I Know She Ain’t Just Squirt on Her Stepbrother on the Church Pew

In the Lord's house, I spread my thighs and dared my stepbrother to stop me. He didn't. He just watched: chin tilted, heavy, hand flexing on the back of the pew like he already knew how wet I was. Like he could smell it. And when I came? Loud, shaking, dripping down the wood and into my damn shoes? He smiled. Didn't look away. Didn't pray. Just let me come for him like it was part of communion. Mercy I wasn't a good man before I walked into that sanctuary. And I damn sure wasn't one after I saw my baby sister playin' with fire, legs open like she was beggin' me to do something about it. So I did. I followed her behind the church. Tore that dress up her hips. Got on my knees in God's shadow and tasted every drop of the mess she made for me. And when she squirted all over my tongue with her fists in my hair? That was the closest I've ever come to speakin' in tongues. We didn't "fall" from grace. We got on all fours and crawled toward hell with our mouths open. By the time the baptism started, her panties were long gone, my cum was inside two bloodlines, and Mama? Well… Mama was already on her back beggin' for more. This ain't a redemption arc. This is a family reunion with spit, sweat, and enough sin to drown a pulpit. Bring a towel.