What Bertrand Russell once called the quest for a completely ethical society back in the Twenties, when America was fresh with the spirit of having won a war that was presumed to have put an end to all future wars, seems to have become a Utopian concept. For society begins essentially with the concept of the family, and this in itself has dramatically changed within the past two generations. Where once there was solidarity and unwavering respect of the young for their elders, today we find a vast gulf between parents and children as between politicians and the public. Morality just after World War I began in the home and continued in the schools, but basically it was the function of the parents to indoctrinate their young with the precepts of good and evil, right and wrong, truth and falsehood.
Today, however, such ideas appear to be out of the never-never world of Pollyanna: the old maxim of "do as I say, not as I do" has come about full cycle. That is one dramatic reason why today's younger generation is at odds with its elders and why the statistics of juvenile delinquency soar ever upward. The young cannot justify the integrity of what they are told or what they are shown as the proper course for them to follow, seeing their elders transgress and violate some of the most elementary rules of human conduct. Moreover, with the advent of our sexual revolution which had the effect of spotlighting the hypocrisy as well as ignorance with which so many adults approached their own sexual behavior, those who emerge out of puberty into adolescence often discover by themselves a new guide rule toward their own acceptance or rejection of behavioral standards which they find expected of them.
The great German operatic composer Carl Orff created an allegorical opera, "Die Kluge," shortly before Hitler's takeover of Czechoslovakia. There is one memorable scene which shows three drunken louts swaggering down the street singing an ironic ditty, "Where has honor gone? On the huntsman's horn, out unto the wind along with truth and justice!" --a sentiment which' very nearly got the composer sent to a concentration camp. What he meant was that in our complex, materialistic age the parables of virtue and decency no longer appear to prevail; an ambiguous word here, a double meaning there, and black becomes white and white black. Small wonder, then, that our modern youth comes early to grips with the decision of what they should do rather than what they are told to do.
Moreover, mainly because of our sexual revolution, which attempts to sweep clean the Augean stables of guilt and fear and shame, our present-day younger generation often finds that the conflict of ethical behavior against total lawlessness can sometimes be linked with sexual behavior as well. That, indeed, is what Mark Conroy attempts to portray in this novel of our contemporary scene. He has taken a middle-class family, showing them as they come together for a sentimental holiday reunion, beneath the surface of which exists such elements as selfishness, sexual tyranny, moral blackmail and hypocrisy. Young Elizabeth Trent, through whose fourteen-year-old eyes much of the story is seen, finds herself a pawn in her own father's unscrupulous attempt to gain a material advantage over his young nephew. Till the moment of this family reunion, Elizabeth herself has not the slightest suspicion that her father is anything but the fond, concerned parent whose will has been her law and who can do no wrong. How this alters her own youthful philosophy as well as her own erotic consciousness, is vividly detailed. Mark Conroy shows us through the eyes of a nubile young girl how her accidental introduction to the sexual complications practiced by adults affects her own impressionable psyche and in the process dramatically changes her own outlook and emotions.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
The Trent clan was gathered in full force this Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving to celebrate a family reunion. As was the custom, the festive scene was being staged at the home of one of the younger members, since Grandfather Lawrence, 71, and Grandmother Abigail, 68, had sold their comfortable old house in Evanston ten years ago and were living in a senior citizens' high-rise. This time, it was the turn of affable, stocky, brown-haired, twenty-eight-year-old Michael Trent and his flirtatious, auburn-haired, twenty-two-year-old wife, Ruth to play the role of hosts for the family gathering in their two-story white frame house in Chicago's western middle-class suburb of Riverside.
Technically, to be sure, the title of this spacious old house still belonged to Mike's father, fifty-year-old Benjamin Trent, elder son to Lawrence and Abigail, a just-retiring farm equipment dealer who had bought it up for a song a few weeks after V-J Day and made good use of its many rooms for his colorful socials and parties provided for the entertainment of his customers and business associates. But the death of Ben's wife Clara, just three months ago had decided the prosperous Ben to sell his business and make plans for a world cruise early next year, at which time he intended to make Mike and Ruth an outright gift of the big white house.
In the place of honor on the old Chesterfield couch facing the old-fashioned stone fireplace, Lawrence and Abigail Trent, white-haired but still spry and alert, smilingly received the convivial greetings of their kin. In the corner near the door, standing beside the table on which a huge cut-glass punch bowl of hot eggnog was imposingly displayed, other members of the family renewed acquaintances as they toasted one another and clinked heirloom china cups. Lanky, tall, dark-brown-haired, forty-five-year-old Henry Trent beamed and lifted his cup in salute to his mother and father on the couch, then turned to whisper to his buxom blonde wife Joyce, eight years his junior, "Looks as if my nephew Mike is really going to be well off this Christmas, Joyce honey. Well, one thing's for sure-if we ever lose our house because we can't keep up with the taxes, we can always move in here after my brother Ben's gone on his cruise. Chances are hell buy himself a condominium in Florida or maybe even the Bahamas when he gets back from that trip."
"Now don't be envious, dear. First of all, our own bungalow on the North Side is plenty big enough for me to take care of. I declare, if we were living in this old white elephant, I don't know what I'd do for help. She does such a sloppy job there, can you imagine what it would be like if she had to clean up a barn like this?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Henry Trent turned to smile at his bespectacled, somewhat dowdy sister Susan, two years his senior, whose fifty-two-year-old husband Jack Lorimer and luscious brown-haired daughter Rose had gone over to the couch to pay their respects to the senior Trents. "Good to see you again, Susan. How's Rose's marriage panning out?"
"You know perfectly well they'll be celebrating their first anniversary in January, Henry," Susan Lorimer tartly retorted. "Wilson is a thoughtful, hardworking fellow, and I think my daughter made a very good choice."
"Yes, he writes pretty good advertising copy, but he strikes me as being the bookworm type, if you know what I mean."
His sister disapprovingly sniffed. "Nobody could ever accuse you of being that, brother dear. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to talk with Mother and Father for a bit."
"Sure, Sis, see you later." Henry Trent finished his eggnog and set the cup down on a tray. 'Think we might let Elizabeth have a little sip of this potent stuff for this happy occasion, Joyce honey?"
"Maybe, just a sip, just once," his blonde wife agreed. "Where is the little darling, anyway?"
"Over talking to Ruth. You know," he said thoughtfully, nursing his chin as he squinted over at his deliciously pert fourteen-year-old black-haired daughter, "it won't be many years before we have another Thanksgiving and reunion and find our little girl happily married to some nice guy. She's already a looker, as the boys at Jefferson High will testify. Well, later on, after Mom and Dad have gone to bed, I want to talk to Mike. Might just have some business for him"
"Oh? How's that darling?"
"It's a long story," Henry Trent gave his wife a casual smile. "He's a Chevie dealer, you know, and I'm in the market for some pickup trucks for my commercial delivery service."
"Oh yes, of course, dear. Well, I'm sure your nephew will give you a good deal, it's all in the family."
"I'm sure it will be," he chuckled as he took the ladle and filled his cup, eyeing Mike's luscious auburn-haired wife who at this moment was chatting with Rose's twenty-nine-year-old husband, bespectacled towheaded Wilson Aldrich. Ruth was a petite five feet and three inches, but with an hourglass figure mouth-wateringly outlined by the snug-fitting brown wool jersey dress which clung to the upstanding, rounded, succulent cheeks of her bottom and hugged the ripe columns of her charcoal-brown nylon-sheathed thighs. As she stooped a little lower to exchange a joke with white-haired Abigail Trent, his eyes narrowed and he felt a tantalizing ache at his crotch.. . .
By ten o'clock, Lawrence and Abigail Trent had gone to bed in the largest room on the first floor, and the punch bowl was nearly emptied.
Studious-looking Wilson Aldrich, who had had four cups, had yawningly excused himself and sheepishly told his beautiful, vivacious brown-haired wife Rose that he was going on to bed ahead of her. Stocky Mike Trent, standing behind Rose in the leather-upholstered armchair, was leaning over her whispering something which made her giggle, while his wife Ruth was deep in conversation about quick-fix recipes with buxom Joyce. Henry had sprawled on the couch and was enjoying a cigarette and a last cup of eggnog before calling it a night. And pert Elizabeth had already excused herself from the company and gone off to one of the guest rooms on the second floor.
In the bathroom, having undressed, her yellow cotton pajamas atop the laundry hamper as she brushed her teeth before slipping them on and getting into bed, she studied herself in the mirror. Her face was a sensitive oval, with high-arching forehead, thick, expressively arched black brows surmounting intense gray-green eyes with very short thick lashes. She had a dainty snub nose with thin, sensuous wings, and a saucy, small but very ripe red mouth. Her high-set cheeks and the bridge of her nose were covered with becoming freckles which heightened the color of her olive-sheened skin. Her glossy black hair was fixed in a thick braid which fell just below her shoulder-blades. Five feet six inches in height, her nubile young body was slim but with mouthwatering contrasts of surprising ample oval-shaped buttocks, long coltish thighs, and slim high-set calves; and as she drew in a long breath and then exhaled it, the saucy pear-shaped globes of her voluptuous young virginal bosom thrust out boldly, marked by narrow dark-coral aureole and firm little ruby tips in the centers.
"Darn, I wish Mom would let me wear nylons like Cousin Ruth does instead of these silly kid's white knee-length stockings," she complained aloud to the mirror and made another face at it.
Elizabeth shivered as her slim hands smoothed her lithe bare hips. Instinctively glancing down, she blushed a little to see the soft black curls at her lower abdomen, thickening as they ended just over her pink cuntal lips. Her left hand moved to her smooth belly, with its wide shallow navel-dimple and once again she shivered at the sensual awareness of her own young untutored flesh.
She glanced back at herself in the mirror and blushed vividly as her hands slowly glided down from her belly to the silky curls of her pubis. I know I oughtn't to look at myself there . . .or touch myself either. Mom asked me a couple of years ago if I ever had funny dreams at night, and I said I did, and then she said something about trying to lie on my side. She hasn't ever really told me anything about.. . you know, well, sex and stuff like that When I had the curse, she told me that every girl had to go through it, and that I'd find out when I got older why girls were different from boys. My gosh, I'm going on fifteen and that's grownup, and Joanne Claverly at school, she's as old as I am and she's already making out with Ricky Boles-at least that's what she keeps telling me. I don't dare ask Daddy what that means or if I can even go to the movies with a fellow. They don't seem ever to want to talk to me about important stuff. Why do grownups have to be that way? They must think I'm an awful baby!
Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she slipped her forefinger down through the tangled soft curls of her bush till she touched the palpitating pink center. "Ooooh!" she huskily gasped, shifting her legs a little more apart to concentrate on the intensity of this forbidden sensation. It was going to be awfully dull staying here at Cousin Mike's house till Sunday night. There weren't any kids her age to play with, and she certainly didn't dare call Joanne to come over, still less to ask her girl friend to see if she could have Dan Thomas get in touch with her.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and imagined his handsome young vital face, with curly brown hair and dark-blue eyes as she tried to remember some of the flattering but very personal remarks he had made about her in school last week. He was fifteen, and going out for basketball, and all the girls were just crazy about him, but he'd singled her out on the playground during lunch and recess a couple of weeks back and sort of hinted that he'd like to date her if her folks allowed her to go out with fellows. It was a doggone shame they wouldn't, and she knew there wasn't any sense asking either Mom or Dad.
Joanne had said something else awfully funny, about Dan's having a big sharp nose and how that was a sign that a boy had something big in his pants that girls liked. And then she'd giggled and said something about how she liked what her own boy friend had but maybe Elizabeth would really go for Dan. Elizabeth had a pretty fair idea of what Joanne was hinting about, and right now she shoved her finger down a little more until it brushed the dainty nodule of her clit. A galvanizing shiver went all through her, and she could feel the muscles of her thighs jerk and she said "Ohhhh!" in a huskier voice than ever.
But it would be awfully nice if Dan were around right now. Grandpa and Grandma were nice but awfully old and they never really talked to her about anything important. Cousin Ruth-of course she was a cousin by marriage only-was real sweet and treated her like a grownup when she talked but she couldn't expect Ruth to give her much time, what with all the preparations for the big turkey dinner tomorrow and the rest of the weekend.
Hot and cold tingling feelings had begun to ripple through her, and she pulled away her finger just in time before she yielded to the temptation to rub herself real fast until she felt all faint and sticky and happy.
She brushed her teeth quickly, then put on her pajamas, thrust her feet into the little blue slippers Mom had made her take along in an overnight case, and then went back into the bedroom, undecided. She was really sort of hungry. They'd had supper at home tonight before Dad had driven out here to Riverside, and it was a long time until breakfast. If she went down the back stairs, maybe she could sneak past Grandpa and Grandma's room into the kitchen and see what they had in the fridge. There wasn't anything wrong with that.
Very carefully she tiptoed down the stairs, not noticing that the door across the way had just opened for an instant and Henry Trent, in his bathrobe and pajamas, was peering out with a curious smile on his thin lips.
CHAPTER TWO
Elizabeth's father was wide awake and thinking about the deal he was going to try to work out this weekend. Indeed, that was the main reason he had been glad that the family reunion was being held in Riverside. His nephew Mike couldn't very well get away from him, since he lived here. And there were a few other things he was lining up, too. Unless he was very much mistaken, his stocky, personable nephew was something of a cock-smith, and it had been plain as the nose on everybody's face that Mike had been giving Rose Lorimer the eye all evening long. Well, he couldn't blame Mike for that-his brown-haired niece was really a prime piece of tail. And he was in the mood for tail, because he had just performed his marital duty and left buxom blonde Joyce sleeping, quite dead to the world, in the big double bed in their guest room.
In the fifteen years of their marriage, Joyce had put on some twenty-five pounds, and while they hadn't exactly hurt her figure, they seemed to have made her more lethargic and passive. Not that she'd ever been really the wriggling, clawing, inventive kind in bed to start with. He glanced back at the bed where she lay on her side with the covers drawn up to her neck and grimaced reminiscently. Oh, she knew what fucking was, all right, and she would always oblige him and she never pulled the headache or too-tired routine. But for all the excitement she could provide, it wasn't any more interesting than using his own hand. Come to think about it, she didn't even put her hand on his prick or help him along with her mouth, and she took a dim view of any other position except the one on her back with her legs open and her arms meekly folded around him while he did all of the humping. If she had some of Elizabeth's spirit, which he was sure his daughter had inherited from his side of the blanket, it might have been a helluva lot better.
He hadn't expected to see his daughter steal out of her room and go down the back stairway this time of night, though. Wonder what the little minx was up to? Now if it had been Rose coming out of her room just now, he wouldn't let her get away. How could a gorgeous, stacked broad like Rose be satisfied with a heavy thinker, a four-eyed square like Wilson? He was willing to bet a week's pay that after five minutes in bed with him, Rose wouldn't ever want to let Wilson fuck her again. It was going to be a long weekend, and there would be plenty of time to work on that highly exciting theory.. . .
The house was quiet and no one intercepted Elizabeth as she slipped into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and settled for a cold chicken wing and a slice of thickly buttered bread. This downed, the pretty black-haired teenager was about to leave the kitchen and hurry back to bed when she noticed that the pantry door was partly open. As she glanced down the narrow little flight of stairs leading to the basement, she saw a light. Somebody was in the recreation room. Maybe Cousin Ruth would be playing ping pong with Cousin Mike, and she could have a nice long chat with them till she got tired enough to fall asleep.
She didn't hear any voices or the click of the ping pong ball, as she opened the door very slowly and peered in. There didn't seem to be anybody here, even though the lights were on. Over to her left was the miniature bar, then the low wide padded-leather couch against the wall, the ping pong table in the center, and a couple of love seats to her right, along with a billiard table on which two cues and the rack of balls lay waiting for use. There was a partitioned panel wall straight ahead of her, with a little door at the left, which led to the furnace and the water heater and all the pipes and stuff which brought heat and water into this big old house, she knew. Elizabeth looked around, frowning with perplexity. Maybe somebody had forgotten to turn the lights out. As she reached for the switch, she suddenly heard what sounded like a sobbing groan: "Oh-oooohhh!" and then a gasped-out "Ohh d-darling, that's so good!" which made her eyes widen and her heart beat faster.
Tiptoeing carefully toward the little door, holding her breath as her slim fingers turned the knob, she drew it open just a crack. It was dark as far as she could see, to the vague outline of the furnace, but once again she heard the sobbing groan, which seemed to be off to the right and around the furnace: "Ouu-harder, darling, oh Mike, it's so good, make it last for me, lover!"
Burning curiosity drew her forward, dropping to all fours and crawling toward the furnace. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could just make out a tiny night-bulb lit above the indicator, which cast sufficient glow to show her in the wide space between the furnace and the hot-water heater two figures lying on an old mattress. She put one palm to her mouth to hold back her gasp of shocked surprise as she recognized their shadowed faces. It was Cousin Mike and her Cousin Rose! Whatever were they doing way off here in this dark part of the basement, and on that old dirty mattress, though?
They were much too absorbed in each other to notice Elizabeth's crouching figure well beyond them. Rose Lorimer's dark-brown page-boy curls tumbled over one flushed cheek as she writhed under stocky Mike Trent's probing prick. Her dark-green woolen skirt and white nylon slip fucked up to her waist, her white satin-elastic panty-girdle lying on the floor at her right, her charcoal-brown nylons sagging about her lush, full creamy-skinned thighs which clamped over Mike's jerking hips, Rose dug her fingers frenetically into his bare shoulders as she urged him on.
Elizabeth was stricken with conflicting emotions and chaotic thoughts as she kept her hand to her mouth, her eyes huge and disbelieving as they drank in the lustful scene before her. Cousin Mike had only his shorts and wool socks on, with his shoes, suit coat and pants, shirt and undershirt piled right next to Cousin Rose's discarded panty girdle. He seemed to lift himself up, and Cousin Rose clung to him with her arms and legs, whimpering as she tried to pull him back down into her.
Oh my gosh! Elizabeth could see Cousin Mike's big hard red thing, the thing between his legs, pushing apart the soft fleshy pink lips of Cousin Rose's spot, sinking down into it till she couldn't see any farther, and then she saw Cousin Rose's head tilt back and her face contort as Rose moaned, "Oh, it's just wonderful, Mike darling! Oh, you don't know how much I need this fucking, you just don't, darling! Don't come yet, for God's sake, I need it so bad!"
"Poor baby," she heard Cousin Mike hoarsely gasp, "why didn't you pick a real man instead of that four-eyed jerk? A guy like that sitting at a desk all day dreaming up junk to fool people into throwing away their money, his idea of a good lay is using his hand when nobody's looking. How could you have picked a jerk off like that, Rose baby, with that hot tight cunt you've got and that wriggly ass? Baby, you're built for twenty-four-hour fucking, I'm here to tell you!"
"Oh, I love it-aahhh-I just love it when you say dirty things like that to me. Wilson's so polite, he never uses a naughty word, not ever, even when he's doing it to me-oh lover, hold it off a minute, stick your finger in my little bum hole too, it sends me up a wall--ooooh, Mike, I g-guess I was just hot to trot and he proposed and he was making good money, and -I -well -I didn't have anybody else-ooooh-oh, that's just heaven-oh it feels like two cocks inside my little holes, darling, wait, give me a minute, I have to catch my breath, oh Mike, if only Wilson could take lessons from you," she sobbingly babbled as her body vibrated with seething hot lust.
"Hell with that noise, Rosie baby," Elizabeth heard Cousin Mike snigger as he seemed to be crushing her down and lying right on top of her, with his right hand buried under her bottom. "It's better this way. You'll appreciate it more if I'm harder to get. After all, Ruthie isn't bad in bed either."
"You brute you, reminding me of her-how would you like it if she let some other man screw her?" Rose Aldrich panted as she readjusted her stockinged legs to curl them higher over his sturdy bottom
"I'd whip her ass, that's what. But quit talking about her and concentrate on what you're getting now, Rosie baby. Want me to start in again?"
"Oh yes, Mike, now, build with me, work me up, drain my poor little itching pussy, I'm so hot I'm dying," Elizabeth heard Cousin Rose whimper.
"Here goes, baby, I'll make you come with me!" Cousin Mike boasted as he slipped his other hand between their bodies, his left forefinger attacking her throbbing clit while at the same time slowly working his other forefinger back and forth inside her quaking rectal sheath.
"Aaah-ohh-aahhrrr-oh my G-G-God-oh that's just heaven-don't ever stop-oh I wish you had two cocks inside of me at the same time, lover-oh, you wonderful randy man you, oh, oh, I need it--ohhh Mike angel!" Rose Aldrich fairly sobbed with frenzied arousal.
Elizabeth could see her Cousin Rose's stockinged feet twist and pirouette in every direction, her toes wildly curling and clawing as she adjusted and arched herself to taste every possible sensation of the finger and prick probes which were reaming her twin orifices of pleasure. Her face now turned toward Elizabeth, stricken, the eyes wide, staring but unseeing, the thin wings of her Grecian nose flaring and shrinking, her mouth twisted in a rictus of blazing lust.
Now her fingers twisted into Mike's curly black hair and tugged relentlessly as he quickened his lunges into her juicily moistened cuntal lips, skewering her as he twisted himself to scrape the crannies of her wildly tumescent vagina. Both his forefingers worked more quickly now, drawing her to frenzied pitch, as incoherent, babbling sobs and groans and cries exuded from her gaping mouth.
"Ohh-aaah -I'm cumming-ohhh -NOW, NOW, GIVE IT TO ME, LOVER, FUCK ME, JUICE ME, NOW!" her voice rose to a piercing shriek as her body threshed and jerked against his.
With a hoarse answering cry, Mike lunged a final time, then sagged inert over her, his bubbling essence pouring into Rose's contracting, spasming cuntal sheath.
Spellbound, petrified, Elizabeth could not stir, remaining like a statue with her hand over her mouth and her eyes bulging to make out all that she had seen through the dim light afforded by the little night-bulb.
"Ohh, d-darling, I thought I died and went to heaven -oh my Gawd-oh Mike -there's somebody there-oh Mike-my God, somebody's been watching us!" Rose Aldrich had turned her stricken face toward the crouching teenager and, as her vision cleared, had made out the shadowy figure.
"What the fuck?" Mike Trent drew himself out and stumbled to his feet, challengingly moving forward: "For Christ's sake, Elizabeth, what the hell-have you been here all this time watching us?"
"I -I d-didn't really mean to, Cousin Mike-honest I didn't!" The black-haired teenager's sweet clear voice faltered in an anguished tremolo as she slowly got to her feet. Her cheeks were flaming: her eyes had just glimpsed the dangling, limp, greased big thing between her grownup cousin's legs, emerging out of the open fly of his shorts.
"So, you like to go spying on people, do you? Boy, if I thought for a minute you were going to blab to anybody about this, I-I'd-" he sputtered.
"Honest, I won't tell anybody, honest I won't. Please let me go back to bed," Elizabeth faltered.
"Not so fast, you nosey bitch! You're going to get a lesson to teach you not to do anything like this again! The idea, creeping around the basement at midnight to see what you can see, and at your age, too, Elizabeth Trent!"
"What-what are you going to do to me-oh please, you're hurting my arm, Cousin Mike!" Elizabeth sobbed as he grabbed her by the elbow and, heedless of his almost nakedness and the obscenity of his dangling prick, dragged her over to the leather-upholstered couch. Meanwhile, Rose Aldrich, her face scarlet, hastily put back on her clothes.
Now really frightened, Elizabeth tried to pull away, but Mike yanked her unceremoniously over his lap, pulled up her bathrobe to her armpits, and then attacked the waistband of her pajama pants while her legs threshed in the air. "Oh nO-please don't-oh what are you going to do-oh not my jammie pants, oh please, don't do that to me, Cousin Mike!" she tearfully pleaded.
'I'll teach you to spy on your grownups, you sneaky little bitch!" he growled as he yanked the yellow cotton pajamas down to her sleek, high-set calves.
Elizabeth uttered a shriek of outraged modesty and apprehension as she felt her ripely resilient oval-cheeked behind exposed to a man's eyes. By this time, Rose Aldrich had come over to watch the proceedings. "Wallop her some good ones for me too, Mike darling!" she vituperatively hissed, plumping herself down on the edge of the couch, while her hands stroked her thighs and loins, as she breathed deeply with the afterglow of furious orgasm just enjoyed.
Once again Elizabeth tried her best to escape the ignominy of this, her very first spanking-for such it was. Reaching back with her right hand to try to cover her olive-sheened bottom, she kicked her legs to and fro and tried to wriggle off Mike Trent's lap. But the stocky young man promptly slid his right leg out from under her and locked it around her calves, his left hand gripping her right wrist and doubling it up high on her back till she wailed in discomfort. Then, lifting his right hand high above her cringing naked bottom-cheeks, he launched a vigorous smack against the ripest curve of the right buttock.
"Oww!" Elizabeth wailed, lunging frantically from this side to that to try to evade any more of the same, and glancing back with tearful appeal in her widened eyes.
Smack! A second, quickly following descent of his right hand flattened the left summit of her naked bottom, and an even louder wail of anguish followed, while the teenager's lithe bare hips convulsively jerked from side to side again.
Mike Trent could feel the satiny warmth of her bare belly and the silky friction of her bush as she ground herself over his lap. He paused a moment to study the delightfully burgeoning contours of his eavesdropping young first cousin, chuckling softly at the sight of the flaming outlines of his heavy palm on the center of each prominently ripe buttock. Just below the base of her right thigh, Elizabeth had an exquisite little oval-shaped brown birthmark, where the thigh joined the bottom. Capriciously, he applied the third spank right over that fascinating mark, and was rewarded with an even shriller, more tearful lamentation: "Oh, oww, oh, pul-pulhease don't spank so hard, Cousin Mike, honest I didn't mean to sp-spy on you, I didn't, and I won't tell, honest I WON'T! Oh please, I'm so ashamed, let me put my jammies back on and go to bed now, please!"
'Don't you dare, Mike Trent," Rose Aldrich purred, her hazel eyes shining with sensual pleasure as she watched the punishment of the overly curious teenager. Her hands continued to stroke her thighs and loins even more insistently now as she leaned forward to get a better view of the thrashing. "She's such a goody-goody, it's high time she learned what's what and how to behave herself when she's in company!"
Absorbed as the three of them were in this unexpected drama, no one noticed that the door to the recreation room had opened very slightly, or that Henry Trent was staring inside the lighted room and seeing everything that was taking place. His right hand was buried inside his robe and gently fondling his rapidly swelling prick as he observed his daughter's voluptuous naked and now vividly reddening bottom as his stocky black-haired nephew resumed the spanking with half a dozen quick but stinging swats all over Elizabeth's wriggling posterior.
Rose Aldrich now reached out with both hands to grab the teenager's ankles and thus immobilize her completely, encouraging her lover: "Now she can't kick so much, darling, give it to her good and hard, she has it coming."
"Oh please-oh don't spank any m-m-more!" Elizabeth turned her tearstained, contorted face back to the glowering stocky man who had become her executioner. "I won't ever do it again, I won't tell anybody, word of honor. Oh please, please let me up now, it hurts so!"
'That's what I mean it to do, you spying little bitch!" he fiercely retorted as he swung his right hand down right over the sinuous, shadowy crease between her furiously reddening oval bottom-cheeks. The flattening impact pinched the inner edges of the lusciously resilient globes together, and a convulsive jerk of the young culprit's body announced her intense suffering. Her head flung back, eyes blurred with hot tears, as she managed to clamp her left hand over her mouth to hold back her strident cries, realizing that they might awaken the entire household and thus subject her to the most humiliating kind of public inquiry.
But her constant squirming and threshing over Mike Trent's lap had brought her virginal cuntal lips into frictional contact with her first cousin's now revitalized prick, and she gasped and squirmed repeatedly as she became aware of the obscene protuberance whose hot adamant structure rubbed against heir lower abdomen and groin in her frantic struggles to escape the now burning torment of her well-spanked behind. What her parents had not taught her and what she had only vaguely acquired by hearsay gossiping from her schoolmates, Elizabeth Trent was now beginning to absorb from direct and highly humiliating casual effect.
Mike Trent's hand rose and fell repeatedly, as he quickened the spanking tempo. Covering both delightfully spacious, huddling oval bottom-cheeks with alternating, noisy slaps, his eyes glitteringly following the way the soft olive-sheened flesh flattened and then sprang up to evidence its wonderfully youthful elasticity, admiring sensually the progression of that warm pure tint to bright crimson and then a darkening, somber scarlet hue, he relentlessly chastised the weaving, bobbing, jerking and squirming and squirming posterior across his almost naked lap. Biting her knuckles, making a fist to gag herself against the frantic, woeful cries that rushed to her panting young throat, poor Elizabeth in vain sought mercy: "Mmmmmm -oh, boo hoo hoo, Oww, oh please, puhlease no more. Oh you're hurting me so-oh my bottom-I'll be good-I didn't mean to do it-oww-awwouuuuuuu!! ! Oh do stop, you're killing me, Cousin M-Mike!"
"All right," he hoarsely panted as he applied a last pair of sonorous smacks on the ripest and most inflamed contours of her flaming bottom globes. "Now you go back to bed and if I ever find out that you blabbed about what you saw down here tonight, I'll give you twice as much with my belt or a hairbrush, and that's a promise, you hear me, Elizabeth?"
With this, he released her wrist and swung his leg off her straining, writhing calves. Sobbing as if her heart would break, the teenager lay abandoned over his lap, both hands plunging back to her swollen behind and rubbing it frantically in a useless attempt to assuage the fiery hurt.
"Shameless little bitch," Rose Aldrich fiercely chided, "don't you have any modesty at all? Get up and pull your jammies up and get into bed, or I'll ask Mike to let me give you another dose myself! "
"Oh noooooo!! " Elizabeth wailed, galvanized into action by this angry threat. She scrambled off his lap, uttering a cry of pain as new waves of blazing heat permeated her inflamed behind, stooped to reach for her down-tucked pajama pants with the other hand, unaware of how provocatively lascivious her maneuver was, at last managed to yank them back into place.
Then without so much as a look behind her, still sobbing plaintively, one hand continuing to rub her burning posterior, Elizabeth Trent opened the door and stumbled slowly up the narrow stairway back into the pantry. . . .
"Lock that door, lover, quick before anybody else tries to sneak in," Rose Aldrich huskily whispered to the stocky black-haired man who sat in his open shorts on the couch, panting from his exertions, his prick again violently erect. "Watching you spank your sneaky little first cousin made me so sexy I just have to have another fucking, please, Mike lover! I have to make up for all this lost time, darling, don't you understand?"
He grinned lecherously and nodded as he hurried to the door and turned the inner dial of the knob to lock the recreation room from the inside. Turning back to her, he watched the dark-brown-haired, twenty-five-year-old matron swiftly doff skirt, blouse and slip, then reach behind her to unhook her bra to liberate the sumptuous, closely-spaced cantaloupe-like gourds of her titties, with their wide brownish-orange aureoles and ripe, poutingly swollen nipple buds. She sank down on her knees, tossing her head to let her thick pageboy curls dance against her bare creamy shoulders, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling as they fixed on his jutting prick. "Come to Rose, you big monster," she crooned, "I want to feel you all over my bare skin! Oh, hurry, Mike, I'm just dying for it!"
As he moved to her, she wound her arms around his hairy legs and, arching herself seductively, rubbed first one panting breast, then the other, against the hard-knobbed head of his ferociously erect lance. "You really are a randy bitch, you know, Rose," he thickly muttered as he twisted his fingers in her hair, tilting her flushed, contorted face up to him as he peered exultantly down at her. "I wonder how you've been able to hide what an itchy cunt you've got from Four-eyes, I really do. But I envy the bastard, he's got you in bed beside him every night. If I could only work out a harem arrangement, I'd just as soon have you on one side and Ruthie on the other."
"Oh do shut up and fuck me," she fiercely hissed, leaning forward to flick her pink tongue over the velvety glans.
"That's great! Start giving me a little head before I fuck you, there'll be more juice to put out the fire in that randy cunt of yours, Rosie baby!" he breathed.
Rose Aldrich's face flamed furiously; she had never before done that to a man, but the almost puritanically repressed continence which her studious husband had observed all through the initial year of her marriage, together with her having consoled herself by reading some of the adult paperbacks purchased at an adult bookshop near the big Riverside super mart and imagining herself as heroine in many of the lurid chapters while she applied a dainty forefinger to her cuntal lips to bring about onanistic solace, had by this time swept away what few inhibitions she had left. With a self-conscious giggle, accordingly, and closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and absorbed the entire glans, sucking noisily at it, while her fingers stroked the backs of his hairy, shuddering thighs.
"Ohh, baby, you send me!" he moaned, twisting his fingers in her thick, dark-brown curls, yanking at them sadistically to bring about an even more servile oral response. "Suck me, and rub that hot little pink tongue of yours over my prick till I'm ready to jab it back where it belongs!"
"Mmmmmmffff! Ohh -aghhh mmmmm -ouuuuu!! " She bobbed her head, rolling her eyes up at him, her nostrils flaring and shrinking like those of a mare in rut. Her fingertips scrabbled at his upper thighs, then slyly intruded along the perineal crease, rimming his puckering anus as she slushed her tongue rapaciously all around the glans at the start of his gnarled, dark-veined shaft. Mike Trent, tilting back his head and closing his eyes, breathing stentorously, groaned with rapturous torment: "Ohh, Christ-you're the greatest, Rosie baby-slow now. I don't want to lose it-all right, get down on your back on the floor and take it, you hot-pussied sweet bitch!"
He yanked her head away from his glistening, savagely rampant penis, as with a little mewling cry, the half-naked young woman recoiled, then swiftly unfastened the panty girdle and yanked it down to her knees as she reached back of her with her palms to lower herself down along the gleaming hardwood floor. He was on her and into her before she could complete the maneuver, crushing her down with a gasp of ecstatic discomfort as she felt him thrust to the balls inside her juicy, quaking sheath.
Wrapping her legs and arms around him, her mouth crushing to his and her tongue furling between his lips, she writhed and bucked beneath him as both, caught up in the vortex of this exquisitely clandestine and forbidden passion, quickened their journey toward the abyss of shattering, dark rapture which was mutual climax. Mike, grinding his teeth to hold back that longed-for moment so as to increase the delicious torture of prolonged fucking, slackened his pace now inside Rose's quaking, clutching, hot moist cunt, then immobilized himself a moment.
Rose's face contorted and red with uninhibited lust now, impatiently tugged at his shoulders with her soft slim hands, then uttered a raucous groan of shocked delight: "Ohh, my God-what are you doing-OH, MIKE, OH, DARLING DEAREST OH FUCK ME THERE TOO, KEEP THEM BOTH IN ME AND HURRY, HURRY, MIKE, GIVE THEM TO ME GOOD!" as she felt his forefinger nudge the sinuous shadowy groove between her writhing buttocks, then pry apart the dainty furtive cleft of her tensing asshole, gouge deeply to the knuckle and then begin to waggle to and fro.
With a hoarse chuckle of satisfaction at her feverish response, he shoved his finger home all the way to feel the clamping, spasming contractions of her humid rectal walls, even more violently tensing than the moist walls of her seething cunt. Now, drawing his prick back to scrape against her throbbing, swelling clit, he thrust ruthlessly to the hilt inside her churning cuntal sheath.
Rose Aldrich burst into hysterical tears of overwhelmed ecstatic reaction, her flexing thighs, from which the charcoal-brown nylons had begun to sag without the taut support of the panty girdle, shifted and rubbed over Mike's sinewy bottom as she tilted up her hips and loins to him to absorb every possible frictional sensation from his rasping prick and finger.
"HARDER!" she wildly urged her panting lover, "MORE, OHHHH, I NEED IT. I'M SO CLOSE, MIKE LOVER.. . AHH . . . OHH GOD, IT'S HEAVEN, DARLING . . . DON'T STOP WITH YOUR FINGER EITHER, OH I'M GOING TO FAINT IT'S SO GOOD. OHH SWEETHEART, NOW, OH NOW CUM WITH ME, CUM MIKE, OH DEAR DARLING, MIKE, OH, OH MY GOD, MIKE, LOVER CUMMMM!! "
Elizabeth, had she been able to wait through this returning engagement between luscious Rose Aldrich and her domineering, virile first cousin, would have been amazed to hear how much noise two grownups could make when they were trying to keep their extramarital fucking a secret from the family.. . .
CHAPTER THREE
Still sniffling, slowly and painfully ascending the steps to the second-floor landing at the back of the house on her way to bed, Elizabeth Trent halted for a moment, leaned her damp forehead against the wall, and exhaled more sobs and tears, a hand over her mouth to suppress sounds that might disturb the sleeping household.
Suddenly she gave a startled cry, only to have a man's hand clapped back over her mouth: "Shhh! Do you want to wake everybody up, Elizabeth?"
"D-D-Daddy!" she gasped, and then her face turned as flaming a red as her luscious, thoroughly chastised bottom
'That's right. You've got some explaining to do, young lady. Come along to bed where you belong." Henry Trent, gripping her by the elbow, walked her swiftly to the door of her room, opened it, and closed it behind him. As he stood with his back to it, and as she buried her face in her hands and gave way to her shame and discomfort, he slyly turned the key in the lock and dropped it into the pocket of his bathrobe.
"Do you know what time it is, young lady? It's after one in the morning. Why weren't you asleep?"
"I-I couldn't, D-Daddy-and-and-I was sort of h-hungry-so I-so I went down to the fridge, and then-and then-" she couldn't finish, seized by a new access of tears as she flung herself down on her belly on her bed, both hands once again feverishly soothing her throbbing behind.
"I know. You got yourself a spanking, didn't you?"
Momentarily forgetting the fiery-hot throbbing of her inflamed bottom, Elizabeth rolled over onto her back, her palms pressed down on the cover of the bed, regarding her father with horrified, incredulous eyes. "How-how did you know, D-Daddy?" she tearfully faltered.
"Because I saw, that's what. I looked in on you to see if you were asleep as you should have been, and your room was empty, so I went downstairs and then I saw the lights coming through that crack in the door at the bottom of the pantry stairs, and I guessed where you'd gone. I hope you're satisfied."
"D-Daddy-did you-oh Lord-you couldn't have-oh my-oh no-you-" she stammered, a shocked look on her lovely flushing face.
"I saw the start of your spanking, that's right, Beth honey," he chuckled. "Well, what can you expect when you break in on two people who want to be left alone? I presume you know who they are-you certainly ought to have known who gave your hind end that good walloping. First one you ever had, isn't it, little Miss Snoop?"
"Ohh, D-Daddy!" Elizabeth wailed, rolling over on her side and again covering her crimson face with her trembling hands.
Henry Trent's face was flushed and his eyes glowed, much as his nephew's had while administering that resounding spanking. Unbelting his robe, he slipped it off and tossed it over a straight-backed chair beside the door, then moved slowly toward his precocious black-haired daughter. "Let's see how bad it is, honey," he huskily cajoled the still ruefully sniffling girl.
"Here, let me pull your robe off, that's my big girl."
"I-I don't know why C-Cousin M-Mike got so mad at me, D-Daddy," Elizabeth was on the verge of tears again as she rolled over onto her tummy to let him drag the bathrobe off.
"Weil, I told you, grownups don't like being interrupted when they're having fun, Beth baby. Now I tell you what, I'll go get a nice cold towel to put on that cute bottom of yours. So you just roll down your pants."
"D-Daddy!" She looked back over her shoulder at him, scandalized by this suggestion. "Oh no, I'm so ashamed he-he sp-spanked me on the buh-bare-I don't want to, honest I don't-please let me go to sleep now, I--I'll be all right."
"Now you listen to what your father tells you, honey. You know I've never spanked you but I will, right now unless you do what I say. Come on, be a good girl, just unfasten them and I'll pull them down for you, bow's that?" He bent to her, his face flushed with sensual excitement. He was remembering the vividly and swiftly reddening glow of those spacious satiny bottom-ovals squirming and wriggling under his nephew's swiftly falling hand.
"Oh please, no-no, please, not all the-not all the way off, Daddy!" she ferociously petitioned between sobs.
Henry Trent strode to the bathroom, turned on the cold-water tap and held a hand towel under it until it was soaked and cool. Then he returned, draping the towel over his shoulder as he reached out to take hold of the waistband of the yellow pajamas. "Arch yourself off the bed just a little, honey," he urged.
Elizabeth buried her crimson, tearstained face in the cover and clenched her fists, stiffening as she obeyed, trying to diminish that most prominent and, at the moment, certainly most uncomfortable portion of her delectable young anatomy. His nostrils and eyelids twitching with mounting sensuality, Henry Trent husked down the pajama pants till they reposed at Elizabeth's soft, velvety knee hollows. Then he whistled, partly to hide his own arousal. Her buttocks were swollen and a uniformly dark red, particularly at the ripest curves of the summits. Quickly, while she was gasping and squirming in mortified humiliation to be this way before her own father, he laid the towel over the flinching, huddling, angrily discolored ovals of her bare behind. "How's that, honey?"
"Ooooh! L-lofs b-better, D-Daddy-oh, that does feel good-oh gosh, it still burns and aches just awfully!"
By this time, despite the fact that he had vigorously if briefly serviced Elizabeth's buxom blonde mother, Henry Trent felt the savage goading of his prick threaten to burst through the fly of his own pajama pants. Surreptitiously, dipping a hand into the pocket of the tops, he produced a condom, then as swiftly and slyly opened the fly to liberate his massively turgid penis and fitted the glossy white sheath over the bulging, throbbing structure. Then, turning swiftly and reaching for the light switch, he plunged the room into darkness and came back to sit down on the edge of the bed, his hands groping for and finding her quivering shoulders which he stroked soothingly for a moment or two. That's right, honey, cry it out, you'll feel better pretty soon," he gently murmured, unable to suppress the lustful huskiness in his voice.
"It-it's getting some better now, Daddy-that cold towel is awful good-oh-what-what are you doing-oh no-I'm-I'm n-naked-oh Daddy!" Elizabeth suddenly squealed.
"Shh, honey, don't make so much noise, or you'll wake Mommy," he panted. His hands had slid under her to cup her superbly firm pear-shaped titties and to turn her over onto her back as his hands now grasped her elbows to prevent her defending the soft delicious pink jewel which he had seen peep out between her struggling thighs at the outset of her spanking in the recreation room.
"I-I know, but-but you shouldn't be with me like this when I'm n-naked, Daddy!" Elizabeth quavered in a tremulous whisper, as she forced her trembling little hands over her exposed cuntal lips.
"I'm going to show you what Cousin Mike and Cousin Rose were doing, so you'll know from now on, honey. You're old enough, and by God, you've already got a shape on you to be ready for it," he panted. "It won't hurt, I promise. Besides, you do want to know what they were doing that got them so mad when they found you watching them, don't you, baby?"
"I-I guess so only-eeeeeek! Ohh, D-Daddy, it-it tickles-oh you went and k-kissed me right on my spot! Oh that's naughty, Daddy!" she suddenly squealed.
Henry Trent exasperatedly ground his teeth as he clamped his left hand over his daughter's gaping mouth. "I told you to shut up, honey!" he urgently whispered. "Want to have everybody in the house find out what happened to you?"
In the darkness there, her bottom bearing down on the crushed, damp towel under her, her pajama pants twisted about her knees, both hands still frantically shielding the soft intimate niche of her virgin cuntal lips, Elizabeth was distractedly thinking to herself: Oh my Lordy, it's like Daddy's blaming me for finding Cousin
Mike and Cousin Rose doing that there on the floor -and I didn't do anything. I didn't put them there, how did I know they were down there doing things they shouldn't, anyway? Oh, I never felt anything like that before-D-Daddy just put his mouth on my sp-spot and-and gave it a big wet kiss and it tickles like anything and I feel so funny all over, and I oughtn't to be here like this on the bed with my jammie pants down and Daddy seeing all I've got-oh golly, what if Mommy ever finds out what Daddy's doing to me? And I feel him doing something else now, he's poking something at me, it's hard and big and thick, but it isn't bare skin because it's got something funny on and I don't know what it is-ohhh, he's trying to put it right into my little spot-oh Lordy, whatever is he going to do to me-he says it's what Cousin Mike and Cousin Rose are doing-oh my goodness-ohh, it hurts so-oh something busted-I felt it-now he's putting that big thing way into me, I can feel it all the way down to my bummy -ooooh!
Elizabeth couldn't cry out because her father's mouth had come down hard on hers, his hands gripping her wrists and forcing them out far on either side of her as he edged himself between her flexing naked olive-sheened thighs and pressed home the white-sheathed spear of his bulging prick. The soft pink cuntal lips grudgingly gave way to admit the harsh male intruder, and for a moment he felt himself held back by the elastic, thin membrane of her virgin seal. Then, with a stifled groan, urged on by the delicious concupiscence of this secret, incestuous pillaging in darkness, his mind reeling with the lewd and vivid images of his young daughter's naked reddening' bottom and her tearstained, contorted face during the spanking, he thrust implacably forward and, bursting through the thin hymeneal seal, imbedded himself to the very hilt.
The convulsive constrictions of her moist narrow cuntwalls made him shudder with frenzied rut. It was all he could do to keep himself back from bursting into the prophylactic, and he held himself immobile as he continued to silence her with his mouth and to grip her wrists with the steely vises of his sinewy fingers, while he waited for the agonizing moment to recede and thus regain his full self-control to enjoy to the very savory utmost the ecstasy of fucking his precocious black-haired daughter.
As he lay there panting, summoning back his self-mastery, Henry Trent grinned with lecherous anticipation. If he had written the script for this reunion, it couldn't have been any more successful, both immediately and long-range. If he hadn't been restless after fucking
Elizabeth's passive mother, if he'd gone to sleep, he would have missed everything, even more than he had even secretly dreamed of. Now his favorite nephew was going to have to make that pickup truck deal on his own terms, plus which there were some intriguing possibilities about letting Rose Aldrich know that her little extramarital escapade on that old mattress in the basement hadn't gone unnoticed.
As an extra dividend, there was even the possibility that, by just dropping a clever hint to gorgeous red-haired Ruthie, he could console her tenderly for Mike's flagrant infidelity. And then there was Rosie's husband Wilson, a crackerjack advertising copywriter even if he was a total loss in the sack. His own delivery firm needed a shot in the arm, and a good advertising campaign might just be the thing to increase business and pay for those trucks in short order. Yes, this was certainly going to be the most profitable Thanksgiving in a long, long time!
He glowed and radiated pleasure at having worked everything out so ingeniously in such short order, because even Machiavelli, who was rated the world's most famous opportunist, couldn't have planned a better, more conniving campaign to get everything he had ever wanted.
But right now, feeling the spasmodic, fluttering tensions of his young daughter's vaginal walls against his rooting prick, Henry Trent happily decided to forget everything else and concentrate on initiating Elizabeth in a way she would never forget.
Releasing one of her wrists, he swiftly unbuttoned her pajama tops, pulled the garment open on each side and then, releasing her mouth, hoarsely whispered, "Now be a darling and don't make a sound, sweetheart. It doesn't hurt so much now, does it, baby?"
"N-no, D-Daddy," Elizabeth confessed in a tiny, faltering whisper. She had turned her face to one side, and her eyelids were burning with new tears. She wasn't sure whether she was crying for shame or for Daddy's being so wicked to her, or the spanking or just what, but she knew somehow that everything was changed forever between them Maybe between her and everybody else in this house for this holiday, too, for all she knew. The twinges of her defloration had almost vanished now, and there was a curious, tingling feeling way down deep inside of her as she felt him move slightly and then cup one of her pearshaped titties and feed it to his avid, moist lips as he began to kiss and suck. "Oooh, D-Daddy-is that what Cousin Mike did to Cousin R-Rose?" she whimpered, her unshaken feminine curiosity coming to the fore even in this her moment of carnal transfiguration.
"Sure, every man likes to do that to a pretty girl's sweet boobies, baby. You've got a gorgeous pair, you really have. My God, if you were about five years older and I wasn't married, I'd take you off to Crown Point right now-that is, after I finish showing you exactly what they did," he hoarsely joked.
"Oh gosh-but-but they're not married to-each other, are they, Daddy?"
"Of course they're not," he chuckled, smiling to himself in the darkness as he felt his half-naked daughter stir and squirm under him. "Here now, sweetheart, let's get you more comfy. Let me slip the jammies off. You don't have to move, I'll do everything-there, that's my big darling girl." Raising himself just a little but without removing the throbbing spear of his prick from the tender, narrow, quaking confines of her cuntal sheath, Henry Trent tugged off the down-fucked pajama pants and let them drop to the floor; then, pushing himself back to the hilt and drawing a gasp from the startled but submissively surrendering teenager beneath him, used both hands to slip the pajama tops as he instructed her to raise her head a little and draw each arm out of the sleeves.
Now she was stark naked, his own flesh and blood, but in the darkness an unknown, passionate houri brought to his bedchamber for the first time to learn the will and the lust of her new master. His blood sang in his veins, he felt his prick swell and throb, once again ready to burst, and again he had to hold back and close his eyes quickly and dig his nails into his palms until the spasm receded.
"Now it's going to be nice, honey," he panted. "Put your arms and legs around me, hold your daddy and be sweet to him I'm going to do exactly what Cousin Mike did to Cousin Rose, exactly that, and so you'll know. Only you've got to promise me you won't tell anybody, not even Mommy, about either what you saw or what I'm showing you right now. Promise me, baby doll!"
"I-I pr-promise, D-Daddy-oh my, you-you feel so big and hard inside of me, it feels like you're splitting me wide open, Daddy-ooooh-please t-take it easy-ooh, I feel so-so funny and sq-squirmy down in my sp-spot-" she tremulously gasped.
"In your sweet pussy, you mean, Beth angel," he huskily interrupted, kissing her throat and then going back to each of her pouting, firmed nipple buds, rolling the tip of his tongue over each as his lips captured those dusky, stiffened erogenous buds.
Elizabeth moaned softly as she desperately clutched him with her satiny arms and lithe bare thighs, arching her pelvic basin up to him, giving him a sensation of total, dominant penetration. The quickened quivering of her cuntal walls against his agonized organ were almost too much of a torment to endure much longer, but he compelled himself to do so in order to add even more ecstatic pleasure to this glorious first-time fuck. He'd never laid a girl this young before, not even when he was back in high school. His first piece had been a gum-chewing hefty nineteen-year-old waitress in a hamburger joint near the high school, and he'd sweet-talked her into spreading for him after he got home from the prom around midnight and met her behind the billboard in a vacant lot on Lunt Street. And of course there had been many others since then, and even a few since he'd married Joyce-though of course Joyce didn't know a thing about that. And you couldn't blame a man for wanting a new brand of pussy after being married to a nice, submissive but rather bovine type for fifteen years who never even once volunteered to use her mouth or even her fingers to get him ready for fucking.
But this was indescribably thrilling, it was even better than the horniest book he'd ever read. The darkness, the fact that it was in Elizabeth's own room and on her own bed, the fact that he'd just watched her being soundly and painfully spanked on her naked gorgeous young ass by his own nephew and had seen Mike and Rose making out there on the mattress, cumulatively built up a roaring fire of lust in his virile loins.
"Kiss me, Beth baby, kiss me good and hard and hold on tight, I'm going to do it to you," he breathed in her ear, furling the tip of his tongue around the dainty, soft lobe, then into the whorled hole itself.
Elizabeth gasped, then giggled: "Ooooh, that tickles, Daddy-ooh, did he do that too to her, did her
"I wasn't there to baby. Maybe he did. But mostly, he was doing to her pussy what I'm doing to yours -do you feel me in you, sweetheart?"
"Oh gosh, y-yes...oh, it's so big-does it always get like that-ooooh-you're rubbing back and forth inside of me now, aren't you, D-Daddy-oh gosh-ooooh!" she moaned.
"Shhh, I told you to be quiet, sweetheart," he urgently whispered, again silencing her sudden squeal of excited sensation with an avid kiss, feeling her satiny warm arms spasmodically tighten their lovely link around his heaving shoulders, the primitively satisfying clutch of her warm nubile naked thighs against his hairy legs.
He had quickened his thrusting now, with short little jabs that moved back only an inch or two, then crammed home till their hairs rubbed together. Elizabeth had begun to gasp, her voice muffled in his mouth, but the whimpering exhalations of her breath and of her panting sighs and sobs roared like the crescendo of a mighty symphony inside his brain. His hands slipped from her breasts under her smooth deeply hollowed moist back, descended till his fingers could grip the lasciviously squirming edges of her naked hips. Almost sadistically, he tightened his fingers into the meaty, resilient ovals of her behind, and heard her stifled groaning cry, "Ohh, it still hurts so, please don't pinch my Dummy, Daddy, ohhhh!"
Now he began to draw himself back to the very brink of her cuntal lips, immobilizing himself an instant, gripping her buttocks to steer himself back into the tight humid quaking sheath of her young, never-before-furrowed vagina. Elizabeth's naked body arched and squirmed, one knee flinging up and swinging to the side, her bare heel rubbing against the rumpled cover. As he drew back, it seemed to him that he could feel all the soft membranous pink tissues of her cunt gripping his condom-shielded penis as if to retain it deep within her so that she might truly know all that there was to know on her first essay into womanhood.
Now his right forefinger moved up along the sinuous crease between her tensing, still inflamed bare buttocks, found the apex of her cuntal slit and brushed the dainty nodule of her clitoris. Elizabeth stiffened, her head turning feverishly from side to side, and he felt the dig of her fingernails into his straining shoulders as she moaned inarticulately.
He drew back till his prick almost slipped out of her moist, young, tight, churning chasm, then thrust back vehemently to the balls again, his forefinger pressing down the magic button of her young sexuality. Elizabeth lifted both legs high in the air, flailing her bare heels wildly about as her face turned restlessly, scrabbling at him with her nails, muttering a raucous, prolonged cry which frantically he broke off by clapping his left palm over her mouth as he drew back a final time, then lunged with all his strength.
He felt the dam of his reserve burst, felt himself explode, and at the same instant Elizabeth's lithe naked body was shaken by a series of trembling, triggering paroxysms. She lifted her contorted face, eyes staring and glazed, and then she fell back panting, sprawled, arms and legs hugely flung to each side, in the delirious near-swooning of her first womanly climax.
Henry Trent slowly raised himself on his elbows, and gently drew his deflated organ out of his daughter's copiously lubricated cuntal sheath. My God, he thought to himself, she's wetter than Joyce, and fifty times as hot!
"Come on, sweetheart, I'll take you to the John, and give you a nice sponge bath, and then you get into your jammies and go right to sleep. Remember, we've got a real secret now between us, and you mustn't ever let anybody else know about it. I'll do something real nice for you, you'll see. Maybe come Christmas you'll get that new eight-speed bike you've been wanting. How's that, Beth lover?"
"M-hmm, D-Daddy," she whispered so faintly that he could scarcely hear. The emotions and the physical ordeals she had sustained within so incredibly brief a span in her young life were swiftly taking their toll, and Elizabeth Trent had almost fallen quite asleep.. . .
CHAPTER FOUR
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.. . .
CHAPTER FIVE
Elizabeth couldn't get to sleep, no matter how hard she tried. Maybe she'd eaten too much plum pudding, or too much turkey, but whatever it was, sleep just wouldn't come. Tossing feverishly from side to side, trying every pose she knew in which to relax her supple young body, she at last rolled onto her back with an exasperated groan and stared up at the ceiling. There was silence in the old house, but her mind was feverishly active.
Oh gosh I feel so different and funny ever since Daddy did it to me last night I'm all itchy and squirmy between my legs, and I know it's naughty, but I just have to do something about it Mommy never told me very much about what fellows did to girls, not about what Daddy did to me last night, I know that much All she told me about was the curse and how I should take care of myself I'm supposed to have it in about a week, and maybe that's why I feel so funny right now. Of course, my spot is a lot different since Daddy put his great big thing into it and stretched it all out and broke something in there. But it doesn't hurt now at all It sort of makes me want to tickle it, though I know I oughtn't ta
Downstairs, in the bedroom next to Mike's father Ben, who was already fast asleep dreaming about the pretty, unattached females he might just be lucky enough to meet and fuck during his cruise next year, the stocky black-haired man who had almost directly been responsible for his pretty, precocious first cousin's bare-bottom tanning and very first fucking, eased himself out of bed and glanced down at his sleeping petite auburn-haired wife Ruth. She had just had her hair restyled in the fashionable French cap-like mode covering half the nape and almost all of the forehead, and it made her look very chic and sexy.
Ruthie wasn't exactly as much of a swinger as he would have liked her to be, but after all she was only twenty-two and still learning, and still very much in love with him She'd been so tired after all the dishes that she'd begged off more than one quickie. But even that quickie had been a long way from the dull routine sex he was pretty sure Rosie's four-eyed hubby Aldrich was giving that cute randy bitch any night in the week.
Ruth Trent had come out of the bathroom after having brushed her teeth and put on a sexy black nylon shortie nightie and her blue mules, watched him strip down to shorts and socks, and then, in an attitude of mock-prayer, had folded her hands together and with her cute little-girl voice, begged, "Oh lord and master, deliver me from a sex fiend tonight of all nights, after all those dishes!"
"I'm not that bad, Ruthie baby, and you know it," he had chuckled, coming over to her, cupping her luscious round titties and kissing her hard on the mouth, then slipping his hands around to squeeze the juicy, firm cheeks of her gorgeous ass. "You can spare just one for old times' sake, can't you, baby? After all, this is Thanksgiving, and I want to have something to be thankful for, really thankful! Come on, I'll do all the work, you just lie there and enjoy it!"
She had put her hand down to squeeze his already turgid prick through his straining shorts and giggled, "Well, I guess I'd better do something about this monster or it'll be poking at me all night long and I won't get any sleep at all. All right, come on to bed and have your cruel way with your helpless bride."
He stooped, pulled up the hem of her nightie in back and lofted it high on her back, then grabbed her velvety, tawny-skinned bottom-cheeks and pulled her up in the air as she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He slid his right forefinger surreptitiously towards the broadening, humid groove between her buttocks, lightly goosing her, and Ruth Trent squealed and kicked her mules off and wriggled her toes as she furled her tongue deep between his lips.
'Thought you said you were ready for sleep," he teased her as he carried her toward their double bed. "I've got a position I want you to take, and it's so relaxing you can even fall asleep that way."
"What in the world is that?" she giggled, blushing as her eyes met his.
"I'll show you. That's the girl, get right down on your hands and knees. Here, rest your head on this pillow, baby. Now spread your legs just a little-ah, that's perfect!"
Ruth Trent crouched, her black shortie nightie furled up to her armpits, her back shivering and squirming as she sensed his intention. Opening the fly of his shorts, stocky Mike crouched behind her, reaching out to cup the ripe, heavy but beautifully proportioned melons of her swelling titties as he planted a kiss along her deeply dimpled spine near the chink bone.
"Ouch, that tickles, and you need a shave," she pertly reminded him
"Haven't got time for it now, you might fall asleep on me before I finish," he jocularly retorted, nudging the tip of his prick against each satiny inner thigh to tease her. Ruth Trent moaned softly with acquiescent delight, wiggling her juttingly out-thrust naked buttocks to proffer the gaping pink entry of her cuntal lips to his already rampantly swollen prick.
"Ooooh, that tickles even better, darling," she announced in a low, husky, vibrant voice as she archly glanced round at him, her mouth soft and moist and her nostrils delicately flaring. He could feel her pert nipples stiffened to flints against the gentle rubbing of his fingertips against their sensitive points, and now he rubbed the tip of his aching prick very gently and lingeringly all around the labia majora while Ruth, now really aroused, whimpered and impatiently tried to arch and squirm her hips so that he would make adhesive contact with her tingling cunt.
He was thinking about his cute, sexy first-cousin Elizabeth right now, feeling sorry that he had spanked the hell out of her cute wriggly ass last night. But damn it, it had been a close call, and he'd almost thought for a minute that Ruthie might be walking in on them. From a few remarks Ruthie had made when he was courting her, he'd got the idea that she wouldn't take kindly to his fucking around once they were legally one. Maybe he ought to see Elizabeth and tell her that he was really sorry, while at the same time making sure she wasn't going to snitch on either of them. That's what he'd do as soon as he finished this quickie. But right now, his prick was telling him that there was work to be done and that Ruthie was as ready as she was ever going to be. All she needed was a little coaching and letting down her hair about a few of the usual hang-ups which most decent girls had, such as using her mouth and tongue where it would really do him the most good, especially if she wanted seconds and thirds some randy night. But cold winter was coming and there was plenty of time for that. Right now, he had to get into that tight sweet hot box of hers but good!
"Ohhhh, d-darling!" Ruth suddenly groaned as she felt him stab into her and burrow his prick to the balls, which slapped against the under edges of her quaking naked behind. Her face lifted, her eyes wide and humid with passionate intensity, and her titties began to swell voluminously as the tingling hot sensation she loved so well began to take over and drive away even her physical fatigue from the holiday of preparation and serving and socializing.
Mike Trent waited till he could feel the delicious rhythm with which her wakened and attuned cuntal walls began to twitch and clench against his imbedded prick, his right hand leaving her bosom to fondle her belly gently and introduce the tip of his forefinger against the well developed nodule of her sensitive clitoris.
"Aahhh-oh you devil you, you're just bound and determined to keep me from going to sleep tonight, aren't you, Mike Trent?" she squealed in mock indignation. But the convulsive squirming of her naked hips which made his prick rub this way and that against the crannies of her tight young cunt totally belied this verbal diffidence.
"You guessed it, Ruthie honey!" he hoarsely rejoined. "But you know damn well that a good hot cum is the best tonic for sleep they ever invented, and that's just what I'm going to prescribe for you right now, Ruthie!"
So saying, he had begun to pull in and out of her, taking care not to let his prickhead slip out of the moistening, quivering furrow of her excited young cunt. Scrabbling at the wrinkled sheets with her fingernails, turning her flushed cheeks from side to side on the pillow, Ruth Trent felt her knees give way, yawning and then clenching involuntarily as his prick-probing of her tender and aroused cuntal groove began to draw from the innermost reservoir of her sexual response. Now his finger was rubbing her throbbing clit back and forth, releasing it to let it bob up in turgified simulation of the glorious long hard hot maleness she could feel rasping back and forth inside of her. Whimpering and shivering, restlessly continuing to shift her face from one cheek to another on the pillow, her bare toes curling and twisting, her heels jerking, Ruth Trent began to shove back her naked bottom as she felt him thrust deep into her, drawing both of them all the more quickly toward the glorious goal of cum.
"Oh darling, that really is going to put Mama to sleep," Ruth Trent huskily crooned as she sprawled forward, shaken by the throes of a violent climax. "Was it nice for you, honey?"
"Terrific!" he told her. The fact was, it didn't quite have the intensity of last night with Rose Aldrich, but Mike wasn't about to tell his pert, vivacious wife a thing like that in so many words.. . .
After Ruthie had fallen asleep, he had put on his bathrobe over his shorts, and a pair of slippers, and made his way carefully and quietly up the stairs to Elizabeth's room. Remembering last night just after fucking his gorgeous wife Ruth had made Mike Trent have some guilty qualms about how he had punished his cute young first cousin, and besides he wanted to make positively sure that she wouldn't give away any of the details of what she'd seen down in the basement.
By this time, Elizabeth, still unable to sleep, had blushingly slipped down her pajama pants to her knees, and, stretching her long coltish legs out as far as she could, spread her thighs to yawn apart her dainty pink cuntal lips. Her right hand cupping one of her provocative firm pear-breasts, she slid her left hand down her tummy until her fingertips brushed the silky foliage of her bush, and then she gasped with naughty delight as she felt the twitching spasm that ran through her no longer virgin cleft where her fingertips first touched the soft quivering petals.
Closing her eyes very tightly in the darkness, she was able to summon up all the lascivious images that she had seen last night from her hiding place in the basement: how Cousin Mike had been on top of Cousin Rose, his hips jerking up and down, and how Rose's legs and arms had wound around him to pull him down to her. Her forefinger delved between her vulva lips and pressed homeward. She gasped a little to discover that there wasn't any barrier there as she had once found there was before Daddy had put his big hard thing into her last night. And the tingling, warm glow that pervaded her soft narrow young cunt at this frictioning and probing palpitation, onanistic though it was, made her begin to squirm her saucy bare buttocks to and fro against the sheets as she unknowingly imitated the rhythmic gymnastics of a genuine fucking.
Mike Trent stood outside her door a moment, uncertain as to whether to knock or not. Finally he decided against it, since secrecy was the main object in view, turned the knob and stealthily entered, closing the door behind him.
Sharpened as her senses were, Elizabeth heard his footsteps and, with a startled little cry, "Oh my-who is it?" yanked up her pants with one hand while she reached toward the little night lamp at the table beside her bed with the other. As luck would have it, the light went on before her pants came fully over the soft pink cunt and the glossy black bush which highlighted it so enticingly. Hence, although she recovered enough to reach down with the other hand and yank her pants back up to her waist, Mike Trent had for a thrilling moment the vision of her Lolita-like display of tasty young fresh cunt.
"Beth honey-what in the world-" he embarrassedly began.
Elizabeth's face was scarlet as she hastily yanked the covers over her, dragging them up to her neck and looking at him with big, scared eyes: "Oh my gosh, C-Cousin Mike, why did you come here? It's so awful late-my gosh, it must be after midnight or something."
"It is, honey. I-well, I wanted to tell you I was sorry I was so mean and cruel to you last night. But you know how it is, you scared us both-And I also wanted to ask you please, please, baby, don't ever tell anybody at all, not even your daddy, what you saw us doing. It would ruin us both, you know that, don't you?"
Elizabeth stared uncomprehendingly at him for a moment. Through her young, impressionable mind, a kind of self-argumentative dialogue was passing Well, I never! First he hauls me over his lap and pulls my jammies down and lets even Cousin Rosie see my heinie, and then he paddles me just about raw and says just awful things to me. And now he's sorry he did it and he wants to be friends again, and he doesn't want me to tell anybody what he and Cousin Rose were doing. Only he doesn't know that Daddy already knows about it. And he doesn't know, either, what Daddy did to me last night after I got my spanking. Oh gee, what am I gonna do? I don't think Daddy would want me to tell him what happened after I got the spanking. And of course I love my Cousin Mike and Cousin Rose, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt them. But Daddy must be up to something. I don't know what it is, but it's got me curious.
CHAPTER SIX
"I promise I won't tell, honest," Elizabeth stared innocently at him as she slipped her right hand under the covers and crossed her fingers to indicate that she was telling a fib. Because of course Daddy knew about Mike and Rose and he'd made her admit what she'd seen, so in a way she had told somebody if you got right down to it. But she wasn't going to tell anybody else, she was pretty sure of that.
"I wanted to hear that, honey. I'd like to make it up to you-I mean about the spanking. My gosh, you're a big girl, a grown young lady, and here I was paddling your cute little bottom as if you were a kid," he grinned at her.
This flattering speech reminded black-haired Elizabeth somewhat disconcertingly of the shameful picture she must have made across her sturdy mature cousin's lap last night and in front of Rose too, for she blushed most becomingly as she lowered her eyes. "I-I'm glad you aren't mad at me any more, Cousin Mike. I do like you lots, you know that. And maybe I guess I did deserve that spanking after all. I shouldn't of been up so late raiding the fridge and then I shouldn't have gone and peeked. I should have gone away once I found out who it was-I mean-" her voice suddenly trailed off.
His eyes narrowed. "So you're trying to tell me that you did see right off who it was and you just kept watching there hoping that you wouldn't be found out, is that it?"
"Oh no!" Elizabeth hastily tried to reassure him. "You've got it all wrong, I mean-"
"I really ought to paddle your hind end again for you, just to remind you how wrong it is to snoop on people," he scowled irritatedly. "I would, except you'd probably tell your daddy about that, and then he'd be after me for being mean to his little girl."
"I am not so little," Elizabeth indignantly defended herself, her cheeks flaming. "At least, Daddy didn't think so when he looked at my hind end after what you'd done to it, he said-oh my gosh!" She clamped both hands over her mouth and looked frantically crestfallen as she realized she had said more than she intended.
Mike's ears had pricked up. "You mean your daddy took a look at your bare butt, youngster?"
"Yes, he did, if you have to know something! And that's none of your business, either! But he said I was practically a grown woman, so there now too!" she defiantly retorted.
Mike felt his prick stirring and resurging, even though he had certainly given Ruth a vigorous fucking. Elizabeth's sauciness and her rebellious attempt at acting mature piqued him as well as excited him Also, he was remembering the olive sheen of her naked bottom and the way her legs had threshed about and how he had seen those soft pink cuntal lips of hers framed by the silky black curls of her bush while he was spanking that springy, velvety bare ass of hers. Maybe this would be the way to make up for good!
"I wasn't arguing with your daddy at all, honey," he sat down on the edge of the bed and took both her hands in his.
The way Elizabeth was staring up at Mike made him take a longer look at the way her legs seemed huddled together as she shrank back under the covers she had pulled up to her neck. Again his eyes narrowed. Before she could suspect what he had in mind, he reached out and yanked the covers down. Then he chuckled and wagged a teasing finger. "You couldn't quite pull your pants up tight, could you, youngster? What were you doing when I came in, playing pussy finger?"
"Ohhhhh! C-Cousin M-Mike, wh-what do you mean?" she quavered but the way her face was burning red, it was obvious that she understood his salacious term. Her girl friend Joanne had, in fact, often referred to her own already initiated cuntal sheath as her "pussy."
"Don't give me that innocent routine, Beth," he jeered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and suddenly yanking her pants all the way down to her calves. Elizabeth shrieked and clapped both hands over her tender and no longer virgin cunt, her mouth gaping with horrified surprise at his brazen action. "And I can see it's just a little wet, which means you were just about ready to cream, weren't you? Well, well, so my nearly fifteen-year-old first cousin can't wait until she's grown up to know all there is to know about sex. Now I really think I will spank you, and for cause. Your daddy would thrash the daylights out of you if He caught you doing what you've just been doing and you know it, Beth!"
"He wouldn't either!" Elizabeth flashed, bursting into tears. The thought of getting another spanking from her stocky first cousin after the sample she had already had last night, was unthinkable. "He-he did me, but don't you dare ever tell him I told you so!"
"He what?" Mike Trent couldn't believe his ears, and then Elizabeth gasped and turned scarlet to her ears at the realization of the guilty secret she had just revealed, covered her face with her hands, rolling over onto her side, and bursting into frantic sobs.
Why, the old goat, Mike Trent muttered to himself, with a lecherous grin. He's trying to get me to give him a losing deal on my pickup trucks, but now I don't think he's going to get away with it If I ever let on to Joyce what he did to little Miss Snoop Uncle Henry would really be in the doghouse for good Then, loud enough for his sobbing young first cousin to hear, he remarked, "I won't let on a word about it. But maybe you don't know what you're saying, honey. What did you mean, he did you?"
"No, I-I won't tell you anything more! You're mean, you hurt me last night, you know you did! Now you get out of here, please, Cousin Mike! You shouldn't look at me like this when I'm all bare-naked!" she tearfully exclaimed.
"Not quite. Let's give you something to squeal about, youngster," he said hoarsely as he reached down to yank off the pajama hants completely and toss them to the floor, then swiftly unbuttoned the tops and put his hands on the panting young olive-sheened pears of her shuddering, firm young titties.
"Ohhh -what are you doing-oh no-you mustn't-you-nimmfnT!" her voice was cut off as he clamped his left hand over her mouth, bending to her to whisper fiercely, "Don't yell, do you want to wake everybody up? Now I'm going to show you what doing a girl isn and then you can tell me if that's what my favorite Uncle Henry did to you. Understand me? Nod your head, or I'll really give you a paddling!"
Between sniffs and sobs, Elizabeth dolefully nodded her lovely head, the thick glossy braid of her lustrous jet-black hair bobbing over her cheek and shoulder as she stared piteously up at him.
"All right, that's better. Now don't worry, I'm not going to get you into trouble or hurt you. I just want to find out if you know what you just said, that's all," he panted. Pulling off his bathrobe, opening his shorts, he let the startled, blushing young girl see the renewed turgidity of his vigorous prick, swollen as violently as it had been last night when he had been fucking Rose Aldrich. Elizabeth's green eyes were huge and fascinated as they fixed incredulously on the angrily inflamed shaft with the pulsating head and the twitching lips that tilted toward her tender cuntal lips. Whimpering with fright, she pressed her palms even more tightly against them to protect herself from the fearful inroads of that formidable lust-weapon.
"Now be a darling and put your arms around me and give me a nice kiss. That's my girl," he muttered as he crawled atop her, kneeing apart her trembling, lithe young thighs. Before she could protest, his mouth had come down on hers, effectively silencing her, both his hands cupping and squeezing her panting titties. He shuddered as he felt the tip of his prick rub against her soft and suspiciously moist cuntal lips, while Elizabeth squealed and squirmed, trying frantically to prevent that calamitous penetration.
"Is that what he tried to do, honey?" he urged, devouring her tearstained, crimsoned face with greedy eyes.
Elizabeth nodded, then frantically turned her face to one side, closed her eyes and began to sob despairingly.
"What a bastard!" Mike Trent muttered under his breath. "He makes out to be such a righteous, upright citizen, faithfully married and the pillar of the community, but I'll bet a free pickup truck he's out for new pussy this weekend. I wouldn't put it past him to go after Ruthie, either!"
His hands stroked Elizabeth's swelling pear-titties and he kissed her neck and ears and forehead till her emotional crisis somewhat subsided. Then, gently, he murmured, "Now I told you I'm not going to hurt you, baby. But you have to admit you're a terrific temptation to a guy, with your pajamas down and playing with yourself and then telling me you know what it's like with a guy. Let's just see how much you really do know."
"Oh don't-oh I don't want you to-oh it's wicked, it's nasty "and you know it is -oh C-Cousin M-Mike aahhh oh no puh-please-" she moaned.
But the first frictional contact of Mike Trent's prick inside the lobby way of his young first cousin's tender pink cuntal sheath was enough to overcome any scruples he might otherwise have had. After all, he told himself, hadn't the bitch watched what he and Rose were doing in the basement? Well, if she'd watched that long, she must have learned something. And then she had the brazen gall to tell him that Uncle Henry had screwed her-he wasn't quite ready to believe that all the way, but, come to think of it, Uncle Henry had always impressed him as being a secret swinger. Maybe it was true, after all.
Settling himself, slipping his hands under the girl's saucy velvety bare buttocks, he adjusted himself and shoved warily forward. The his eyes widened, to find no barrier to hold back the thrust of his turgid prick. By God, the little bitch had really lost her cherry, after all!
His fingers dug into the elastic, warm globes of her naked behind, and his mouth pressed avidly over hers, partly to silence any outcry that might reveal his presence in the room of a fourteen-year-old nymph. But at this point, Mike Trent could think of only one thing: the incredibly exciting sensation of her tight young cuntal sheath clamping against his delving prick, squeezing and threatening to drain him of what juice he had left after his bout with Ruth.
Elizabeth stared up at him with hugely widened, humid, disbelieving eyes. Oh, Lordie, he's doing just what Daddy did, he's putting his thing right into my little spot, just the way he did to Cousin Rose! I don't understand how all this works out; I mean, first I get paddled because I watched him do it to Cousin Rose, and then Daddy does it to me, and now Cousin Mike just about promised me another spanking if I didn't let him do this to me again! Whatever makes grownups tick, anyhow, I'd sure like to know!
"Oh you sweet little devil, I never felt a tighter, hotter little pussy," he breathed, then put his lips to one of her pert nipples and began to lick and suck at it, drawing himself slowly back. Elizabeth moaned and squirmed, instinctively locking her arms around him, and now her long olive-sheened bare legs fitted over his thighs as she unknowingly adopted the classical pose of the female ardently readied for a fucking.
He held himself back all he could, but after three or four plunges in and out of that tight, warm humid groove of hers, Mike Trent realized that there were imminent dangers if he continued this thrilling exploration of his first under-age piece. Reluctantly, therefore, he pulled out, and Elizabeth uttered a startled and somewhat disappointed "Ohh--ooooohh!" and then faintly stammered, "What-what are you going to do to me now, C-Cousin M-Mike?"
"I ought to tan your cute hide, you little sex-pot you," he growled. "Now, was that what your daddy did to you after I spanked you last night?"
"Mmmmmhmm!" she suddenly giggled, looking archly at him. "Now you promised you wouldn't tell."
"I don't intend to. You know, he could go to jail for that if I ever did. Hey now-" his eyes widened as he suddenly thought of something. Now he had a real hold of his horny Uncle
Henry, if the latter really tried to throw his weight around and get a pickup deal that would put him in the red.
"What-what's the matter?" she anxiously stammered, worried by his silence.
"Just that I don't want to get you into trouble," he glibly told her. "I hope Uncle Henry didn't, either. Don't worry, I'm just talking to myself. Right now, baby, I'm going to send you off on a trip to the planets, SOc if I don't!"
With this, bending his head and grasping the backs of her lithe bare thighs, he lofted them to bring her soft moist pink cunt toward his mouth and began to apply stingingly little kisses all over the twitching lips. Elizabeth squealed, covering her scarlet face with her hands, rolling her head from side to side, her pear-breasts rising and falling erratically and the exquisite pert buds darkening and stiffening as a sign of her attunement. "Ooooh-it t-tickles-oh Cousin Mike-oh my goodness-oh whatever are you doing to me there, oh you're making my spot just tickle till it drives me crazy-ohh-aahhh-oh it's doing something to me-oh-d-darling C-Cousin Mike-oooohhhhh!! "
Her bottom bucked and twisted in the air as spasm after spasm rippled through her delectable naked body. Elizabeth Trent had just experienced her first orally induced cum, as she lay trembling and shivering, nearly swooning with the exquisite turmoil raging inside her quaking young cunt.
"See what I mean, Baby?" he hoarsely panted. "That way, you won't get into trouble, and I'm sure it feels nice for you. Now if you're a good girl, you can do something for me-and boy, do I ever need it!"
"Oh anything, anything you want at all, Cousin Mike, please, I want to-are we-are we friends again, are you still mad at me for last night?" she tremulously quavered.
"Forget that, you cute little idiot! All right now, here's what I want you to do." He crawled between her sprawled legs, lifted one of her soft quivering hands with both of his, and guided it towards his rampantly swollen prick. "Just stroke it, and give it a little squeeze now and then, baby. It'll send me on the same trip I just gave you, I mean it."
"Oh gosh-you want me-you want me to feel your t-thing?" she gasped, coloring hotly again.
"It's my cock, my prick, you innocent little teaser, you! Go ahead and do it-or would you rather have a spanking?"
"Oh my gracious, no, not ever again! I've had all I want for the rest of my life!" she hastily retorted, then giggled and blushed again as she gingerly began to touch and squeeze his throbbing shaft from tip to balls.
Mike Trent found it even more devastatingly arousing than he had expected. Suddenly he couldn't hold back any longer, and clapping one hand over the glans to catch the bursting flow, and the other over his mouth to suppress a bellow of ecstasy which threatened to waken everybody in the house, he rolled onto his side and writhed until the spasm had passed.
A little later, wanly, he eased himself down from the bed, bent down and kissed his young first cousin's moist twitching cunt. "Now you go to sleep. Do me a favor, put your pajamas back on and fasten them up good. And lock the door when I'm gone, too. That's an order. See you at breakfast tomorrow, imp. Now we've got a secret, don't forget it. You don't tell on me, I won't tell on you."
"It's a bargain, darling Cousin Mike!" Elizabeth Trent giggled as she reached for her pajamas and watched him leave her bedroom, exhaling a sigh which could almost have been one of profound regret over what hadn't happened as well as for the brevity of what had.. . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Elizabeth honey, why so serious? Isn't my baby having a good time at Grandpa's house?" buxom Joyce Trent glanced up from her movie magazine to regard her precocious black-haired daughter, who sat primly in a chair, her long logs crossed, pursing her lips and frowning.
"Oh-nothing, Mom I-I was just thinking, that's all."
"It's too bad there aren't any other children for you to play with, dear. But then, well be back home late Sunday night. I know your father's anxious to get back to work, all he thinks about is expanding that commercial delivery firm of his."
"I s'pose so, Mom. But gee, if he makes lots more money, then maybe I can have a new bike for Christmas and lots of other things too, hm?"
"Well see, darling. You mustn't be too greedy at your age. Wait until you're older and some nice rich man wants to buy you lots of presents. I do declare, though, you're looking a little peaked. It isn't that time yet, is it, darling?"
"Oh gosh no, Mom," Elizabeth prettily colored. "Not till some time next week. That's not it at all. I was going to ask you, Mom, why is everybody treating poor Mr. Aldrich so mean?"
Joyce's blue eyes widened as she reached up to pat her blonde upsweep, thereby arching out sumptuous but still deliciously firm, closely spaced round titties against her attractive magenta woolen dress. "Why, whatever do you mean, honey?"
"Well, right after lunch, I heard Daddy telling Cousin Mike that he didn't know how Rose could stand a droop-that's what he called poor Mr. Aldrich-in bed."
"Elizabeth Trent!" Joyce .Trent was maternally shocked and she blushed too. "You aren't to eavesdrop and you certainly aren't to repeat what men say among themselves. The very idea! Now, Mr. Aldrich is a very nice man. He's just more serious and interested in his work than lots of other young men his age, that's all. He's trying to make a good home for Rose, and I think she's very lucky. Why, when I think of how some men chase around all the time and spend lots of money on other women-but you're too young to know about things like that, baby."
"I'm not a baby, Mom, and you know it. Anyway, I think Mr. Aldrich sort of goes for you."
This unexpected sally made Joyce Trent gasp and turn even redder than before as she stared with growing curiosity at her precocious daughter. "What in the world ever gave you the idea, Elizabeth?" she gasped.
Elizabeth Trent giggled, then put her hand to her mouth and wiped off the smile, for her mother's face had suddenly grown imperiously stern. "Oh, I just happened to hear Uncle Ben tell Mr. Lorimer-or should I ought to call him Uncle Jack, 'cause he's married to my Aunt Susan? Anyhow, he said to Mr. Lorimer that Mr. Aldrich was writing some advertising about grownup women down through history who didn't have to be young to be smart and beautiful, and that he had heard Mr. Aldrich say that in his opinion, you, Mom, were typical."
"Oh I declare!" Now it was Joyce's turn to giggle, and again pat her hair to make sure that it was neatly in place. "How very flattering, I must find out if he really meant it, though."
"I think Mr. Aldrich went down to the recreation room to play some billiards. I think he's playing by himself, Mom I watched him go down there, and there wasn't anybody else in the room And Cousin Rose is in the living room talking to Cousin Mike."
"You seem to be a regular news bureau today, young lady. Well, I'll just go down and have a word with that nice Mr. Aldrich. Why don't you take a nap, precious? It'll be a couple of hours before dinner, and I must say, I'm afraid I'll have put on ten pounds before this weekend's over."
"I'll just stretch out here on the bed and rest a little. You know, Mom," she added as she clambered onto her mother's bed, pillowing her head on her arms and exhaling a deep sigh of comfort, "you're awfully pretty. I'll bet you could have gotten just any other man besides Daddy if you'd set your mind to it."
"What's got into you all of a sudden, Elizabeth Trent?" Joyce suspiciously demanded. But there was a guileless look on her daughter's face which told her nothing at all. Shrugging, she finally remarked, "Now try to catch forty winks, honey. I'll call you when it's time for supper."
Joyce Trent felt as flustered as a schoolgirl as she carefully made her way down the narrow steps leading to the basement. What perplexed her most was how, seemingly overnight, Elizabeth had managed to learn so much about what was going on inside the family in only two short days, when she'd hardly seen most of them more than three or four times a year previously. Well, maybe her little girl was growing up. But right now she felt a curious kind of excitement rising in her usually placid nature at the thought that a younger man had paid her such a flattering tribute. Henry had just about begun to take her for granted these days. Oh yes, they still enjoyed bed together, but it didn't have the zip and zing of their first years together. Maybe that was to be expected as one got older, she didn't know. But she was still a long way from forty, and it certainly made her feel younger to receive attentions from somebody else, and maybe it might just focus Henry's mind on what he had at home.
She felt an inexplicable shiver of anticipation, nevertheless, as she opened the basement door and stepped inside the recreation room. Wilson Aldrich was leaning over the billiard table, measuring a difficult shot of the four and ten balls caroming off to the side pockets. He wore a blue polo shirt and matching slacks, and he looked even younger than his twenty-nine years with that crew cut.
"Oh-Mrs. Trent-I didn't hear you come in," he suddenly exclaimed as he straightened, putting down his cue on the table.
Joyce Trent's cheeks flushed hotly as she observed a flicker of more than nominal interest in his mild blue eyes behind the glasses. "I-I just came down to see if maybe Rose was here. I was going to have a chat with her," she lamely explained.
"No, I guess maybe she's taking a nap. They've really stuffed us here this Thanksgiving weekend, haven't they? I have to watch I don't put on too much weight." He patted his stomach and chuckled self-consciously, the flushed as he saw her eyes on him.
'That's silly," she giggled. "You could stand a lot more weight, Wilson. Why, you look just like a boy. I only wish I had that nice streamlined figure."
"Now you're the one who's being silly, Mrs. Trent. I mean-now color flamed in his cheeks as well and he lowered his eyes almost apologetically. "I mean, you're really beautiful."
"What a sweet thing to say to me! Thank you, Wilson dear! I-I was told you were doing some sort of advertising series on famous women of history," she coquettishly ventured.
'That's right," he said excitedly. "You see, I'm handling a jewelry account, somebody as well known as Tiffany in New York. And I thought up the idea of taking some of the most famous historical women and imagining what it would be like if they lived today and what kind of jewelry they would wear. The artist is drawing sketches and of course showing the special pieces this firm wants to sell. They're very expensive."
"I see. That's a perfectly marvelous idea, Wilson. But the I've always said you were very smart and clever. Rose is lucky to be married to a man like you."
Wilson Aldrich uttered a sigh. "I wish she thought so, Mrs. Trent."
"Oh do please call me Joyce. We're all from the same family, you know. Why do you say a thing like that?"
"I-I guess I'm old-fashioned in lots of ways, and sometimes she's impatient with me. You see," here he glanced around nervously, as if afraid someone else would overhear, "I was brought up by a governess till I was eighteen because my parents were traveling all the time in their linen import business. And I guess I sort of-well, as a kid that happens lots of times, you know, I fell in love with her. She was in her early forties, and she looked a lot like you-I know that sounds like not very much of a compliment, but it's true."
"Why, Wilson!" Joyce Trent breathed, regarding him as if for the first time. "That's about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, even Henry"
"I-I was sort of scared of girls when I was going to school, and then anyway, I was crazy about Miss Thornton. And after she left and I went to college, I wrote for the school paper and all the girls thought I was a creep. Then I went into advertising and I did fine, and then I met Rose last year and I couldn't believe a gorgeous girl like her could care for me. Only the trouble is -well, I shouldn't be bothering you with things like this."
"But I want you to, Wilson dear." She took a step towards him, her blue eyes luminous, her ripe titties rising and falling more quickly now. "I know how to keep a secret, Wilson dear. What's wrong between you and Rose?"
He blushed like a girl and shifted uneasily from foot to foot, picked up the cue, put it down again. "It's sort of embarrassing," he shamefacedly mumbled.
"You mustn't feel that way. It's so important that young people get off to a good start in bed -that's what you really mean, isn't it, Wilson?" She was standing in front of him now, and she felt a twitching of her cuntal lips and a warm tingling along the insides of her plump, pink-sheened thighs that was more exciting than it had been the last year or two whenever Henry moved toward her with fucking in mind. "Isn't it, Wilson dear?"
He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"Maybe," she went on softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "it's because you're so shy and you try to pretend you really don't have anything to give a girl, but you've got an awful lot, Wilson. You're clever and you've got a wonderful education and a mind that can make up all sorts of wonderful advertisements that make money for everybody, and you don't have to be a football player or a movie star or anything to get a girl who really will appreciate you."
"It-it's not exactly that-oh gosh, Joyce, I shouldn't be saying a thing at all, it's like-well, telling bedroom secrets-" he bashfully stammered, lowering his eyes.
"But those are the best kind, Wilson darling," she giggled, standing very close to him. The tingling of her thighs and the twitching of her cuntal lips was stronger now, and she had to lean on the edge of the billiard table to keep from swaying as a sudden incredibly lustful impulse seethed inside of her. Tell me. I won't ever tell anybody else, I promise, Wilson darling."
"You-you'll think it's silly-you'll laugh at me-" he hesitated.
"No I won't, darling. Go on, it'll be good for you. It would be a shame if anything happened to spoil your marriage to Rose, because maybe she doesn't appreciate what you really are. But I do. Now tell me!"
"All-all right then," he seemed to exhale a kind of desperate urgency as he blurted out: "I-I guess I read too many books when I was a kid because I was so alone, and-well, you know-I didn't have a girl or anything. There was only one before I met Rose, and she was-well, you know, a call girl. And she let me spank her before I could have sex with her. I told you it sounded crazy."
"No, I think I can understand it. You felt put down by the girls in school who wouldn't even consider you, and you wanted to show them up and take it out on them and show them you were their master, wasn't that it?"
He stared at her incredulously, his mouth open, as hot waves of color stained his pale cheeks, and his eyes were huge with disbelief. "My gosh, how could you guess that? But-but you know it's true, everything you said. Even Miss Thornton, she always treated me as if I were a little kid, even though I'm sure she knew I was crazy about her. And she was Junoesque like you, yes, and she had blonde hair just like yours, too. I used to have dreams at night where I'd tie her up and spank her till she cried and said she'd let me make love to her. Only you see, when you're married, you just don't do things like that to a nice decent girl like Rose."
"Oh you poor darling! You poor misguided unhappy darling," Joyce giggled, though by now her face was as red as Wilson's. "That's putting a girl on a pedestal, as if she were a statue that can't be touched. Don't you know that lots of women deep down inside are just dying to be dragged to bed by their hair and made to give all they've got? It's going back to the old caveman days, Wilson. I'll bet if you did that to Rosie just once, she'd keep you in bed all day long just taking care of her. You take my word for it."
"Oh my gosh-I wouldn't dare!"
Joyce Trent glanced furtively around at the door of the recreation room, and swiftly moved toward it and blocked it. Coming back to the startled bespectacled towheaded young man, she brazenly whispered, "Why don't you try it just once and see? Why don't you pretend I'm your
Miss Thornton and take it out on me, see how I'll react, darling."
"You-you're joking-"
"No I'm not." She giggled, and then, seeing him still stupefied by her incredible proposal, affected a contemptuous sneer. "Oh, I see. Maybe that's why Rose won't go to bed with you. Maybe, for all you know, she's looking for somebody else to give her what she needs because you can't give it to her, because you aren't really a man."
His face tightened, his lips compressed and thin, his eyes narrowed and angry behind the glasses. Then, to her secret delight, he had seized her by her wrist and was dragging her over toward the couch, pulling her down across his lap, yanking up her jersey skirt and then her slip, exposing her opulent firm bottom in its clinging black satin-elastic panty girdle, his eyes feasting on the palpitating pink skin of her bare thighs above the beige nylon stocking tops.
"So you don't think I'm a man, Joyce, do you? Well, we'll just sec about that!" he panted.
Joyce Trent pretended indignation, twisting herself about on his lap, thrusting her' hands back over her panty girdle to protect her ripe posterior. "Now wait a minute, Wilson, I was just teasing-stop that-don't you dare -I'll scream, I warn you, I'll scream-oh don't
-please don't take it down-oh leave it on, I didn't mean it-please stop-oh no!"
Panting with lust and exasperation, the towheaded young man pinned both her wrists with his left hand, and was fumbling with the fasteners of the black sheath, opening it and then, momentarily releasing her wrists, using both hands to give the panty girdle a vigorous tug which pulled it down to the base of her plump huddling bottom-cheeks.
"Oohhhhhh, oh don't, please, this is awful!" she gasped, but inwardly her pulse was pounding and her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and there was a churning, warm, moistening sensation between her legs, so exquisitely tormenting that she thought she would faint. Once again, he had gripped both her wrists in his left hand, finished yanking down the panty girdle to her knees, and then, passing his right palm over her cringing bottom, lifted it up and brought it down with a sonorous Smack!
"Ouch! Stop it, Wilson! That's enough now!" she gasped.
"Oh no it isn't, Miss Thornton, you've got a lot coming for all the nasty things you've said to me all these years!" Wilson Aldrich was reliving his boyhood with his haughty, tantalizing, mature governess now. His right hand rose and fell, and
Joyce Trent gasped and squirmed at the vehemence and the smarting sting of those energetic spanks. Her bottom, still wonderfully firm and resilient, was extremely sensitive, as the vivid discoloration of her smooth pink skin at once attested. A dozen more such harsh smacks, and she had begun to kick her nylon-sheathed legs and to look back frantically. "Oww, that hurts, damn it! Stop it, I told you, Wilson! This has gone far enough, I said! I'll be very angry at you-oww! Please, not so hard -oh this is awful!"
Ignoring her remonstrations, Wilson Aldrich continued to bring his right hand up and down with increasing energy and enthusiasm, alternating on her quaking upturned round bottom-globes, flattening them with crisp sonorous smacks which made her kick even more frantically and tug wildly at her wrists to get free.
"No you don't, you're gonna take all that's coming to you, Miss Thornton!" he panted, his face crimson and his eyes glittering behind the glasses. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this to you-when you caught me playing with myself, you said I didn't have the courage to be manly, that I was just a sneaky little nasty boy. Well, you'll take that back. There, how do you like that, Miss Thornton, and that one too? Did your big bottom feel that, did it?" As he spoke, still living in his furious fantasy, his hand continued to rise and fall relentlessly all over Joyce Trent's now furiously flaming naked ass, and by this time, the pain was overwhelming. But with it, there came to her the almost paralyzing, sweet, languorous thrill of feeling her cuntal lips twitch and moisten from the secretive lubricating fluids of her womanhood, and the nipples of her panting breasts stiffened and darkened in tumescence.
As he showed no sign of relenting but continued to flatten her inflamed, burning buttocks with energetic smacks, Joyce frantically squirmed and kicked, displaying the fleshy pink cuntal lips framed between the thick, dark-golden curls of her fleece, sobbing distractedly, "Ow -boohoo -oh, please stop, Wilson darling-that's enough now-oh I can't stand it any more, I'll be good, I didn't mean to make you angry, I didn't mean to insult you-ouch -aahhh-oh please-please, I'll be good, I'll do anything you want, honest I will if you'll only stop!"
His hand halted above the flaming contours of her shuddering, uncontrollably contracting bottom-cheeks. "Do you mean it, Miss Thorton? Are you going to do exactly what I tell you to or do I have to spank your big ass raw?"
Joyce gasped, deliciously shocked by his sudden transformation from the arid intellectual into a man of primitive action. "I-I promise, honest I do! Oh please don't spank me any more, Wilson darling, I'll do whatever you say, if you'll only stop!" she blubbered.
"All right then," his face had taken on a new decisiveness and authority. "Get down on your knees and kiss my hand and tell me you're sorry for having insulted and downgraded me all these years!"
Joyce Trent squirmed awkwardly off his lap, sank down on her knees, her panty girdle twisted about her lower calves, her face crimson and tearstained, her magnificent big titties heaving against the bodice of the jersey dress. Her tear-blurred eyes perceived all the same that at the crotch of his slacks a ferocious bulging object protruded, threatening to tear through the material. She stared at it, transfixed, and the moist burning agitation in her cuntal sheath made her sway on her knees, as her lips violently trembled and tears ran down her flushed cheeks.
"You know what you have to do!" he snapped. "You scolded me because I was playing with myself, the way you called it. Well now, Miss Thornton, you can just take it out of my pants and suck it and play with it yourself for a change! Do it right now, or I'll give you another thrashing and this time I'll use my belt on your big ass!"
"Oh I will, Wilson darling, I just couldn't take any more spanking now!" Joyce Trent sobbingly confessed. Her hand reached out and yanked down the zipper, fumbled in his shorts and drew out his throbbing, superbly long and heavy prick. The head emerged like a kind of giant mushroom, bulbous, set off by a deep narrow circumcision groove, and the lips of the meatus were puckering with the vibrant essence held back in his gnarled, well-loaded balls.
'That's it, now start sucking!" His voice was hoarse and adamant. He reached out with both hands to twist his fingers in her blonde upsweep. Joyce Trent, who in all the years of her married life had never once dared perform such an intimate act with satyr-like Henry, now found herself panting and almost expectantly leaning forward to open her lips and to close them over the hot hard velvety glans and to suck it noisily.
"Aahhh! That's better! Keep it up, and maybe I won't spank you again, and maybe I will anyway, Miss Thornton!" he hoarsely declared, tugging at her hair till she squealed and increased the fervor of her sucking.
"Aahh-oh that's good-you never thought you'd do this for me, did you, dear Miss Thornton?" His head tilted back, his eyes glazed, his nostrils flaring as he arched himself to Joyce's mouth, shoving his hard big prick almost against her palate. She choked and gasped and gurgled, her cheeks bulging and her eyes huge with surprise at his savage maleness, as she strove to cope with this new challenge. Her tongue furled around the head and the groove of the glans, until suddenly Wilson Aldrich pulled his glistening, throbbing prick out of her mouth and panted, "That's enough now-now you can just get ready to take care of it and you won't be calling me sneaky and unnatural any more, Miss Thornton! Get up here on the couch and get yourself ready to be fucked!"
She stumbled to her feet, hauling up dress and slip, exposing herself from belly to the tops of her sagging beige nylons, her cuntal lips juicy and tingling now with longing. The smarting burning of her bottom prickled and tickled in the most exquisitely agonizing way, intensifying her now furious longing. She had never been so sexually excited in all her life, she thought, as she sprawled herself down at the other end of the couch, spreading her thighs and staring at him with mute longing.
In a flash he was on her, kneeling between her thighs, adjusting his prick with one hand to fit into her moist socket, then thrusting violently and falling atop her, crushing down her panting titties as his hand dug under her writhing naked bottom-cheeks and gripped the inflamed flesh possessively. She cried out at the pain and shock of his brutality, and she nearly fainted with ecstasy from it as she felt him impale her to his very balls.
"Oh yes, Wilson, oh my God, fuck me, luck me hard, punish me, make me pay for how nasty I was to you all these years," she whimpered, locking her arms around him and gluing her mouth to his.
The blonde matron, playing the role of Wilson's denigrating governess, suddenly was discovering the wild masochistic thrill of serving as a helpless naked passion-proxy, and her cuntal juices had begun to flow copiously as she squirmed under his now completely masterful priapic assault. She didn't recognize him with that apologetic look wiped off and his face taut and almost cruel and his eyes glittering. And she moaned as she felt his surprisingly sinewy fingers, which she thought good only for holding a pencil to draft advertising copy, gouge into the smarting flesh of her angrily reddened, burning buttocks. Indeed, Joyce felt exactly like a slave girl just chastised for not having pleased her master with her first fucking in his bed, and was now wildly eager to prove to him that she didn't need any more such encouragement.
"I will, Miss Thornton, I'll fuck you till you cum, so don't try holding back or I'll give you an even harder spanking," he hoarsely pledged as he began to speed up the cadence of his deep skewering prick thrusts in and out of Joyce's wet slushing, quaking, wildly excited cunt.
Towheaded Wilson Aldrich, the "Four-eyes" whom the men of the Trent family had pityingly put down as an egghead, had become an unleashed tiger now. Grimacing and panting, mumbling obscene epithets which Joyce could scarcely hear in her delirium, he thrust in and out of her still tight, moist sheath as if he had been on a desert island for twenty years without ever having seen a female. His sinewy fingers pinched and dug and prodded her inflamed bare ass, making her squirm and writhe and arch and jerk and weave frantically. She was nearly fainting with the shattering, compelling fury that he had wreaked inside her quaking vagina. And when she felt his forefinger nudge her twitching bottom hole, her body heaved and threshed in the frenzied throes of hot and violent cum.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After lunch on Saturday afternoon, Henry Trent sought out his stocky nephew Mike, while auburn-haired Ruth, lush brown-haired Rose, Susan Lorimer, and Joyce Trent busied themselves in the kitchen washing dishes and gossiping as women ever will. The grandparents had gone to take their customary afternoon nap, and Ben Trent was up in his room writing letters to old friends, advising them of his forthcoming world cruise. As for saucy black-haired
Elizabeth, who had unwittingly found herself to be the catalytic agent of this entire holiday weekend, she was industriously writing a theme for her English Composition class for the following Monday. And her subject was an unusually mature one: How Young People Adjust to Grownups. It would be safe to say, however, that she did not cite any of the startlingly physical experiences which had had a great influence on her own rapid mental adjustment to the adults she had encountered during this family reunion . . .
"Look, nephew, well be breaking up tomorrow night, and I just wondered if you've made up your mind on that truck deal I'm after," Henry Trent favored his nephew with an engaging smile.
"I told you, Uncle Henry, I make a lousy fifteen percent on every truck, and the best I can do for family is split that down the middle. So figure seven and a half percent off the list, and you can have all you want. Of course, I'll have to put in a special order and you'll have to pick out the model you want and the options and all that stuff."
"You're sure that's the best you can do?"
"I'm sure. It hasn't been a great year for dealers, as you ought to know if you've been reading the papers, Uncle Henry. And I can't very well give the stuff away. I've got my high rent and operating expenses and advertising and all that stuff to contend with. You know how it is, you're in a business like that yourself where you gotta watch your costs."
"Oh come on," Henry Trent put an arm around Mike's broad shoulders. "Why don't you let me have them at cost? You owe me that much anyway."
"How the hell do you figure that?" Mike bristled.
"I don't want to have to say this, but you're making me. All right then, if you're going to be stubborn about it. I wonder what Ruthie would say if she found out you were banging sexy Rosie down in the basement the night before Thanksgiving?"
Mike's eyes narrowed, and a crooked grin curved his lips. "I wonder too. But I don't think you'll tell her, Uncle Henry."
"No? And why not?"
"Because, my favorite uncle," Mike sarcastically drawled as he put his arm around Henry Trent in turn, "then I'll have to tell Joyce you were banging sweet little Beth after I fan-tailed her cute heinie. And that's an offense on the statute books, Uncle Henry, while adultery isn't exactly. So I think that you and I are at what is known as the proverbial standoff. It's seven and a half percent or it's nothing."
"Jesus!" Henry Trent profanely growled, turning very red in the face. "You're a hard man to do business with, nephew."
"I tell you what I will do," Mike slyly proposed. "I'll knock it down to ten percent off list for one night with Joyce. She's got a can and tits on her I've wanted to try out ever since I was a kid. And she's got better with the years, Henry. It must be like sleeping on foam rubber, you lucky dog you."
"Now you see here!" Henry Trent blustered, shaking his forefinger at his grinning nephew, "that's blackmail!"
"You're the one that called it that, not me, Uncle Henry. So here's what it boils down to. I won't ever talk about Beth again, and of course you'll forget all about Rose. And tonight, just let Joyce sleep alone. Then tomorrow morning at breakfast, I'll give you an order pad and you can give me a tentative purchase request on as many pickup trucks as you want at $3,800 less ten percent. Is it a deal?"
Henry Trent squirmed nervously, biting his lips, and then nodded, his face still very red. 'To save the company that sort of money, I guess I'll have to go along with you, Mike. But wait a minute now, you don't expect me to tell Joyce
I'm throwing her in for a one-night stand on this deal, do you?"
"Of course not. You're not as bright as I thought you were, Uncle Henry. You just let her sleep by herself, and little old Mike, your favorite nephew, will do the rest. If I don't score, the deal still goes through, but I think I can. See you at breakfast tomorrow. Why don't you make it a good year for me by buying a dozen or even a baker's dozen instead of just a lousy ten?"
"Go to hell," Henry Trent muttered sullenly as he turned on his heel and left the room.. . .
The old clock in the hallway had just struck the last chime of midnight when Mike Trent, naked in his bathrobe and slippers, tiptoed carefully up the carpeted stairs at the back of the house to reach the second floor and Joyce's bedroom. At the other end of the second floor, Henry Trent, similarly clad, had hidden in a linen closet adjacent to the guest room occupied by Rose and Wilson Aldrich. There was a flashlight in his bathrobe pocket, which he frequently used to consult his wristwatch to ascertain the time. As midnight showed on the wristwatch, coinciding with the last chime of the old clock downstairs, he chuckled softly to himself and pulled the door to, straining his ears to listen. There was an unmistakable creak at the other end of the hallway, which meant that somebody was using the back stairway to reach the second floor. That would be his nephew, no doubt about it.
Just to make sure, he opened the door just a crack and peeked out and saw the stocky black-haired young man in his blue bathrobe tiptoe toward Joyce's room. His prick had begun to throb and swell at the thought of being a willing partner to his own cuckoldry, but what made it even spicier was that he was going to put horns on Mike without the latter's knowing it. He watched his nephew try the knob of the door, find it open, and disappear inside before he left the closet and hurried down the front stairway to the first floor.
There was utter silence and darkness. He flicked on the flashlight to make sure of the room, and then directed his footsteps toward the fourth door on the right. That was where luscious petite auburn-haired Ruthie was sleeping, and alone for sure right now!. . .
Buxom blonde Joyce Trent had worn her black shortie nightie to bed, first having taken a shower and applied perfume to her armpits, the nape of her neck, and her navel. Playfully, she had rubbed her finger into that dimpled niche and transferred some of the fragrant scent down to the thick dark-blonde bush of her cunt. She had also turned her face back over her shoulder to peer at the mirror and had giggled when she saw that the marks left by Wilson Aldrich's vigorous fantailing were still faintly visible. Unless she very much missed her guess, Rosie wouldn't be looking around for any other men to satisfy her, not if Wilson did to her exactly what he had done down in the basement recreation room the other night. In fact, just before they had parted, he had suddenly got furiously contrite, blushed all over the place, and tried to apologize, whereupon Joyce had giggled and told him, "Now don't spoil it, lover! Don't you ever dare downgrade yourself again like that to any woman. Oh my, you just about made me faint the way you took charge of poor little me, and what you did to me pussy I'm going to remember for the rest of my life. You just go back to Rosie, and maybe tomorrow night, put her through the same treatment, and I'll lay you odds you'll be the happiest married man alive in the Midwest!"
She had fallen asleep, and there was a lovely smile on her full red lips. She was dreaming, and in the dream she was back down in the basement recreation room, but this time lying on the billiard table with a cue uncomfortable poking her buttocks as she squirmed and wriggled under naked Wilson's prick thrusts. Unconsciously, she slipped a soft hand down towards her cuntal lips and, as her dream progressed, began to tickle her slit through the sheer material of the nightie. She moaned and squirmed, spreading her thighs and arching her loins as if she were imitating the rhythm of fucking-which indeed she was.
Mike Trent turned the key in the lock of the bedroom door. He, also, had brought along a flashlight, and he now flicked it on and cautiously leveled it at the big double bed. His eyes widened and then he grinned, his other hand slipping down to massage his turgid prick through the robe. The sheets had been flung back, and Joyce's lush, tempting body was sprawled there, her legs spread widely apart, her bare heels dug into the bed, and she seemed to arch her bottom off the bed and jerk forward and backward. Her nightie had been tugged up to her belly, and he could see the fingers of one soft hand moving feverishly about the pink gape almost hidden by the luxuriant dark-blonde curls of her cuntal fleece.
He shed his bathrobe, and his prick bobbed as he moved noiselessly toward the bed. Very carefully he set first one knee on it and then the other, and moved, holding his breath, toward that maddeningly inviting and readied gape. Cautiously, he leaned forward, gliding his hands over her plump pink thighs, moving to the edges of her lush hips, as he aimed his prick directly against the moist, glistening pink crevice of her twitching cunt.
"Ahhhh!" he couldn't help gasping as he felt the convulsive tension of her vaginal walls against the partly imbedded shaft of his aching spear. He couldn't hold himself back, she was already bucking and wriggling as if some invisible man were fucking her. With a groan, Mike Trent slid forward, burying himself to to the balls, as he stretched out over his uncle's quivering, half-nude blonde wife.
"Ohh, W-Wilson darling-that's so good-mm-mmm! Oh give it to me, lover! Make it up to me after that awful spanking you gave me!" he suddenly heard Joyce babble.
"My God," he muttered to himself, "what the hell has been going on in this house since Wednesday?"
But then there wasn't time to think about anything else, because Joyce's still sleeping but otherwise extremely vibrant and reacting body was driving him crazy with its suggestive gyrations. She had flung her arms around him, and she was moaning softly, and now her knees had lofted and flung hugely apart, and he could feel the contractions of his prick to death-and what a way to go it would be!
"Let's fuck, Joyce baby," he purred into her ear, flicking his tongue into the dainty hole.
Joyce squealed and squirmed, still passionately launched into her wet dream: it was exactly that, because Mike Trent could feel the moist fluids of her womanhood lave his aching, hot prick as he felt himself plunge to the hilt inside her cuntal sheath. He moved his hands up her sides, lofting the nightie, finally rolling it up to her fleecy armpits to expose the lush melons of her heaving titties. He put his lips to one tumescent, darkened nipple and flicked the bud with the tip of his tongue, then nuzzled it with his teeth as he slowly drew himself back, then lunged ferociously till their hairs merged again.
"Ohh-aaaah-oh it's heaven-oh, I'm going to cum, I know I am-oh Wilson, how you turned me on, lover!" now her voice was sobbing and clearly audible. He had to silence her with a French kiss because he was afraid that others down the hall might wake up and hear what was going on. He wondered if Uncle Henry knew about old Four-eyes. And who would have suspected that a wallflower like Wilson Aldrich would have got to this wild piece of juicy blonde ass?
He drew himself back to the brink of Joyce's cuntal sheath, his glans rubbing the burgeoning clit, scraping it to and fro, then plunged back home again, but more slowly this time. Joyce seemed to catch her breath and then emitted a series of whimpering little sobs as she tightened her arms around his shoulders, her knees suddenly clamping together against his hips to pinion him to her saddle.
Now his hands cupped and squeezed her panting titties, while his tongue drove into the nectared warm sweetness of her panting mouth. With slow, tantalizing ins and outs, he rasped his prick against the quaking volutes of her cuntal sheath.
All of a sudden Joyce Trent opened her eyes, then uttered a frantic cry: "Oh God-is that you, Henry-oh no -who-oh Lord -what's happening to me?"
"Take it easy, Auntie," Mike jokingly chuckled, "it's your loving-and I do mean loving-nephew Mike."
"Ohhhh!! You must be insane to do a thing like this -now you stop this minute " she gasped in a choking voice.
"Not yet, Auntie darling, because you know you need it! I'm sorry I'm not Wilson. But I'll try my best to substitute for him"
"Not Wilson-oh my-how did you know -I mean-oh my Lord!" Joyce floundered, trying to push her nephew away with both hands against his sturdy shoulders and not at all succeeding. His hands were squeezing her titties now, his mouth was inches from hers, and his prick was burrowed to the hilt inside her quaking cunt. Besides, she had arrived almost at the point of no return, both from the dream and the actual fucking which had combined to stir the latent and until this weekend unrequited lust deep in her woman-core.
T guess you were talking in your sleep, Auntie Joyce," he chuckled again. "Don't worry, I won't tell Henry. Or Rose either. All you have to do is keep on what you've been doing so nicely. You're a great fuck, Auntie, you really are. I don't think my favorite uncle has been giving you everything you need, from the way you're wriggling and the way that still wonderfully tight hot cunt of yours is trying to snap my cock off."
"OhhhhH How can you be so d-dirty-and stop calling me Auntie-you know I'm just your aunt by marriage."
"Good, then I'm not really committing incest, am I? Come on, Joyce baby, relax and enjoy it. You were doing just great in that dream of yours. So Wilson got to you? I still can't believe it, not old Four-eyes. Oh well, to hell with him. Let's us celebrate Thanksgiving the nicest way there is, Joyce honey."
"Oh, please, this is just awful, you know you shouldn't -what if H-Henry should come in and " she quavered.
"He won't. He's got other things in mind tonight," Mike confidently reassured the quivering, squirming matronly blonde. "Let's get that damn nightie off first so we can really fuck. I'm all naked, and I like my women to be the same way too in bed."
Before she could remonstrate or struggle, Mike Trent had lofted the shortie nightie over her head and tossed it onto the floor. "That's better. Now give me a nice big kiss and use your tongue. And keep shaking that sweet ass the way you've been doing when I first came in."
"You-you're just dreadful, you know you are!" she wailed. "What would Ruthie think?"
Mike kept squeezing her titties and lying on top of her, buried to the balls in side her quaking, churning cunt. Now he frowned, because an idea had just come to him, one he didn't especially like at all. What if that two-timing uncle of his had just changed bedrooms? Ruth would be all by herself, while he was here with Joyce. He ought to have anticipated something like that, because Uncle Henry was just tricky enough to try it. Of course he had perfect confidence in Ruthie. And he'd better be right about her too, or there'd be a little explaining back in their own household come Monday.
But for now, his senses took over again, because for all her protestations and wriggling and her feeble attempts to push him off with her trembling hands, Joyce Trent was so powerfully under the spell of her dream-fantasy with Wilson Aldrich that she needed a fucking in the very worst way. Her own husband had misjudged her sexual capacities and potential all these years, simply because he had been so self-centered that he had dismissed her initially passive acceptance of his marital rights as proof positive that she wasn't capable of any imagination at all. It was true that she had been brought up rather strictly and had almost been an ignorant virgin when Henry got to bed with her the first time. But just the same, if he had only been a bit more patient and told her a few things and worked her over, he could have got just as far as dear Wilson had done last night.
And so with a sigh of resignation, closing her eyes, and once again locking her arms round Mike's sturdy shoulders, she averted her face and whispered, "Please don't make a noise, I'd die if anybody else found out, M-Mike dear."
"That's my girl, Auntie," he teasingly whispered, flicking his tongue at one of her nipples then the other. "Now let's just fuck."
"Mmmmmm, oooohhh, oh it's so good," Joyce moaned now, having decided to abandon her few remaining scruples over her second marital infidelity. For her, too, the lusts of the flesh were rapidly taking over. Her thighs were flexing and her juices were flowing, and her nipples ached with longing as she squirmed repeatedly to encourage the black-haired young man who had replaced her husband in the connubial bed to greater exertions in her churning cunt's behalf. Her face tilted back, taut, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead and cheeks, her ripe melon-breasts rising and falling agitatedly, the nipples hard as flints, dusky with tumescence. Long rippling shivers raced along the insides of her thighs, spasmed the smooth goblet of her dimpled belly. Her fingernails clawed at his sinewy bare back as he began to tease her with quick little probing digs just inside the lobby way of her turbulently seething cuntal sheath. Now feverish, continuous, wordless moans began to escape her as her body shook and vibrated with the approach to thunderous climax: " Aaaah eeeek oooouuu aaahrrrr oh G-God-oh d-d-darling-oh now-NOW, NOW, OH CUM WITH ME, LOVER, HURRY, PLEASE, NOW!"
Then her body leaped against his, their bellies clashing together, her tongue wildly foraging inside her panting mouth as her nails raked him, her plump thighs clutched round his heaving sinewy behind as she strained with him for the ultimate glorious release.
He uttered a bellow of ecstasy, tilting his head back at the ceiling like a dog baying at the moon as the spasm seized him and his thickly clotted essence burst into her seething chasm. Joyce shifted herself, her legs locking over the small of his back as she arched up her pelvic basin to take the last full measure of his vigorous devotion, and then her body relaxed and she lay sprawled, whimpering softly in the glowing rapture of release.
CHAPTER NINE
Henry Trent had reached the bedroom door of Mike's petite red-haired wife Ruth, tested the knob and found it open, quickly slipped in. He could hear Ruth's regular breathing, and he grinned to himself as he unbelted his robe and let it fall to the floor. Wiry and naked, his prick already violently swollen in readiness, he approached the bed. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, he could make out the delicious, curvaceous figure lying on one side, her bottom towards him the covers and sheets drawn up about her neck. Very carefully he reached out to take hold of them and slightly tug them to see if she were clutching them. She wasn't. Gradually they slipped down and he gasped in admiration. Ruth Trent slept raw, except for a silver anklet on her right ankle. Her saucy bottom was turned to him, the pouting inner edges of the velvety tawny globes broadening at the base in that tantalizing orifice of pleasure, her delectable and still virgin temple of Sodom
He got very cautiously into bed with her, holding his breath as he felt the bed creak under his weight. For a moment, her breathing halted, then resumed its natural easy rhythm. He exhaled a sigh of relief, and now he groped for his flashlight, then remembered he had left it in the discarded bathrobe and swore under his breath. What he really wanted to do was turn on the lights and see Ruthie bare-ass naked. He'd always suspected she had a few freckles on her back, and he was wondering just how far down they went, and maybe a cute little birthmark too.
At last he decided to gamble, and carefully reached for the pull-chain of the little night lamp on the table behind him It cast a discreet dim glow, and again he caught his breath with admiration. She was absolutely gorgeous, petite but made like a Venus. What a wonderful ass, and what a deeply dimpled spinal column she had! Yes, there were freckles all the way down to the middle of her back, and they stood out on that smooth tawny skin until his prick fairly ached with longing.
The covers and sheets had been pulled down to the middle of her thighs. Holding his breath, he now reluctantly turned out the light, then moved behind her, fitting himself to her spoon-fashion.
His prick tip brushed the tender perineal groove connecting her cuntal lips with her anus; and at the warm moist contact of that intimate flesh, he almost lost his essence, grinding his teeth and summoning all his strength to hold himself back.
Then very carefully he reached his right hand over toward the curve of her swelling titty, and began to palpate it.
Ruth Trent sighed and squirmed a little, and the effect of that maneuver was to rub her bottom lewdly against his prick so that the head of it goosed her. It served to waken her as well.
"Mike? You naughty boy, are you trying to get in the back door? You know I don't like that and, no, you may not do it. We'll save that for about our tenth anniversary, and maybe not then if you're not a good boy. Now put it in the right place or else go to sleep."
"I'll try, Ruthie honey. Open your legs just a little, though," Henry whispered.
Ruth exhaled a luxurious sigh of sensual content, and obediently lifted her right leg, enough for Henry to arch himself to her, his hand now cupping her panting titty, as he fitted himself to the deliriously moist fleshy lips of her tender cunt.
"Ooooh, that's nice, tease me a little first, Mike lover!" she breathed.
Angled as their bodies were, the first tentative inward push of his prick served to rasp his taut ramrod at a scraping angle along the sensitive tissues of her cuntal sheath, and his withdrawal rubbed the nucleus of her throbbing little clit. Ruth Trent moaned and squirmed a little, reaching her right leg further back till it lay across his hip, and he slipped his left hand round and under her to clamp against her left tittie while he moved his right hand back between their bodies, till he found her clit with the tip of his forefinger and began very slowly to tickle it.
"Ooooh, you darling, how did you know that's what I really wanted you to do best of all?" Ruth's voice was drowsy with sleep, husky and sensual, and her body shivered deliriously as she began to respond to what she believed was her husband's highly romantic and thrilling way of resuming their marital joys of each other.
Henry Trent didn't bother to answer, fearful that the natural sound of his voice might give him away. He was blessing all the gods of luck that Ruthie hadn't recognized him yet. What a hotbox the little bitch was, and what a lucky bastard his nephew was to have someone like this available every night!
Concentrating on tickling her clit, holding himself back to keep from ejaculating prematurely, he muttered a muffled "Damn!" when his prick suddenly slipped out of its moorings. "Ohh, you put it back right away, you wicked boy you," Ruth scolded him, in that titillatingly arousing husky, sleepy-sexual tone of hers which made her sound like a $100 an-hour call girl.
He arched himself, his prickhead slipping here and there over the moist twitching cuntal lips till at last he found the proper angle and thrust himself back, almost to the hilt this time. Ruth Trent moaned and gasped, turning her head slowly this way and that, but still not looking back at the man she supposed was her rightful fucking partner.
His left thumb and forefinger gently plucked and tweaked and pinched her stiffening nipple while his right forefinger moved back and forth over her now throbbing and hardened clitoris. He could feel the wet surging of her innermost love-juices, but the delicious sheath into which he was now burrowed to the balls was still marvelously tight. Again the savage ache which threatened a much too early expulsion of his own essences forced him to halt operations, to close his 'eyes and stiffen himself with all his muscles in revolt against the unwanted impulse. Then the spasm passed, and cautiously he began to draw himself slowly backwards till he reached the very brink of Ruth Trent's churning cunt-hole. Her little gasps and husky moans thrilled him to the very core. Now she reached back one hand, groping for and finding his prick, as with thumb and forefinger she squeezed the bulging shaft just above the scrotum, milking it, whispering, "Let me pump it back and forth inside of me, lover, you know how I love to do that."
How I wish I could change wives for about a month Henry Trent thought enviously as he trembled to the feel of Ruth's expert soft fingers. This little baby is always hot to trot and she's got lots of wonderful ideas. If only poor old Joyce had half her zip in bed maybe I wouldn't go horning around so much Oh well, Thanksgiving only comes once a year, but by God the way Ruthie's pussy feels, I'll cum a dozen times before I go back to bed tonight!
He felt himself being drawn back into her, then pushed out, and then suddenly her fingers dropped from his prick. "Wait a minute-" her voice was suddenly hard with suspicion. "Hey! Get the hell out of here-who the hell do you think you are, you're not Mike!" And then she twisted her face around to stare at him, and her eyes were huge with disbelief: "My God-Uncle Henry! Have you gone absolutely crazy? Mike'll kill you for this!"
"No he won't, baby. Now wait a minute, don't get sore! I happen to know where he is right now."
"Oh do you now? Take it out of me, you low conniving bastard you! I mean it! If you don't, I'll scream the house down!"
Furiously, she twisted herself away, then knelt up, her little hands fists, her face twisted and hostile, divinely naked, an enraged young Venus. "What did you mean by that last crack, Henry Trent?"
"I-er-I mean-well, I think he's talking to Joyce," he hastily improvised.
"I see. It's a hell of a time to talk to a woman in bed, isn't it, Uncle Henry?" she made the last two words sound like Adolf Hitler, her mouth curling with contemptuous scorn. "I'll find out about that for myself later, thank you. But for right now, you get the hell out of my bed and don't you ever try a stunt like this again."
"Aw, Ruthie honey, don't be sore," he tried to pacify her. "Besides, a little while ago, you were dying to get fucked, you know you were."
Then he recoiled with a yowl of surprise and pain, for her fist had smacked vigorously against his cheek. "I said, get the hell out of here or I'll scream! I meant every word of it! I'm not going to tell Mike about this, but I don't think you and I are going to be seeing much of each other from now on. Well, what are you waiting for? And if you see Mike, send him back here. Yes I do want to be fucked, but I happen to love my husband. You've got a perfectly wonderful wife in Joyce, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"I'm going, I'm going, don't get mad," he lamely repeated as he stumbled off the bed, groped for his robe, put it on and then closed the door behind him, swearing under his breath.
He was dying from his hard-on because Ruthie had worked him up to a point where he was just about to have the greatest cum of his whole life, and then she had to go and find out and chase him away, just when a couple of more poking would have made them both go off together. What a damned, unlucky shame! Well anyway, his nephew was going to have a little bit of explaining to do or stay in the doghouse for a good long time. That at least was a cheerful thought.
When he turned on his flashlight along the second-floor hallway, he didn't see anything at all. Mike was probably still in there with Joyce, the young bastard! Well, he had to sleep somewhere tonight. And then he grinned. He moved across the hallway till he came to Elizabeth's door, turned the knob and found it open. He closed and locked it behind him, and moved toward the bed where his daughter lay. "Beth darling," he whispered hoarsely.
"Wh-wh-what who-who is it? Is that you, Cousin Mike? I won't tell, honest!"
"No, it's Daddy, honey."
"Daddy!" Elizabeth sat up quickly, blinking her eyes as the flashlight beam caught her. She was in her pajamas, the cute yellow ones she had worn the night of her spanking and then somewhat drastic initiation into the grownup facts of life. Ts-is anything wrong, Daddy?"
"Shh, honey, everything's fine. I-er-I'm going to buy you that bike you want next week sure. And a big box of candy to go with it."
"Ohh, goody! That's super, Daddy! And you aren't mad at me any more?"
"I never was, baby. Look-er-honey, could you do me an awful big favor? I haven't got time to explain it, and it's going to be our secret, but
I'll see you get some wonderful presents for Christmas, besides the bike and the candy next week, if you'll do me a terrific favor. Would you, pet?"
His voice was hoarse with pleading and anxiety now as he moved to the bed. His swollen, ferociously aching prick bobbed every step of the way, and he was almost blushing like a boy caught filching cookies out of the can in the pantry.
"What do you want me to do, Daddy dear?" she innocently asked.
"I-er-would you put your hand on my th-thing and rub it a little? I think I've got a sort of fever there, and maybe you could take it down. It won't hurt at all, and you'll be doing me a terrific favor, like I said. Would you, angel?"
"You mean you want me to rub you off, Daddy? Sure I'll do it."
"Elizabeth Trent! Sounds to me as if you've learned a lot this weekend, maybe a lot more than you should!"
"Oh well," she airily replied, "I couldn't help it if my own daddy taught me, could I? And you know what Cousin Mike did to me."
"Hmm. We won't discuss that. But will you, anyway, you know-"
"Sure. Only, let's see now," she put her hand to her chin and looked up at the ceiling, like a lovely wise little oracle who is deciding the destiny of unhappy mankind. "I want some special decals for my bike, and I really ought to have a nice new wristwatch, don't you think, Daddy? My own best friend, Joanne, she just got one last week and it isn't even her birthday or anything."
"All right, all right," he testily whispered. "Is that all? You're going to do it for me now, aren't you, honey?"
Trembling with eagerness, his prick aching till he couldn't stand it any more, he had shucked off his bathrobe and stood naked, moving toward the bed now, his eyes hopeful, his face flushed, his nostrils dilating.
"I said I would, and I always keep my promise, Daddy. You and Mommy taught me to do that, you know," she said without the least trace of sarcasm. Just the same, her lovely gray-green eyes were speculatively regarding him, dropping from his face down to his bulging prick and back up to his face again. "And besides the wristwatch, I really ought to have some of those costume pins that they have up at Eckert's. And oh yes, one thing more. I don't want to wear these silly old knee-length socks any more, Daddy. From now on, I want nylons and a little garter belt just like Mommy wears sometimes. All right?"
"Yes, yes, now let's get with it, baby, before I go crazy," he groaned.
"I'm ready now, Daddy," she said softly and demurely.
With a sigh of relief, Henry Trent clambered onto the bed, lay on his back and pillowed his head in his hands, spreading his legs and letting his bulging prick unashamedly tilt upwards. Elizabeth, her long thick glossy braid swaying over her young swelling pear-breasts as she knelt before him and crouched to him, reached out her hands and began to cup his big prick at the base, milking it gently up towards the tip, then rubbing with her thumb pads downwards to the scrotum, back and forth, delicately and gently. His eyes bulged at the thrilling, maddening sensation his precocious teenage daughter thus procured for him. This had been the craziest Thanksgiving weekend he'd ever known in all his life, and it wasn't over yet, not by a long shot. Anyway, he'd saved the company some money. And he'd been the first man ever to find out what a luscious fuckable little piece of pussy his cute little Elizabeth really was, even at fourteen.
"Do you think," he guardedly whispered, "you could give it a nice big kiss, honey?"
"You'll give me everything I said?" she parried, halting her fondling of his prick and looking at him sternly.
"Yes, yes, you can have everything, I said I would, didn't I? Oh my God, hurry up, baby, you don't know how it hurts not to be able to cum yet!"
"Who kicked you out of bed tonight, Daddy?"
"What's that? Now wait a minute, baby, that's going a little too far and hitting below the belt," he indignantly expostulated.
"I know. Only, I couldn't sleep again and I got up once and looked out, and I could have sworn it was you going down the hall and hiding in a closet or something. It looked a lot like your bathrobe, Daddy. And then you didn't come back in all this time, because I sort of waited up for the longest time until I finally fell asleep again, and here you are now."
"All right, you've got another secret. Only I'm not going to tell you what this one is. But you can have everything I said you could. Now will you please for God's sake hurry up and do it?"
"All right," Elizabeth Trent was going to collect on every one of those promised gifts. There was one, however, she intended to collect on, one about which she saw no reason to inform her conniving father. That was about going steady with a terrific fellow Joanne had introduced her to. She was going to see if she couldn't get him to go all the way with her, and maybe use one of those white things pulled down over his thing so it wouldn't give her a baby. After all, now that she wasn't a good girl any more, she might just as well have a little fun out of it until she got married.
So, once again with the exquisitely demure and innocent on her lovely oval face, Elizabeth Trent took hold of her father's prick at the base, cupping it between her palms, and gently moving them back and forth as she bowed her head to the ferociously swollen emblem and nuzzled the glans with her soft lips.
"Aahhh, oh God that's good, oh baby, keep it up, keep it up, please, baby!" he hoarsely implored.
She giggled to herself. Grownups were so silly. All this fuss about going to bed with different people and putting their things into other people's things, and even if it was fun, it didn't have to be so serious. And one thing was for sure, she wasn't ever going to get herself spanked again for doing it her own way with a fellow, and the fellow would be somebody she would pick and tell just what she wanted him to do to her. It was going to be very nice going back to school next week, and even nicer in the months ahead.
She felt so generous, so happy with herself, especially over the stockings and garter belt, that she willingly opened her soft red lips and then delicately sent a gust of breath against his throbbing prickhead.
Henry Trent moaned deliriously. This more than made up for the interrupted fuck with Ruthie. In fact, he had never thought in his most secret fantasy that his nephew's pert red-haired wife would ever French him anyway. So being Frenched by his own delectable and swiftly maturing daughter was a bonus that could hardly have been expected. What was even more maddeningly exciting to every fiber of his being was that the little minx was doing it of her own accord.
"Oh God, baby, that's sensational," he mumbled hoarsely, his eyes glazing as they fixed on her bowed head. "Some man is going to be terrifically lucky, and in not too many more years, if you keep acting like that. Yes, that's it . . . do you think you could put-put it all the way in your mouth, honey? I mean, just the head-I don't want to ask too much of a sweet girl like you. My God, no father ever had a more wonderful daughter. I mean it, Beth darling-oh yes-yes, baby, mmmmm. Oh Jesus, I'll burst if I don't watch out," for her lips had closed over the aching, throbbing plum-shaped glans, and he felt as well as heard a distinct sucking as
Elizabeth, determined to make her father live up to his munificent bargain, intuitively acquired an enchanting technique all her own for giving a grown man head. It was a technique that would serve her most rewardingly in later life-but that, to be sure, is quite another story.
Henry Trent's head turned restlessly from side to side. He cupped both hands over her head, forcing her to swallow more of his agitatedly jerking prick, his eyes rolling nearly to the whites as Elizabeth sucked even more voraciously and noisily. The slush-slush of her soft moist warm lips drove him almost insane with lust, and he shuddered and writhed as he greedily watched her perform "Stop, baby, oh my God, you're killing me," he moaned at last, pushing her flushed face away, and fighting the frenzied urge to burst all his bubbling jism right into her lovely, pert face. She was eyeing him with the most intriguing expression, and it was just as well he couldn't read her mind at the moment.
I bet I know just what Daddy's going to ask me to do next I'll bet the new bike'n stockings'n garter belt'n everything. Yessirree, Daddy's going to want to put that big swollen red thing of his into my little pussy. I don't know if I should let him For sure he's been disappointed by some grownup woman, and I bet I know just who it is, too.
Hmmmmm, of course, if I let him, just one last tiny time, he'd have to give me an awfully wonderful extra present besides the ones he already owes me. Wonder what I ought to ask him for? He looks so unhappy, sitting up now, one hand clamping over his big hard thing, staring at me with calf's eyes What can I get that I don't have but I really honest-to-goodness want?
"Beth, sweetheart," Henry Trent took a deep shuddering breath and stared forlornly at his precocious daughter. God she looked so fuckable in those tight yellow cotton pajamas, and that thick braid of glossy black hair swinging over one flushed cheek!
"Yes, Daddy? Don't you want me to finish taking your-you know-in my mouth, the way I was doing?" Her eyes were big and innocent, her face guileless. Henry Trent dug his nails into his sweating palms. He felt like tanning her rear end till she pleaded to do everything he'd ever wanted from a sweet hot piece of cunt. But he knew that with his luck tonight, that would be exactly the wrong thing to do if he wanted to keep peace in the family and not have Joyce find out what he'd already done to their only daughter. So he forced a cajoling smile to his trembling lips and croaked, "You're so lovely tonight, Beth darling, I just-well, it's this way-"
"I know. Daddy. What you mean is, you really want to fuck me instead of just have me do you with my mouth. Isn't that right?"
His jaw dropped and he regarded her with a dazed, gaping expression.
"Well, don't you?" she artfully persisted, reaching back to smooth her hair and fling it behind her, a gesture which thrust out the boldly ripe young pears of her swelling titties against the tops of the yellow cotton pajamas in a way that instantly decided Henry Trent to pay whatever price Elizabeth would ask for usage of all her naked charms, here and now.
"Y-yes."
"My goodness, Daddy, I'm not a child any more, you ought to know that by now. After all, weren't you the one who did it to me after Cousin Mike paddled me so hard last Wednesday night? You didn't ask me then, though, not really." She giggled teasingly, as she began to undo the first button of her tops, studying her slim fingers and moving them ever so slowly. He watched, hypnotized, willing those soft fingers to go from button to button and then husk off the garment so he could feast his eyes on the smooth jutting globes of Elizabeth's beautiful bouncy, jiggling titties.
"I-I'm asking you now, Beth." His voice cracked with agonized emotion. He glanced disconsolately down at his throbbing, tilting, fiery-red prick.
'Then say it, Daddy. Say you want to fuck me. It's not too much to ask. I mean, I'll bet you've asked lots of grownup women this weekend to do it with you-haven't you, Daddykins?"
He ground his teeth with exasperated lust. She was going just a little too far with her cute blackmail. And the worst thing about it all was, any time she got ornery, she might just make up her mind to tell Joyce what had happened. He wasn't sure what Joyce would do or say if she found out, but he didn't think he wanted to experiment. So, defeated, he ruefully nodded.
"I thought so. I'll bet just about with everybody except Mommy. Though probably Mommy too. She's awfully nice, Daddy. You really ought to love her lots more than you do. I bet if you did, she'd be ever so sweet to you-and then you wouldn't have to ask me if I'd do it with you, would you?"
"N . . . no . . . oh my God, honey, what -I mean-"
His eyes couldn't move from her slim fingers. They had undone two buttons and were starting on the third and her eyes were fixing his with a very intent look. "Say it, Daddy," she repeated. "If I'm going to be treated like a grownup right now. And fucking is for grownups, isn't it? Why, then I want to be asked like one. Say it, Daddy, and I'll let you."
"PI-please, honey, I-I want to fuck you . . . I want to put my cock in your gorgeous tight hot little pussy. Please may I, darling?"
Then he gasped with delight as Elizabeth tugged off the tops, shrugging her shoulders to make her gorgeous firm young titties bounce and jiggle before his glazed, dilated eyes. "Uh huh. Of course I will, if you want me to," she huskily murmured. Then, straightening on her knees, she began to unfasten the waistband of the pajama bottoms and slowly pull them down to the dimpled nook of her bellybutton, then just an inch more so he could see the beginning of her soft silky pubic fleece, black as the braid which flirtatiously dangled back and forth, swaying like a pendulum in front of her demure, studiously composed pert face.
"W-what do you want, angel? I'll give you anything you say," he blurted.
"Well," she said very slowly, frowning and keeping the bottoms pressed just under the start of her delicious smooth young belly, "Mommy says I have to wait till I'm sixteen before I can date boys. Now I think I ought to be smart enough right now to have a movie date. Friday nights, Daddy, after I've done all my schoolwork. Is it a deal?"
"Sure it is, honey. Of course you're a big smart girl, and I don't see any harm in a movie at all."
"I knew you'd feel that way, Daddy. Now you just lie back and get real comfy, and I'll take off my jammies and you can fuck me. Only-don't you think you ought to do something-you know what I mean?"
He could only gawk at his only child, suddenly so wise and crafty, yet so innocent-looking. No, not really, not when his eyes could feast on those juicy young titties of hers, slowly rising and falling with her rhythmic breathing.
"Uh-oh, s-sure, angel." He bit his lips. Where the hell were his rubbers? He hadn't bothered to wear any tonight because, of course, both Joyce and Ruthie were on the pill. But this was a different story. "W-wait a second, baby, I'll be right back," he mumbled, slipping out of bed and donning his robe.
Then he remembered and cursed under his breath. Mike was still in his room with Joyce, and all his supplies of rubbers were in the John.
" 'Course," Elizabeth's voice was reflective and husky, "you could always take it out of my pussy before you-well, you know. Wouldn't that be just as good?"
It would have to be, because right now Henry Trent knew he couldn't hold back much longer. His balls were contracting with the warning that they had to unleash their savings at any moment.
He flung off the robe, got back into bed, and resolutely seized Elizabeth's pajama bottoms and yanked them down to her knees. "Lie back, honey, I'll take them off," he gasped.
She giggled as she obeyed, pillowing her head on her arms, lifting up her slim legs so he could husk them off and fling them to the floor. He crawled on all fours between her coltish young thighs, his eyes fixing on the soft moist twitching cuntal lips framed by the glossy curls of her fleece, and his prick ached and jerked and shuddered violently.
"Beth, oh you sweet darling, Beth," he groaned as he sank down, supporting himself on his palms over her, his prickhead gouging against the palpitating coral-tinted petals of her cunt. Elizabeth squealed softly, arching her loins, widening her thighs to give him total access, and he felt himself slip in, at once clutched by the constrictive walls of her tight young but eager vagina. My God, she's wet and hot already, he thought to himself, grinding his teeth to hold himself back.
"Oooh, that feels so nice, Daddy! Do it slow, huh? I want to feel what it's really like, like when a man and a woman are in love and f.. . fuck, Daddy," she instructed.
Henry Trent closed his eyes and tried to summon up images of a banquet table or a blackboard or his private office at the delivery firm, anything that would help him keep his rapidly vanishing self-control. He felt himself press homeward to the balls, and Elizabeth's tensing, nipping, contracting young cuntal walls at once besieged him with their lasciviously potent attack. He clamped his mouth on hers, and Elizabeth would her satiny-smooth bare arms round his neck and locked her long sleek naked legs over his upper thighs as she purred, "Mmmmm-mmm!" and shivered against him from the delicious sensations her young pussy was experiencing. She was also thinking of the past present she had just got him to grant her. She knew with whom her first date would be. She wondered if he had done . . . well . . . this, with lots of girls. If he had, then he'd know how to make it nice for her and not get her into trouble. But that could wait till after she went back to school. Right now, she had to take care of her daddy.
"Is it nice for you, Daddy, my pussy, I mean?" she whispered into his ear.
"Oh G-God, don't talk, honey. Just hold me like this and let me do it," Henry Trent hoarsely begged, contracting all his muscles to fight off the agonizing urge to ejaculate, for he was nearly blind with lust.
He slid his hands under her saucy buttocks, kneading the warm quivering springy flesh, then kissed her on the cheek. To keep kissing that moist soft quivering mouth was dangerous, he might forget what he had to do. And it wouldn't be much longer, either!
Very slowly, very carefully, he drew his prick back out of Elizabeth's quivering young cunt, hearing her moan softly with pleasure, feeling the convulsive squeezes her bare legs applied over his sinewy thighs. Then, even more carefully, he pressed back to the hilt, tensing himself in advance. But he just had to feel the way that wonderfully tight humid quaking cuntal sheath of hers clung to his probing prick. No grownup woman, as Beth might call her, could drive him any wilder than he was right now!
"Oh God, I have to-ah-oh-Beth-" he suddenly moaned, and pulled himself out just in time, kneeling up and clapping both hands over his jerking, shuddering prick just in time to catch the copious viscous jet of his jism.
Elizabeth lay squirming her hips slowly to and fro on the bed, staring at him with very wide, seemingly ingenuous eyes. When he returned from the bathroom sheepishly sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for her hand, she whispered, "Daddy, now will you do something for me, please?"
"Anything, baby, anything in the world. You know I promised."
"Uh huh. Then won't you please kiss my pussy . . . it's so hot and you really didn't finish fucking me, you know, Daddy dear."
Henry Trent groaned with frustration. There was no use begging off. And he owed the little minx a good cum anyway for all she'd helped him this crazy, mixed-up night.
Kneeling before his daughter, Henry Trent bowed his head, his fingers stroking Elizabeth's quivering, flexing inner thighs, and gently began to gamahuch her, applying soft lingering kisses all over the pink twitching cuntal entry, till at last, seeing her loins twist and squirm and hearing her whimpering gasps and fervent, stammered pleas, "Ooh-do-do me now, Daddy dear. Oh pi-puhlease d-do me!" he thrust his tongue like a prick deep between the soft quivering lips of her voluptuous young vulva and began to draw her towards the brink of total, consummate rapture, as, head flung back, eyes luminous, Elizabeth Trent clawed at the rumpled sheets and arched and swung her naked lithe young hips as she at last felt her young body quaking and shuddering with release.. . .
CHAPTER TEN
Bespectacled Wilson Aldrich hadn't waited for midnight on this Saturday which marked the ending of the big Thanksgiving weekend. Quite nonchalantly, as brown-haired Rose was standing in front of her dresser mirror primping her hair and preparatory to going to bed some forty minutes before the witching hour, the tow-headed advertising man remarked, "You know what, Rose honey? I sort of feel like a game of ping pong right now. And maybe a snack out of the icebox. How does that strike you?"
Rose Aldrich wheeled, her eyes widening with surprise. Her husband had always been, at least in her estimation, overly predictable in his habits. He was punctual to a fault, he worked-she wouldn't gainsay that, and he did make a good living at it-but sudden unplanned activities had just never become a natural part of their household in this early stage of their marriage. "This time of night, Wilson? Whatever got into you? I know, it was all the eggnog you had Wednesday."
"No, it wasn't the eggnog. I just feel like doing it now. Come on, Rose, humor me for a change. Just one game, and then well have something to eat, and talk, and then go to bed. After all, it's almost Sunday, and well be going back home and we probably won't see all the family till Christmas."
"You make it sound as if it was a sad occasion. But I really don't feel up to a ping pong game, Wilson. Maybe a quick snack, though I'm really not hungry. I just don't know what's got into you all of a sudden."
"Like I said, just humor me for once, honey. Come on, let's go!" he urged.
Rose shrugged her beautiful rounded shoulders, frowned at the mirror, then smoothed down her green wool skirt. She had on a pretty white tailored blouse with Peter Pan collar, the suit coat which matched the skirt having already been removed. Glancing wonderingly at her bespectacled husband, she opened the door and went down the stairs towards the kitchen, as he followed behind her. His face was set with a new kind of determination, and his usually mild, meek-looking eyes behind the glasses had suddenly grown curiously hard and glittering.
He let her open the refrigerator door and peer inside, while he stood with his arms folded behind him, contemplating the way her tight skirt snugged over her luscious bottom, hiking just slightly to show him her lovely calves and lower thighs sheathed in transparent, fine-denier charcoal brown nylons. He was in slacks and a polo shirt, and what Rose didn't know was that he had already removed his shorts in the bathroom about half an hour ago. And already, the visible evidence of his male nakedness under the slacks was making itself prominently emphatic as his swelling prick prodded against the fly of the neat, unwrinkled brown slacks.
"Honestly, I don't see anything in here except maybe some apples. Do you want one of those, Wilson dear?"
"No. I told you, I'd much rather play ping pong first. Come on, it's just down the pantry stairway and we're there. Just one game, Rose."
"Oh, all right," she said exasperatedly as she slammed the refrigerator door shut. "Let's get it over with then."
He went ahead of her into the pantry, flicked on the light switch to illumine the dark stairway, and watched as she descended, then with a silent chuckle, followed her. She opened the door to the recreation room, as he moved quickly behind her to reach in and flick on the light switch.
"Just one game now, remember," she listlessly reminded him as she moved toward the table and picked up one of the paddles. Wilson, his back to the door, reached behind him and locked it. Then he moved quickly toward the ping pong table, and, as she stood with her back to him, suddenly grabbed the scruff of her neck with his left hand and forced her to bend forward across the table.
"What-stop that-let me up-whatever has got into you, Wilson Aldrich?" she peevishly cried out as she tried to rise. But her bespectacled husband had already evolved his plan well in advance, with admirable efficiency and economy of movements, he yanked up skirt and slip with his right hand as high as her waist, inserted his fingers under the waistband of her filmy white nylon panties and pulled them down without more ado. Rose wore a white satin elastic garter belt whose narrow tabs hugged the sides of her luscious creamy thighs and caught the tops of her sheer nylons to leave them without a wrinkle on her beautifully curvaceous calves and thighs.
"My God, have you gone crazy? You let me up this minute or you'll be awfully sorry, Wilson Aldrich! I'm warning you now!" she cried, trying to kick out at him, and putting her hands behind her to cover-up her creamy naked behind.
With an agility that she hadn't suspected he possessed, the bespectacled advertising man, while still retaining hold of the scruff of her neck with his left hand, sat on the table and swung himself onto it, then promptly got astride his wife's back and sat down heavily, facing her naked bottom. With his left hand he tugged up the skirt and slip and rolled them into a neat mass, raising up his bottom to shove them under it and then reseating himself. Then, grabbed the other ping pong paddle, he lifted it high in the air and brought it down with all his might against the lower summit of his wife's naked left buttock.
"Owww! Don't you dare! You beast, you horrible, crazy beast you! Whatever has got into you, Wilson? Why are you doing this to me?" she shrilled, hammering at the ping pong table with her fists. Fortunately for him it was a sturdy kind, non-collapsible, and it just did hold both their weight without giving way. Not that it would have mattered to him at this moment; he had made up his mind and now that he had carried out his rash plan, he was beginning to feel himself lord and master of a beautiful but rather haughty and diffident young woman who had already begun to treat him like an old shoe and take him for granted just like the other members of the family.
He watched Rose's voluptuous, plump creamy bottom twist and squirm and weave, watched her legs kick out frantically as he slowly lifted the paddle and then brought it violently down on the other cheek, this time a little higher and toward the edge of her naked hip.
"Eeeek! That hurts! Stop it, I tell you! You've gone crazy, you absolutely have, Wilson Aldrich! If you don't stop and let me up, I--I'll never speak to you again!"
"Good! You haven't got much to say to me anyway lately anyhow," he angrily retorted as he brought the paddle down for the third whacking time. They were made of pinewood and, though thin and flexible, conveyed an emphatic sting, particularly when wielded with all the energy and pent up, brooding annoyance Wilson Aldrich had been harboring against his beautiful wife for the last few months of their marriage. Another three spanks produced a wailing cry and this time Rose forgot to threaten; the burning sting of the paddle had begun to cause her a great deal of discomfort, as did her husband's weight, bearing down on her back as she was forced to bend across the table, her panting breasts flattening against its surface: "Owww! Please, Wilson, you're hurting me! You're crushing me! Please don't do this to me, it's shameful!"
"So is the way you've been acting towards me, Rosie!" he sarcastically retorted as he lifted the paddle and brought it down with all his strength over the crevice between her jutting, squirming naked creamy asscheeks.
"Owwwouuu! Oh please, for God's sake, this is just awful-you're hurting-I tell you, you're hurting me! I never thought you were such an awful brute-boohoo!" she wailed.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Rosie baby, and this is as good a time as any to find out. Then when I get you back home, maybe you could start being a real wife to me, the kind I wanted when I first met you and thought you'd be." With this, he resumed the spanking. Absolutely ignoring all her frantic cries and sobbing supplications for mercy, watching her legs kick till her pumps shot off and thudded along the floor, and watching most of all the way her creamy skin turned first a vivid pink and then an angry red, he continued to lift and descend the springy paddle against her jutting, upturned buttocks without bothering to count the strokes. They had by this time reached at least forty, and now Rose Aldrich's voice was choked with tears and sobs and was almost incomprehensible as she humbly begged for mercy: "Ohh-oooawww-boohoopuh-puhlease, W-Wilson-oh God -it hurts -oooh-I can't stand any more, I'll be good, I'll do anything you want-I promise -eeeeeek! Please, please, I'm begging you to stop-ohhh, d-darling, I'll be the best girl you ever had if you'll only stop now! Owww-ouch, owwouuu! Oh please!"
Panting, sweating with exertion, his arm tired by now, Wilson Aldrich lowered the paddle and then patted his wife's blazingly inflamed, wriggling naked buttocks. "Do you mean it, Rosie?" he demanded. "Will you do everything I tell you to and not give me an argument?"
"Ohh, I'm dying-oh how it hurts-oh my poor b-bottom-oh anything-please-oh Wilson-let me up now," she wailed.
Gritting his teeth, he raised his arm again, hovered it high, then swept it down with all his remaining strength, again right over the crevice between her discolored, shuddering bottom-cheeks.
"Owww!! " Rose hysterically howled, kicking her feet to and fro in the air and trying desperately to arch herself up and throw him off her, but to no avail.
"I asked you a question. Are you going to do everything I tell you to? Tell me you will and do it fast, or I'll keep this up all night," he warned.
As he punctuated this stern declaration, he applied two hard spanks, one to the upper summit of each darkly inflamed bottom globe, and Rose Aldrich fairly yelled, "Owwouuu, yes, yes, I promise, I'll do everything you tell me, I swear I will, just please don't spank me any more, please, darling, I'll obey you in everything!"
'That's all I wanted to hear. But you'd better keep your promise, or else!" he grimly avowed as he swung his legs down to the floor. Rose lay sprawled and crushed, conquered, sobbing as if her heart would break, as he dropped his slacks and stood behind her with his prick violently outthrust. "Open those legs of yours and get ready," he growled.
He reached out to pinch both her buttocks, and Rose Aldrich wailed and squirmed herself to spread her thighs as wantonly as any two-dollar whore.
'That's the way I want you from now on," he declared as, digging his fingers into the edges of her squirming, reddened hips, he thrust his prickhead against the yawning pink twitching gape of her cuntal orifice. With a groan of pleasure, he engaged himself just inside her, holding himself motionless to feel the convulsive clamping of her vaginal walls, and then greedily and slowly forced himself homeward in her to the hilt.
"I'm going to fuck you good and hard, Rose. And when we go home next week, I'm taking off an extra week from the office and we're going on a sort of second honeymoon. Up to the North Woods, and I'm going to rent a cabin and keep you naked and busy and cooking my food and serving it to me on your knees all week long, you understand me?"
"Oww -aaah -oh darling -oh God -oh Wilson-I never dreamed you could be like this-oh lover, I'll do anything for you-ohh-oh f-fuck me good-oh it's so good now-oh harder, Wilson lover, harder!" Rose mewled, squirming and twisting herself this way and that over the table, arching up her hips to give him total access to her dripping, burning, yearning cunt.
"All right then. Grab the edge of the table and spread those sexy legs of yours wider than you've got them now, Rose!" he commanded in a harsh, lust-dominated voice. Squirming, whimpering, herself almost at the moment of fulfillment, Rose Aldrich stretched her trembling hands to grip the edge of the table, shifting her feet on the floor, and instinctively shoving out her flaming, burning bottom to her husband.
'That's perfect, and stay right like that while I finish fucking you, Rosie," he told her. And she shuddered with masochistic delight to hear him use that mocking endearment, somehow realizing that for him it was the symbol of taking at last the upper hand in their marriage.
Then she squealed with excitement, for she had just felt his forefinger probe between their bodies to find her tingling clitoris, flatten it back into the soft sensitive protective cowl of pink cuntal flesh, then let it spring up, only to tweak it and roll it from side to side.
"Ahh-ahhohhh W-Wilson, oh that's just heaven-ohh my God-oh, never-ahh-knew you-you could f-fuck a girl so w-wonderfully, oh my darling, I've been so naughty to you "
"I know," he panted, feeling her spank-heated bare bottom grind and squirm against his belly, as he arched himself to keep his aching prick from slipping out of her contracting vaginal sheath. "And this won't be the first bare-ass paddling you're going to get from me either, Rosie. Seeing you hot it seems to make you in front as well as behind, I've a good mind to keep you on a regular schedule of paddling. Maybe every night for the next couple of weeks till I see just how you behave in bed."
"Ohhhh darling, that's wonderful," she moaned, her eyes rolling, her body wantonly wriggling against him to implore his resumption of the hot digging thrusts of his hard-rutting prick. "But oh please, make me cum, lover. I want to cum so bad I'm going crazy from it!"
"Yes, you sweet bitch, you're going to cum," he promised.
His forefinger flattened her sensitive, hardening nodule, then released it as his prick drew halfway back, then crammed home.
Rose Aldrich mewled and sobbed, biting her lips, her nostrils flaring and shrinking. Her fingernails tore at the edges of the table, as she writhed, feeling her cuntal walls grind and clench against her husband's prick.
Then, drawing back a last time, he thrust violently to the balls inside Rose's moist, convulsive sheath, his finger rubbing her clitoris this way and that, and felt himself explode a torrent of hot bubbling jism into the deepest recesses of her wildly aroused soft cunt.
Rose uttered a piercing shriek, her hips bucking back at him, her warm satiny, discolored naked bottom grinding against his shuddering belly, as her own tides gushed forth to mingle with his own.
This year's Trent family reunion was indeed ending on a triumphantly male chauvinistic note!
EPILOGUE
It's January now, cold and wintry and blowy in the Windy City as it always is this time of the year. The annual Trent Christmas reunion was very sentimental, and quite dull by comparison with what happened over Thanksgiving. To be sure, Henry Trent received delivery of the dozen Chevie pickup trucks ordered from his nephew's dealership. And his precocious black-haired daughter received every one of the presents she had outlined on her list.
What was most surprising at that Christmas reunion was the way Rose Aldrich practically hovered over her bespectacled husband and waited on him hand and foot, meekly quailing at the slightest steel in his usually soft voice and even more so at the occasional steely glint in his eyes. The week up in the North Woods had introduced Rose to some amazing proclivities on her husband's part, particularly the sacrifice of a maidenhead she had never expected to lose during her marriage: that of her tender, puckering anus, which had followed a good birch-switching over her bare bottom and thighs as she found herself tied wrists and ankles to the kitchen table and persuaded by the stinging cuts to beg him to do exactly that to her and to lubricate his prick with her own saliva to facilitate its passage into that narrow, exquisitely tender crevice.
During the Christmas reunion also, Ruth and Joyce Trent where constant companions, whispering to each other and eyeing their respective husbands with a certain amused and indulgent air. Mike had decided to make a clean breast of the whole affair and explain to his sympathetically understanding red-haired wife how his favorite uncle had tried to con him into the truck deal on a below-cost basis, and how he had put one over his uncle by giving him the ten percent reduction but neglecting to inform him that by December 1st, the dealership list price had gone down three hundred dollars, with a stolen hour with Joyce, Mike's "fringe dividend" thrown in for good measure. It had been a good joke on conniving Henry Trent, Ruth had gigglingly agreed.
And perhaps the happiest of all the Trent family was young Elizabeth herself, no longer Daddy's whipping girl. Two days after Christmas, she had persuaded both her father and mother to let her go out to a movie with Joanne, and her trustworthy girl friend had arranged for curly-haired Dan Thomas to meet them midway through the first feature and then slip out of the side exit of the theatre into his old jalopy. He had stopped to pick up Ricky Boles and they had driven to Ricky's house because Ricky's father and aunt (his mother had divorced Ricky's father three years ago) were out of town visiting relatives.
And while Joanne and Ricky had gone into one of the bedrooms, breathless and blushing Elizabeth had led Dan into another and, after whispering into his ear, "Did you bring it-you know-did you, honey?" and getting a sheepish nod in reply, had squealed with joyous anticipation as she sank down on her knees and began to zip down his fly and take out his sturdy young prick and caress and fondle it while her eyes widened with no little apprehension to see how superbly sizable it was for his age.
And a few minutes later, the condom properly tugged down over his stiff young ramrod to reassure her completely that nothing was going to go wrong, Elizabeth, naked except for her garter belt and her brand-new off-black nylons, was gurgling and cooing as she hugged her naked young lover and squirming as she felt his prick pry apart her twitching, already moist cuntal lips and gouge inside and teach her once again that grownups weren't the only ones who could have fun and secrets too.
