Chapter 4
Three days later, as dawn was breaking over the Palos Verdes Hills, Tony and Sammy and Skeet and Greta were taken into custody by state police and federal agents who had surrounded the cabin during the night. Blinking, sporting a black eye with green and purple fringes and multiple welts and bruises, wearing loose-fitting jeans and an enormous plaid shirt, Diane was led out of the place.
At the drive, a trooper on either side of her, she paused for a last look at Tony. He grinned at her from behind the wire mesh and glass in the back of a station wagon. Goosebumps broke out all over her body. She knew that grin! It was the way Tony had looked at her each time he lashed out. But despite what he and the others had done to her, despite the dull ache at the pit of her belly and the stiffness of limb, she was sorry to see them caged. It was over! she thought. She'd never again see their faces! But the thought held no joy, no satisfaction. For there were other things they'd done to her, things she didn't yet fully understand. Things..."
"Your uncle's waiting for you," said the trooper in charge. He held the patrol car door open for her.
Hastily Diane stepped into the car waiting to take her back to L.A. Things she could tell no one, she thought... except, maybe, Uncle John.
It was as if she were seeing her uncle for the first time. There were things about him she'd never noticed before... the way he tried not to look at her jutting breasts... the way he stood with hips slightly back when he took her in his powerful arms, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I was crazy thinking I'd never see you again."
"I missed you too," whispered Diane, pressing closer, wanting to feel the stiffness rise. His cock was a limp length of hose in his pantsleg. But it was longer than she remembered, longer limp than Skeet's prick was when hard, it seemed. "I thought about you a lot," she added. "When... when those horrible creatures were d-doing all t-t-those terrible things to me." She pressed closer still. She'd pretend to be his little girl, she decided.
Hurriedly Uncle John pushed her away. "You need rest," he said gruffly. He tried to grin. He looked from her face, to the copy of the police report she'd signed, the account of the four-day ordeal. He cleared his throat and brushed hair back from the bandage at the back of his head. "We'll talk later. If you want to. If..."
"I'd like to clean up," interrupted Diane, feeling the now familiar pulsing in her cunt-hole. What would Uncle John do if she came right out and said what she wanted, she wondered. Beat her? Wallop her buttocks-as he'd done when she was little and naughty, and before he'd discovered the first hint of gold between her young legs? The thought made her tremble. "You... you can read about it while I take a bath," she said, pointing to the official papers he held. "Then we'll talk. I need someone, Uncle John. If you only knew how much." She stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed his lips before hurrying off to the bathroom.
By the time John had finished reading the police report, his dick was hard. He could imagine his niece, the sweet little blonde he'd wanted to rape himself more times than he could remember, tied to a bed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Vulnerable. There to be used whenever her captors had what he now had in his pants-leg. He gripped his stiff cock, closed his eyes, and envisioned the girl naked. But she was his niece! he told himself. His dead brother's only child! And although he wanted her still, more now than ever before, he tried to stifle the vision of himself climbing between her full, tender young thighs.
"Aren't you going to the store today?" called Diane from the bathroom.
"Huh? What'd you say, honey?" His prick was so hard, and the running water so loud, he barely heard her. The girl called again, a small, muffled voice. No! he wouldn't touch her, he decided, rising from the sofa. But it wouldn't hurt anyone if he looked and dreamed about what others had done to her lovely young body.
Diane sat in the tub, the water level at the pink tips of her breasts. She smiled as he pushed the door all the way open, and stood, the crotch of his pants bulging, staring. He saw her gaze drop from his face to his manhood. Christ! he thought. She seemed to be egging him on. He stepped into the steam-filled bathroom and moved to the tub.
"See what they did to me?" Diane bent forward, displaying the red welts down her back.
"My God!" breathed John. He could see the welts and bruises, true. But beneath the water, as if he were looking at her reflection in a fuzzy mirror, he could also see the crack in her round white ass. His chest grew tight. How many times, he thought... how many times had he held himself momentarily against that sweet valley, and wished, almost prayed for the courage to take her. How he stood looking down at the flattened contours, his dick rigid. And Diane, looking up at him with wide, laughing eyes, seemed to be saying, "Go ahead, Uncle John. Touch me there if you want to."
"Do we have any salve you can rub on to make it less sore?" asked Diane finally.
John forced his hungry eyes away from her body. He looked deep into her face. But now she was sitting straight in the water, coyly holding the washcloth over her pussy and showing him the perfect cherry-tipped lobes of her breasts. He remembered the promise of blonde pubic hair he'd seen years before... the last time he'd spanked her. Was it gold now, he wondered. Like the long silky hair on her head? He'd seen only two in his lifetime, two real blondes. Both had had a triangle so curly and soft it was like fucking a cloud.
Turning abruptly away, he moved to the medicine chest and said, "You'll have to dry off first. I can't do it while you're in the tub." He searched through the bottles and tubes until he found the salve. Then, turning back to the girl, he asked, "What'd you call me for, anyway?"
"To make you come in 'n' see me."
John studied his niece. She seemed not to notice or care that he could see her titties, her legs. There was a dare in her eyes. It would be so easy to step to the tub, lift her out of the water, and crush her sweet little body to the rod in his pants. He forced the thought from his mind, commanded his joint to be still. "You're a woman now," he told her. "I shouldn't be in here with you undressed."
Diane sat taller. Her hard little pink nipples rose out of the water, dripped. "Don't you like looking at me, Uncle John? My body?"
"You're my niece!" he yelled, trying to convince himself as well as the girl. "Now get finished in here and put something on before I forget you're not a little girl and put the strap to your ass."
Storming out of the bathroom, John returned to the living room, and paced. He heard the water stop running, heard the drain gurgle, and heard Diane humming, as she toweled herself, he supposed. He could imagine the terrycloth moving roughly over her smooth skin... over the luscious half moons of flesh on either side of the pinched crack he'd seen in the tub. His gaze drifted to the police report on the end table beside the sofa. Sodomy! it said. Intercourse! Cunnilingus, fellatio, whippings, and orgies! And yet, aside from the welts and bruises, the black eye, the girl seemed not the least bit ashamed or concerned. He stared at the tube of salve in his hand. It would be so easy, he thought, so simple, to begin by rubbing her back, and creep lower.
He was sitting on the sofa, leafing through the report, when Diane padded into the living room and flopped beside him. The hem of the towel she wore as a sarong barely reached her lap. The top was tied right across her breasts, emphasizing the melons. "Rub me," she whispered. "See?" ,She .moved one small hand slowly over the fading welts on her thighs. "They did awful things to me, Uncle John. On my legs, my back, my buttocks. It was Greta's idea at first. She was jealous because Skeet, her brother, wanted me. So she got Sammy drunk and made him beat me with a belt." Diane turned, sat on the edge of the sofa sidesaddle, offering her back. She undid the knot at her breasts. The towel fell to her waist. She looked back over her shoulder. "After the first time, though," she continued, "after Sammy saw how I yelled and thrashed, he kinda got to like beating me. Especially my... my ass! He said whipping me there made my buttocks nice 'n' hot, and when he put it in me... his... his dick, I mean, well, I had to raise up off the bed, to keep from hurting the bruises, and me raising up, Sammy said, made it better for him."
Mentally, John groaned. He felt lightheaded. "You... you don't have to tell me," he said with difficulty.
"I want to." Diane inched her buttocks closer. "Put the salve on, Uncle John. All over."
John squeezed the salve from the tube onto trembling fingers and applied the slippery stuff to the girl's welted back. He began at her shoulders. But his gaze was on the towel at her waist. It slipped almost imperceptibly lower as he rubbed. His prick began to pulse and jerk in his pants.
"That first time was the worst," Diane went on. "They beat me once in the afternoon and again at night. But at night they had four pieces of rope, and Greta, whose idea it was, I think, really seemed to enjoy tying my wrists and ankles to the bedposts. I was spread-eagled. On my belly. But I could still see them... Sammy on one side of the bed, Greta on the other. And when Sammy took off his belt, I... I..." her voice broke.
"Did the girl, Greta, did she make... did she... did you and she...?"
"Make love?"
John nodded. In the lamp on the end table he could see his niece's reflection. The roundness of the lamp distorted her breasts, made the nipples pencil-like points. And the gap in the towel she held at her waist had widened so that he now could see the pinched crack up her lovely behind. He wanted to push his hand down into the chasm, probe her hot little asshole. He wanted to take out his cock, lift her onto his lap and make her slide down the stiff spike. "Did... did you and the other girl f-fuck?" he managed in a barely audible voice full of gravel.
"Not the first time," replied Diane. "But I think she came just watching Sammy beat me. And then, after I was all sore back there-" she glanced down, indicating her buttocks-"and Sammy had a hard-on, and they had untied me, Greta helped him turn me over on my back, and held my ankles wide apart while he climbed between my legs and stuck his big fat dick up my cunthole."
"Jesus!" John's hands slipped lower, to her waist... rubbing... rubbing. The salve had dissolved. But his niece wasn't interested in salve, he suspected. Nor was he. Now he wanted only to hear more about what the thugs and the girl, especially the girl, had done to her.
"Should I lie down?" asked Diane.
"Lie d-down?"
"Um. So you can rub the salve on my buttocks. The welts are worse there. See?" Abruptly the girl stood and let the towel drop midway down her behind.
John gasped. The plump half moons of flesh were marred with purple-red bruises. But they were nonetheless lovely. And the dark split, below an adorable dimple, showed a slight hint of the gold hair he knew he'd find on her pussy. He no longer cared that she was his niece. She seemed willing enough... using words like cunthole and dick... showing herself... offering to lie down. And now, as she stood looking back at him over her shoulder to gaze at his fly, she seemed almost mocking. "Yes!" he told her. "Lie down. On your belly."
Obediently Diane complied. She lay with legs slightly parted, arms at her sides, the towel draped over the round lower half of her ass. "Skeet liked to do me like this," she said. "In the behind. He said it was the best kind of fucking. Do you like it that way, Uncle John?"
"I... I haven't done that since your aunt died. She... she used to like it that way."
"Did she?" Diane pushed the towel down off her white and welted buttocks. The twin mounds jiggled.
"Better than fucking," gulped John.
"Tell me about it. I told you about me. Put the salve on my ass and tell me how you used to screw Aunt Margaret in the behind."
Was this actually happening, John wondered. Was this his niece? The girl was telling him, it seemed, in a subtle way, she wanted him to feel, perhaps fuck her ass. Or was it because his dick was so hard, harder than it had been in years, that he read more into the words than was actually there? She was so beautiful. Young. Naked. Waiting for his touch. Quickly he squeezed more salve from the tube onto his fingers and spread it over her exquisite little round cheeks. "Aunt Margaret was lots like you," he choked. "She... she liked me to rub her body with oil. It kept her skin soft, she said. But it never ended there. A massage always excited her... made her wild... a young girl again. Then she'd lay on her belly, like this, open her legs and beg me to... to stick my prick in her rectum." His fingers grazed the girl's crack. He felt the heat exuding from the tiny rear hole surrounded by tufts of soft hair.
Diane sighed. Her legs opened. Now John could see she was indeed a true blonde, could see the pink slit of her cunt. "We shouldn't," he said, unable to tear his eyes or hands away. "You should stop me before... before..."
"Before what, Uncle John?"
"Before you make me so crazy I won't be able to stop myself. Before I really forget you're my niece and do exactly what those three boys did to you."
Diane raised up on her elbows. She half turned, showing him one delectable tit and emphasizing the smooth swell of her bruised bottom. "Know what I was thinking all the time they were doing me?"
John couldn't speak. There was something stuck in his throat. He had to stop this! he told himself over and over. He'd be no better than the three thugs if he took advantage of her-worse! But she was making it so easy, wantonly offering her body, making him remember Margaret and that he hadn't had a young girl in more years than she was old. His hands moved lovingly over her hot little ass... kneading the tender halves... rubbing harder than he intended. And his cock, the fierce, throbbing thing in his pantsleg, made him crave what he knew he had no business wanting.
"I was thinking of you," said Diane at last. "All the time they were doing me, after that first time, I was thinking about how you used to press yourself against me at the store. I was thinking about how it should've been you... about how big your swipe is, and how good it would feel up my belly."
"No!" John slapped her. Hard! As hard as he could! To hear the words spoken, to have the girl say what he himself had been thinking, made it obscene. He slapped her again and again, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself until she was weeping and cowered at the armrest of the sofa. Then he sat staring. Because now she lay with knees raised to her breasts... fat pink cuntlips and curly white-blonde pubic hair completely exposed.
"You can beat me if you want. I don't care. Only do it. Do it to meee!"
Before John knew what was happening, his niece was against him, hand fumbling at his pants. "Fuck me, Uncle John," she breathed hot in his face. "Stick your big dick up my pussy. You know you want to. Don't pretend. All those times in the store, when you pressed against me, you were thinking how good it would be. And before in the bathroom. And just now while you were squeezing my behind."
The hand at his fly found the zipper, worked it down, and tiny cool fingers closed tight around the tortured knob of his cock. "It's beautiful," sighed Diane. "So hard. Fuck it up me, Uncle John. Please. PLEEZE!"
"Honey!" he gasped, unable to resist any longer. His arms went around her, pulled her close, onto his lap, and his lips, his tongue, sought the moist warmth of her mouth. Hungrily he kissed her. His hands moved down her back, to the plump cheeks of her ass, cupped the softness. His stinkfinger found her tight asshole, twisted in. She moaned and pressed closer. His free hand captured a breast. He pinched the miniature nipple, drove his finger all the way up her hot rectum, and shafted his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth.
Tearing her lips away, Diane whispered, "Fuck me now, Uncle John. I want you so."
"Lemme get undressed."
"Oh!" Diane released his prick and clawed at his belt buckle. "I can't wait. I'm so hot. Iiiieeeee...!" Her breath caught as his finger slipped from her asshole, across the island separating front and rear gate, and into the wet little gash between her anxious young thighs. "Oh, do it, Uncle John. Do it quick!"
John pushed her away, stood. His joint was a steel harpoon protruding from coarse cockhair. As he stripped, he watched the girl's glazed hazel eyes. Her gaze never left the joystick Margaret and others had told him was the biggest they'd ever seen. Momentarily he wondered if his niece, the beautiful girl stretched full length on the cushions, could take the fierce member. Her cunt was so tight! And her asshole! God, her sweet asshole! He'd tear her apart, humping it in back there!
"Hurry!" sobbed Diane. "My pussy's all wet. It hasn't had anything in it since yesterday."
"Tell me about the other girl," said John, running his fingers through her silk cunthair as he sat on the edge of the sofa. "Did you two... did you... did you and she...?" He couldn't make himself say the words.
"She sucked me," Diane supplied.
"Christ Jesus!" John drove his fingers deep into the tight but juicy hole between her gaped open thighs. He could imagine the girls, one atop the other, lapping each other's pink slit. "Did... did you suck her too?"
"Ummim. Y-yes. Owwwww!" Diane squirmed against his hand. She opened her legs wider. Raising one knee, she lifted her hips off the cushion, reached for him. "But I liked doing the guys better," she added.
"Then do me," he told her. "Suck my dick."
"Oh! Fuck me first. Then..."
"Now!" Panting, unaware of anything except the urgent need in his loins and the girl's glistening lips, John took hold of her hair. She offered a halfhearted protest. But with the vision of her going down on a prick vivid in his mind, the maddening thought of her mouth slipping wetly down the length of his stiffness, her protests meant nothing. He forced her head to his lap. He abandoned her pussy and gripped the roots of his sex. "Suck it!" he barked, steering his bloated rod to his niece's flushed, lovely face.
Diane whimpered. But her tiny hands closed tight about the base of his cock. Her tongue, an inquisitive butterfly, flicked out. John's hips bucked as the dart swirled around the tip, washed down, flattened against the thick vein along the bowed underside and licked swiftly back to the glans. She looked up at him from beneath arched brows. Her lips formed a wide O. Smiling at him with tear-filled eyes, she dropped one hand to his nuts, cupped, and gently drew the bulbous tip of his stiffness into the moist warmth of her beautiful mouth.
The contact tore a strangled cry from John's throat. "Ah, honey. Honeeeee!" His fingers locked tight in the girl's long hair. He pushed her head down, down, down the incredible length of his rod. He closed his eyes and savored the delicious sensation... grinding his hips... forcing his meat deeper and deeper. There was a roaring in his ears. A volcano. A tidal wave of jism seeping up from the knowing fingers, teasing his balls.
It ended too soon. Before his dick was fully embedded, before he could feel the girl's lips at the base, the roaring became the beat of ten thousand drums, the volcano erupted, and a tidal wave of hot cum shot up the length of his cock. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" he groaned, falling forward over the girl, forcing her head down with the weight of his body. Unable to think or hear, lost in the thrill of orgasm, he held her lovely face crushed to his coarse pubic hair, and fucked-humped spurt after spurt of thick cream into her gullet.
Diane gurgled. Noisily she sucked the hot fluid. She kneaded his balls. Her fingers played in the hairy crack of his ass. Although he was hurting her, John knew-although the wiry cockhair bruised her face, and his hands, fingers became grappling hooks, gripped her head as if he were drowning and she was a life preserver-she milked the last gooey drop: as if it were pollen and she was a bee and the hive in her throat was dependent on her for survival.
When it was over, when at last his prick was sated and growing limp, John released the girl. He watched her face rise up... lips red and swollen... a trickle of semen dripping down her chin. "I... I'm sorry," he told her, sick with his own uncontrollable desire. "For being so rough. For hurting you. I... I never meant to. I... I only wanted to... to..."
"It's okay. It was nothing compared to what happened up at the cabin. I... I guess I'm used to it by now." Diane hugged his legs. She rubbed her smooth cheek along the length of his wet joint. "As long as it was good for you. It was good-wasn't it?"
"The best, honey. The absolute greatest thing that's ever happened to me."
"I'm glad," sighed Diane. Her small hand closed around his thick dick once more. Head down, tongue doing a tantalizing dance between his tense thighs, she asked, "How long does it take to get hard again? Uncle John? Uncle?"
But John was too dazed to say more: too deliciously empty to do more than watch the silky blonde hair move like a delicate web over his thighs, his limpness. What was she thinking, this niece of his, he wondered. What did she think of her benevolent Uncle John now? What was going through her sixteen-year-old mind as she did her best to bring him back to full stiffness? Like a lollipop! thought Diane. Like the all-day cherry sucker she had never been without as a little girl. Her face burned from the slaps. But she didn't mind that. She didn't mind anything so long as she could have his big cock. Doing as Skeet had taught her, she held Uncle John's swipe and darted her tongue at the tiny aperture in the tip. It began to rise. She licked faster... making him groan as he'd groaned moments before when the delicious cream shot off in her mouth. Her cunt was dripping its juice all over the slipcovers, and the only thought in her mind was to make him stand tall and deposit another cumload... this time in the hot hairy hole between her trembling thighs.
"No more," said Uncle John. "Not this way."
She felt his hands at her armpits. She allowed herself to be lifted onto his lap. She wiggled until the crack of her ass pinched tight on the awesome length of his member. Then, nibbling his lips, rubbing her cheek on his whiskers, she whispered, "My pussy's so hot. Feel."
Guiding his hand to her cunthole, she opened her vulva, pressed two fingers into the wetness and closed tight. "It needs you. It wants more than anything for your big dick to fuck it. Put it in me, Uncle John. All the way up my belly. Make me yell."
"You... you like being hurt?" Uncle John was incredulous. He stared at her with the eyes of a man who had spent most of his life straight-fucking, and knew nothing of the joys -the overpowering captivation Diane herself didn't yet fully understand-of perversion.
"Hurt?" Diane, too, was incredulous. "It doesn't hurt, Uncle John. Whipping hurts at first. And like that. But fucking is wonderful."
Uncle John stared at her a moment more. Then his cock shot up stiff between her legs. He pulled her close, murmured her name over and over, and began to saw himself slowly back and forth in the pinched crack of her ass.
Is that what he wanted, Diane wondered. She leaned forward, spreading the cheeks of her ass, making her asshole more accessible. Now she remembered times when she was a little girl and heard strange strangled noises coming from the bedroom where her uncle and aunt slept. Now she knew, could tie the memory noises in with the sounds she herself made when Skeet and Sammy and Tony had spiked her behind. "Like Aunt Margaret," she told her uncle. "In... in back. You can do it that way. I don't care."
Uncle John kissed her. He mashed her lips so hard she thought sure her teeth were coming through the skin. She felt his hand on her bottom, felt one cheek of her ass being lifted. She helped. Shifting her weight to one hip, she reached under, took firm hold of his swipe, and set the fat tip at the hot mouth of her rectum. Then she let herself down... drawing the glans in past her tight sphincters... pressing his fingers hard into her cunthole... moving round and round and down the stiff meat standing up from his lap. The pain made her wince. He was bigger than she'd ever imagined a prick could be. But she continued to press-loving the hurt because afterward, after penetration, came bliss-the delicious thrill of a big cock stoking in and out of her belly, working toward orgasm that would satisfy her.
Uncle John broke the kiss. "Jesus! You ah! Ah, honey, it's no good this way."
Diane knew what he meant. With her in his lap, pressing down, he couldn't push. And it would take an awful lot of pushing, she thought, lunge after mighty lunge, to drive his magnificent swipe up her little backside. A sudden thought struck her, another memory from the cabin tucked away in the Palos Verdes Hills.
"I know!" Quickly Diane unshafted herself and leaped from his lap. Before Uncle John could blink twice, she had rearranged her body... kneeling... hands splayed on her buttocks, spreading the soft, tender flesh, offering her hot little asshole to the stake. Without hesitation, Uncle John came up behind her, on his knees, on the sofa. His middle finger probed through the tuft of wispy gold hair at her anus.
"Oh. Oh, hurry." Diane spread her upturned cheeks even wider. She felt his damp breath. "OWWWWW!" He was kissing her there, flicking his tongue at her sphincters as she had darted hers at the knob of his cock.
"It's beautiful," Uncle John breathed into the tiny puckered hole low between the succulent halves of her ass. "Let's make it wet some." He batted his tongue furiously at the aperture. His fingers slipped into her pussy-scooped juice from her cunthole. Still licking, he worked the thick lubricant into the target.
"Eeeeee!" Diane threw her hips back at him. "Put it in!" she cried. "Oh please! Please hurry and stick it up me before I c-c-c-ummmm!"
Uncle John obliged. Inching close on his knees, he set the head of his dick at the tiny brown hole it had only moments before deserted. "My fucking niece," he rasped. "Everyone should be so lucky to have a hot little cunt niece like you."
Diane sobbed. Her hips began to gyrate without being told to. Her body knew exactly what to do. She held her breath and watched. By looking down, between her gaped open legs, she could see his big hairy balls dangling below the roots of the rod about to spike her. She pressed back. Again the bloated tip slipped in past her sphincters. "Oh, Uncle. Owwwww! Shove it! Fuck it all the way up me!"
The hands on her hips crept under her belly. One cupped her pussy... stinkfinger agitating her clit while the meat stake burrowed in. "Ahhhhhh! So fucking urn! Fucking tight!" groaned Uncle John.
"Shove harder! Push!" Dropping her head to the cushion, widening the gap, Diane wiggled herself onto him. She felt his hard cock boring in: humping inch by inch, out-in, out-in toward the slippery depths of her rectum. But it was too slow. She wanted all of it in her. Now! Spitting thick cream! She leaned further forward. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she ground her hips back-telling him with her body that the pain, the initial torture, didn't matter.
It was as if her rectum, her tight little asshole, were cherry still, thought Diane as the last inch of hard swipe grated into her belly. He was so big! She remembered the day at the cabin when she had tried to escape and they caught her and Tony and Sammy fucked her in the woods. She recalled the magnificent ache two pistoning cocks had caused, and how later, lying in bed, both hot little holes stretched and gulping air, she'd reached with trembling fingers to reignite the button protruding from her vulva... thinking, wondering how such a silly thing, her clitoris, could create such bliss. Now she wondered again. She felt Uncle John's fingers stoking her cunthole, felt the glans of his prick throbbing-all the way up in her stomach, it seemed-wiggled and strained and wondered how she'd survived for sixteen years without hardly being aware of the delightful pink mushroom electrifying her pussy, her body.
"Lay flat," gasped Uncle John.
Diane obeyed. She felt his weight fall upon her, then felt herself being rolled onto her side, Uncle John close behind. She felt his knees at the crook of her legs. She doubled up. His cock began to slip in and out, smoothly now, as if the tight brown pocket had been tailor-made to his needs.
"This is the way me and your... ummm! Aunt Margaret used to do it," whispered Uncle John. One hand on her pussy, fingers deep, he raised the other hand to her breasts. He taunted the nipple. "Her asshole ahhh! was almost as good as yours. But not as tight. Not as f-fucking... oh Jesus! Not as fucking hot!"
Diane could imagine her aunt, who had been blonde and full-bodied, attractive, and whose behind was four-foot wide, it seemed, bent over to take Uncle John's swipe. The thought made her giddy: like watching Skeet and Greta make love at the cabin. Watching and hearing about fucking was almost as good as the real thing, she'd learned. "Did... did Aunt Margaret struggle the first time?" she asked, recalling the fight she'd put up when Tony first screwed her, and again in the woods. "Did... did you have to make her? Force her to give?"
"Um! You better ah! Better believe it!" grunted Uncle John, digging his thumbnail into her nipple, cutting the taut, tender peak, sending white-hot flashes through her tittie. "We'd been fucking steady for maybe a year," he continued, working his cock in half strokes in and out of her rear. "Then one night, me with a hard-on so big it would've made a mare neigh, us necking on the couch in her living room, I reached for a handful of pussy, and she said, 'No! Not tonight! I've got my period, John. You know how messy that is!' Well, her parents were out. And I didn't care if she had Niagara Falls down there. 'What's a little blood!' I told her. 'Once I get my prick up there, once we start fucking, you'll never know the difference.' She kept saying no, and I kept insisting... too hot to give a damn what she said. We started to wrestle-playful at first, me reaching under her dress. It was sort of an accident that my finger slipped up the wrong hole. 'Stop that!' she bleated. 'T-take it out before... before you make me s-shit!' But I wasn't about to stop. Because once my finger was up there, once I could feel those velvet muscles nipping, I thought Christ! Why hadn't I tried reaming her before!" His dick began to move faster. The hand from her cunt came around to knead a plump cheek. "Her ass was so soft," he added. "So fucking round and appealing."
Diane felt the glans of the swipe in her rectum begin to breathe. She knew that feeling, it was the way a swipe acted just before the hot spurts of thick jism shot off. Her cunthole, too, was beginning to discharge puddles of goo. The story, the images it created, the mental picture of Aunt Margaret fighting to protect her rear entrance-as she herself had fought in the woods -made her own tight little anus suck like a mouth on the joystick sending shivers up the steps of her spine.
"She hollered like a fucking banshee when I pinned her on her belly and got between her legs," said Uncle John. "But I was too stiff to care. So I threw up her dress to her waist and tore the panties from her hips before she could stop me. Jesus! Those big creamy melons!" He shoved his cock in to the hilt, held and grinded against her tense buttocks. His hand returned to her pussy, the teasing finger massaging her hard clit once more.
"Ohhhhhh! D-don't stop t-telling," moaned Diane. "Tell 'n' screw! Tell me everything!" She pressed herself back... setting a slow, tantalizing fuck rhythm. "Did... did she cry when you put it up-like me when Sammy first p-put his thing up there?"
Uncle John kissed the back of her neck. His rod seemed twice as fat now... pulling out... slamming brutally into the pinched crack of her ass. "I... I thought she was gonna wake the whole goddamn town," he said finally. "But once her panties were off, once I saw those big white cheeks jiggling, so fucking soft, I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to. And I didn't want to. So I whipped out my prick, holding her down with one hand, and set the tip at her asshole while she yelled and twisted and tried to crawl away. Motherfucker! AH! AH, HONEY! I... I'll never forget how that pretty ass jumped when my rod began to go in. 'Oh, no, John, stoooop!' she kept screaming, the words all running together. 'It's too big! It'll never go! It... oh, no, PLEEEEEZE!' " As if he were fucking his stiffness up Margaret instead of Diane and wanted to hear the cries, the protests and sobs, he drove his fingernails deep into the girl's tender nipple.
"OWWWW!" Diane covered the hand on her breast and chewed her lower lip against the excruciating pain. Yet her hips, her pelvis, her asshole, unmindful of the torture, continued to grind. "You... you're h-hurting meee!" she wailed, pressing back, wanting, in spite of the pain, to feel his swipe slamming harder and faster, to feel the blast of hot semen that would momentarily sate the stronger, more demanding, hungry empty ache in her belly.
"You're hurting me!" groaned Uncle John, echoing his niece's words as he went on with the story of Aunt Margaret. "But it was too late to stop. Too good! She tried to close her legs, but I kept pushing, watching it go, and I felt that tight little rear cunt stretching despite the protests. I had her nailed to the couch. Helpless! 'It's going!' I told her. 'No matter what you do! Make up your mind!' And I kept humping it in until her legs opened and she started to help. Boy! Did she help! Those big meaty cheeks came up off the cushions and wiggled and wiggled. And inside... inside like ah! Ah Christ! Like... like you're doing now. Inside all those sweet little muscles began to suck and massage the head of my prick until oh! Oh Jesus, Diane! Diane babeeeeee!"
He was popping. Diane felt the first jerk- like a springloaded crossbow preparing to fire -threw her knees high, to her chin, and drew the thick pulsing shaft further still up her quivering behind. She covered the hand wedged tight between her thighs, worked it round and round on her pussy. She pressed down on the hand on her breast, tightened her sphincters, and fucked her soft little bottom furiously onto the shaft making ready to spit.
"Oh Jesus! Whatever you're doing, don't stop. Don't ah! Don't fucking stop!"
Diane turned her face toward him, offering her lips. She closed her eyes. "Kiss me," she sobbed. "Kiss me and fill me with cum. Hurry! Hurreeee!"
Uncle John's wet, open lips covered hers. His tongue shot into her mouth. The fingers high in her cunthole reached higher still... spreading... pressing... molding the thin wall, the elasticlike tissue, to the fat rod up her rear. The darkness behind her eyelids began to spin. A tiny light in the distance, propelled by a supersonic jet that roared in her ears, came rushing into her head as the first fiery stream of thick cum blasted off in her belly. She gasped. Her legs, without having to be directed, as if the lower half of her body possessed a life of its own, straightened-trapping the spitting member, holding it tight with the plump cheeks of her ass, and milking, drawing spurt after spurt of hot cream. She didn't want it to end. Not ever! She worked the muscles deep in her sheath... sucking the sticky jism up from his balls... wanting more than the flood pouring off in her rectum, seeping out and down the inside of her thighs.
And then she was coming too... spewing juice all over Uncle John's hand and the slipcovers. She loosened her sphincters, allowing his dick to pull back, then drove her wet little asshole onto the stake once more. She repeated the maneuver again and again, ripping another spurt from his rod with each backward thrust. Until there was no more cream. Until she had to tear her lips from his and suck air into the lungs grown too big for her chest. Until they lay exhausted... Uncle John's strong, muscular arms wrapped tight around her... his long prick going limp in the pocket between her plump buttocks.
After several minutes of silence broken only by labored breathing, Uncle John said, "I'm glad you're home."
"How glad?" Diane whispered.
"This glad." Quickly Uncle John yanked his dick from her rectum, rolled her onto her back, spread her legs, and buried his face, his mouth, his inquisitive sandpapery tongue, in the bright pink, sopping wet, swollen and hungry gash below the white-blonde curls of her pussy.