Just a Nice Boy Ch. 02

*.*.*

"And that was the moment, Albert Rosenberg, that I knew I was destined to be a man of God," Brandon said. "I knew I would marry Linda, my sister would marry Derek, and I would be the one to perform the ceremony and Donna would look beautiful in her white wedding dress, and would have my spunk dripping down her leg as our father proudly walked her up the aisle. My whole life was planned out for me. And it would be beautiful."

"Wright? Brandon Wright?" a female officer called out.

"Right here," Brandon said.

"Come on, Wright, free to go," the woman said, unlocking the door. "Charges have been dropped."

"See you, Albert Rosenberg," Brandon smiled.

Albert fell asleep, for only a moment before he was being roused, given a flavorless breakfast and warm, bitter coffee. Then they were herded onto a bus and brought down to the Oakleaf Courthouse. His wife looked extremely unhappy and glowered at him when he tried to make eye contact. His name was called, the charges read, a bail amount was set and finally, he was free to go.

Epilogue.

Albert Rosenberg shuffled drunkenly into the corridor. Over the past twenty two years, he'd walked this corridor many times.

The first few times, Barbara Rosenberg, his beloved wife would stoically wait for him in Oakleaf's Courthouse, post his bail, then they'd leave. She'd dive him home, prepare a simple breakfast, then sit at the table and sob quietly while he ate.

His job, they had given him terms and conditions that he was to meet if he would continue in their employ. Albert was unable to manage to meet these stringent conditions for longer than a few days.

Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, treatment centers, the lure of the bottle was stronger than these feeble attempts at sobriety.

Barbara left just after his place of employment terminated him. She took their four children, put them into the car and drove away. Soon after, the landlord, his own cousin, came and physically escorted Albert off the premises.

Albert welcomed when the police would arrest him. It would mean food, a nice dry bunk to sleep upon.

The guard gently guided Albert to a cell. That was one thing Albert always admired, appreciated. The Texas police officers were always courteous, gentle with him.

"Here you go, Rosenberg," the man said. "Now, that one? Be careful of him. I know, I know, he looks like he's just a nice boy, but..."

"Aw, your ass, Milton," the handsome young man laughed. "How's Claire doing?"

"She's good, she's good, tell her you asked about her," the guard chuckled.

Albert sat down, weaving slightly. He looked at the smiling young man, in his expensive looking suit, crisp white shirt, and polished shoes. The man had bright green eyes and long brown hair that he had pulled back in a ponytail.

"Albert Rosenberg, how you been?" Reverend Brandon Wright genially asked. "Been a long time, huh?"

"Hmm?" Albert drunkenly asked.

"So, Albert Rosenberg, have you accepted our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?" Brandon asked, then laughed.

"Hmm?" Albert asked again.

"So, I was telling you, when I stood in front of my father's church, delivering my message, I saw my life before me," Brandon said, as if there had not been twenty two years between their last meeting and tonight. "I saw myself with Linda as my wife, the beautiful and dutiful wife of a man of God. I saw my sister, marrying my best friend, saw that the four of us would continue to be lovers."

*.*.*

I returned to Atwell College, now on fire to do my very best, to become a pastor of my own church, to minister to my flock. The Reverend Conrad Dailey, the Dean of Students even noted my newfound dedication to my studies. Before, I had been a straight 'A' student, but now I was taking more challenging courses, I was writing dissertations and lectures, I was even volunteering to proselyte to the people of the town of Bergeron to the west of Martinelli, Idaho.

I regret to say that during my visits to the town of Bergeron, Idaho, I was frequently unfaithful to my dear sweet Linda. I wasn't completely besieged with guilt, though, because I knew she too was bending the confines of monogamy with my sister and her own brother. If my sister's tongue and fingers were not in Linda's pussy, Derek's cock was plunging in and out of her pussy.

During my second semester at Atwell, Vickie did give birth to Valerie Mary Davidson. She was a beautiful blonde headed child; her baby pictures could not be distinguished from Vickie's own baby pictures, or the pictures of Derek or Linda. Even as cynical, as jaded as I admit to being, even I did think Valerie was a beautiful infant.

She had been born on Good Friday, and made her presence known at the Easter Sunday service, wailing loudly, happily. Vickie held her proudly and smiled as the few women that had come to accept her did come and coo and fuss over the adorable infant.

Shortly after I had returned home for the two week summer break, Vickie drove her prized Mercedes-Benz into the path of an oncoming cement mixer. As sturdy and solid an automobile as that car was, it just was no match for the large vehicle.

She did not suffer. Victoria Davidson had been so drunk, so gin soaked, she felt nothing at all as the large construction vehicle rolled over her car.

So caring for Valerie Davidson fell to Derek and Linda. Derek immediately obtained his G.E.D. and began working as a sanitation worker for Oakleaf County.

"I can remember when y'all were called garbage men," I teased him.

"Yeah, but sanitation workers got a union," Derek replied.

Valerie grew up in my father's church. She thought Derek was her daddy (he was) and thought Donna was her mother, even though it was Aunt Linda that did most of the motherly duties. That blonde haired darling did revive in my mother, whom Valerie called 'Nana' a desire and my mother actually quit taking all the prescribed medications.

My father, whom Valerie dubbed 'Manny' absolutely doted upon, adored his 'granddaughter.'

I have never doubted my father's love of myself, or my sister. But with us, he was a firm believer in 'spare the rod, spoil the child' and ruled over us with an iron fist.

Valerie could have set his church on fire, and while the fire department was busy trying to save his church, could have set fire to his home, and Manny would have said 'oh, that's all right.'

At my graduation from Atwell College, I begged Linda, on bended knee, to be my wife. The entire ceremony had come to a halt as I received my diploma, then, instead of simply proceeding to the other end of the stage, jumped down and raced up into the stands.

The entire audience, my fellow graduates, and the administration did applaud when Linda tearfully accepted the simple ring I'd managed to buy.

And many laughed when it was Valerie that announced, "Yes Bannin, we marry you."

A rift did form when I returned home. My father had assumed I would become his associate pastor that I would wait for him to retire. But by now, he was only forty seven years old, quite a ways away from retiring.

But down the street was Fellowship Church. The pastor of this Non-denominational church was in his late hundreds and was more than ready for retirement.

Truthfully, Reverend Adam Nunez was only fifty seven years of age, but he was morbidly obese, was diabetic, and suffered horribly from arthritis. So, even as his associate, I would be assuming the lion's share of the duties of the church.

There was a small apartment behind the church, perfect for a young couple just starting out. After our wedding, and I'm not ashamed to admit I cried seeing my Linda coming up the aisle on the arm of her brother, we moved into the small apartment.

Within the year, Donna and Derek became engaged. My father had, grudgingly, performed our wedding ceremony. There was nothing grudging about his performing of his daughter, his baby girl's wedding. It was I that walked my sister down the aisle toward our beaming father. And, yes, there was a trail of my semen trickling out of Donna's bald pussy and down her leg, staining the blue garter I, as Derek's best man, would be removing later.

Linda, belly swelling slightly with our first child was Donna's matron of honor and again, I am not ashamed to admit, I cried at the sight of my bride.

"Who gives this woman to be married?" our father asked.

"Bannin does, Manny," Valerie announced in a strong, clear voice.

Our daughter, Victoria Natalie Wright was born just ten months after our marriage. Two years later, she became big sister to Derek Alan Wright.

Upon her eighteenth birthday, Valerie announced that she would be following in our footsteps that she would become a minister, that she would bring the word of God to the people.

Atwell College had been sued four years earlier and had finally began accepting female students. My father and I both wrote letters of recommendations to the Dean of Students.

The reply was swift in coming; they would be delighted to accept her; how could they refuse anyone sponsored by two such fine and esteemed graduates?

But before she left, Valerie did prove that she was indeed Vickie's daughter. Derek deflowered Valerie, punching his thick cock through her very resistant hymen. Then I introduced the beautiful eighteen year old girl to the joys of anal sex. And Donna and Linda taught her how to eat pussy.

By the time Valerie had graduated from high school, then packed her three suitcases into the trunk of her Lexus, I knew she would break many hearts at Atwell College. My father was looking forward to his granddaughter's graduation; by now he was ready to retire and would be turning the church over to Valerie.

My daughter, Vickie, was anxious for her own eighteenth birthday, when she too could join with her father and mother, her aunt and uncle, and her big sister Valerie.

Just as the prize of deflowering his daughter had fallen to Derek, the act of deflowering Victoria would fall to me, her daddy.

*.*.*

"Wait a minute; you mean, you, you're going to fuck your own daughter?" Albert Rosenberg asked the smiling man.

"Going to? No, no, she's nineteen," Brandon smiled. "I've already fucked her. She truly is a Vickie, you hear? If she was starving to death and was given the choice between a cock to suck or eating a big old steak? She'd take the cock."

"Wright? Brandon Wright?" was heard.

"Right here," the man said.

"Free to go," the guard said.

Brandon stood and smiled at Albert.

"Good luck to you, Albert Rosenberg. Ever around Fellowship? Stop in; I'll give you a meal and a few bucks, all right?" Brandon offered.

In the lobby of the police department, the tall handsome man was greeted by four smiling women.

"Bad Bannin, bad, bad Bannin," Reverend Valerie Davidson teased.

"Yeah, Daddy," Vickie smiled, cradling her pregnant belly with her arms.

"Ready to go home, Sweetheart?" Donna asked, her own pregnant belly looking ready to pop.

"Oh oh," Linda suddenly gasped, clutching at her pregnant belly. Think Home's going have to wait!"

"But you're not due for another two weeks," Valerie argued.

"Tell that to your sister, huh?" Linda grunted.

THE END.

This is the end of the 'Just a Nice Boy' series.

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I do thank you for reading my stories.

I wrote this story because I realized, I'd not written any stories in First Person singular, except for the 'Rachael' series. So, as an exercise, I wrote this one.

Have a swell day.