Inside it took me a few moments to adjust to the semidarkness but I could hear voices and the sound of laughter immediately. The voices seemed to be c...ming from directly overhead. I strained to look above me but saw no apparent stairway or opening in the ceiling.I walked back farther into the barn, past some heavy farm machinery that appeared to have been parked there a long time. There wasn't much space to squeeze past, and a lot of the equipment had protruding parts that caught at my. My Mother took me by the hand to the coffin. She bent over the side, displaying to me her ass. I took my tool and entered her anal canal.“FUCK ME BRAIN, UP THE ASS!!!” my Mother screamed. With each thrust I fondled the glands that fed me when I was a baby. At this time Tiffany serviced Father Paul. Fifty strokes later, his cock shot cum into his still uncaring daughter. His hot cum gushing deep into her ovaries. The womb of the now dead woman-child he sired. My stepmother’s tight poop shoot. ” A quiet voice was just behind me. I turned. It was Alice, the girl who was receptionist, telephonies and everything else at my sons’ business. She was slim, 5ft 8in, brunette, wore studious glasses, pleasantly spoken, smartly dressed, and breathed ‘efficient’. She turned up out of the blue when we were moving some furniture and boxes into the premises. She asked if their was a job going for a few weeks to tide her over as she was waiting for her work permit to come through for an advertising. Well, I’m still stuck here facing this mocking white canvas, so I guess I better just splash some goldenrod across it. Yeah, that looks good. How ‘bout some more? Now I’ll blend in some white and give it a little bit of an ethereal feeling. I like this already. You just gotta put that brush down and move it. It’s the only way to start, to get something good. To get anything at all. Who cares if it’s good? As long as at the end of the day I can say I did something, I painted something- I feel.