This is revision of My Life With Paul only my Story not my mother
My Life Behind Paul’s Back Chapter One. (Revised from My Life With Paul) This time it is only about my adventures. I have volunteered to help mom write about her own adventures. I found readers were getting confused between my adventures and my mothers. Yes she will be mentioned in my adventures. After all she is my mother but I will not go into details about her life and dad and how they met and got married. Chapter One.

I want to introduce my adventures and will start with dad. I want to begin with dad because through dad I met Paul.

My dad always kept himself in good shape by working out in the gym. He was always busy with the church and always available for his congregation but always found time to work out in the gym. He had a free pass because the owner of the local gym was one of dad’s, congregation. Even now at age fifty-four dad is in great shape. He still has thick blond hair, although there are streaks of gray amongst the blond now. I don’t look a thing like him because I have dark hair and green eyes. I don’t even take after my mother who has blond hair and blue eyes like dad. I did ask mom about that years ago. She told me it was probably because somewhere in her ancestry there were blacks. She never went into detail who or what generations had been black.

Dad didn’t talk to me very much when I was growing up but one day he opened up to me. He told me he always wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and be a preacher. He had studies hard and finished school. I never met my dad’s father, my grandfather because he died along with my grandmother in an auto accident a month before dad graduated from school. Dad did graduate at the top of his class and opened the church door days after his graduation. The church had been in rough shape but he was determined to keep the church open for his dad’s loyal congregation.

Dad told me his life was perfect except he wanted a young wife to be by his side. He didn’t have any idea how to find a wife, especially the kind of wife that would not be upset he wouldn’t be able to be there for her. He told me he was and always would be dedicated to his congregation and his church. He wanted a woman that wouldn’t hound him about not spending enough time with her. Dad ended up hiring someone to hunt for the perfect wife for him. He preferred a woman in her teens so she wouldn’t ask him about money. He planned when he married he would arrange for the church and banks to pay the bills and she would get a small allowance. Dad told me he preferred a girl in her teens before life spoiled her and she’s want too many fancy things in her life instead of just living life without expensive things and fancy clothes. The guy he haired found my mother through someone he knew thousands of miles from dad.

Dad didn’t tell me all the details but he met and married mom. She had been thirteen when he married her. He didn’t even know her an hour before he proposed and married her. Mom confessed to me about her own life and I promised never to tell dad. I don’t think mom had any attentions of telling me about her life before meeting dad. I am sure she had no intentions of telling me about her adventures after she married dad. I have been trying to convince mom to write about herself and her adventures. I have even volunteered to write about her experiences and post them on this site. She is still thinking about allowing me to write about her experiences and for me to post them on this site.

I will now get back to my own life and meeting my husband Paul. Dad had taken over the old church when his dad had died. He preached in the old, falling down church for years. The, old, church really did need repairs. A wealthy religious man heard about dad’s run down church, volunteered some money to make repairs to dad’s church. He had a son named Paul. Paul was the youngest of five sons and three daughters and the only single one in the family. Paul’s dad met me and introduced me to his son. Paul had been eighteen at the time and I had been fourteen. I was a virgin and so was Paul. Paul and I went steady for four years until he proposed and we got married. This is where I will begin my adventures.

I was an eighteen year old virgin and Paul was twenty two when he proposed to me. He had a good career, thanks to his dad. He was five eight, 155 pounds of muscle. Paul worked out and competed with the body builders in his spare time. Paul along with the construction business took in aggressive men in his gym. He taught them to work out and trained them to compete as body builders. I had never met any of the x prisoners Paul trained to compete in body builder completions over the years we had been married. I have met recent x prisoners more recently. I’ll fill you in about the newest x prisoners Paul has been training for the past couple of years. I’ll be writing about the more recent body builders in future chapters of my adventures.

I worked out at the school gym when I was growing up. I didn’t work out as much as my future husband Paul did. I just went to the gym on weekends and after school. I liked gymnastics and planned on competing on the city team after I got married. However things took a turn before Paul and I got married. I hadn’t planned what happened but I never did compete in women’s completive gymnastics.

On October seventh I had my thirty six birthday. I am five-six, a hundred and ten pounds and have dark shoulder length hair. I have kept in shape over the years. When I met and married Paul I had the same measurements I have now except my hips. My hips are wider now but then after twenty sons and one daughter, what can I say. I was at age eighteen when I married Paul. I took after my mother with huge breasts. My breasts at age eighteen were bigger than my mothers. I had to wear 38 C size bras. I don’t know what size bra I would have to wear now since I don’t wear a bra or even panties since before I married Paul. I’ll get into why I don’t wear a bra or panties any more. I found out mom never wore panties or a bra since she was thirteen before she met dad.

My brothers had always fought away boys who tried to hang around me when I went to school. All my brothers may have been over protective of me because I was the only girl in the family. I was also the only white child in our family. I have two older brothers both black and fifteen younger brothers all black also. I described my parents in the first paragraph so everyone reading this knows both my parents are white. Mom told dad somewhere in her heritage her relative was African American. I didn’t get to spend much time with my mother because she was always working out or helping others. I’ll get into how she helped others as I go into more details about my adventures. Mom was pregnant when I met Paul at age fourteen. Paul proposed to me three years later when I was seventeen. Mom had just given birth to my third youngest brother three months before my seventeenth birthday. One year later mom gave birth to my second youngest brother. Three months before I was to get married, mom told everyone she was expecting again. She told us in just over seven months my brothers and I would have a new brother or sister. I wondered if the baby would be black or white. I was the only one of my mom’s twenty children that was white and also the only daughter she had. Mom was thirteen when she married dad and fourteen when she gave birth to my oldest brother Steve. I never asked dad about his reaction when Steve was black when he was born. Less than a year later Carl was born and he was also black. I was born the next year and I look Italian. I remember asking her when I was younger why all my brothers where black. I wasn’t black but wasn’t blond and blue eyed like her and dad. She told me one of her relative’s way back had been black. I was probably a mixture between dad, her and one of my past relatives on her side of the family. I never brought up the subject again.

I should have realized long before I had sex with Paul mom was having sex behind dad’s back. I learned my two older brothers already knew and even two of my younger brothers knew mom was fucking other men behind dad’s back.

I guess the way dad always praised mom for being a wonderful, loyal, respectable woman I believed she had and always was loyal to only dad.

When I think about all the times I should have put two and two together and known mom was nothing but a slut, a fucking bitch in heat I realize I must have inherited the same gene mom inherited from her mom and passed on to me. I am thinking back to those many years ago and didn’t see how obvious she was right in front of me and dad. These are some are some of the things I saw and didn’t think twice about when I was growing up.

I didn’t see all that much of mom or dad when I was young. Mom was in complete charge of us children. I didn’t think twice about babysitters volunteering freely to take care of me and my brothers. The babysitters were all black, muscular; teenagers that volunteered to look after me and my brothers. When I was old enough to understand I was being babysat by black, muscular, black teenagers I didn’t think it was unusual. I had grown up with them feeding me, taking me outdoor and taking me outdoors to play. Mom did spend more time with me than she did with my brothers. None of the teenage, black, muscular boys were allowed around me when I was alone. I didn’t understand why mom never let me be alone with any of the black, teenage, muscular boys. I didn’t ask her why either.

I began hating my body when I was thirteen. I was being picked on by the boys and girls at my school for the size of breasts. My breasts were the size of full grown women while the other girls in my school were wearing training bras. Mrs. Gregory felt bad for me and took me to a specialty store to buy adult bras to fit me. However by the time I was fourteen the adult bras were too small for me. The sales girl at the store found a bra that would fit me. It was a 43 D size. It the time I started to look at my mother’s breasts and saw how huge they were and knew I was taking after her. Mom didn’t seem the least bit upset she had huge breasts.

I do remember mom walking around in her short, old, housecoat to answer the back door and at least a dozen teenage, black, muscular boys would be come in. I was around fourteen at the time. I noticed Mom, always worn long skirts, or dresses, covering herself from her neck to below her knees. I was surprised she went to the back door wearing a sheer housecoat tied at her waist open enough that half her large breasts were exposed. I noticed the part of her breasts that weren’t exposed was pushing against the thin material.

The first time I saw mom with just the housecoat tied around her slim waist and most of her breast showing I had been doing my homework in the kitchen. I had heard light knocking at the back door. I had never been allowed to go out the kitchen door out back before. I was only allowed to go in and out the front door. I had heard knocking and went through the kitchen door only to see a hallway with a back door at the end of the hall. I didn’t know about the door before. I went down the hall to open the door when another door opened down the hall and mom walked out. That was the first time I saw mom with the sheer housecoat tied at her waist with most of her large breasts showing. The part of her large breasts that was inside her shear housecoat was pressing against the thin material. Dad was never around when she let the black, muscular teenager boys in the back door and led to the basement door. Mom opened the back door and a gust of wind blew in the same time the dozen of big, muscular, teenage black boys walked in. They were all soaking wet because it had started to rain heavily. It was still hot even though it was raining. The dozen muscular, teenage black boys didn’t wear bare chested and only wore sandals. There jeans were soaking wet and clung to their bodies like a second skin.

I went back to the kitchen after mom led the black, muscular, teenage hoodlums downstairs that day. I was in the kitchen when hours later she came upstairs. I think I surprised her because when the door opened between the hallway and kitchen I said. “Hi mom, you were downstairs with those black guys a long time. What were you doing?”

“I believe I have told you before, I take the badness out of those angry black boys.” Mom answered me after she stepped back. “They had a lot of badness today. I led them out the back door and fell into a big mud puddle before I came back in. I must look a mess with all this mud on me.”

I had to admit to myself she did look a mess but I didn’t want to tell her she looked a mess. “You look fine mom.” I answered. I didn’t say anything but wondered about the white mud. I never thought there was white mud before. Mom’s hair was dripping with the thick white mud. The mud was all over her face dripping from her nose, cheeks and chin. Her house coat was plastered with the thick white mud. I guessed when she had fallen her housecoat must have opened complete. She had gone downstairs with half her breasts out of out and now her entire breasts were swinging freely and dripping with the thick white mud.

“Thanks Barbie but I do know I look a mess.” She answered and just as she was closed the door between the kitchen and the back hall I heard a loud knock at the back door.

“Don’t tell me there are more black hoodlums that need you take the badness out of them mom. You can’t go to the door looking like that.” I said.

“I am afraid so Barbie. Your dad’s place is in the church to preach over all the white, men, women and black women. My place is to preach to the black, muscular, teenage hoodlums Barbie. I have to take the badness from them. They will just have to see past the muddy mess.” Mom answered.

“You can’t go like that mom, your housecoat is dripping with mud.” I said.

“Your right Barbie. I might as well take the robe off and go down so they don’t see the muddy bathrobe. Thanks for pointing it out to me.” Mom said opening her muddy housecoat completely.

I was shocked when she opened her housecoat, pushing it off her shoulders at the same time and saw she was nude. She didn’t have a bra on or even panties, she was nude. Then the back door opened and in walked at least two dozen bare chested, muscular, teenage black hoodlums. “Holly shit.” The first teenage black boy said. He had to be at least six-four.

“My goodness Tony, I see I will have to give you boys a good sermon tonight and take that badness out of you all. It sounds like you have a lot of pent up anger inside you again. See what I have to get out of these hoodlums Barbie. The black, muscular hoodlums are the worse for their anger and I have to work extra hard to relieve them of all that anger.” Mom said she pushed back her shoulders and her housecoat fell to the floor.

“Fuck bitch, your dripping wet.” The muscular, black, teenage boys standing beside Tony said.

“I am afraid I fell in that mud puddle beside the back door Terry.” Mom said in a stern voice and looked directly at Terry and then Tony. “You both saw the big mud puddle. Didn’t you?” She asked turning around and nodded at me. “Barbie saw me walking in from the back yard covered in mud.”

“Whatever you say Mrs. Thompson you’re the best preaching woman around. I know the big mud puddle you’re talking about.” Tony answered. “Let’s get going downstairs. My friends need your sermon. As you put it they need the badness sucked out of them and so do I.”

Mom turned around opened the door leading to the basement, stepped back and said. “Go ahead boys, I’ll be right down.”

The two dozen muscular, teenage, black hoodlums walked past me and headed down the basement and mom turned around and faced me. “I’m sorry you have to see these black hoodlums so full of anger and foul language but a few hours from now they will be leaving with praise in their hearts and smiles on their faces. I know I look a mess from falling in that mud puddle but when duty calls to help take the badness from angry, muscular, black, teenage hoodlums I must answer the call honey.” Mom said. She turned around and started walking down the basement stairs. It would be years later I realized what mom was really releasing those muscular, black, hoodlum teenagers of. It wasn’t badness. That’s for sure.

I’ll be rewriting chapter two from “My Life With Paul”- now named “My Life Behind Paul’s Back” Chapter One.

anonymous readerReport

2012-11-23 08:49:44
Your mother married your dad at age 13? In what state would that be possible?

anonymous readerReport

2012-11-22 22:41:47
Uh-huh, sure sounds like a true story to me. Yup. Totally true.

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