1. The Plumber's Daughter Chapter 3


    Date: 8/24/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: beagle9690, Rating: 90.2, Source: sexstories.com

    question.” “I am open to that idea; it would certainly please my Mother.” “Was your wife, Catholic, Patrick Father Joe, asked. “She was a Methodist, the same as my Father-in-law, Sam. Anne Marie’s mother was a medicine woman, attended church with her and Sam while keeping alive the traditions and the teachings of her Native American heritage; my mother-in-law had no conflict recognizing the beauty and wisdom of both.” “I concede you are a Christian, Patrick,” My Dad offered making his first concession, “As a Universal Christian and sometimes Catholic, don’t you find it hypocritical not to practice the faith you were baptized in?” “You and I may argue that point forever, Mr. Bernardino or until both of us are dead and buried, nonetheless I promise to save you a seat for you in Purgatory if I go first.” ‘Wow,’ I thought, ‘Patrick, plays the part of a simple blacksmith so well and Dad is no dummy, but Patrick keeps catching him off guard and Father Joe doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. The really amazing thing is that Dad seems to be enjoying himself now.’ Patrick: MARIE’S FATHER SEEMS TO BE EASING UP A BIT. He not a bad sort and is just looking out for Marie. The good Reverend plays the part well as the referee. There is more to Joe Sebastian than meets the eye. My gut tells me he knows more about me that he’s letting on. Marie: MOM AND I TOOK CONTROL of the dinner conversation after the Purgatory zinger. Dad and Father Joe sat back and ate, listening while the three of ...
    did most of the talking. Mom peppered Patrick with questions about his family and background but mostly about his reenactments and Patrick answered with great enthusiasm on that subject. My Blue Knight has a great deal of knowledge about American History of that period of time. Mom and I cleared the table and started the dishes while they stayed in the dining room with their wine to digest their meal and to make room for dessert. I tried to sneak a cannoli from the refrigerator and Mom caught me and made we put it back. I got scolded and then we hugged and I still had to wait to have it with coffee, later. Dad and Patrick were at it again; ding-ding round three. Dad started telling jokes trying to get under Patrick’s skin. Ethnic jokes are allowed as long as they are not mean spirited. Political correctness was left at the threshold in the Bernardino residence and our dinner conversations sometimes are not for the faint of heart. Dad told every Scottish or Irish joke he knew and most of them were ridiculously funny while many insultingly funny. Father Joe got into the act; maybe it was the wine loosened his tongue. They were both testing Patrick and feeling him out. Mother and I were listening from the kitchen. Patrick laughed along with them taking everything in stride until they ran out of Scottish jokes. Patrick stood up and announced, “My turn, Gentlemen. But first let me pour the next round of drinks and after he poured them Patrick didn’t sit down but walked around the ...
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