakes region around here. Here being Worthless Bastard, Minnesota. It’s one or two AM, shit I don’t know. I’m half drunk and headed home. Got the windows down on my ‘88 Chevy Suburban. Muggy as hell out. Got my shirt off. Crickets are calling from the roadside weeds. Bullfrogs croaking for their mates in the mucky ditches and I got Smokey cranked on the tape deck.

  Being with you. Being with you…

  What the fuck?

  Am I seeing this correctly or am I dreaming? About a quarter mile up ahead and growing fast in the cone of my brights is the most delicious ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. Naked. I ain’t lying. A totally bare-ass naked babe is walking down the center of this dark highway.

  I lay on the horn and slam on the brakes. She just turns her head and gives me this what-the-fuck-mister look as the Burban skids, tires screaming in the night, fishtailing around her.

  Holy shit. That’s Malory Mark, the preacher’s daughter and she’s a true blond. The cock of every red blooded guy in town has had an APB out on her bod ever since she moved to town last winter.

  I come to a stop sitting half in the ditch.

  “Malory, you alright?” Getting out and rushing up to her.

  “Hi, Dill. Fancy running into you out here,” she says, totally oblivious that she’s buck naked. “I’m so glad it’s you,” wrapping her arms around me in a full frontal embrace. Her hot sweaty melons press against my sweat soaked hairy chest. My cock goes to DEFCON 1, ready for blastoff as it presses her flat belly. I feel her heart racing and wonder what drug she’s on. “I love the feel of a man. I love the smell of a man,” inhaling deeply. “Dill you smell like burnt rubber.”

  “Ah, that would be the rubber I laid avoiding your sweet ass. You know how close you came to being road kill?” I hold her away and look at her. Her usually pristine blond hair is as tangled as a tumble weed. Her green eyes have a wild watchful look like she’s running from someone. “What’s going on? Where you been?”

  “Been reading the Bible,” she laughs like a maniac, the sound carrying across the rolling hills in the dense night air. Special Bibles that the BroFos print up. You should try it. I need to get home and read some more.. Drive me home. I’ll do anything for a lift home.”

  “Get in.”

  I open the driver’s door for her. She steps up and slides onto the stained bench seat, slides over to the center where she’s damn near straddling the stick shift with her blond pussy. I climb in, slam the door shut and peel out, climbing out of the ditch. Shifting into second, my fist knocks her clit. She gasps.

  “I like that gear, Dill,” she moans.

  I shift up into third, then to forth and pick up speed and the RPMs make the old Burban hum. The gear knob is back between her legs throbbing like a vibrator out a hell. Malory slouches down and rides the knob.

  “You got a great ride. Got any smokes?”

  “Sure do,” grabbing the pack of Winstons off the dash, pull one out, light it with the dash lighter and hand it to her. She takes a long drag and then blows out the smoke at the windshield. She’s purring like a kitten.

  “So, who you been with tonight?” I ask, taking the cigarette back.

  “Duwayne Devine. We had a really good time. You know him?”

  “Yeah, leader of the BroFos motorcycle club. They do a lot of good things for this town. But, ah, I thought you and Sven Ramirez had started seeing each other.”

  “Shit, shit, shit. I forgot about our date tonight. He was gonna pick me up right after Bible study.”

  “Now you got me confused. You stood up Sven for Duwayne?”

  “Long story. Sven’s gonna kill me. Can I use your phone? I lost mine.” She drops her hand into my lap and squeezes my cock hard, holding onto it like a handle. Oh, what sweet pain.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Last thing I need is a jealous boyfriend on my ass.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Are you gay? Here I am all naked and you haven’t touched me.”

  I take that as an invitation and stretch my arm around her shoulders, groping her right tit. My mind is racing, thinking, trying to think of a good place to stop for a quickie.

  “So where you coming from?” she asks, grabbing the cig from my lips and putting it to hers.

  “Earl’s Bar in Cliteral. Ed Gunderson hooked me up with a load of vintage TV sets, that’s what’s in back there,” nodding my head to the back of the Burban. “So I was buying him beers for the favor.”

  “That’s right, you got that shop. What’s it called?”

  “Northern Fried Electronics. You should stop in sometime. You into vinyl? We got some great, hard to find, records.”

  “Nah, I just listen to stuff on my phone. That’s what we need tunes.” My Smokey tape had ejected when the Burban stalled. She turns on the radio. It’s tuned to a 70s station. KC and the Sunshine Band is playing I’m your Boogie Man. We sing it out at the night.

  “So, you got that hippie chick clerk working for you, right? What’s her name, Calico? Cool name.”

  “Yup.”

  “Anything serious going on between you two?”

  “Ahh… yeah but we respect each other’s freedom, ya know what I mean?”

  “Totally,” squeezing my cock harder.”

  We just pass the road sign that says,

  WELCOME TO

  WORTHLESS BASTARD

  Pop. 13,214

  NICEST TOWN IN AMERICA

  “So, tell me what happened with you and Duwayne.”

  Chapter 2

  Bible Drop

  Earlier that evening

  Three burly men sporting Biblical beards reverently stepped into the Fellowship Center at Church of the Immaculate Revelation in downtown Worthless Bastard, Minnesota. Their crusty black wing-tipped Wellington boots creaked across the ancient hardwood floor raising smiling faces. Some two dozen of the local devout were engaged in their Wednesday night bible study.

  Two of the three newcomers carried heavy cardboard boxes. They thumped their burdens down onto the end of a long table just inside the door. Next to the cookies, coffee, and Koolaide. All three men found folding chairs along the periphery of parishioners and joined in on the t
ail-end of the Reverend Mark’s evening lesson.

  “And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven:

  And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?

  And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.

  And he trembling and astonished said, Lord wilt thou have me to do? And the Lord said unto him, Arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do.”

  “Acts chapter nine verses three through six,” Reverend Mark said, closing his Bible. “Study them, meditate upon them, and next week we’ll discuss their deep implications. Now, brethren, let’s lower our heads in prayer….Beloved Lord, we thank you for this time tonight spent in your healing presence. We give thanks for your comforting Word. I ask your blessings on these people as they go forth to do your work. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen.”

  Chairs scuffled as everyone made towards the refreshments but nobody wanted to be first.

  It’s been statistically proved that the town of Worthless Bastard, Minnesota has more nice people per capita than any other city in America. In this day and age most people tend to think that’s a lot of Department of Tourism bullshit. But these people here tonight are real.

  There’s Tiffany Ugstad, works in the HR department at Blackmart on the edge of town. She’s a hoarder. Her house is a maze of goat paths winding through mountains of clearance sale crap. She’s become so used to walking sideways that she approaches the refreshment table in a sort of modified crab-walk.

  She maneuvers around June J.P. Wyndmere, heir to the Philips milling fortune and self-appointed aristocrat who attends Bible study to help relieve the pain of being married to the town junk man.

  J.P. is discussing the upcoming Worthless Bastard Days with Bo Hammer and his wife, Downy. Bo is the best dentist in town. Downy, a true gossip hound, works the reception desk for Bo. If you want to find out anything under the radar, go see Bo. The rumor mill starts there.

  Bubba Chatwood already has a plate full of cookies. He’s a hardcore gamer computer geek. Bubba fantasizes about taking down the town grid so he can sneak into the old Philips Mill. His great great grandfather used to be caretaker of the place. He was a former Ivy League professor who reputedly invented the atom bomb even before Einstein published his papers on relativity. Legend has it that old Chatwood’s notes are hidden somewhere in the mill.

  Hanging out together back of the line are Malory Mark, daughter of the Reverend and Blaine Wyndmere whose sweet on her. Blaine just got back from the lavatory where he’s secretly boring a toothpick-sized hole through the concrete block wall in the far stall. The women’s room is on the other side. He figures he has about an inch to go till paradise. Other than that, Blaine is the sweetest of guys.

  Malory has got a new box of Trojans in her purse waiting till later when she can sneak off and go parking with Sven Ramirez. Sven is a deputy sheriff here in Goose County.

  All these people you thought were so nice, well, they’re all just religious compulsives.

  Then there’s the BroFos. The local Christian motorcycle club of which our three late arrivals are members. There’s Duwayne Devine - Club priest, Wally Cook - vice priest, and Zech the Mech of Barnesville - minister of the wheel. BroFos is short for Brother Fuckers which is emblazoned in red rune script across the shoulders of their greasy navy blue blazer vests. “You fuck with the Lord and the brothers will fuck you up.” That’s their club motto. The kind folk of Worthless Bastard adore the BroFos despite their repulsive moniker. The club has served the community tirelessly. Some would even go so far as to say the town owes its nice reputation to the clubs high moral vigilance.

  Having torn himself away from fawning parishioners, Reverend Mark is greeted in turn with manly hugs from each BroFo. The slapping of brawny hands on shoulders echoes against the high ceiling.

  “Brother’s, shall we repair to the sacristy,” Reverend Mark says as Wally and Zech grab the heavy boxes off the refreshment table.

  In the seclusion of the sacristy the Reverend cuts open one of the sealed boxes, dispenses with some packing paper, pulls out a freshly minted black leather Bible and fans its pages.

  “Hey, haha, what’s up with this,” he says, flipping through the Bible more slowly. “The gospels are all blue. That won’t pass with my flock.”

  “We’re using a new ink formula,” Duwayne said.

  “It ain’t red but it’s ninety-six percent pure Word of God,” Wally Cook said.

  “Right on, yo,” Duwayne said, “It’s the bomb, brother.”

  Reverend Mark flipped to a passage in Luke and read. “The Son of Man is come eating and drinking; and ye say, yo, Behold a glutenous man, and a boozer, a friend of users and sinners!” He scratched the lettering with a fingernail forming a tiny pile of blue dust. He pressed on nostril shut, lowered his face down into the Bible and snorted.

  The Reverend’s head flew back like he’d just taken a shotgun blast.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, God, yeah. Fucking immaculate! Keep printing up shit like that,” grinning devilishly. “I’m going to have some very holy parishioners.”

  “Right on, that’ll be thirty large, yo.”

  “Ah, listen, brother, I’m good for it, right?”

  “What,” Duwayne shoves the pastor’s shoulder. “I can’t float thirty Gs. I got operating expenses.”

  “The thing is, with people gearing up for Worthless Bastard Days, the collection plate was a little skimpy last Sunday. So, ah,” he opens his jacket revealing a pistol tucked into his pants. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a week.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn a lesson in business.”

  Duwayne reached and grabbed the gun and pistol whipped Pastor Mark’s forehead. He flew back onto the floor.

  “No one fucks with the BroFos,” he screamed, slamming his size twelve wellington into the pastor’s ribs. “No one can claim Duwayne Devine ain’t full of Christian charity and patience. But, just the same, I need to make sure you’re a man of your word, yo.” Turning toward Zech the Mech of Barnesville, “Go fetch us some collateral.”

  By then it was somewhere around eight-oh-seven Norwegian Bulova time and all but two parishioners had split to catch the intoxicating fragrances of the prairie dusk with strolls around murky Lake Veronica or take relaxing walks through Worthless Bastard’s quiet small town neighborhoods.

  Zech returned escorting Malory with his grease-stained fingers on her slender shoulders.

  “What is it, father…” a quizical look creasing her pretty face. “Hey, what’s going on? Father, are you alright?” She ran to where he sat in a winged chair beside a desk.

  “No, no,” Reverend Mark shouted. Anything but my daughter.

  “Oh, don’t fret, we’ll take good care.” Duwayne took Malory’s hand. “Honey, your dad has agreed to let you come with us for a little while. Let’s bounce.”

  The three BroFos stomped out the church’s back door pulling with them a confused and concerned Malory. Duwayne ushered her into the cab of his truck while the other two straddled their hogs.

  Pastor Mark picked up the Bible, read a passage, scratched off the blue ink and snorted just as the dirty thunder sound of choppers came to life and echoed down the alley.

  A head unexpectedly popped in through the sacristy doorway. Blaine.

  “Excuse me, Reverend Mark. Sorry to interrupt but have you seen Malory?”

  Chapter 3

  Sex Games

  *MALORY*

  Once we hit the road Duwayne pulled out this brand spanking new Bible and had me read about Paul’s conversion experience on the road to Damascus. He then did the weirdest thing. He scratched off the letters from the page with his fingernail and shoved the book into my face, Holding it there till I nearly suffocated. The next thing I remember was
like I was in a new land.

  “Where are we?” my eyes blinking rapid fire in the harsh sunlight. The desolate stretch of interstate, the far reaching wheat fields, the sparse farmyards - all fluttering into my perceptions like a movie reel starting up. Was this a movie I was trapped in? I hoped so. Looking around, I was slumped in the passenger seat of Duwayne’s pickup truck. He was driving and noticed that I had woken. I tried the power controls for the window and door lock. No go. He just chuckled. Intentionally disabled? Was I the latest in a long line of his kidnap victims? The flat bed floor behind the seats was covered with straw. It smelled a bit gamy. There were some suspicious things back there; rope, tire iron, blocks of wood, tool chest. My heart was pounding in my throat. I looked over at him imploringly. “You’re my brother in Christ, for God’s sake. What kind of beast are you?”

  “We’re somewhere around Rothsay,” his voice like gravel in the dry air. He was chewing tobacco and spitting out his open window.

  “It’s hot. Will you lower my window?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you taking me? What are you going to do with me?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough…. Take off your clothes.”

  “What… and if I refuse?”

  “Well, as someone once said in a movie, we won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Are you insane? We? What do you mean, we?”

  “Yeah, my friend and me,” reaching down under his seat and pulling out the biggest gun I’d ever seen in person in my life. All of the sudden things got way too serious and little buzzing flies started stirring inside my tummy and in my head and making my hair stand on end. He was holding a long-nosed revolver. Its barrel gleaming darkly in the dusty air.

  “Sis, say hello to my good friend Mr. 44 Magnum. He likes to give bitchy girls like you a big kick. Like me, he don’t take no for an answer. Now, start gettin’ naked, stabbing its cold hard barrel into my left temple.