Chapter 4
Thanksgiving dinner had been a huge success, and lovely auburn-haired Ruth Trent was accepting compliments for her culinary skill with the huge torn turkey and the delicious chestnut dressing, glazed sweet potatoes, Waldorf salad and her own rich mince pies. There was white wine with the turkey, and even young Elizabeth was permitted to enjoy a glass.
After coffee and a cordial, the grownups went back into the living room to relax after the bounteous feast, and Henry Trent beckoned to his nephew Mike to come over to a corner of the room where they could have a private discussion. "I'm in the market for some pickup trucks, Mike boy," he said affably. "Here, have a cigar. That smart sexy wife of yours sure gave us a banquet. You're a lucky boy."
"I think so. Now what's this about pickup trucks, Uncle Henry?"
"I need at least ten. You know I'm the traffic manager of Acme Delivery, and we're going all out to cover the Chicago-land area. Twenty-four hour service within a radius of 250 miles, so that means more trucks, and I like the line you have. Now what can you do for me on price?"
"That's a nice order. List is $3,800, and a dealer clears about fifteen per cent."
"I see. I was figuring about thirty grand for the ten, Nephew."
"Hey," the stocky black-haired dealer protested, "I'd lose money on a deal like that. Tell you what, I'll let you have them for $3,600 apiece, and that's the best I can do."
'It is, huh? Well, I'll talk to you before the weekend's over, Mike boy. Here, have another cigar. You know, if you give me a real good deal on this buy, chances are in six months I might be in the market for another ten or so. Think it over."
Mike Trent shrugged his shoulders and made a helpless gesture, then lit his cigar. Henry Trent gave him a quick smile, and then headed across the room to where Rose Aldrich stood talking to her father, Jack Lorimer.
"Hi there, Jack. How's the insurance business?"
"Booming these days. You in the market for any, Henry?"
"Could be. I might get me some new trucks and I'd need a nice package of car and liability insurance. Maybe I'll be talking to you before we all break up Sunday night. Oh-er-Rose honey, I want to talk to you about something when you've got a minute later on."
"Of course, Uncle Henry."
By nine o'clock, the grandparents had gone off to bed, Ruth and Mike were in the kitchen washing dishes with Susan Lorimer and Henry's wife Joyce helping them, and Henry found himself alone at last with luscious brown-haired Rose, who had worn her prettiest green jersey knit dress and gauzy beige nylons.
"Now I guess we can have our little chat, Rose, honey," he chuckled as he seated himself on the couch beside her. "I like these family reunions, don't you? So much happens all the time."
Rose's large hazel eyes widened and her forehead wrinkled as she regarded his sardonically smiling face. "Yes, it's nice to be together with the family. It's nice seeing you again, Uncle Henry."
"I'm glad you said that, honey. You've always been my favorite niece, I've watched you grow up from a little girl in pigtails to a perfectly gorgeous woman. A sort of neglected woman, I would have said until last night."
Rose Aldrich shrank back, and a shadow of fear entered her widened eyes. "L-last night?" she feebly echoed.
"M-hmm," he beamed. "Of course, I can't say that I blame you much, not with a husband like Wilson. He's not the man I would have picked out for a sexy dish like you, Rosie."
"What-what are you trying to say, Uncle Henry?" she nervously quavered.
He reached out and took one of her hands from her lap and squeezed it in both of his, his eyes fixing on the ripe thrusting rounds of her magnificent titties, which had begun to rise and fall erratically against the tight-clinging knit dress. "I happened to go down to the basement last night, Rosie, trying to drum up a game of billiards. Only it seems my nephew was playing another kind of game."
"Oh my G-God, you-you saw-" she could not finish.
"Everything. That nephew of mine is a real cocksmith, Rosie honey. It's too bad he happens to be married to Ruthie, isn't it? And I just wonder what Ruthie would think if she found out. Or, for that matter, what stuffy Wilson would say if he discovered that his beautiful doting wife was fucking like a mink on a dirty old mattress down in the basement the night before Thanksgiving."
Rose Aldrich caught both hands to her mouth and shrank back against the couch, staring at him as if he were the very devil himself. "You-you wouldn't tell?" she faintly stammered.
'That depends on you, honey."
"What-what is that supposed to mean?"
"Now you know perfectly well that you were a very naughty girl. And naughty girls deserve a good sound spanking, even when they're twenty-five, Rosie honey. Now if you'll agree that you've been sinful and that you deserve punishment and you let your Uncle Henry administer it as you deserve, I might just forget what I was and heard last night."
"You-you're just awful!" Furious color suffused her creamy cheeks and she bit her ripe lips nervously, pulling her hand away from his.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I think Ruthie is still in the kitchen doing the dishes. Maybe
I'll go see how she's doing and tell her how much I enjoyed the dinner."
"For God's sake, no, please, Uncle-Uncle Henry-don't tell her!"
'Then you admit that you deserve a good sound spanking, Rosie?"
"You-you swear you won't tell anybody if-if I let you?"
"Word of honor as a gentleman. Tell you what, you come up to the attic at midnight. Wilson ought to be asleep by then. And you might as well come in your nightie or your pajamas or whatever it is you wear when you go to bed-if it's in the raw, that'll make it much simpler," he added with a lecherous guffaw.
"You're horrible and cruel and-and-and I guess I'll have to," she groaned miserably, twisting her fingers in her lap and staring fixedly at the carpet. He bent over and kissed her on the nape of her soft neck, inhaling the subtle perfume of her skin and hair. "Don't be late, Rosie. That'll mean extra spanks." He walked away, then turned back to stare greedily at her, feeling his prick throb with savage anticipation. . . .
Buxom blonde Joyce was fast asleep by midnight, as she generally was whenever she had overindulged at the dinner table. Henry Trent, in robe and pajamas and slippers, had already made his way up the narrow steps to the old attic, well in advance of the appointed rendezvous. In the pocket of the robe was an old fashioned black wooden hairbrush which he had filched out of Grandmother Abigail's room. She and Grandpa Lawrence had been snoring away, completely dead .to the world when he had tiptoed into the room and taken the spanking instrument off the top of the big walnut dresser.
He sat on the edge of an old stuffed couch, his prick aching with longing, keening his ears for the sound of his niece's footsteps, glancing from time to time at his wristwatch and frowning with impatience. Then he grinned when he heard the creak of the old wooden steps, sprang up and went to the door to open it for the shamefaced young matron. Rose wore a filmy white nylon nightie, modestly cut from neck to ankles, a quilted robe over it, and felt slippers. Her face was red and her eyes were suspiciously swollen, as if she had been recently crying, which indeed she had been. "I'm glad to see you're on time, Rosie honey. Now just take off that robe, you won't be needing it."
"Please, Uncle-Uncle H-Henry, let-let's get it over with-can't you can't you do it to me over the robe? I'm only wearing my nightie under it, you know."
"I can see that. No, young lady, when a big grownup girl is as naughty as you were last night, she has to get spanked on the bare butt so she learns her lesson."
"Oh my God, no!" Rose ejaculated, horrified at the prospect.
"It's that or a little confrontation with Ruthie and Wilson in the morning," he sarcastically reminded her, putting his hand into the pocket of the robe to grip the handle of the hairbrush, certain of victory at the sight of her shaking shoulders and the sudden tears that blurred her dilated hazel eyes.
"Oh God, I-I'd just die if they found out-oh all right-I-I never thought you could be so-so evil!" she finally blurted, very red in the face as she began to loosen the belt of her robe and then pull it off and let it fall to the floor.
He licked his lips as his eyes swept her lush figure, transparently revealed in the filmy nylon nightie. There was a dim light in the attic from an old upright brass lamp near the couch, but it was perfect for the occasion. "Come along and get your spanking, you naughty girl," he playfully chided as he seized her by the wrist and led her, head drooping and shoulders hunched, trembling in apprehension over to the couch.
"Now then, just pull that nightie up to your waist and roll it up so it won't fall back down to protect that gorgeous bottom of yours, young lady," he directed.
"Oh, this is awful-oh please, Uncle Henry, don't shame me like this, I beg you -oh please-please do it over my nightie, at least!" she tremulously begged.
"You heard me. You know what I'll do if you don't obey me, Rosie."
"Oh my God!" she despairingly groaned as she stooped to grab the hem of the filmy sheath and reluctantly draw it up over magnificently rounded thighs, halting a moment as it reached the thick dark-brown bush.
"Why all this modesty all of a sudden? You were showing my nephew everything you had, baby, and after all, I'm just your old Helpful uncle," he chuckled lewdly. Then, his face hardening he snapped, "Pull it up or I'll give you extra!"
"Ohh d-dear!" she wailed as she forced herself to loft the nylon nightie to her waist. No sooner had she done so than Henry Trent seized her by the waist and pulled her down across his lap onto the couch, her slipper-shod feet digging frantically down into the worn upholstery. Covering her face with her hands, she began to whimper in shame, tightening the muscles of her voluptuously opulent bottom till the sinuous rosy groove between the ripely rounded, velvety, creamy cheeks almost disappeared and he could see the flexing muscles surging along the backs and sides of her naked satiny thighs.
"First, a little warm-up to prepare that big bottom of yours for that hairbrush, Rosie," he decreed, tucking her in with his left arm around her waist, and running his right palm lingeringly over the flinching globes of her bare behind.
"Oh my God -please hurry-this is just awful-oh I want to die-" she whimpered miserably.
"You were never so alive as you were last night, Rosie," he tauntingly mocked the cringing almost nude young matron, continuing to stroke and palpitate her shuddering, huddling bare buttocks, while the furiously swollen shaft of his prick thrust up to prod against her bare belly through his pajama pants. "And try not to yell, we don't want to wake Wilson and Ruthie up, do we? I'll see how you take the first part of your punishment, honey. Maybe I'll have to gag you or give you a handkerchief or something to cut down the noise. When was the last time you were spanked? I'll bet it wasn't by that mollycoddle Wilson, though."
"Oh please-this is just dreadful-I can't stand it-do please hurry and g-get it over with, Uncle-Uncle H-Henry!" she tearfully implored.
Tightening his grip round her waist, he raised his right hand and applied a light slap on the upper right cheek of her bottom, letting his hand rest there a moment to revel in the satiny warm palpitating smoothness of her bare skin. Rose Aldrich moaned and crossed her ankles, clenching her bottom muscles with all her might and pressing her hands even more tightly against her scarlet, tear-stained face.
A second spank fell on the other cheek, equally light and equally lascivious as he stroked the globe to savor not only her distress but also the tactual resilience and firm smoothness of the naked flesh.
Rose Aldrich moaned and squirmed restlessly, dying of shame, biting her lips and trying to fight back the tears that were already burning her swollen eyes.
His hand rose slowly, then fell right over the crease of her buttocks at their ripest curves, noisily intoning the music of corporal chastisement.
"Oww!" Rose's hips bucked frantically, as she kicked up first one foot and then the other, one of her slippers flying off to thud against the floor.
"What'd I tell you about keeping your voice down, Rosie?" he mockingly chided as he patted the tightened crevice between her bottom-cheeks, chuckling as he watched her squirm in her mortifying humiliation.
Then, without warning or pause, he applied half a dozen crisp, quick spanks, three to each buttock, concentrating on the lower summits. Taken by surprise, Rose Aldrich thrashed her legs about in the air, twisting and wriggling as she tried to get off his lap, but he pulled her back with his left arm and scolded, "You're going to take all of it, and if you keep resisting, it'll mean more swats with the hairbrush!"
"Oh this is just awful, oh I can't bear it, please, please, Uncle Henry, please have mercy!" she tearfully pleaded.
"You think a few little slaps on the ass can wipe out your infidelity, you randy bitch?" he jeered. "Now get ready for some more!"
With this, his hand flashed down again, flattening the upper right summit of her naked behind, and applied even more vigorous a smack to the other cheek at exactly the same place.
"Eeek! Oh, ow, oh please, it hurts, it hurts!" she wailed.
Exasperatedly, he put his right hand into the other pocket of his robe, pulled out a handkerchief and shoved it against her mouth. "Here, put this into your mouth so nobody'll hear you yelling like a big baby," he ordered.
Sobbing dolefully, Rose Aldrich obeyed, her cheeks bulging from the improvised gag, and once again hid her scarlet face in her trembling hands. His eyes feasted on the bright pink splotches left on the immaculate creamy canvas of her lush posterior, a canvas on which he intended to paint a flaming portrait of male domination.
Then he resumed the spanking, with crisp, slowly spaced slaps that visited both cheeks of her bottom, alternating from left to right, beginning at the tops of her hips and working down to the base of her now frantically weaving, bucking and twisting posterior.
Heartfelt groans and sobs, and incoherent, muffled entreaties for mercy accompanied this accelerated chastisement. By this time the other slipper had gone to join its mate on the floor as her bare toes clawed and curled in the air and her lovely heels dashed back and forth. By now, too, clenching her little fists, she had twisted back her tearstained face to stare beseechingly at him, her cheeks still bulging with the handkerchief gag.
"There," he panted as he laid the fortieth spank right across the crevice of her crimsoned behind. "Now I'll give you a minute to rest before I finish you off with the hairbrush, Rosie."
The squirming, half naked dark-brown-haired matron tugged the moist handkerchief out of her mouth and hysterically sobbed, "Oh for God's sake, Uncle Henry, please let up, please not the hairbrush! I'll do anything, it hurts so already, Oh not the hairbrush, I've never been-never been spanked before!"
'Then it's high time I gave you enough to make up for lost time, Rosie. Now get that handkerchief back in your mouth or I'll double the count," he warned as he pulled the hairbrush out of his bathrobe pocket and lifted it up for her horrified, tear-blurred eyes to see.
"Ohh n-no-oh it looks just awful-oh I won't be able to stand it " she whimpered fearfully.
"I'll see just how apologetic you are for your sinful behavior, young lady, after I've started you off with a good dose. Then we'll see. Now put that handkerchief back in your mouth, or I'll spank your big bottom raw!"
Conquered by the threat, by her shame and by her terror at being betrayed to Mike's wife, Rose Aldrich whimperingly submitted. Once the gag was back in her mouth, her hands pressed against her crimsoned, tearstained face, and she huddled herself with every muscle tautened to endure the burning correction.
Henry Trent, whose prick by now was as rigid as a poker, resumed his tight grip of her bare, sweating waist with his left arm, and gloatingly rubbed the smooth flat back of the brush over her cringing, brightly reddened bottom-cheeks from top to base. "Get ready now, and remember, you're getting off easy!" he warned.
Rose Aldrich crossed her bare ankles tightly together, flattening herself over his lap and shrinking in advance of the first burning kiss of the black wooden brush. Henry Trent prolonged that first impact, deliberately enjoying his beautiful niece's fear and humiliation. Then suddenly his right hand descended: Thwackk, it bounced viciously off the inner edge of Rose's right bottom-globe very close to the sinuous crevice between the cheeks, an excruciatingly sensitive area for spanking.
"Owwwmffff-agggghhh-mmmmmm!" she wailed loudly through the gag, kicking her bare legs frantically in the air till she exposed the fleshy pink cuntal lips peeping out from between the thick dark-brown curls of her cuntal fleece. His prick throbbed violently as his eyes feasted on the libidinous exposure, and, pulling her back to him with his left arm (for in her flailing kicks she had wriggled almost to the edge of his lap) he swung the brush down a second time to whack the other cheek at exactly the same tender area.
"Mmmmmmmm-aahhhgggghhhh-mmmmm noooo-puh-lease!" she wailed as again her legs thrashed the air and her bottom bucked and heaved, then twisted lewdly from side to side as if approaching climax in a fucking.
"I hope," he said with a smug self-righteousness, "you are learning that the wages of sin are a painful price to pay for your wickedness last night, young lady!" Smackk! The brush swiftly plummeted down again, to bite home against the upper edge of her right hip, then with a backhanded stroke, decorated the other hip with a violently bright crimson splotch. Wild with pain and shame, Rose Aldrich kicked, crossed her legs, kicked them, flung them lewdly apart, then rubbed one calf against the other as her hands rushed behind her to cover up her livid naked ass. He rapped her knuckles with the edge of the brush and scolded, 'Take those hands away or I'll start all over again, you cowardly little baby you!"
With a sobbing groan, her face drenched with tears, her buttocks gleaming a fiery red under the dim light of the old lamp in the dusty, gloomy attic, Rose reluctantly obeyed, clasping her hands in prayer and trying to grind her teeth together to remain as stoic as she could.
But six more stinging, noisy cracks of the black wooden hairbrush across the base of both jerking, inflamed asscheeks broke down her courage once again, as her hands plunged frantically back to soothe and rub the flaming, shuddering flesh of her behind, and she turned her congested face back to him with the most poignant and appealing look imaginable.
Laying the brush down on the small of her back, he reached out to pull the handkerchief from her mouth and demanded in a thick, lust-ridden voice, "Have you had enough by now, Rosie?"
"Ohh-G-G-God, oh you're killing me, oh please, I'll do-I'll do just anything, if you'll only stop spanking -oh I'm dying-I'm burning up -have mercy -I'll do anything, please, please, Uncle Henry!" she hysterically sobbed.
"Well, let's see just how far you'll go to prove your submission, you randy little bitch," he chuckled thickly. "Get off my lap and get down on your knees. Kiss the hairbrush and tell me that you're sorry that you were such a wicked girl, and then see if you can think of something that will make me pardon you any more spanking. If it doesn't suit me, though, I warn you, Rosie, back over my lap you go for a real fantailing!"
Rose Aldrich sobbingly and awkwardly slipped down off his lap onto her knees, the nightgown twisted about her armpits, the thick bush framing her cuntal lips lubricously exposed as she crouched before him in pitiably abject attitude. He held out the brush to her, and her trembling lips kissed the glossy smooth back which had dealt such burning anguish to her tender bottom. Then, in a faltering, tear-choked voice, she stammered, Th-thank you for sp-spanking me, Uncle-Uncle H-Henry, I-I deserved it for being-for being so naughty last night-oh please, no more, no more!"
And with this, her hands rushed back again to rub her swollen naked buttocks as she crouched pitifully before him.
Henry Trent rose from the couch, tugged off his bathrobe and flung it down on the floor, seated himself and spread his legs hugely. The heavy, swollen lance of his tumescent prick thrust out obscenely like a kind of tent pole against the fly of his pajama pants. Leaning forward, he huskily commanded, "Now then, aren't you forgetting something? I told you to think of something that will make me let you off any more spanking, Rosie!"
Slowly she raised her tear-drenched, haggard face to him, then caught her breath and put her hand to her mouth as she saw the huge protuberance.
"You've guessed it," he chuckled slyly, nodding down at his upright prick. "Do something about it now!"
When she hesitated, making a faint grimace of repugnance, he reached for the hairbrush which he had laid down on the couch beside him and held it up before her contorted face. "Of course, if you want to come back across my lap, III be happy to oblige you, young lady!"
"Oh no, oh my God no!" she moaned. Crawling forward to him, she extended one trembling hand and opened his fly, drawing out his lividly swollen, dark-veined heavy prick. The glans, shaped like an arrowhead, thrust out obscenely, set off by the wide, shallow circumcision groove; the puffed lips of the meatus twitched and contracted spasmodically to evidence the bulging load of viscous lust-lava which his gnarled, hairy balls contained. "Go ahead, Rosie-I'll bet you've never done this to Wilson, have you?" he slyly taunted the distraught young matron.
"Oh, you-you're just awful -you're disgusting-of course I haven't!" she panted.
"Well, I recommend it highly. Maybe you'll make a man of him yet. Unless, of course, you plan on having more of those secret trysts on the mattress in the basement with my nephew, hm?"
Closing her eyes and shuddering, Rose Aldrich bowed her head, her rumpled pageboy falling over one tearstained, swollen cheek, and as he felt the first tremulous brush of her soft moist red lips against the tip of his prick, he groaned aloud, put out his left hand and twisted his fingers into her tresses, thus controlling her. 'Take it slow and easy, you sweet bitch," he muttered. Til tell you when to stop."
Rose groaned again, but a yank at her hair reminded her of her obeisance, and with a whimpering little cry she opened her mouth and absorbed the entire glans, closing her lips and noisily sucking at it as she would a lollipop.
"Now you've got the idea, that's the girl, now you're my favorite niece all over again," he mockingly encouraged, his face flushed, his eyes glittering. He kept the hairbrush ready in his right hand as a reminder as his eyes devoured her bowed head, her bulging cheeks, red and wet with tears, then glanced with salacious pleasure to see the up-fucked nightie high on her back. He stiffened and gasped as he felt her suck noisily again. "Now rim me with your tongue, nice and slow, Rosie," he hoarsely instructed.
At once she obeyed, and the soft slushing tip of her dainty pink tongue rasped over the glans, then the circumcision groove, and then moved up to press against the twitching meatus.
'That's very good for a beginner-or have you done this with my nephew? I didn't get up that close last night," he again taunted the mature dark-brunette.
Rose could only respond with a muffled groan of deepest shame, as she continued to suck and to rub her tongue furtively and gingerly around the glans.
"That's enough now," he hoarsely halted her, shoving her head away. "Now then, take off your silly nightie and get on top of me."
"Oh my God-you mean you-you-" she incredulously gasped.
"I mean I want to see if you can fuck as nicely as you did with my nephew last night, that's what I mean, Rosie. It's that or the hairbrush and maybe I'll decide to tell Ruthie and Wilson after all," he sadistically replied.
Straightening on her knees, new tears dribbling down her congested cheeks, Rose Aldrich feverishly pulled the nightie off, thereby thrusting out the magnificent round high-perched globes of her panting titties, creamy-skinned and smooth, lasciviously marked by the dusky aureole and the tumescent, ripe, crinkly nipples which seemed to palpitate at every breath.
She crouched there naked as the day she was born, her hair tumbling down over one tear-stained cheek, her fists clenched, in an attitude of agonized resignation while Henry Trent, yanking off his pajamas pants, stretched indolently out on his back on the couch, legs spread and his prick tilting up like a vigilant semaphore. The hairbrush still clutched in his right hand, he beckoned to her with his left forefinger. "Get down on it and stick it all the way in, baby, then stretch out and do some work for a change," he ordered.
Dolefully and slowly, she set a knee down on the couch, then clambered between his sprawled, straddled hairy thighs. Wincing, averting her crestfallen face from his avidly mocking gaze, Rose Aldrich tremblingly reached for his stiff prick with her right hand, while with left thumb and median finger she gaped apart her fleshy soft pink cuntal lips as she adjusted herself over him, steering the tip of his throbbing prick into the soft open maw of her readied cunt.
"Just a minute," he panted, "before you get on top of me, rub my prick all over that juicy little crack of yours and make yourself itchy so you can pretend it's Mike. Maybe you'll give me a good enough fucking so I'll forget what an adulterous sinner you really are, Rosie!"
"D-Damn you, Uncle-Uncle Henry!" she blurted, then burst into helpless tears.
"Be careful now, I've still got the hairbrush, and your bottom's going to be real tender and real close once you get over me," he warned. "Do what I told you to and make it quick!"
Sniffling and trying to fight the impulse to burst into abject hysterical tears again, the naked young matron closed her eyes and, keeping the lips of her cunt opened, grasped his prick just below the angrily reddened knob and began to rub it back and forth against the pouting lips of her vulva and her clitoris as well. She caught her breath, squirming as that first electrifying contact with the most dynamic nucleus of her entire femininity sent a wave of unwanted lust seething through her loins. The fiery heat of the spanking which had left her buttocks blazingly inflamed and thus by contrast made the creamy whiteness of her thighs and back and breasts all the more dazzlingly alluring, now began to have its own inevitable effect in rousing Rose Aldrich to an incestuous submission and an active participation in her own rape-fucking by her cynical and opportunistic uncle.
Her head tilted back, her throat cords surging, her naked titties heaving erratically, and she grimaced as, at his order, she kept rubbing his prickhead back and forth over the moistening, yawning entry of her cuntal lips, spasmodic tremors agitatedly rippling along her straddled thighs, visiting the inflamed cheeks of her behind and visible as well along her perspiring sides.
"All right, I'm ready now, get it all into you and then shake that gorgeous big red ass of yours, Rosie," he coarsely directed.
With a whimpering, gasp of deepest shame, her eyes still closed, Rose Aldrich fitted his prickhead inside the twitching lips of her juicily lubricated vulva, and slowly sank down to impale herself: "Aah-ooh-oh G-God-oh my God-aahhh!" she sobbingly ejaculated.
"Now stretch out and put your arms under me and give me a nice big hug and a kiss, the way a niece should when her uncle wants a fucking," he ordered.
As she submissively obeyed, her body shuddering as she felt herself merge to him, absorbing every inch of his throbbing, heavy prick inside the contracting, moist walls of her cuntal sheath, she felt his hairy thighs clutch over hers and pinion her. Her hands thrust under his sinewy shoulders, her mouth came down on his, and at once his tongue darted between her lips to rub against her gums and teeth, in search of her own trembling tongue.
"Don't just lie there like a log, fuck, the way you did with Mike!" he irritatedly ordained, punctuating the command by reaching and smacking the hairbrush down across the crevice of her lower buttocks.
"Oww! Oh please don't-I will, I'll f-fuck you, oh please, Uncle Henry, please no more spanking, for God's sake, no more!" she meaningly entreated.
Then, shuddering and gasping, her panting titties crushed against his heaving chest, she began to squirm and arch and sink down, taking the initiative and playing the male role as she impaled herself, his heavy, hot prick rasping the tender, exacerbated crannies of her quaking cunt.
Their tongues met, and Rose Aldrich almost swooned with the stabbing torment-rapture of all the sensations which now assailed her naked flesh and her emotions. His left hand reached out and his forefinger slyly prodded into the tightening crevice between her buttocks, finding the plump rosette of her asshole and rubbing the lips lingeringly. "Oh don't!" she began a muffled protest, but two sharp cracks of the hairbrush and his angry "Don't tell me what to do, just do what I tell you to or else!" quickly put an end to even that pathetically mild remonstration.
All she could do was writhe and moan as she felt his forefinger penetrate between the grudgingly yielding fleshy lips of her sensitive asshole and gouge deeply into her rectal sheath.
Arching up, she felt his prick rub at an angle against the walls of her churning vagina, and he admonished, "Better not let my cock slip out of that itchy cunt of yours, Rosie, or I'll think you don't want to go through with our little bargain!"
As she came down on him, he arched himself up, skewering her so that the tip of his prick brushed against her clitoris, irritating and attuning it. Rose's eyes widened, glazed and humid with glistening new tears, her nostrils flaring, her mouth crookedly twisted, and her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as she began instinctively to quicken her up-and-down maneuvering, feeling the goading, cumulative surging of her feminine tides deep within her womb.
"Come on, get with it, Rosie," he thickly gasped, applying a flurry of quick little spanks all over her angrily inflamed wriggling bare behind. His left forefinger thrust rapidly back and forth inside her constricting asshole, and Rose Aldrich, tilting back her head and uttering a raucous, prolonged cry, felt herself shaken by a frenzied paroxysm that made her collapse atop him, as his prick burrowed to the very balls inside her and the walls of her churning cuntal sheath clamped and thrillingly tensed against his -bursting ramrod. The hot drench of his jism lashed the tenderized walls of her womb, and Rose Aldrich lay feverishly trembling, swept down into the greedy vortex of lustful and incestuous cum.. . .