There are two worlds, anywhere you go-and two entirely different sets of people.
One of the worlds and one of the sets of people are visible. You see them as they come out, smiling, to go to work, or you see them standing in the checkout lines at markets, or waiting in banks and service stations and book shops.
The other world is hidden.
Walk down any street, look at the noncommittal facades of the houses, rich, poor, or in between. What's behind those walls? Love? Hate? Lust? And if it's lust, then for whom?
Ask any social worker. She'll tell you, quite frankly, that you don't know much about people if your ideas on sex are, well, conventional or routine. But if you: "Oh, well, sure. They're dealing with a low class of people," you need to ask other people.
More than ever before in the history of the world, people are finding their sexual outlets in the family. Mother/son, father/daughter, brother/sister. That's from psychiatrists, the ones who charge sixty bucks for fifty-five minutes. They don't waste time on poor people.
This somewhat wordy preface is by way of saying that incest, first degree incest, while still frowned on by the majority, is more open today. Not more common, just more open. And, to the sex-lover who really cares, this openness is welcome and beautiful.
"I never have cared a hang about conventional thinking," the author of this hard-hitting sex novel, Ms. Carolyn Hunt, says bluntly. "Plain people, people who need love and who find it, real love, sexual love, in the persons they love most-family, of course-deserve not only the sweetness of understanding but a round of heartfelt applause for their leadership."
"Leadership?" Yes, indeed, Ms. Hunt says. "Any man or woman, any boy or girl, who is sex hungry, disoriented, confused, frustrated-how marvelous for them to find love where it should always be-in the home."
Her views certainly deserve consideration, and she projects them in this book, as she always has, explicitly, with affection, good humor, scientific accuracy, and human warmth.
She brought this manufscript in one morning, not so long ago. She was accompanied by a tall, smiling, hearty looking gentleman who kept his arm around Ms. Hunt much of the time.
As they left, she blushed and waved at her companion. "I forgot she said. "This is my father, Michael Hunt. We're taking a little vacation trip to Mexico."
Bon Voyage, Carolyn. Bon Voyage, Mike.
New from Surree Limited, Inc., you will find four fresh, new Bedside Books, along with their all-time bestselling companions, Rated X and Surree Collectors' Series. Serious collectors will want each and every one, side-by-side on their special, private bookshelves, handy for several pleasure-filled readings.
Bedside Books, like all Surree Limited, Inc. books, are designed with YOU in mind, and every attempt to reflect your desires and reading tastes is made. Readers' comments are invited at all times, and we urge you to write us, at all times, with exact details of what you like to read, or with any other sexual matters you wish to impart, IN ABSOLUTE, STRICTEST CONFIDENCE. You need not identify yourself if you wish not to, but only through communication with YOU can we give YOU what YOU want.
All especially significant letters will be answered immediately, and all story suggestions are passed on to our capable staff of writers all over the world.
-THE PUBLISHERS Santee, California October, 1975
CHAPTER ONE
It had been almost exactly a year since Lola Todd had thrilled to the hot, stretchy, plunging delight of a male cock in her softly feminine, anniversary of Mike's death, she had gone to Fort Rosecrans to put a pot of flowers on his grave.
In a way, she felt terrible, felt like a sick, weak, perverted fraud. Carrying on about Mike's memory when what she remembered best about him was that he always seemed to have a hard-on. Bless him! He had faults, but he loved sex, everything about it, as far as Lola knew. And she knew plenty.
She opened the well stuffed lingerie drawer of her big chest of drawers. Fumbling among the soft, pretty, slinky things that Mike had loved, but that no man saw, nowadays, she dragged out a fearsome-looking instrument. Because she had come to love it, to depend on it, she hugged it to her naked breasts, holding the softness of one bulbous end to her cheek.
It was cold, so she pressed a tiny switch, then another. Immediately, she felt warmth grow in the long, pink-and-white double dildo, and a very slight vibration. She could barely feel the innate shiver of high-frequency life, mostly because her breasts were still comparatively quiescent, her slowly wanning cunt just beginning to expand and move with its own dark and silent life, up inside her.
Once her trembling pussy had had its jolting cum from the wildly efficient machine, she could lie happily with the life-like imitation buried in her drooling, muscle twitching fuck-sheath, and enjoy a smashing orgasm almost any time she wanted another. Oh, bless you, warm and every-ready friend! And bless warm-hearted, sympathetic Mary Fallon, who had sold it to her!
Impulsively, Lola turned and kissed the amazing object, her lips Open. It tasted as good as it looked. And felt. And why not? When she had put it away this morning, it had been thickly coated with the richly flavored cunt oils from her body, and with the amazingly human fluid, so exactly like semen, that she also purchased from Mary. It tasted so much like Mike's cock juice, looked and felt so much the same, that her heart almost turned over.
"But I'm through living in the past," she said aloud. "Through letting old wounds cripple me. Through trying to be something I'm not."
Standing with her legs apart, knees bent, looking at herself in her big mirror, Lola rubbed her fingers in the soft, thick, wet lips of her pussy. It felt so good! She would get her small bottle of the marvelous and jism-like liquid, fill the life-like balls with it, and then lie down for a good, long lasting, heart warming fuck. First, though, it would be wise to check front and back doors.
Since she had begun to let herself rebuild warm and friendly relations in the neighborhood, some woman friend might come in, unannounced. Here in this friendly little Southern California town of Seabright, things like that could happen.
She loved walking bare-ass naked through her living room. It gave her a feeling of laxness, an exciting and breathless imminence of better things to come, of belonging to herself, of being alive.
And it was such a beautiful afternoon. So warm and sunny. It just made her feel good to be alive. So, why should she feel guilty, ashamed of being a warm blooded woman who loved her softly formed body, her throbbing, juicing cunt?
"You have a right to be happy within yourself. Lola, my dear," she said aloud, feeling the life of the mind joining with the life in her body. Her uncle had said it, years before. Her dearest, sweetest relative. Tom Storick. Strong, slender, broad shouldered, with warm blue eyes under this shaggy brows, a lazy smile on his square, handsome face. She felt a wilder surge of warmth and eagerness in her pussy, just thinking of Uncle Tom.
The front door was latched. No chance of any friendly neighbor coming in that way. The warmth of the still afternoon air seemed to uphold her, getting under her arms where the softly tangled puffs of taffy blonde hair were damply perfumed with summer sweat. How lovely! How Uncle Tom had teased her about her hairlessness, kissing her so warmly in her tenderest spots, reassuring her that she would soon be a voluptuous, sensuous female.
"Not a woman, Lola baby," he would say, gently stroking his tongue between the lips of her soft, quivering little cunt. "But a real, grown up girl, with lovely, abundant hair on your sweet little pussy, under your arms." He had laughed, as he always did when they were together, having their private fun. "Just like your mama. Your mama had cunt hair when she was eleven." Oh, God! How sweet it was to think of her uncle, of his goodness to her, his understanding of what a growing girl needs!
She shivered voluptuously as the marvelous recollection seemed to blossom in her, to run like fire through her mind. "Think of sex, baby," her uncle would whisper to her. "Think of your sweet little cunt, and how it tastes to me, how it looks to me. Think of my cock, going into you. Because some day, when you're just a little older, a little bigger, we'll stick it in. OOOOOOH!" and he would moan. "Just thinking of it is so good!"
And she would twist and moan, too, as he gently sucked between her sturdy little thighs. "Already shaped so beautifully," Uncle Tom would whisper huskily, holding them to his warm cheeks as he moved his tongue up and down the tender, sensitive channel of her sex, looking up to smile at her after she had cum, biting her lips to keep from screaming in her pleasure. Oh, he had been so good! So kind to her! Such a marvelous teacher!
She was eager to get back to the smoothness of her bed, to open her pussy gently with the fingers of her left hand while she put the small end of the two-headed fuck machine into herself. But no, maybe she would try the big end. Greasing it, of course, with the fantastically realistic jism that Mary sold her.
She shivered in expectation. That big end, wow! It was bigger than Mike had been. It reminded her of her Uncle Tom.
Now she was at her back door, stepping out onto the service porch. She loved this old house. So roomy and nice. It had been new, twenty-two years ago, when she and Mike had gotten married, she at nineteen, Mike at twenty-one. Twenty-two years! They made such a difference. The trees, the hedge on the east and west sides of the big lot. "Private as a bedroom," Mike would say laughingly, raising her dress as they lay on the big old redwood chaise. And in the joy of sex, she would squeal and hump her body up and down as Mike gently finger-fucked her, holding one hand on his cock, feeling it swell and throb as she jacked the soft, thick skin up and down the shaft.
And then he would fuck her, slipping his big, hard dick into her, fucking deep and hard, banging into her womb, while she wrapped her strong, smooth legs over his back and fucked up at him like a crazy woman. Crazy for sex.
Right up until the day they had phoned from the plant to say that Mike wouldn't be coming home. Not ever. It had been such a terrible shock. And they wouldn't even let her view his body. Crushed under huge crate of parts as he supervised its unloading.
The dreadful loneliness flashed back, just for a second. She had been trying so hard to remake her life in the semblance of real humanity, as Mike would have wanted. And this artificial cock, so ridiculous in many respects, was a part of her return to herself.
"As I am," she muttered fiercely. "Just as I am. I've got a right to forget unhappiness. I'm entitled."
It was wonderful to stand boldly out in her green back yard, so beautifully naked, with the warm sun kissing her breasts, and no one to spy on her.
"I'm a damn good notion to do it right out here," she said aloud, grinning. "Wow! With that hot sun shining right on my twat, and all that good juice running out of me!"
It was good to have this feeling of being at home. Twenty-two years in this place. Some of her neightbors had been here almost as long. But she and Mike had pioneered it. Larry and Ellen Shelton had moved in, a year later. Right behind them, but lower, because she and Mike had bought the house at the top of the hill. Larry and Ellen had been loads of fun, too, just as earthy and human as she and Mike, until they got into that stupid religion of theirs. She sighed. It was tough on their kids. With them, anything that was any fun was a mortal sin. How pitiful!
She didn't associate with them any more. Or perhaps it would be more like it to say they didn't associate with her. She knew they disapproved of her. For a crazy reason.
"God wants you to mourn," Ellen Shelton had said to Lola in a sour voice, a week after Mike's funeral. "You and Mike have been punished for your sinful ways, and if you think you can get away with it, with not wearing full mourning for at least a year, you'll get your come-uppance! God will punish you again!"
It had been a shock to the warm, friendly Lola. And Ellen was-well, what could you say? She looked so warm and cute and cuddly, the kind of woman of whom Mike had said: "She has the word 'FUCK' written all over her face." Darling Mike! Good, kind, understanding, humorous. She still looked like it, but she had changed. And every day, hearing the dreadful harangues that went on when young Tim, the Sheltons' only kid, had done some minor wrong. How they lashed at him with their bitter tongues. And sometimes, she suspected, with physical beatings.
She shook her head. This was no time to dwell on such sadness. She had her undemanding lover, this long, warm, seemingly alive cock, with two sets of fake balls. Made for two women, Mary Fallon had told her with a fierce grin. "If you can find someone you trust that much, Lola," the older woman had whispered. Truly, a marvelous device! Lola had come to believe that the strange, loveable bit of sexual artistry had feelings of its own. In any case, she loved to kiss it. Maybe today, if she dared put the big end into her pussy, and turn on the heat and vibration to "HIGH", she would suck on the smaller end while she came. Just the thought of it gave her a hard shiver of near-orgasm in her swelling pussy, now beginning to come to its full heat.
It was really a good thing that she created this marvelously raunchy thought in her mind. Otherwise, just thinking of the dreadful diatribes of Ellen Shelton might have buried her in guilt and shame. After all, her mother and father had been as viciously narrow, as sadistically punishing to her, when she was a girl, as the Sheltons were to their young son. In fact, if it had not been for Uncle Tom and his earthiness, his sanity, his deeply moving belief in sex as a gift of God, she, Lola, might have been ruined.
She remembered how she and Uncle Tom would "get naked" as she called it. When her mother made those long, all-day excursions with other members of her church, making "missionary calls" on other folks.
It was so sweet to remember how dear Uncle Tom had showed her exactly how to take hold of a man's cock, how to love it with her soft cheeks, how to take the enormous head into her small mouth.
She thought of him with deep love, all these years afterward, and shivered with the excitement of anticipated sex. Even if it was with a man-made cock, a dildo.
"I always wondered why men called their genitals tools," Mary Fallon had giggled as she helped Lola unwrap the thing. "But now, I know. This is a tool, isn't it? A tool for fucking. Oh, dear!" and the older woman had pretended to be simperingly remorseful, "there I go, using that terrible word again!"
The marvelously realistic cock-a double cock, really-seemed to writhe against Lola's deliciously smooth skin. Her breath had begun to come faster, and she turned to go toward the old redwood chaise where Mike had slipped it to her so many times. There was a flutter of cunt nerves and cunt muscle 'way up her, and the teasing, tickling dribble of her lovely cunt slime oozed out through her hairy lips, and down.
She was aching to slip the warm, strangely alive "too!" into her welcoming cunt when she heard the voice, so near that she almost fainted in shock and surprise. A familiar voice, saying a very unfamiliar thing. But very interesting. Lift your pretty little ass just a bit higher, Alice," the voice said. "Get that cute little cunt of yours up to where I can suck it before I fuck it. Oh, WOW! Geez! That feels so good! Yeah, sure! Suck me a little. Oh, wow! Do it to me, baby! Now, spread your legs so I can get my dick into you!"
With dry mouth and beating heart, Lola edged toward the thin hedge of eugenias at the back of the lot. As it happened, the Sheltons lived there, behind the Todd place. When the developers had graded this hillside location, they had made thy building pads into huge stair steps. The Shelton place was fifteen feet lower than her own back yard, so she and Mike had never worried about a thick cover to screen away the view across the roof of their neighbor's home. There was a six or eight-foot ditch between the two lots, planned to carry away the runoff from winter rains. The voice was coming from that broad ditch as Lola carefully looked for a view point.
It was a marvelous but touching sight she finally discovered.
A kid she had known since he was a bulge under his mama's apron, gladly minded when he was a baby, a toddler, and watched with sympathy as his mother and father slowly turned from warm, earthy human beings into the coldest and harshest of inquisitors.
Tim Shelton.
Thirteen years old. Dark, slender, his fine facial bones showing a gift for life in his full, sensuous mouth. And a deep intelligence always gleaming in his large, bright, knowing eyes. What a good kid! And obviously made bold by lust, to talk in that adult way to a girl.
He had called her "Alice." That had to be little Alice Bond, who lived next door to the Sheltons. Lola shivered with lust, the lust of a sex oriented person who loves everything connected with fucking. Including watching other people fuck. Wow, did she ever love that! Going back to days of long ago, when she and Mike, both so hot and eager, had been among the first in their area to swing a bit. To fuck other people, just for the hell of it. Never on their own, always together, laughing, fucking, sucking, enjoying it, every bit of it, no matter how far out.
But where was Alice? Had she detected some movement on the part of Lola? Had she fled? Certainly, she wasn't where Lola could see her, but she could certainly see young Timmie. Boy, could she ever see him! And then, as the full meaning of what she saw swept over her, the solidly built blonde woman could have wept in sympathy.
The boy was naked. His body was beautiful. His lean, straight legs were wide apart, pelvis thrusting forward. And his cock! God have mercy on me, Lola thought. That cock!
He had his strong, sensitive hand around it, and it was so thick that his middle finger barely met his thumb. It seemed long, but Lola knew from experience that any cock, seen for the first time, seems larger than it is. Even so, it was a beauty.
And young Timmie was jerking off! He was riding that loose, soft, thick skin back, letting a bit more saliva drop from his full lower lip on to the shiny red head, then jerking it forward, then back. It was beautiful, it made Lola's cunt writhe in sudden desire, and it made her want to cry. That poor baby! For there was no girl there.
Only a picture, or rather, a book full of pictures.
The light was perfect, and Lola was only a few feet above where the handsome, intent youth was beating his meat. And he was hidden from anyone except Lola.
She and Mike had not planted a thick hedge at the back of their place. Larry and Ellen Shelton had. The ditch was an easement to carry away water. It was, if not ugly, certainly nothing more than utilitarian. So they planted privet or pittosporum or some such hedge, giving them privacy as far as folks behind them were concerned. Thus, anyone in the ditch-as Tim was-could not be seen from their home. And who would think that the thin, shimmering leaves of the eugenia plants above him would conceal a watcher?
Or a listener?
"Come on, Alice," the boy said boldly. "Get that cute little ass of yours up to me! Wow, it sure tastes good!" He was looking at a crotch shot of a very mature woman, the reddened, juicily high lighted inner lips of a cunt surrounded by light brown hair. As Lola watched, the poor little kid lost in his dream of pretend-lust, turned a page to another picture. Another cunt. Wide open, its slick, clear juice slobbering down through red, curly cunt hairs. And his cock was about to explode.
The boy's hand was moving faster, now. He had the trembling red head of his boyishly hard dick right up to the naturally colored reproduction of man's greatest joy. Lola could hear his hard breathing, almost a moan. Her own cunt, already aroused by recollection, the warmth of the summer air, and anticipation of a good, healthy fuck from her fake prick, seemed to writhe against its own sensitive inner surfaces, and her knees grew suddenly weak with the strain of holding back a weird, wild gut strumming orgasm.
She could not stand it. She was holding the long, warm dildo in both hands. Her flaming cunt cried wordlessly for relief. She was braced against the fence, now, and her breath was as fast, as chokingly hot, as the masturbating boy's.
With a low moan, she pushed the big end of the imitation cock down to her crotch. With her left hand, she held the thick, hairy outer lips open, and, with her right, rubbed the bulbous head of the inanimate cock deep into her oozing crack, rolling it in the thick, slick goo that was pouring out of her. It was a contact that nearly drove her into a craziness of fuck lust, but she pantingly held on, shoving the thing into her, twisting it to pick up more of her natural lubricant, screwing it into herself even as she felt that she was about to blow her nuts, to shoot her hard wad of passion in an orgasm that felt as if it would rip her apart.
She had begun to collapse, hanging on to the wooden fence, feeling her knees turn rubbery and weak. She could dimly hear the boy: "Fuck harder, Alice! OOOOOOH! OOOOOOH! FUCK ME, BABY! WOWEE! THAT'S IT, BABY! OH GOD! SUCK IT WHILE IT'S CUMMING!"
At least Lola thought she heard it. Somehow, she must have hit all the switches on her fucking machine at once, the "ON" switch, the highs for both heat and vibration, even the red buttons marked "EJACULATION". .
She was cumming, of course. In a sense, she had been making all of the small, preliminary twitches and lovely squirmings of pre-cum delight from the moment she had picked up the mechanical prick. She was so hot, so needful, so cock-hungry!
Therefore, as she twisted the bigger of the two ends into her spasming cunt-and she had never dared try the big one before-she began to writhe in one of the fiercest, hardest cums of her lifetime.
And, since she had pressed all the buttons, and the smaller end began to writhe and throb in her hand, shooting its remarkably life-like juice all over her breasts in a hot and sticky burst of opaque white, she blindly took it in her mouth. Away back, clear to her tonsils. Just as she had during all their married years, swallowed Mike's big cock, sucking it, loving it, going berserk over the wholesome, hot, sweetly pungent juice he shot into her throat as his cock exploded.
It seemed to last forever. Actually, once she had pressed the "ejaculation" switches, the fierce shots lasted only ten or twelve seconds, and the cock, so cunningly constructed, made only a half-dozen dry throbs, deep in her relaxed and happy cunt.
"A damn good thing, too," Mary Fallon had told Lola, shuddering with her own hidden delight. "A girl could forget to turn it off, and get fucked to death." And Lola had enjoyed the life-like heat, the squirts of that rich juice which so marvelously imitated that of man and man's balls.
Now, in the hot sun, slowly recovering from the wildness which had been brought on partly by her usual need, partly because of the rare and hot-making sight of the neighbor boy's masturbation, Lola felt her cunt relax, felt the big end of the fake cock slip out. It was followed by the ersatz cum juice, and she slipped her hand down, letting the combination of her own vaginal outpourings and the fake semen ooze out on her fingers. And, with eyes still closed, raising her sopping hand to her mouth, sucking up every last drop.
"They guarantee you can't tell the difference between this stuff and the real thing," Mary had chattered, her eyes bright with lust. "Oh, kid, I wouldn't have even let you see it if I didn't know you needed it. Would you believe it, a shot of this imitation jism is just as wholesome as a man's load? Same amount as the average man's average orgasm. Eighteen calories, just like a man's. Pure protein, just like a cock gives you. And that taste! Wow! The foreman must jerk off into every vat of it-it sure tastes like the real thing!"
As she usually did, Lola felt just the slightest trace of shame. It was hard to get used to the idea that she had a human right to sexual satisfaction. And where, she often wondered, could she find it in this small town and at her age. Without spilling it all to the neighbors.
"Shit," she muttered, using one of Mike's favorite words, "If I brought a man home-if the bottled water man stays to chat for two minutes-my good friends are dead sure I'm making a whore of myself."
She turned and got on her hands and knees, giggling as she looked down and saw the strangely double-headed fuck machine moving gently on the soft turf. "Better turn you off, baby," she said, touching all the switches. "Don't want to run your batteries down.
She thought for a flashing second of the young boy who lived in the house below her. She thought of Mike as he had been at that age. At least, what he had told her.
"Kid like that needs to get fucked so damn bad that hell take on anything that's hot and hollow," Mike had said seriously. "Wonder to me that more teenagers don't get jailed for rape." He had thought for a few seconds, then smiled. "Girls that age don't report boys for raping them. They want it. They expect to get it shoved into their little pussies," he had said mildly, tolerantly. He had been a man of rare understanding. "When you're that young, you run around with a red peter all the time. Never run down, or get enough."
Now, turning off the switches on the electric dildo, she made a little face, half mirth, half sadness. "Timmie never has to go to the store for new batteries," she said, giving the rubbery plastic fuck machine an admonitory shake. "Of course," and she laughed, "he couldn't fuck me in two places at the same time, either."
She was in the house by now, and she carefully wiped the grass off the long instrument. It was a marvelous thing. Just exactly as hard, but just exactly as flexible, as a human dick. Both ends of it. Its reservoirs looked and felt exactly like a man's balls. The sacs were even wrinkled, and somehow, the makers had put hair on them. "All they need is a little sweat and stink," she had said to good old pal Mary, and the dark, wrinkled woman had laughed loud and long. "And maybe a fake asshole to rim with your tongue," she had said, and that had both amused and shocked Lola.
But not too much. Not Lola. But then, she had had the benefit of Uncle Tom, that sweet, smiling, calmly courageous man. "You must learn this while you're young," he had assured her, holding her on his lap, both of them naked, facing his mirror so that she could see her little pink cunt spread open, and his enormous cock, pressing on the inside of her smooth skinned and girlish thigh. "If you like sex, you're alive. And if you don't, you're dead."
"I don't think mom likes it," she had said. "I've heard her and daddy fighting, and I think--well, daddy thinks-she's frigid."
Uncle Tom had laughed quietly, dandling her on his thighs, big hands grasping her buttocks. "I'll guarantee your mom's not frigid." he had said. "Mixed up, maybe. Lost her old fire, or some of it. But just because you have grown to fear sex doesn't mean you aren't interested. I know a woman over in Sunrise Beach who says that inside of every frigid woman, there's a nymphomaniac begging to be let out."
He had rubbed in the drippy pinkness of her sensitive little cunt, making her squeal in a quick flash of orgasm, and asked, as she clung to his cock, "Do you know what a nymphomaniac is, baby?"
The child had turned-the child that had been Lola, and the Lola of today shivered with the warm recollection-turned and put her sweet young face up for Uncle Tom to kiss. She remembered the slick strength of his tongue, and how much it turned her on to be doing this grown up kind of kissing. Her mom was shopping that afternoon, and she and her uncle had the whole house to themselves.
"Sure I know," she had said. "It's what I want to be when I grow up!"
CHAPTER TWO
Now that she was inside the house, with the lingering tremors of a wholly unexpected outdoor orgasm tingling deep up her darkly slippery vagina, Lola walked into her living room and slowly, gladly let herself down on her thick, soft carpet. The house, built so many years ago, was cool and comfortable. The long, thick fibers of the rug felt good on her lightly sweated skin. Her cunt felt good, real good, and she inserted her finger between the thick, slobber-coated lips of her sex, knowing that just a flickering rub around her hard clitoris would bring her to another smashing cum. How marvelous to be hot, to be able to cum, to feel free!
"As long as I'm already started," she whispered to herself. The idea brought a giggle. She was so far behind with her sex! And she had always loved it so. She had been like a half-dead woman, for a long time after Mike's tragic death. And, being the kind of woman she was, with the memory of her beloved uncle, and of her equally beloved husband in her mind, it was just impossible to go out and pick up some dummy with a hard-on. Just to get fucked. Just the thought of it gave her the shivers, and she reached down near her solidly rounded hip and patted the battery-powered dildo.
The sound of a footstep on her concrete porch brought her up to sitting position, her warm, still partly open cunt pressed against the teasing fibers of her carpet, until she remembered that the door was latched.
So, feeling secure, she lay for a few seconds, smiling, remembering the deep, soul shaking thrill of her first double use of the inanimate but loveable mechanical fucker. And the shockingly lascivious sight of Tim Shelton, wildly jerking at his fantastic prick.
She was in this rosy descent into voyeurism recalled when the door chime unexpectedly sounded its two-toned summons. It brought her back to the present with such a shock that she leaped up, her strong, lovely body poised for flight. And then she heard a voice, a pleading, frightened voice, calling her name.
Without hesitation, she opened the front door, forgetting that she was totally nude, although she stood partly behind the door.
When she saw who it was, a darkly handsome boy with a tear-stained face set in lines of pain, she quickly unlatched the screen. And with that simple act, she automatically lit the fire that still smoldered in the soft, slick dark of her cunt.
"Come in, Timmie," she said kindly. "Whatever in the world is the matter?" And her heart pounded as the young boy, tall for his age, perhaps, but still, only thirteen, fell against the soft warmth of her sensitive breasts, clutching at her, sobbing and crying.
Perhaps he was blinded by the bright sun, for he did not seem to notice that she was naked. He was so deeply wrought up, so wrapped in trouble, that he could only think of his own fears, and seek for some solution. The kindly woman's mother heart was so touched, in spite of the lingering warmth in the slippery folds of her twat, that she led him to her big couch, made him sit down, and held his face against her soft, smooth breasts. Indeed, feeling the moist warmth of his breath on these sensitive pillows of flesh, she had a sudden, fiercely maternal impulse to lift one of them to his sweet young mouth, squeezing it into a cone with the hard nipple as its point, to suckle him as she would an infant.
In the few moments since she had stumbled into her home, weak-kneed from her violent burst of fuck-joy, the boy had dressed, hiding that wonderfully mature cock of his, and Lola's fingers itched to undo his zipper, to fumble in the sweetly humid areas of his crotch, and to caress that warm, delicious morsel of flesh. And that, too, was a sharply strange turn of mind and body for her. For she had never before paid the least sexual attention to youngsters.
But he was babbling something inarticulate against the maternal softness and warmth of her big titties, and she held him tightly, listening to his voice above the thudding of her heart and the corresponding throb of blood in her cuntal blood supply.
"Don't tell on me," he was sobbing. "Oh, please, don't tell on me! I'll never do it again! I promise! Never, never! I'll work for you for free, honest, Aunt Lola! Just don't tell my dad! Oh, please!" He was as desperate as any soul in pain can ever be, and Lola Todd, whose kindly nature had been sickened many times by the harshly strick treatment she had seen-and heard-as her former friends mistreated Tim, held him with tender fierceness and said clearly: "Be quiet, darling boy! Hush, Timmie! Aunt Lola won't hurt you! Believe me, I'll never tell! What in the world's the matter?" And she felt his smooth young face move forcefully across her tender breasts, felt the wet warmth of his tears course down their blue-veined whiteness.
She continued to pet him, running one hand down inside his collar, down the smooth, warm skin of his back, once again wishing she could see and feel his beautiful young cock. There was a strong, male scent coming up from his summer-warmed young body. Sweat and crotch perfume, the subtly carnal smell of hot breath.
In a burst of sensuality, she mashed the boy's face against the throbbing warmth in her titties, and said in a firm voice: "Stop crying, Timmie! Look at me!"
When he pulled back, still sobbing, still unable to look her in the eye, she shook him by his broad young shoulders, and again she commanded: "Be still! Tell me what's wrong with you. Why are you so frightened?"
This time, his eyes accustomed to the comparative darkness of the house, he saw that his hostess was still naked, beautifully displaying the smoothness and loveliness of breast and belly and thigh, with the darkly blonde bush of cunt hair snuggling down to where it disappeared in a triangular delta of warm promise between her legs. Lola was not sure, but she thought that, from the corner of her eye, she saw a quick movement in the soft lump in his crotch. In an impulse of sympathy, she took one of his unresisting hands and put it on her breast, on one of the swollen, hard fleshed nipples.
"What is it?" she asked softly. "Why would I tell on you? And what would I tell? Come on, Timmie, we're old friends. Remember, you always call me Aunt Lola. Ever since you were a baby. Tell me."
He drew away, and there was a strange expression on his face. He could not help but see the sexual treasures at his side, a sight he had never seen except by peeping on his mom, Lola was certain. It broke her heart to realize that his look was one of suspicion. And she had an idea that she knew why-she was a grown up, he was a child. A member of that miserable minority, teenagers. Without a voice in anything, with no right of protest, no right of argument, no basis on which to question or dispute a parental edict. Any adult edict. It gave the tender hearted woman a sharp twist of anger at Larry and Ellen Shelton, at their cold and loveless discipline they practiced on this helpless child. But her mind was racing along other lines.
She wanted to see that cock!
To see it close up. To handle it, to inhale the manly aromas that would arise when the thick, soft foreskin was pulled back from the swollen, blood-filled head. So, although every true instinct in her told her to be kind, to be tender, a deeper hunger made her act as if she were a giant cat and this young male was her prey.
Therefore, she held his strong, slender forearm, leaned back, opened her voluptuous thighs to show her plump, sweet lipped cunt in all its wet, pink glory, and said: "Maybe I'd better know what you're so worried about before I make any promises."
The boy's instant reaction told her she had done wisely. He was once again on the alert, still frightened, but better oriented.
"You know," he said sullenly. "You know damn well. You're just trying to trap me into confessing something I didn't do. Like mom."
Although she was heartsick at his bracketing her emotionally with that tyrant, his mother, Lola felt that she now had a handle on the situation. And she felt no shame. After all, she knew that what she had in mind for Timmie was both right and good. If she could get that cock of his in her hot cunt, in her sucking, licking throat, it would be better for him than the austerity and fruitlessness of jerking his sweet cream out of that hard, oversized dick of his. But she had to get worse in order to help him better.
She eyed him sternly. "I don't need to trap small boys," she said coolly. "I already have enough on you. You've been fucking a kid named Alice, haven't you? That has to be just one chickie, and we both know exactly who she is, don't we? Little Alice Bond. That sweet faced little kid next door to your folks. Right?"
The boy tried to twist away. "There you go!" he cried angrily. "Just like my mom! Putting two and two together and getting a million. I never fucked-oh-oh!" He swallowed his words, flushing a deep red under his dark tan. His good manners made him react automatically. "I'm sorry, Miz Todd," he said, hanging his head. "For saying that word, I mean."
It almost broke through Lola's cunt hunger, he was so sweet, so pitiful. But she maintained her calm, although her heart yearned to comfort the defenseless boy.
"I'll overlook the word, Timothy," she said, "if you'll clarify what you started to say. 'Fuck,' is it? Well, that's not such a bad word, in some ways. It says what it means, exactly. So, go on."
Timmie looked at her from under his thick brows. Her use of the tabooed word had shaken him. "I was going to say that I never, uh, did that to Alice Bond. She's a good kid. She's pretty young, but she's all right."
His face had lighted up, and he showed some animation. "If anyone says she fu-I mean, if she does anything like that with guys, they're just lying." He seemed to realize that he might be saying too much, and fell silent again, a sad, sullen look on his handsome face.
"All right, then, Timothy, I'll accept that. For the moment, at least." Lola felt she was near a breakthrough. "You don't want me to tell your mom. Something. But what? You say I know. But I want you to come right out and say it. Maybe I won't tell."
The boy leaned away from her and she let go his arm. He tried to get up, but his face flushed and he sat back down.
Hard-on, Lola thought eagerly. A real, bona fide hard-on. Wow!
Aloud, she said: "Do as I say! Tell me!"
The boy hung his head. "You know," he muttered. "You must have seen me up there in my hideaway. Beating off. Loping my mule. Oh, damn it! You saw me jerking off! I know you did! That's what made you faint, isn't it? Oh, Aunt Lola!" he cried, and buried his face in his hands, "I'm so sorry! It was bad, I know! But don't tell, please! Mom'll kill me!"
Lola drew a deep, shuddering breath. This was too much. She rose from the couch and braced her hand on the young boy's shoulder. "Come along with me, Timmie," she whispered. "I have to talk to you."
Dumbly, but with some hope beginning to run in his terrified mind, he got up and followed her. Now that she was walking ahead of him, not looking at him, two things happened.
One, he hastily pulled at his hard cock and got it up along his belly, a great relief. The other, he gawked openly at the smooth, opulent ass, with its dark crease, the blonde hair which hung down and was barely visible between her legs, and the strongly sculptured thighs. It made his cock harder, although he was still frightened.
When they were in her bedroom, Lola pulled two pillows together and lay down. Once again, she opened her thighs, watching the boy's red faced efforts not to look at her softly parted cunt lips, so thick and fat, so generously bedewed with her cunt's oozings.
"So you know I fainted," she said softly. "Tell me the truth, how do you know that?" She recalled that now, twice, he had called her "Aunt" Lola. Well, he had called her that, all through his babyhood and young childhood. That was when she and Mike had been close-oh, very close, indeed-with his mother and father. She knew how Timmie had come by that great cock. Honest inheritance.
The boy pulled himself together. "I heard you hollering," he said boldly. "So I stopped-uh, what I was doing-and ran up the side of the ditch. You were fainted. Bare assed, still hollering a little, humping up and down. But out of it." He paused and cleared his throat, but went on courageously: "So I knew you'd seen me, and it had made you faint."
He was trembling, but Lola could see that his young cock was almost bursting out of his pants.
"You heard me holler, and you saw me on the ground," she said thoughtfully. "What was I doing? Besides humping a little," she added, unable to keep from smiling.
The smile seemed to reassure the lad, at least for the moment. His cock was paining him. He wished he could get away, go home, and hide in his room to complete his masturbation. Not for pleasure. That was gone. Just to keep from having one hell of a stone-ache. But he felt better about Aunt Lola. She was more like her old self.
"You had some kind of a thing sort of, well, kind of wrapped around your arm. I think," he added miserably. "It looked like you were taking medicine from it. I didn't see it too good. But it was in your mouth, and you seemed to be sitting on the end of it, sort of. It was like a hot water bottle, with that long tube. You know what I mean, don't you, Aunt Lola?"
"Douche bag," Lola answered automatically. So he hadn't seen the big end of the thing, stuck deep in her flowing cunt. The angel! the sweet, hot, innocent baby!
Very softly, she said: "Timmie, God above couldn't make me tell on you. To Ellen-your mom, I mean-or to anyone else. Never!" She raised her hand as though taking an oath of silence, then crossed her heart, stroking across the warm, smooth tenderness of her titty. "Does that relieve your mind?"
He looked shocked, as though the release of fear and pressure had made him giddy. Mutely, he nodded, tears welling in his eyes.
"Come here and stand by me," she whispered. When he was close enough, she pressed her soft hand on the hard bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes, and she felt the hard pole of meat leap with a throb.
"You say you stopped what you were doing?" she asked. "When you heard me yell? You never did get off?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her, startled. Grown ups never talked this way. Or did they?
"What did you say, Aunt Lola?" he gasped. His face was pale, his dark eyes shining with an unbelieving glow.
"I just asked if you got that load out of your nuts," the blonde woman said. "If you got off. Or did you cum? Or shoot your wad, or whatever your generation calls it when you shoot off. A simple question." She was smiling, her inner muscles moving gently in their bath of cunt oil, and her richly formed body was moving slightly. "Did you?"
He acted stunned, but managed to answer. "No. I didn't shoot it."
She moved slightly away from him. "Get your clothes off, as quick as you can," she ordered, her voice husky with desire. "Quick! Boy, you mustn't carry that load around any longer! Hurry!"
She made an effort not to reach out and grab his beautiful young cock the very second it came into view. It was so hard, the head so slick with its engorgement of blood, the big veins standing out in the thick, soft skin that covered his hard rod.
The boy looked dubious, startled, but she kept her commanding eyes on him, so he got his pants off, then his shorts. He had not taken time to put on his shoes, he had been in such a panicky rush to petition for her silence, and he pulled his knit shirt off over his head, standing there strongly built, beautifully naked, a dark ring of softly curled pubic hair around his trembling prick. He was still uncertain, obviously horny to the point of recklessness, but obviously afraid of entrapment.
His "Aunt" Lola knew his trouble. She moved again, and got her smooth hand on his rigid tool. "Baby, she whispered, "I want to tell you something. Something true."
She looked at him pleadingly, and he looked down at the fleshly riches she was apparently offering him-tits better than any in his secret fuckbooks, a fat cunt, a real cunt, with real hair, more than Alice Bond would ever have, probably. And wide open. Pink lining all swollen with heat, dripping a clear juice.
His lips moved, silently, and she knew he was asking her for the "something true" she had promised.
"I'm just as scared as you are," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Believe me. But I feel that if I don't help you, now, when you need it so bad, it'd be the worst thing I ever did. Besides," and now she smiled, "it's going to help me just as much. Come on. Get on the bed."
He was trembling as he pushed on the bed beside the lovely woman.
"Feel me," she whispered. "Do anything you want. Put your hand on my-what do you call it?" she asked. "You said fuck, a little while ago. I think that fuck's a lovely word. Do you want to call what I have down here," and she pointed to the split at the base of her belly, "do you want to call it a cunt? Or is that too strong for you?"
The boy was breathing hoarsely, now, his eyes fixed on her pussy, roving up to dwell on the lush beauty of her breasts. "Cunt," he said in a shaky voice. "Cunt. And tits." He was licking his lips.
"Oh, Geez, Aunt Lola, I, I-" his young voice, so manly before, broke to a soprano note, and big tears formed in his dark eyes and rolled down his cheeks, "I can't believe this is happening! OHHHHHH! OHHHHHH! I'M SORRY. AUNT LOLA! OHHHHHHHHH!"
As if in a dream, when movement is slower than a slow motion film, Lola saw the handsome young cock, so surprisingly manly in its dimensions, swell to what seemed like twice its size as the boy staggered toward her, his eyes closed against the excruciating joy of hard orgasm.
Wide eyed, she saw the little slit in the head seem to suck in for a split second, then open as a foreshortened jet of milky white jism shot out at her.
It came so hard that it seemed to sting her breasts, already sensitive to a point of beautiful pain, a fierce stream like a white rope, splattering across both her breasts, striking in her armpit.
She could not remember, afterward, just how it had happened, but she must have cried out in some strange, inarticulate shout of need and joy. She could remember hearing something, loud and clear. Her action in rolling on her side must have been automatic, too, for she was near enough to reach the stumbling boy, and her strong, warm hand went right around his slim hips, right on his hard, muscular buttocks.
She did not think she could move so fast, but she was sure of one fact-the second shot went into her mouth. Most of it, anyhow. That may have been because of her cry of concern as she felt the warm blast of pearly, boyish seed hitting her breasts.
She felt the hot, slick stream strike the back of her throat with the same force she had felt on her tenderized titty flesh, the glorious richness of taste that she had not known for more than a year.
And the next blazing spurt of his cock juice poured comfortably into her closed mouth, and the boy, glorying in this marvelous adventure-even if they kill me for it, his mind registered silently-felt his "Aunt Lola" swallow as his crazily sensitized cockhead went deep into her throat. Felt the slickness of powerful muscles close on his dick and stroke it with ten thousand times the pleasure of his spit-slicked fingers.
He could feel a deep, crawling, burning pleasure in his nuts, all along his throbbing fuck stick, in the dark of his guts where his fuck system had both its supply and its triggering nerves. And, as he fell across the smooth, firm body of this beautifully naked woman he had known and loved all his life, both his hands went out instinctively to brace him and slow his fall.
His left hand went across her, on to the bed. But his right hand, not aimed, acting purely in reflex, went right between Lola's legs, right between her smooth, solid thighs, and into the drooly, joyfully hurting cunt that was so gratefully ready for any touch, any rub or friction to release the joy-taut nerves that silently screamed for their rightful explosion.
As she swallowed the rich protein salvos that squirted from young Timmie's wildly throbbing cock, the woman felt the thrill rise in her vagina, in the writhing dark around her womb. There was the wildly joyful bursting of pleasure in her clitoris, the response of surface nerves in the reddened inner lips of her pussy. All these pangs of love fulfilled raced and exploded in her cuntal area, making the taste and feel of the cock in her sucking mouth an even greater delight, an even more satisfying surge into the reality of sex.
She felt it all, the pressure of the strong young body, mashing her big, tingling breasts flat, the thrust of his cum-spurting dick in her loving throat and against her broad, slick tongue, and especially the long, delicate fingers deep in her cunt, instinctively prodding, pressing, rubbing on every sex-starved nerve in her pussy.
It seemed to last and last, for both of them. And yet it seemed to end all too soon.
As the semen-hungry woman continued to suck on a prick totally emptied of fuck juice, the tender nerves, too sensitive for such powerful love, forced the boy to withdraw his loins from the loving face of the woman he called Aunt Lola. This took the pressure off her painfully pleasured breasts, which flopped and rolled on her ribs. And naturally, as the boy pushed himself up, his hand came away from the juicy, warm cunt, which bumped up just once in a mute plea.
The mother heart of Lola Todd turned a flip in her warm bosom. She knew that this had to be a shock to the boy. He would need love and support after such a sexual shock. She acted unconsciously.
Bouncing to the middle of the bed, she held out her arms to the sex-dazed boy, tears of joy rolling down her soft cheeks, and said in a choked voice: "Come to Aunt Lola, my sweet little baby!"
In his boyish heart and mind, raised to the nth power of joy and wonder at this unbelievable happening-a blow job from a grown up lady, fucking his oldest friend in the head, shooting his wad into the craving throat of a woman he loved-a gut twisting quake of happiness was almost dampened by a sudden inrush of mistrust and fear.
He had been trapped by his mother so many times, letting her coax him into admissions of human reaction, and being cruelly punished for it, afterwards. Nothing like this, of course. Not any real sex. Only the admission, for example, that he had seen her naked, not trying to peep, just a quick and accidental flash as his mother had stepped from her bedroom, headed for the bath. It was a shock, first because he hadn't thought his mother was at home, and second, because there had been a man from the telephone company only a little while before, not in any regular uniform, just a laughing guy who said he was there to check on what he called "flash static-ohmers" that were interfering with all the phones in the neighborhood.
The fellow had said to Tim that he had checked the other rooms, and now wanted to check the bedroom, and would Tim go out and tap on the wall if he heard the telephone inspector tap on the wall.
When Tim hadn't heard anything after twenty minutes, he came back in, called: "Hey, telephone man!" and, when he got no answer, concluded that the inspector had finished and left.
And it was shortly after that, after Tim had rummaged around in the refrigerator for a snack, that he had almost dropped dead as his mother came out of her room. His dad's room, too, of course. And he thought he had dodged back quick enough so mom didn't see him. But man, had he seen her! Everything. Absolutely everything she had. And he still felt like a criminal wretch from time to time, thinking about that quick sight of his mother's lush charms. God Almighty! Such tits!
And such a cute, bouncy, curvy little body. Mom was hardly any bigger than Sheri Olson, who lived across Ocean Avenue from his house, and who loved to come and play with him and little Alice Bond.
He had stood in the shadow of the hall door, watching his mom hurry to the bathroom, holding her hand over her twat like she was afraid she'd spill something.
The young lad was warm from the embrace of his sweet and tender neighbor, but he had some old fears. After his mom had asked him, oh, so pleasantly-and sneakily-if she had frightened him when he saw her, he hadn't been smart enough to lie. So he, thinking to reassure a concerned parent, said: "Oh, no, mom. I just didn't know you were home, I thought you were working for Mrs. Price that day." And man, had the shit ever hit the fan!
She had slapped him half silly, until he was blinded by tears, said he was a snoop and a pervert, a Peeping Tom who wanted to look on his mother's private parts, which should be sacred to a boy. But oh, no, his mom had said, he was probably getting warts in his hands from "pulling his pud," as she called it, thinking of his poor mother's sacred places. And she had said: "I just don't know, Timothy. I don't know what to do. If I tell your father about this, why, gracious Peter, I think he'd whale the life out of you!"
That was one terrible remembrance he'd had. And mom, at least, hadn't told dad about it, which was certainly queer. If it meant the old man having an excuse to whip his ass black and blue, she usually told him. And watched, wiggling and panting, while dad whipped him.
But the woman he had always called Aunt Lola was kissing him, and stroking his back, and reaching under him with one hand to play with his cock, and he suddenly relaxed and began to cry. And, when Aunt Lola asked: "What's the matter, Timmie? We haven't done anything wrong," he clung to her and whispered raggedly, between sobs: "You really meant it? You're not going to tell on me?"
And he felt most of his fears swept away in a clean rush of love as she took his hand and put it-can you imagine? A woman like Aunt Lola?-right on her cunt! Yes, sir! And said: "Oh, Timmie, that just feels so scrumptious! Just rub me there, like you did when I had your wonderful big old peter in my mouth!"
It was enough to make a guy forget all his troubles, except that Tim had so many of them. So many fears, so many reasons to be wary of grown ups, so many people who might tell something about him to his folks. Or to the cops.
But Aunt Lola was so warm and soft, her titties so big and soft, with such large, hard nipples. And she had asked him to wiggle his fingers in her cunt.
He was getting a hard-on, and he didn't know whether to be proud or scared. It was sort of against Aunt Lola's belly, or the side of it, and she must feel it. So he ducked his head and said: "Listen, Aunt Lola, don't be mad at me, but this old thing," and he pulled his juice-laden fingers out of her warmly moving cunt to gesture in the direction of his dick, "is doing something bad again. Honest, I can't help it! Maybe I'd better get dressed and go home."
The blonde woman rolled toward him with a hungry fire of love burning throughout her body. Her cunt lips felt twice as big as usual. That mechanical fuck machine, even if it was the very best of its kind in the world, was just nothing to a real live prick, a penis made of flesh and skin and erectile tissue and nerves that danced on a high wire of delight as the thick cream jetted out of a man's balls.
"Oh, baby," she said fiercely, "you mustn't get dressed. And you don't have to leave until you want to! Oh, God, Timmie, I never knew a living soul could be so sweet! Is your mom working for Mrs. Price today? Or do you feel safe out in your little hidey-hole in the ditch? Boy, don't take this lovely, wonderful peter away from me!" And she jerked softly and lovingly on his hardening cock. It felt so good, so much softer and warmer than his own hard hands, no matter how much spit he let drop on his cockhead.
Being only a kid, he didn't know what to say, so he giggled and rubbed his face on each of Aunt Lola's big breasts, and she moved up and down and groaned, holding his face pressed real hard into one of the soft, smoothly warm pillows. And she put a tender hand on his neck and moved the nipple of one tit up to his mouth with her other hand, and said in a low, hoarse voice: "Suck on it, baby! Suck on it just as hard as you can! Way down deep. OHHHHHH!" and she screamed and thrashed on the bed, scaring the young boy. "That's so good, darling! Ohhhhhh! Suck Aunt Lola's big old titty again, like a sweet boy! Ohhhhhh! That's it!"
She held his head cradled in her arms, and he realized that there is a direct wire from a woman's breasts to her crotch, for he could feel the slick, warm juice pouring out of the woman's cunt. Her titties were bigger than his mom's, and bigger than Sheri Olson's. He wasn't, sure whether she had more cunt hair than mom, or than Sheri. Mostly because their cunt hair was so dark and hers was blonde. Maybe it looked like they had more. Strangely, he felt a deep desire to bury his face in that mass of tawny curls that so softly covered Lola's big, slickly wet split.
In a dreamy way, he let the nipple escape his mouth, turned his face sideways, and asked, from an unexpected reservoir of bold curiosity: "Was it an accident that you sucked my dick? Was it because I was standing right by your face? Geez, Aunt Lola, it sure scared me when I started to cum all over you." He blushed very red, and Lola squeezed him until his ribs creaked. "Did you like it?" she asked. "That's the important question. When you're in that ditch, talking to your secret girl friend, and I still think it's Alice Bond, and she laughed warmly, "do you imagine you're, uh, fucking them, or that they're sucking your sweet peter? Tell me."
He was silent for so long that Lola knew something was wrong, and she shook the boy gently.
"Timmie," she said, "believe me, all I want to do is to help you. You call me Aunt Lola, and I couldn't love you more if I were really your blood kin. Your folks used to be very close to me and your Uncle Mike. But you can remember that, can't you? It wasn't our doing when we became-well, not so friendly any more."
She had a quick flash of the intense, bubbling, try-any thing friendship they'd known at one time. Not just with the Sheltons, but with the Ranees and the Clays. What wild good times! But the Clays had moved down to San Diego, and the Ranees had been transferred back to Texas. And the Sheltons, for God's sake, had fallen into some kind of religious fanaticism. But Lola remembered, with a sudden shiver of lust, that all of them had been willing to try anything once. And Ellen and I would try anything tivice, she thought. Like the time all of them had decided that the ladies should play Lesbian, and suck each other's juicy, highly aromatic, soft-lipped cunts. And for a long time, she and Ellen had had little private matinees of cunt-licking, they had loved it so much.
"I know you want to help me, Aunt Lola," Timmie whispered, shaking the sex-hungry woman out of her reverie. "But so many bad things have happened to me. And I keep thinking: this can't be true. You're only trying to trap me. To turn me over to my dad. To beat on."
She could tell that there tears in his voice, and she sat up so suddenly that she tumbled him off her. That cock! She'd have it up her cunt as soon as she got this out of her system.
"I acted wrong, Timmie," she said, her own tears starting. "I wanted you so. Wanted your sweet, big, manly cock. Wanted to feel it churning in my warm pussy, to feel your rich, creamy jism shooting down my throat. And I was afraid you'd turn me down, and tell on me! That's why I acted like I did. Like accusing you of having something to do with little Alice Bond. That was wrong!"
He lay close to her, fondling her breast. Something in what she had said made him giggle. "I said I didn't fuck her, Aunt Lola," he answered. "But she's so crazy to learn about sex that I let her suck me. Just a little!" he cried, as Lola tried to sit up again. "Not to cum in her mouth! We'd both be scared of that. Couldn't she have a baby if I let it go in her mouth?"
Lust swept the woman's firm, lush body. She knew the little Bond girl, small for her age, which was eleven, with an innocent, elfin face, big blue eyes, blonde hair almost white from the sun's bleaching. And hardly any titties at all. Just little bumps showing in her knit shirts. That little girl, sucking a boy's cock? Marvelous! Just the thought of it made the fire in her cunt scorch every nerve, made her cunt juice flood out of her relaxed but swollen cunt lips.
"No, there's no danger, Timmie," Lola smiled, rumpling the boy's dark, sweated hair. "Any more than you could give her babies by sucking on her sweet little pussy." Her fevered mind pictured this action, also, and she had a new heat, the voyeour's lust. But there was something she wanted to know. Something that Timmie had said that she wanted to confirm. "Did you say your dad beats you?" she asked, her voice oddly shaky.
As best he could, in his position, the boy shrugged. "When I've committed a sin," he said. "Like seeing my mom with no clothes on. When the telephone guy was there." He played in the soft, slick warmth of her pussy, loving the rich, hotly gagging smell of it. Ten times better than either Sheri Olson or Alice Bond. He was surprised when the woman pushed at him, telling him to lie on his belly.
She looked at old scars on his slim but muscular back, felt the ridges, slight as they were, from welts that had been delivered in months past.
Her heart and mind flared in wild anger, but she felt a sense of guilt lifted from her. If this was the way religion soured people-and then she remembered her own folks. As bad as Tim's. Maybe worse.
All that she had done and thought for the past hour coagulated in her mind-her heat and the dildo, the sight of Timmie jerking off, the wildness of her passion, the bright, stained-glass mental images of her uncle and how he had helped her. The rest, the glorious feel and taste of the young boy's cock in her mouth and the richness of his seed, the pleasures of his body and hers, blended in, too. And all the rest, the confidences of the boy, the thought of his sex play with the little Bond kid, the beatings. The beatings? Oh, God, how well she knew the pain and humiliation of adult cruelty!
She had his hard cock again, holding it, kissing it, while her eyes filled again with tears.
"Do you want me now, Timmie?" she asked. "Have you ever fucked? Ever really had your beautiful peter in a girl's cunt, or a lady's? Please, baby, let me give it to you! Let me take your lovely cock into me, and squirt your sweet cream into Aunt Lola!" If I can only help him as I want to, she thought. Oh, God, thank you for this chance!
And, as the boy's happy face shown above hers, she took his hard young dick in her hand, guiding it into the grateful cunt which she held up to meet his thrust.
CHAPTER THREE
There was something more than sexual pleasure in the joining of the mature woman's wetly hungering cunt and the young boy's manly prick. She was so ready, with every nerve in her cuntal spread so raw with desire, that she began to orgasm as soon as the head of the penis slipped into her vulva, into the aperture of her vagina.
"Oh, God, Timmie," she whispered, screwing her body up to meet his instinctive downthrust, "that feels so big! So wonderful! Ohhhhhh!" And she was conscious of the silent working of her vaginal muscles, "Do you want to make Aunt Lola cum? OHHHHHH! IT'S CUMMING!" she cried. "STICK IT IN ME, BABY! DEEP! DEEP! OHHHHHH! HOW SWEET!"
It was fantastic, the way she had shot her wad so instantaneously. And yet it was understandable.
This was what her body had been made for. To fuck and to be fucked. Those delicate but durable membranes that lined the valley between her thick, hairy outer lips, those sweetly closed bubbles of slickness that covered her cuntal entry and its muscles, they were given to her, by God, to give pleasure and to receive pleasure. And she held the boy's warm, strong body gladly and gratefully. He must stick this wonderful organ into that hot little Bond kid, into any other of his female playmates who, in their dumb need, wanted it so badly. As she had. Thirty-two years ago. When she was nine.
Tom Storick came to their home in San Diego as a wartime visitor. And, to the nine-year-old girl's surprise, since she thought of her mother as a stern and forbidding tyrant, he was made welcome.
Perhaps it was the flood of patriotism that touched everyone. Her dad and her mother both worked in plants that built planes for the Navy. Uncle Tom, turned by all the services because of an old spot of scar tissue on his lung, had come to the area to work in a war plant, too. To help his country, he had said simply. And mom had hugged him, saying: "You're always welcome here, Tommy."
She had pulled Lola forward, then, saying: "And this is little Lola," and the child, ready to love anyone who was friendly, took one look at her Uncle Tom, and fell in love with him. Not as a little girl, but hotly, passionately, not at all sure of what she wanted from her uncle, but feeling sure she would get it.
He was so tall that, when he went down on one knee to take her in his arms, he was still taller than she was, but her belly seemed to press on his chest, and she felt a wave of warmth spread through her young body. She knew very well all the differences between male and female, even knew the enormous and threatening size of a grown man's penis, having seen several by accident. And she knew that her right leg was pressed against where Uncle Tom's cock ought to be, as she let him hug her to him.
"Little Lola," he said. "Not so little, if you ask me. How old are you, Lola? Eleven? Twelve?"
Of course, mama had returned to her usual form, and said with a sniff: "Just a little over nine, really," but Uncle Tom had hugged her again, and she was very proud of her tiny but well shaped titties, which felt a tingling glow as he hugged her.
He had the room downstairs, at the back. Their home had been built on a hill, like so many in their part of the world. It was one story at the front, two at the back, with no stair from the upper floor to the one big room dug out of the hill.
And he was on the graveyard shift, midnight to eight, while her parents worked the swing shift, four to midnight. Thus, when Lola was off at school, her uncle was sleeping. And, not long after mom and dad had left for work, Uncle Tom was getting up.
It only took one day of this, plus the deep need ' the little girl had to be loved, to bring her down the little flight of steps and into Uncle Tom's room. Just to see if he had awakened up yet, surely an innocent idea.
It was nearly four. Her folks had left for work. She had come home from school. She just knew that Uncle Tom would be awake, would be glad to see her. But he wasn't. Wasn't awake, that is.
It was a warm day, and he had long ago kicked off the light blanket and sheet. He slept in pajamas, but he was on his back, and the child could see-how could she miss it?-that her uncle had an enormous erection. "Hard-on," Phyllis Armstrong called it. Said her brother called an erection by that hard, lovely name.
With her heart almost jumping out of her throat, and with a sudden sting of warmth in her immature vagina, Lola had crept in, barely able to breath, and moved silently to the big bed.
There was a magical aroma, once she got near enough. It smelled like her pussy after she rubbed it, only much stronger, much sweeter. And suddenly, while she watched, the straining pecker found its way somehow to the simple fly in the PJ bottoms, and shot up almost under the girl's startled, hot eyes. Beautiful! And simply enormous! And, as the big, dark red, shiny head began to appear as the pinkly wrinkled skin over it rolled back, Lola got a new whiff, an intoxicating whiff, of that frightenly sexy aroma.
She had come to wake her uncle up, not knowing why, and certainly knowing how and how much she loved him. But now, she was afraid. Afraid, and yet unable to retreat. That big cock held her, unable to move backward, only forward, toward that trembling, throbbing column of hard, hot meat.
She could not help herself, moved by an instinct too deeply buried for a nine-year-old to recognize. To be sure, she had seen one faded, dog-eared picture of a woman performing fellatio on a man, but the woman was no one she, Lola, could identify with.
And yet, going to the cock like a needle to the pole, she knelt on the bed watching it with fascinated eyes, unconsciously licking her lips, swallowing the drool which flooded her mouth. She was sitting on her bare heels, and she felt the tickle of clitoris itch between her shapely young thighs. Her breasts, such tender and tiny little things, suddenly seemed too large for her tight dress, giving her the most delicious pain.
On an impulse as old as the race, the young girl made a big, wetly red "O" of her mouth, and shudderingly bent over and went down on the big cock. The blood was pounding in her ears, she could not think, she was very close to fainting, and yet she made a perfect descent on that hard, smooth pole of warm and vibrant flesh.
She rested for a split second with the cushioned head far back in her throat, actually pushing past her tonsils. By rights, she knew, it should have made her throw up. But it felt lovely and marvelous, filling her throat, driving her crazy for the white juice she knew was buried in her uncle's balls.
She withdrew, raising her head but keeping her tongue busy as the big cock slid through her cheeks and lips, and now, one small hand went straight to the base of the enormous prick, holding it in the soft clutch of love.
She knew there were balls down there in that sweaty PJ bottom, and wonderingly flashed the thought in her mind that she might get one of them in her mouth, too. But the cock tasted so strong, so beautiful, so much better than a finger full of her own pussy juice, that she banged her eager face down again, rotating her head as the cockhead went tightly into her throat.
Above her, a delighted Uncle Tom wondered which was best-to let this precocious child suck him off, perhaps getting half strangled with his flood of jism, or to risk startling her by letting her know she had awakened him. But, while he wondered, she decided the issue for him.
She had been in an uncomfortable position. She was too near, and had to go straight down on the long, throbbing prick. Also, sitting on her heels was uncomfortable, and her chaste little cottom panties were binding her crotch.
With a few movements, never letting the wonderful peter slip out of her mouth, she got up on her knees, pushed the panties down, got first one knee and then the other out of them, and quietly removed them with her left hand. It was a study in innocent efficiency, and her adoring uncle marveled that such knowledge-or skill-could be in a mind so untrained. But now she was ready. And now she gave her uncle his opportunity.
With a low moan of heat and happiness, Lola moved her knees and body, her young rump coming back right before Tom's delighted eyes.
There was an irresistible heat and joy rising in the completely juvenile fuck-system of the young girl. She was sucking as carefully as any grown woman, with a native talent that almost sent her uncle shooting up the wall, and it was having its effect on her. There was a hard throb that struck her around her well formed young clitoris each time she went down on Uncle Tom's cock, and she was so filled with desire that a warm, light touch on her shapely little ass did not frighten her at all. If she recognized it for what it was, her uncle's hand, the better part of her mind told her that it was friendly, that it was not slapping her, or pushing her away, or in any way rejecting her.
What did strike her, and it struck her like the benign blow of a loving fist, was a shudder of orgasm in her cunt. Probably the first genuine orgasm she had ever known, no matter how many times she had eagerly finger-fucked herself.
So she moved her sweet little butt, shoving it back, searching for something to love, something that would love her. Without meaning to, she spread her thighs wider, and this opened up the slick and shiny pinkness of her inner lips.
To her uncle, this was so wildly delightful that he could no longer resist, and he stroked gently into the heart of the child's cunt, first licking his finger to be sure it was slick enough to go into her, into the hot little hole that seemed to be leaking its ooze in a very mature way.
He had not had his cock in warm and living meat for over a week, since he was rather slow to pick up on glances sent his way by willing girls. Although he was in his late twenties, he had seldom had many passing affairs. But he was wise in the ways of sex, all the same, and he recognized that this hot, wildly loving child might be his answer for a long time to come.
When he touched the indescribable softness and slickness of her opened cunt, as free of pubic hair as a baby's, and the girl groaned around the hard circumference of his cock, thrusting back at him, he shoved his finger in a little deeper, and moved it around.
Immediately, two things began to happen.
For one, the sight of her little hairless butt, with its thick, soft cunt lips protruding behind and between her buttocks, had added many degrees of heat to his cock, already being sucked. Indeed, the mere idea of such a young child in this scene was as aphrodisiac as anything he had ever dreamt.
And then, as he thrust his big finger into that tiny, reddened opening, and the girl's small but perfect body ground back at him, with immature cunt muscles closing and nibbling on his finger, it brought him to white heat.
And the second thing? Maybe it was the second and third things.
The girl began to cum, and she did not know how to restrain herself. She wanted to scream, but she felt the big cock swell, grow harder and thicker, and somehow she sensed that it was about to shoot its precious load. I have to make this good for Uncle Tommy, she thought desperately. Her very first real orgasm was blowing her tender cunt apart, was exploding deep in her guts, so that she felt as if she were slowly coming wide open, like a huge mouth roaring.
Somehow, her mouth and her cunt seemed to be one. She felt her vagina close and clasp as it were sucking and getting nourishment from whatever Uncle Tommy had stuck into her. And the thick, creamy load that was flooding her mouth, some shooting into her throat, to find its nutritive way into her stomach, ah, that was pure delight! In her throat, but also, seemingly, in her cunt as well. And she sucked up the divinely rich fuck juice, feeling drops ooze out of the comer of her mouth, no matter how fast she swallowed and sucked.
Until, at last, she could stand it no longer, and fell side way across her uncle's trim, muscular body, her softly divided little ass right in his grinning and appreciative face.
He held her for a moment, fearful lest this very heavy experience should have damaged the young girl, and felt a sob shake her small, beautiful body. After all, my God! Only nine!
He kissed her quickly, deeply, right in the crack of her virgin ass, and took a quick suck as he tasted the richly flavored juice that had poured forth in such wonderful generosity from this tiny girl. As she groaned and twisted, he sucked again, right over the softly fluttering cunt hole, and the child screamed as the nerve-rasped cunt walls came together under his powerful suction.
She was fighting weakly, and crying, and he quickly turned her in his powerful grasp, raining kisses on her small, lovely face.
"Don't cry, my darling," he whispered. "Don't you ever cry about such things! Not with me, anyhow! I love you, you know I love you!"
Under his kisses, the young girl went still and relaxed, then opened her eyes, a doubtful look on her face. "You sure you're not mad at me, Uncle Tom?" she asked. "That was a terrible sin I committed!"
Sin! There it was! The word that young Timmie had just used. Now thirty-two years later, feeling the hard, sweetly churning cock of the young boy buried deep in her oozing, softly gripping warmth, Lola Todd remembered, with a burst of sweetness that made her wrap her powerful thighs around Timmie's strong young body, her heels driving his cock deeper into her flowing, bursting pussy. Sin! A word she hated, a word that had made her hate her mother.
In that long ago time, as clear as the present, she saw and heard the beginning of a marvelous beauty that had entered her life.
"Sin?" her uncle said, holding her tight. It was like a question, but not one you had to answer. He was angry. "Sin? I knew my sister had turned religious, but for her to call fucking a sin! Wow! That's almost too much!" He hugged the young girl, held her away and looked at her squarely with his kind, honest blue eyes.
"You were so sweet to do that," he said in a low voice. "Here, take off that stupid dress, let me see those little beauties that are ripening and going to waste under there!"
He pinched one of her small titties, and she felt their inadequacy, but Uncle Tommy stuck out his broad tongue, smirked at her, and said: "I'll make them big, big, big, baby! I'll suck you clear down into my belly!" And then, as she hastily shucked off the dress, which had suddenly seemed too tight and utterly useless, he peeled off his shirt, thumbed his jammy tops down as he rolled, and there he was, bare naked, the most beautiful sight little Lola ever saw.
She was too shy to let him see her. She had one forearm across her achingly sensitive little bud-breasts, the other across her smoothly tanned abdomen, her hand covering her softly split little cunt. "I'm such a baby," she apologized, and the tall man with the sweet smile and the suddenly beautiful face said quickly: "You're no baby! Young, maybe, and maybe I'll call you my baby! But you're somewhere between being a young girl-and a woman!"
Just as she had a week ago, before he got a job, the first day he had come into her life, his words thrilled her. That day, he had thought she might be eleven or twelve. Twelve was old enough to fuck, she knew that. Phyllis Armstrong's brother told her that. Better yet, he'd told her that he'd fuck her, himself, when she got to be twelve. And she had been so delighted that she had begged him to let her jerk him off, and he had let her. But, she'd be willing to bet, her brother never had said she was somewhere between being a little girl and a woman! Wow! If she could only tell Phyllis that!
She felt her face go taut, as if she were going to cry, but her uncle took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips, saying: "All I want to do is help you learn, my darling baby! My darling baby woman! With your sweet little mouth that already seems to know so much." He studied her face. "Why do you say you're such a baby?" he asked. "A baby couldn't give a guy a blow job like you just gave me."
She felt herself blushing. "I couldn't help it," she muttered. "I came down to see if you were awake, and he-he-this one," and she reached under herself and petted his cock, "he was standing up so cute, like he was begging. So I just, well-I did what I did." She felt hot all over, ashamed to look this sweet and wonderful person in the eye. "I guess it was stupid, even if it wasn't a sin. Did you say it wasn't a sin?" She was twisting her fingers anxiously, still not looking at him.
With his enormous strength, he lifted her off him and got on one elbow over her. He placed his big, smooth hand over her smooth little twat, letting one big finger play up and down in the slick little crack, so well greased by her juvenile cunt oils.
"You sweet, mistreated little love," he whispered, "It's no more a sin to use your body to have pleasure than it is to use your eyes to enjoy a beautiful sunset. Or to use your ears to listen to beautiful music. Do you understand? What you did for me was instinctive. Do you know what 'instinctive' means?"
The child answered. "Something you do without stopping to think, I guess," she said. "That's what I did." She licked her lips and shuddered as a feeling of echoing lust pounded its sweet little way through her cuntal system. "Oooooooh!" she breathed. "I guess I must've, you know, what do you call it? Had an orgasm?" She clung to him, her breath rasping in her throat.
He felt of her cunt again. "Yeah, orgasm," he said. "Or you could say you came. Or a lot of other things. Listen, Lola my dear, I know you're only a little over nine. Like nine and a half, maybe? So, okay. I don't know how much young girls have learned by this time in their life." He laughed. "I don't want to make a fool of myself, so I don't want to teach you something you already know. But I want to help you. I didn't realize your mom was so far out in her stupid God damned religion."
As she looked alarmed, he said: "Don't worry. God-the real God, that is, the one who made men and girls as they are, with cocks and cunts-he and I are good friends. He won't strike you dead, any more than he will me." He shook her gently. "You've got to believe that, if you want to be happy. Is your mother happy with her God?"
The girl shook herself. Some understanding seemed to warm her.
"She's sick, mama's sick and unhappy," she said, amazed that she could realize this, more amazed that she could say it. "Okay, Uncle Tommy, I believe it. Oh, God! How marvelous to feel free! How crazy, wild and wonderful not to die from sin!"
Her voice was rising, almost to hysteria, and her uncle turned her over on her soft young belly, and jammed his finger deep into her tender young pussy. It had the desired effect-the young girl's slender body arched like a bow, and her scream, muffled in the sheets, was one of pure joy.
When he turned her again on her back, looming so big above her, the child looked at him with respect as well as love, and said: "I never dreamed anything like this could ever happen to me."
In the tall man's mind, there was a vision of an illimitable succession of days like this. His heart leaped at the prospect. To love and have a girl of nine-well, not ten yet, by a few months-to teach, to introduce to sex for her own protections as well as for their mutual delight, was as near heaven as a man could wish.
He leaned down and sucked on one of her tiny little breasts. They were as soft as whipped cream, and not much larger than a marshmallow. Puffed up aureolae, mostly, but with nipples almost womanly in size and hardness. As he sucked, the little girl humped her body up and down in delight, holding his head tight against her, just as if she were grown.
"Ohhh! Ohhh! That's so wonderful, Uncle Tommy!" the child cried. "Why is it that it feels so good in my titty, and so good in my pussy at the same time? OHHH!" And she thrashed wildly, kicking her lovely young legs in the air. "That almost made me cum! Just like when you put your finger up me!"
He released her tingling breast, rubbed his soft hand on her smooth young belly, and said: "It's all a part of your sexual system, dear. There are scientific words for it, but never mind them. The important thing is that it gives me pleasure to be so intimate with you, to suck your pretty little titties, and that hot little nerves run from them, right down to your sweet little cunt."
Her question and his answer reminded him of his previous question, concerning how much the little girl knew, and he reminded her gently: "You didn't tell me what you need to know. I'll gladly teach you everything I can. But you tell me if I'm covering something you've already learned. Not that it's ever the same just to hear something as it is to learn by experience."
From a bold little girl, bold enough or wild enough to try and suck a grown man's cock while he was asleep, little Lola had suddenly become unsure of herself. But the very fact that she was lying here, naked and in bed with a naked and grown man, gave her the deepest possible thrill. And with it, a new touch of boldness. "I never held a guy's dick in my hand," she said, "except Nola Prentice's little brother. And he's only six and a half. I don't really know anything about them. Except that they shoot off."
Her face was crimson, and she closed her eyes. Remembering the warmth, the richness, the wildly wonderful taste of her uncle's cum juice made her shudder with pleasure. "That's what makes babies in a girl's belly, isn't it, Uncle Tom? But you could never get that big thing into me, into my poor little old pussy, could you?" It twisted her guts even to think of it.
Her uncle looked down at her paternally, smiling. "I got my finger into you," he said. "You were tight. Very tight. Maybe my cock wouldn't go into you, the first time we tried, but it would be fun to deep on trying. You really came, a while ago. Did you notice how much juice came out of you? That's a girl's natural lubricant. Supposed to make your little cunt slick enough so that a big prick can go inside you, up your little twat."
Lola shivered ecstatically. "Will you try to get it in me?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Even if it only went in a little way, I'm sure I'd love it. OOOHHH! It just makes me shiver inside to think of it!" She stroked his cock, which was beginning to fill with blood again, to rise and harden. Her warm little hand, soft as the lips of her girlish pussy, made it jerk with anticipation. The antics of the mysteriously lovely thing touched the girl with new heat. She flung herself over to where she could look it directly in its little "eye", and pulled the loose skin back off the swelling head.
It was too much. With a little cry of gladness, she opened her soft lips and sucked it in, rolling her eyes up in unconscious coquetry at her uncle.
As she licked around the head, her smooth cheeks sucked in with her effort, he dropped on his side, his face near her thighs. There was a strangely mature aroma coming from her heated cunt, and he saw that her soft, thick outer lips were opening of themselves, pushed out by the blood-swollen inner lips.
Very gently, he held one of her legs high in the air, opening her as far as she would go, and probed deeply into her tight little fuck hole with his pointed tongue. It went in a surprising distance, and he thought: Well, at least the kid's got no maidenhead to break. Hot little devil, probably fucks herself with something besides her finger. He had to arch his back to get to her as well as he wanted to, but his cock was long enough so that she could at least gargle on the head without his actions pulling it out of her mouth. He had a deep respect for innate, inborn talent, and he knew many grown women who could not suck a cock with the pleasure-giving expertise of Lola.
He was filled with joy at the many implications in this unexpected relationship. With a grown woman, he would be called upon, like as not, to fuck or suck or play as the woman wanted, or for as long as she demanded. Often, this had led to disappointing situations. Now, with a nine-year-old, he could be the complete boss, doing as he liked, when he liked, the way he wanted to. And she would be grateful. Not that he would ever take advantage of her ignorance. She was too dear to him, too touchingly sweet and eager.
He stopped the play of his tongue in her cunt, and the little girl's body became still at once. "Did you like what I was doing, Lola?" he asked, and the child promptly nodded, again and again. The motion of her head made a magnificent change in what her mouth was doing to his cock, which was now hard and tender.
"Wow!" he ejaculated. "That's super, Lola! I won't have to teach you much about sucking a cock, that's for sure!"
The child, holding his cock in her hand, removed her mouth from it. "Oh, thank you, Uncle Tommy!" she said. "Listen, do your balls-well-what I mean, I've heard they're real tender. Would it hurt them if I got them in my mouth and sucked on them a little? Would it feel good to you?" Her voice was trembling with eagerness.
The big man kissed her lightly between the puffed up lips of her sex, so sweet in their hairless simplicity. Knowing that it was the idea rather than the feeling which so pleased a man, the fact of having his balls "loved" by a girl's mouth rather than any cum-sensitive feeling, he told her a white lie: "It will feel wonderful to me, baby," he said. "Maybe one at a time would be better than trying to get both of them in your mouth."
He lay quiet, feeling the soft and tender young mouth sucking in one ball. Would she be able to mouth both of them? He felt her smooth, warm little body move sharply, as if in pleasure, and knew she had been able to get both big, hairy eggs into her sweet cheeks. As he felt her tongue go over and around them gently, something in him said, as if a voice were speaking in his mind: You've got something very precious here, old buddy. See that you 're good to her.
Very carefully, so as not to pull his delicately nerved testicles from the jaws of the bemused little girl, Tom pulled the shapely child's left thigh across his chest, and laid his cheek on the inner part of her right thigh. The position stretched her young pussy into a long line, from which, due to her heat, some part of the inner lips protruded. At this close range, he could see that they were a darker pink due to the rush of blood to the surface veins.
And she was juicing, too, like a grown woman, the clear stream of thick, clear cunt syrup leaking out from the soft, hairless slit. He gently picked it up with his tongue, gradually going deeper between the tender surface of her outer lips. And, with each lick, he felt the young body tense. He wanted to make her cum, wanted to feel her leap and hear her scream, but he feared for what might happen to his captive balls if the child blew her top in orgasm.
His nose was in the humid crack of the little girl's ass, and it was a weird experience for him to nuzzle in a crack so smooth and so delicately scented. He felt his cock throb as the raunchy need to suck out her asshole struck him, but he was cautious.
Very gently, as though waking a somnambulist, he slipped his warm hand under the young girl's arm and patted her. "Lola, baby," he whispered "Lola, can you hear me? Don't nod yes," he said hastily. "Take my balls out of your mouth. Carefully."
There was a wordless moan of protest, then the girl disgorged his testicles, raising her head to look at him with flushed face and dripping mouth. "Oh, Uncle Tommy," she breathed, "that was so marvelous. You're mean to make me stop it," and she pouted, holding his cock against her full lips, rubbing its head in the drool that slobbered, unchecked, from her saliva-filled mouth.
He hunched his loins unconsciously toward her, wondering if he could bend his back enough to fuck into her throat and, at the same time, suck both her cunt and her tender asshole.
"Which would you like to try?" he asked her. "For us to suck each other off at the same time? Or to see if we can get my big old cock at least part way into your beautiful little cunt?" The very phrasing of the words seemed to have an effect on his fuck nerves, for his cock suddenly stood out very hard, as it did when he was about to cum, and its big veins swelled with rich blood. Once more, he thought how wonderful it was to have this chance, to be allowed by fate to teach this child how to be free, how to enjoy her sexuality without guilt, and a sense of humility and gratitude swept him.
"I never got all of that creamy stuff, did I?" the little girl asked artlessly. "Can you shoot some more of it? Phyllis said-that's Phyllis Armstrong-her brother told her a guy couldn't, uh, shoot it as often as a girl."
"Don't worry, baby," her uncle said, "I still have plenty. Does that mean you want me to shoot it in your mouth? Or, if we can get it part way in, enough so you can cum and I can shoot it in your little cunt, I can suck it out and let you get it from my kiss. Whatever you want."
Now, thirty-two years after that wonderful afternoon, lying on her back with the cum juice drizzling from her happily sated cunt, Lola Todd could remember every detail, every tone of that dear voice. All he had ever wanted from her was to help her, to see that she knew how to get the most from her life. And so, as she held young Tim Shelton's softening cock in her hand, feeling his cooling jism on her fingers,, she silently vowed: All I want for you, Timmie dear, is to help you live and enjoy.
She could, in a very warm way, remember the stretch, the marvelous pain in her soft young cunt as she and her uncle spent nearly an hour trying to get his big prick into her. Oh, God, how it had hurt! But how beautiful the pain had been. And how she had bled!
It was so different, now, with her cunt still tight, but so well able to take in the big end of that fantastic electric cock. That was wonderful, stretching her almost like Uncle Tommie had.
But not, of course, as lovely, as sweet, as satisfying as the very human piece of swinging meat that hung from young Tim's belly.
CHAPTER FOUR
There was a deep, throbbing warmth in the gorgeously mature cunt of the blonde woman. And she felt, truly, as if she had been fucked. Really fucked, but good.
She turned on her side and caught the dark, handsome young boy staring at her, and he grinned. "I was thinking how wonderful it is to have a, well, a grown up for a friend," he said. "Golly, how often does a kid like me get to really talk to someone who knows what it's all about?" He burrowed against her pleased breasts, so full and heavy from the long, hard orgasm this kid's cock had given her. She pressed him tighter, loving the ache in their soft tissues.
"You mean to talk about fucking, don't you, my darling?" the woman asked tenderly, pushing the damp hair back from his brow. She moved so that her reeking cunt could be close to his cock, which was so sweetly smeared with a his-and-hers cum mixture. "You wanted to ask me some things, didn't you? Like what?"
He was silent for a few seconds, like a boy standing on a high diving board, getting up courage to take the plunge. When he spoke, it was accompanied by a nervous giggle.
"I want to know if-well, if my mom, or anyone else catches me," and he stumbled over the words, his ears scarlet with blushes.
"Catches you doing what, Timmie?" Lola asked. "Out there in your hideaway in the ditch? Masturbating? Or playing with the little Bond girl? By the way," she asked, "does she really suck your cock?"
The boy looked up at her. "I said she did," he remarked in a dubious tone. "But if you tell on me, I'll just say you lied."
He seemed to change his mind like a hummingbird in flight, and nuzzled again between the soft breasts. "Forgive me, Aunt Lola," he begged. "I just get so much shit at home."
She caught her breath. "Tim," she said earnestly, "they shouldn't ever beat you. Damn them! I could-I could-oh, baby, if they ever hit you again, will you tell me? I won't murder them, although I feel like it! But I can sure as hell stop them!" She hugged him to her, and the bright flush of anger seemed to echo in her cunt, for she reached down between their bellies to pick up his sticky-wet cock and squeeze it gently. "Oh, baby," she sighed, "how good you fucked me! I never had any better! God, let's get this pretty peter of yours hard again!"
She moved around so that her face was right at his cock and skinned the head so she could lick around it. There was a rank, deep fragrance that was made up of his wonderful slime and hers, plus the rubbings of hot flesh on hot flesh. Sort of like between your toes on a hot day, she thought with a shuddering pleasure. Like Uncle Tom had been, so many years ago. Letting her suck him or kiss him any where she wanted. So she could learn. So sweet! So good!
The boy moved. "I wanted to ask you," he said in a child's voice, "a guy can't die from, uh, cumming too much, can he? I know that that business about warts in your hand from jerking off, that's a crock of shit. Isn't it? But can a guy get weak and die of T.B. if he wastes his substance?" He tried to laugh, but couldn't.
Lola kissed him all around the cum-matted hair that sprouted at the base of his dick. She held his balls in a gentle hand, amazed at their size and weight. How healthy, how strong!
She cleared her throat of a rush of spit that filled her mouth as she inhaled his crotch's rank and lovely perfume. She wanted to enjoy this lascivious beauty of sexuality, but she also had to choke back a new rush of anger at this boy's parents.
"No!" she spat out. "That's an even worse crock of shit! How dare people teach such lies! Oh, you lovely, wonderful man! Because that's what you are-with a cock like yours, with a love of sex like yours, you're surely not a little boy any more!"
She sucked in his marvelous young balls, licked them with a swirling tongue, then softly let them out again. How well she remembered the marvelous education she'd had from her uncle. And now, by the grace of God and great good luck, she had someone who needed it as badly as she had.
"Listen to me, Tim," she said softly. "A man can fuck as much and as often as he can fuck. Do you understand that? If you have shot all the lovely, rich sperm out of your balls, and have no more to shoot, you can't do it any more. Nature will tell you. Sometimes, a man can still get a hard-on, even when he can't shoot off any more. It's fun, but it can give you a headache. Or an ache in your balls, called a stone-ache. But," she concluded, patting him on his smooth young buttock, "the more you use your equipment, your cock and balls, in the way that nature intended, the more you can do it. Fuck, I mean."
She kissed him lingeringly along the underside of his prick, enjoying the taste and rich smell of their long fuck. The boy had not stirred. "Do you understand, Timmie?" she asked. "And what's more, do you believe me?"
She felt his fingers-or was it his lips?-moving in the tender and sensitive lips of her cunt. It was delightful. So manly and sweet!
"Well?" she asked, wondering at his long silence.
"I believe you, Aunt Lola," the boy responded. "But I'm still sort of scared-about if anybody catches me. You never answered me on that."
"I know," Lola answered. "I got strung out on something else. Your dad beating you. And you never said just exactly what you meant about someone catching you. Tell me, baby." She mouthed his young cock briefly, her pulses surging as she realized it was getting hard. "First, though, don't ever be afraid to screw. Or to suck and be sucked. I promise, you won't die from it."
He squirmed a bit, and she sensed that he wanted her mouth around his prick again. Gratefully, she sucked it back into the depths of her throat, swallowing to give the head a hard massage. The friction on his young dick seemed to excite him, for he grabbed her head, one hand on each side, and tried to fuck into her deeper. She held her fingers around the hard stem of his prick, thicker at the base, enjoying the marvelous feeling of closeness, of helping.
But she needed help, too. There was a fire still burning in the dark and slobbery depths of her pussy, a swelling need that welled up in her, even after their hard and satisfying fuck.
It was the boy who seemed to sense what she needed.
He was lying with his eyes so near her crotch that he could see every pink, slick convolution of her inner lips. Her blonde cunt hard, darkened near the fuck hole by their mingled juices, seemed to steam and move with her desire. The opening to her vagina still hung partly open, relaxed by the power of her orgasm, and a clear stream of her sweet and rich tasting cuntal essence drained slowly out, to spread across the soft skin on her strong thigh.
He had shot his wad twice in something like an hour, this boy of thirteen, but the wealth of female flesh, this warmth of welcome and equality given him by a woman he had always loved, made him feel capable of great things. Indeed, the brave words Lola had just spoken, her assurance that a man could fuck far more than he might believe, added heat and hardness to his pulsing dick.
And, after living with his very minor knowledge, to have new fields open to him, this was heaven!
He got his strong, slender arms around the woman's thighs, at their thickest point, where they joined her body. It gave him something to hold on to, but more than that, it was a part of woman that intrigues a man's mind most. And why not? It's closest to the real thing, the softly parted, juicily dripping, aromatic cunt.
With a groan of happiness and lust, he sank his mouth over as much of this wide-open pudding of oozing flesh and membrane as he could take in, tonguing and sucking as hard as he could. In spite of his very brief experience with little Alice Bond-and with her friend, Sheri Olson-he had never dared ask: "Does this feel good? Is this the right place? Am I doing this right for you?" Male ego forbid! And besides, he thought, they were kids. What did they know?
Now, with his face buried in reeking, sweetly perfumed cunt flesh, sucking up the clear juices from the woman's vagina, he suddenly knew that there was more to pleasing a woman than simply fucking or sucking. You had to know.
Nevertheless, he felt her strong body surge against his ducking mouth, felt her close more tightly on his cock as his tongue struck deep into the hole where his prick had been. He knew that women had a thing called a clitoris, because he had read of it. The books and magazines he had read had all been soberly scientific, for all the garishly explicit photographic illustrations. He even had a good idea of where this little gadget might be. So, as he moved his head back from the juice-producing cunt hole of this lovely woman, he whipped his strong young tongue deep into the flesh just below where her slit began.
It was fantastic.
The big thighs, so warm and smooth and sweet, closed on his head, and he felt the lady he had always called "Aunt Lola" fuck against his face in wild abandon. He felt her warm mouth leave his dick, and heard her hoarse screams: "OHHHHHH! OH, GOD, TIMMIE BOY! SUCK IT, BABY! A A A ARRRRGGGGHHHH! GO-GO-GO, TIMMIE! OHHHHHHH! OH, MY BABY! SO-O-O-O-O-O GOOOOOOOD!"
His hands pried at the thick, slobbery lips of her cunt, at the crease under her powerful buttocks. He was all right, he could get sufficient breath, but he loved the yielding firmness of woman flesh under his strong young fingers. The juice that was more than he could swallow, that seemed spread all over his face from ear to ear, from brow to chin, was sweeter than any syrup he knew. And the pink, slick fullness of inner cunt lips, which he could now suck into his own lips and tease with his tongue, made his joy complete.
When Lola felt the black flame of orgasm begin to die inside her vagina, she loosened the grip of her thighs, and tugged at the young boy's head. "Come around and up, dear," she said, her voice breaking with a laugh that came from her guts. "I want to suck my dirty old cum off your sweet face. Oh, wow!" and she hugged him as his body came against hers, breast on breast, "that's enough to make a woman forget all she ever knew. Oh, Timmie," and she shuddered with echoing rapture as she pressed him against her fuck-swollen titties, "it doesn't seem possible that you never had any experience!"
He felt a rush of pride, but with it, an honest humility.
"I wish I knew more, Aunt Lola," he whispered. "That thing that ladies have, that clee-toh-riss, is that how you say it? I didn't know where it was, but I must have hit it, didn't I?" He wriggled against her warmth, his hard young cock prodding into her sensitized flesh. "You sure did cum! Did I really find it?"
She was gently but thoroughly kissing his shining face, feeling very close to tears in the released love she felt for this kid.
"You hit it, all right, baby," she said in a choked voice. "Oh, Tim, you're just wonderful. And your beautiful cock, it's so hard, and it tasted so lovely. I must have just leaped away from it when that huge cum shot off in my guts. Hey, get up here, sit on my chest. I just thought of something."
She was excited, now, with her idea, a thing she had done years ago, with Mike, in their first ten years of marriage. And she remembered the first time, too, with her uncle. He had said he would make her titties grow, and he had. How wonderful he had been, how much he had done for her!
She felt her cunt pop open as she moved her body, and hastily closed her thighs. As hot as she was, even the warm summer air in her bedroom seemed chilly.
When the boy was sitting precariously on her ribs, with his hard cock lying on her flesh, on the slick and sweated skin between her big breasts, she put her hands on his thighs. "Move up toward me, toward my head," she said. "Rest your weight on your knees. There, that's the way. Oh, God, Timmie, I hope this works. Do you like my titties?"
He pressed his thighs against them, forcing them up from where they spilled down the sides of her rib cage in their lush weight.
On their white, smooth skin, the little veins just beneath etched a road map of light blue traceries, everyone leading to her nipples. They were big and hard, and seemed to her to have been that way ever since she had seen Tim beating his meat in the hidden ditch. She could feel the slow, regular pound of her heart, each throb making a deeply loving link of warmth between tit and cunt.
"Squeeze them," she whispered hoarsely. "Hurt me, baby! Squeeze them hard! OHHHHH! OH, GOD ABOVE US! THAT'S THE WAY! OHHHHH!"
He was so hot by now that he was not startled by the woman's screams, did not care if he hurt her, sensing, in some dim way, that to be hurt was exactly what her body needed.
But his action to press the softly firm breasts up had held them around his cock, just for a moment, and the heat and silken feel of the titties, the essence of motherhood, added a new flame to his already heated fuck system. Without knowing what he was doing, or why, he held the soft pillows of tit-flesh together, and fucked hard between them, watching their friction pull the skin off the red head of his dick.
At the same time, Lola Todd strained to get her head up, her open mouth pink and shiny with an overflow of spit, which drooled out the corners Of her mouth.
"Get me a pillow, Timmie," she said in a strained voice. "Double it. Shove it under my head. There! I think that does it. Listen, am I slick enough between my titties?" She felt him shove his cock into the valley between her breasts again, and thought: My God, I've got cum nerves in my boobs! It feels almost like my pussy!
But she saw that there was just a little too much friction for the boy to really enjoy, and she whispered: "Hold still a second."
As the young boy, his eyes half closed in lust and anticipation, rocked gently back and forth on the responsive skin of her ribs and belly, she raised her knees and felt with both hands for her lusting cunt, pulling the hairy lips apart with one hand, scooping out cunt ooze with the other. Just the feel of her hands in her pulsing vulva gave her a little shock of cum fever, and she smiled, thinking of the ease with which she would get her ovaries off in this experience.
She drew her hand back, full of her vaginal flow, and in a corner of her brightly lit mind, remembered her uncle on that sweet and faraway day, saying: "This is a girl's natural lubricant."
Then, while Tim watched, grinning and twisting each time she touched his sensitive cockhead, she let the dollop of pussy juice flow over his prick and into the warm valley between her titties.
"Now," she whispered, her heart speeding its beat, "hold my titties around your cock. Fuck! There! How's that?"
"Fine," he panted. "Oooooh, it's so nice and slick! And it smells so good! Oh, that wonderful juice!"
They were both holding her breasts tightly around his young cock, and he was milking them in rhythm with his fucking motions. There was a beautiful pang of hard pain each time he milked down on their soft fullness, but Lola was concentrating on the thrust of his cockhead, which now touched her lower lip at each follow-through.
She let go her breasts to put her hands behind his buttocks.
"Move up," she demanded hoarsely. "Oh, God, that feels good!"
She closed her eyes, feeling a wonderful subtlety. As his weight pulled the skin on her belly tight, there was a sharp pressure from her tightly drawn skin to the upper part of her split, where the thick lip-flesh made a cloak for her clitoris. So slight, so sweet! When he shot his glorious semen across her lips, into her face, he would be fucking hard, and she would fold her thighs over each other, to get the full delight of that taut pull on her most craving part of cuntal spread.
As he obediently moved forward, his hard young thighs caught the lower portion of her boobs, the rich fullness where milk is stored by a lactating female. There was a sharp beauty in the hard pinch he gave her there, and then, beauty of beauties! By opening her mouth to its fullest, she was catching the soft, smooth head of his cock between lip and tongue. Over and over, as he panted and fucked, and now, by timing her moves just right, she could press her hard tongue on the tender underside of his cockhead.
He was riding her with the unconsciously cruel abandon of a horseman, using her soft, beautifully hurting breasts as reins, and fucking deeply between her mounds of soft flesh and smooth skin. Better, he was seeing it all, the big nipples squeezed out between his fingers and thumbs, the dark red head of his cock as it shot through the crease between her breasts and into her mouth.
In Lola's entire body, there was a wild glow of fulfillment. She had never had so much fuck-fun in her life, not even with Uncle Tommy, not even with Mike. Because she was doing this. She was not a simple receiver of fuck pleasure, she was the creator of new ideas for this boy, giving him not only the fruits of her hot and juicy body, but the greater wildness of her lascivious mind.
She was trying to say "Fuck me, Timmie," but each time she had the phrase framed, her jaws closed to hold the boy's cock, however briefly. She was wrapped in a warming dream of sex fantasy, the aroma of cunt and cock and sweated assholes and armpits all around them both, the twisting thrust of near-orgasm stabbing into her fundament with every surge of Timmie's cock between her breasts and into her mouth.
She was hanging on a hair trigger of cumming, and thought for just a second that it might be better, fuller for the boy, if she let him slide back and jam his tool into her pussy.
But this, she knew, was right and good. Even if it was their first time. To let him find out for himself that there were more ways to get pleasure from sex than any man could ever fully explore. That he was man enough to strike out along new pathways, to use a woman as nature intended she should be used-in every way which would give their minds as well as their bodies the dark thrill of bursting lust.
Without asking, she knew that the young boy was very close to cumming, but she could not ask, for fear of losing that final, fateful thrust into her jaws that would bring him, shooting and screaming, to his third big cum. But she was suddenly ablaze with a desire to shoot her own wad, to blast an orgasm that would burst in every dark millimeter of her squirming, flowing vagina. In some manner, a blessing, she supposed, one of her grasping hands flew out and found the super-dildo that had been carelessly tossed on the bed, and lost in a jumble of sheet and blanket as she and Timmie loved and enjoyed.
She remembered to let his penis come in and hit the roof of her mouth and scrape softly back over her tongue and lips. But she found the heat and the "ejaculation" switches and jammed one end-she wasn't sure which-into her blissfully welcoming cunt just as Timmie's first burst of pale, rich seed spurted from his balls.
He could not stop his thrusting, it had become too much a part of him, of the life in his spurting cock. In a burst of startled delight, he watched his cock appear between the compressed titties, slip into the pink and drooling mouth over a coiled tongue, and then shoot a blasting jet of sperm into his "Aunt Lola's" mouth, overflowing it even as she closed her lips to suck the head of his swollen, spurting cock.
He could feel the slickness of his buttocks, their smooth skin sliding back and forth on the now sweat-greased belly of the blonde woman, and it gave his balls, drawn tight against his pole, a lovely feeling of outside fucking. But he had to lock his knees tightly against her body as she suddenly began to writhe and twist and fuck up at him in the wildest orgasm she had yet had.
There was a hard, beautifully painful burst of consuming fire in the woman's body, a hidden flame that surged through her belly, squirmed fiercely in the dark juiciness around her womb, and spilled out along with the huge shot of imitation jism that was pumped into her from the life-like reservoirs on the fuck-machine. It seemed to lash into her with more force than any human cock could muster, and the higher heat of it made her scream, even as she mouthed the boy's cock and swallowed the richness squirted from his balls.
When he fell off her, as dazed as any animal after a hard fuck, she turned with him, her own smitten mind unable or unwilling to give up the hard contact with his body.
One of her breasts was caught between her ribs and the boy's thigh, and she groaningly pulled her weight off it, the dark pain of the bruised breast a final period placed after a perfect orgasm.
"Thank you, thank you, Aunt Lola," the boy whispered. Thank you for teaching me these things."
CHAPTER FIVE
There are dimensions to memory not known in the simple world of reality. In Lola Todd's great, warm heart, the now of young Tim Shelton and his need for her was overprinted in living color on a scene backdated more than three decades. A young boy's blossoming pride tinctured by his confession: "I wish I knew more, Aunt Lola," when he already had so much native talent. And a slim sprite of a girl not old enough to even think of such things-at least, she knew the rest of the world would agree on that-listening with lust glazing her eyes as her uncle said: "I can get part of it in your soft, sweet little cunt, shoot my jism into you, suck it out, and give it to you with my kiss."
What a lovely, human moment, what a sweet and courageous thing for a grown man to go through for his little niece. And after all, she had been awfully pushy, coming into his downstairs room the very first day after he had found his job, like some little fool looking for a relative she already loved, for-what? What had she been after?
Not sex. Surely not. She was too young. She knew nothing. And yet, when she saw that enormous cock arise from the open fly of his pajama pants, she knew enough to suck it. She remembered how she had flushed with pride and love as Uncle Tommy had complimented her on the marvels of her lips and tongue. But not nearly so warm as when, after seeing that she had the deep thrill of her first real orgasm, he had said: "You really came, baby! And that stuff coming out of your tight little pussy is a girl's natural lubricant, made to help a guy get into you. Beautiful!"
Completely hairless, the tall man thought, licking his lips. God, what a sight! Cunt lips as thick as if she were ten years older, being pushed apart as her inner lips swelled. Hot blood forced into them by the pounding pulse of her heart, making them itchy with the need to be fucked or sucked. And that flow of pussy juice! Man! This little piece of poontang was going to be the best he ever had!
Tom Storick had never thought of himself as selfish. Since he left home, he had always had good jobs as a machinist, making good money. He had never married, he claimed, because he had never found "the right girl." A shrink could have told him he was afraid of himself, as well as afraid of women. Afraid to commit himself. When he picked up a "broad," as he thought of women, it never occurred to him that it was himself who had been picked up, used as the owner of a stiff, hot prick, and forgotten. He never took a "broad" to his own place. If she didn't have an apartment, forget it. Paying eight or ten bucks for a motel just to fuck a girl? Not Tom Storick! Too much like paying for pussy to suit him.
Now, he was in a different situation. Just the touching sight of this fat, cute, slick, softly hairless little cunt made a sort of difference. She had never even had a boy's finger in that drippy, sweet little pink hole. His tongue had told him "no maidenhead," but a girl could lose that any old way. In spite of picking him up just for a good-time fuck, women liked him as they would like a child, and talked freely with him. About their bodies, about nozzles, bike or horseback riding. And, naturally, with various masturbatory instruments.
But not this sweet little chickie, he told himself. Oh, maybe she had shoved something in her cunt. She was hot, or she would never have sucked his cock. He shuddered with lascivious delight, thinking of the delicately slick, warm pleasure her tongue and mouth and throat and sucking lips had given him. And she was so young, so pliable, so easily led. Goddamn, he could fuck her in her ear, and she would think it was marvelous.
"Lie on your back, baby," he said to her softly. "Raise your sweet little legs in the air. Back against your chest. Your tits, I mean. Wow! What a cute, fat, juicy little pussy! How did you break your maidenhead?"
The child blushed, but kept her knees back against her tiny, soft little breasts. They were aching in anticipation. Uncle Tommy had really sucked on them. He had said he would make them big, big, big! And already, tingling from the powerful suction of his mouth, they sure as hell felt bigger.
"I just did it last week," she said in a low, sweet voice. "I used my finger, before. But after you came here-" and her voice tailed off in confusion.
Her uncle bent and kissed her in the juicy spread of her young cunt, again enjoying the smoothness of her outer lips. "Now that we're having our fun," he said, "it won't be long before you have some pretty blonde hairs on this lovely little snatch of yours."
"Snatch!" What a lovely, cute, different name for a girl's cunt! It sounded so grown up. Uncle Tom was so good, so thoughtful, to be willing to teach her all these things. All these lovely names for her plain little old parts. And how she could use them. For him and her.
He licked around luxuriously, slowly, in the thick, pinkly swollen petals of flesh around and above her cunt hole. He had never tasted a cleaner, sweeter pussy, but it had the good, strong savor that a woman's body ought to produce. It was fantastic, a kid not yet ten. His cock was already hard, but the thought of it going slowly into this tiny little cunt made it jerk as if he were already set to shoot his hot load.
He backed away and stroked his finger in the hole. It went in without too much trouble.
"What did you use?" he asked quietly, smiling at the flushed little face. "Last week, when I moved in."
Lola tried to speak, had to lick her lips, they were so dry. Her face was suffused with blushes. "A cucumber," she whispered. "A sort of small cucumber, you know. But it didn't hurt me much, and I only bled a teensy bit." Again her entire body was swept by a rosy blush. "I just had to do something, Uncle Tommy! It's real hard to be a girl. A little girl, going on ten. You're just nothing."
He leaned down again, sucking gently at her sweetly moving hole, his big, soft hands holding her thighs, which were so beautiful for a little kid. Not fat, just nice and full. And her ass had the fullness, the lovely, rounded shape of a grown woman. Just on a very small scale. A miniature woman. A cucumber! How big a one?
He drove his tongue into her vaginal aperture. Naturally, his tongue could be compressed more than his hard cock. But it went in as far as he could drive it, and little Lola writhed in the grasp of his strong hands.
"Oooooh, that's so NICE!" she groaned, the final word going up the scale as her body squirmed and shuddered. "Is my clit around there? Can you see it?"
She sounded rapturously excited, and he drew back, looking into those clearly visible folds, with not one cunt hair to obscure his vision. "I see it, baby," he said huskily, trying not to pant. "It's just as hard as my cock, only not as big."
"Oh, Uncle Tommy, I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm maybe so tight I might hurt you. But would you see if you can get it in me? Please! Please!" Her slender, lovely young body humped with a controlled pre-orgasmic convulsion, and her uncle thought, in surprise: She's really a sweet little broad, thinking about me instead of herself.
He put his finger into her cunt more boldly now. If a cucumber had gone in here, a finger wouldn't hurt anything. He felt around. Felt like any hot, mature woman's cunt. Smaller. Jesus, she'd be tight! The thought caused him to pump his finger in and out, and the cunt oil ran out of her in a stream. And he could only stand this aching hard-on just so long. With all that juice, it might go.
He carefully, thoughtfully eased her young legs down. She closed her eyes and sighed. It must have been painful, being in that position so long. Tom kissed her on her soft, smooth, pink belly.
She held his head, humping up and down. "Oh, golly, Uncle Tom," she said, "that was so nice, finger-fucking me like that. Can you do it just a little more? And bend it so it touches my clit? I could cum in two seconds. OOOOOOH! I almost made it then!"
He stroked gently over her breasts, which were larger and harder than they had been. "Honey," he said softly, "we're going to do it all. That is, if you're game to try. It may hurt a lot."
"Oh, no!" she cried. "I don't want to hurt you, Uncle Tommy! Let's use a cucumber-or something-on me until I'm bigger!"
Once again, he felt that strange feeling for this little kid. Or maybe it was coming to him from this tiny girl. A feeling that she really cared for him. He hadn't had that kind of feeling since he'd been fourteen. His mother had-well, never mind that. Thinking such things didn't do any good. He had just misunderstood, that was all. Calling his mom, his own mom, a dirty whore. Just because she'd caught him jerking off, and, with her work worn hands, had taken hold of his young cock and tried to help him.
Much later, he'd realized that she had really cared. But right then, when he'd been thinking of his sister's sensually plump and overripe body, it had seemed terrible to him.
But this kid! She was something else.
"It's all right, baby doll," he whispered. "I'll lie on my back. You get up over me, straddle me, and we can work your little cunt down over the head. Then, if it hurts too much, you can get off!" .
Very soberly, the young girl rolled over, got on her knees, and took his cock gently in her soft little hand. "You must tell me," she said, "the very minute it hurts you. Promise?"
With a fresh twinge of that strange feeling, Tom Storick held the tiny girl and kissed her tenderly. It was fantastic, the way she had taken to French kissing. Goddamn, her tongue was like a grown woman's. Well, no wonder. Look how she sucked a cock. Unbelievable!
"Let me feel in your sweet little hole," he said. "We want to be sure there's plenty of that natural lady-oil." he laughed in a strangely soft way. "Lady oil! How do you like that, baby? Does it make you feel grown up?"
The small but perfectly formed child hugged her young breasts, her eyes closed at the heat of her thought processes. "It makes me want to get on you and have your peter go in me," she said thickly. "It makes me want to get it 'way up me, and fuck and fuck and fuck!"
He helped her get astride of his loins. She was so small that her hole was not high enough from him to let his cock even touch the fuck hole.
He felt between her thighs. They were wet with her cunt oozings. He loved the feel of the silken skin, so warm and soft, of the big tendons on the inside of her thigh. His thumbs held the puffy flaps back, opening her as wide as he could. His head was on a pillow, so he could see what was happening. A hot sight. Throbbing cock, drippy cunt.
The little girl's face was solemn, tense, her desperate desire for a complete penetration showing in every sweetly molded line of her girlish features. A sudden, unexpected wave of tenderness swept the man, and the even more surprising thought: I must be good to her.
It took some of the red heat out of his dick. He made the little girl lean far to her right, raising her left knee high off the bed. By pushing on his rigid prick, he got the head of it back into the hot and slippery area of her cuntal opening, although he had to push hard to get it past the flesh-padded pubic arch. It almost got him, that slick pressure of wet inner cunt lip on that most sensitive part just below his prickhead. But now he was lodged in it, and it was absolutely beautiful. So slick but so tight. He lunged up, trying to sink an inch of his hard column in the tight entrance, and the child cried out in excitement and pain.
"Oh, golly, Uncle Tommy! My stars but you're BIG!" There was the bleat of terror in her voice, as if she might burst into a childish bit of crying, and he made his body stand still. It was very hard to do. He could feel every heartthrob in the nerve-taut head of his cock, pinched in as it was by the tiny hole. But he lay perfectly quiet.
It was perhaps the best thing he could have done. His moment of stillness so surprised the young girl that she forgot to be afraid, forgot her tension. The tightness in her little cunt was part physical, part mental. As her mind went away from the violent, hard pain in her tender little fuck hole, her weight and gravity gave her the most pleasant shock of her life-her body opened enough to let almost two inches of Tom's cock into her.
It felt a foot long and three inches across to the tiny pussy, but the pull of his prick, dragging part of her inner lips into the cunt hole, made an indescribably wonderful pressure on her aching clitoris. Taut membrane was pulled even tighter, .the little bud of fuck-nerves could stand no more, and the child who was impaled on the man's dick screamed hoarsely, her eyes closed in mind-bending surges of rapture as her racing blood and fiddle-string nerves launched a gut-smashing orgasm.
It may have been true, as the girl said later, that it was trying to get out and peter held it back, so that I almost blew apart." Or it may have been simply that this kind of orgasm, involving her clit, her pelvic floor muscles, even her little rectum, which was assuredly being pressed by man's prick, made her completely wild.
Her voice ripped through the still air: "AAAIIIEEEEE! AAAIIIEEE! OOHHHHHH! OHHHHH! I'M CUMMMMIINNGGG! OH, FUCKY, FUCKY, GOODY! FUCK UP ME! UNCLE TOMMY! FUCK UP ME! HARD! HARDER!" And, all the while, her tiny body was jerking madly, out of control, like a toy monkey-on-a-stick. Until Tom Storick's overloaded balls, triggered by his inflamed mind and cock, released their heavy load of pearly jism, so that the red hot child felt a new thrill. Jet after jet of hot, slick seed, slicker than her own cunt juice, and she felt as if she would burst from all that pressure, not knowing that she was supplying most of it.
In any case, her hammering and the slickness of his semen did something neither thought could happen-neither the cock went deeper into the girl's teensy pussy, or her teensy pussy went farther down on the hard cock.
She had been cumming in such adult fashion that it made her sick, like a fist in the belly, and the final inch of this penetration ripped something, so that her terrified little cunt closed on Uncle Tom's cock like a vise. She continued to feel the sharp, hard blasts of sexual explosions deep up her cunt, all over the reddened and juicy cuntal spread, but she had no control over her movements.
She fell forward like a boneless lump of meat, and her uncle and his prick could take no more. She was small, perhaps eighty pounds at most, but that dead weight was like a ton. His thought was that the girl may have been right, her tightness might have torn the foreskin loose from his cock. So he, too, was terrorized.
They both fell sideways, thought, and it immediately took the worst of the pressure from them both. Indeed, it felt so good to find that he was still pouring his jism into his little niece that the tall man drew his loins back and slowly, gently, pumped his cock into the girl's pussy, now relaxed and much, much less gripping.
Under other circumstances, Tom Storick might have been petty and mean. But that amazing warmth of affection and concern stuck with him, and he stroked his warm hand over the graceful curve of the little girl's flanks and hip, his fingers just touching in the sweated, cum-juiced slickness between the globes of her ass. It gave them both a feeling of contentment, a wordless joy that was based on a new feeling for both of them, a sense of belonging. Tom had never felt this intangible but powerful welding of souls except with his mother and sister, and in their cases, it had dissipated long ago.
Now, looking at this bright child's beautiful little face, he said something he could not remember saying, ever before: "I love you, Lola! Oh, my darling, I love you so much!"
And the little girl, her virginity-if you could say that a girl who had jammed a warm cucumber in her cunt was a virgin-destroyed by a throbbing, hard cock, buried her face in her uncle's bare chest, shedding tears of emotional rapture.
It was like pulling a wrist out of some vacuum, getting his cock out of the little girl. Her inner muscles could not seem to stop, they crawled and sucked up and down Tom's prick, keeping it hard. Thus, in her tightness, with his long lasting hard-on, they were almost like two dogs, "stuck."
It was only after the girl, her heat growing quickly again after her terrible, blissful orgasm, began to pump her slight ass back and forth on the man's big fuckstick, that they could get any motion at all. His jism and her virgin blood, partly sucked out by the piston-like action, created a slickness that finally enabled her vaginal portal to dilate enough for a bit of air to get in. He could not cum again, but she could, and as she screamed out a new spasm, he pumped into her very gently, letting her own clutching and expanding vaginal muscles release him.
Now that they were free of each other, they both had a madness to go back, to lock their loins, large and small, in another belly-to-belly contact. But the actual sex was over.
Except for one thing. Tom's promise.
She pushed at his head as he opened her thighs to let his mouth over her slack twat. "I'm all gooey and bloody," she protested.
"I shot in most of the goo, and I caused the blood," the man said. "You didn't do a very good job with that cucumber," he added humorously.
"Gosh, baby, I'm surprised you didn't holler more. It must have hurt like blazes."
The girl was lying on her back, now, with her legs up, her sweet little pussy, its inner lips red and slack, pointing up at Tom. "I guess it did hurt," she said softly, as though trying to remember something that happened long ago. "Like I would tear, or something. But I kept thinking: I have to have that cock! I have to feel it deep up my cunt! I have to feel Uncle Tom's juice shoot deep into my belly! And I had it all. Only," and she blushed, "I think there was still a lot that didn't go into me. I'm sorry, Uncle Tommy. Maybe next time I can take it all. That is, if you don't think I'm just a silly baby, not old enough or big enough to fuck!"
He held his hand warmly on her taut, rounded little butt, looking deep into the bubbly center of her being, the real heart of her cunt. Spent emotion, two enormous cums, had left it sagging open. There were thick gouts of blood congealing in the mixture of his cum juice and hers. It looked so strange on the spread lips of a pussy too young to have even one golden hair.
The man almost wept as he thought of all the meanings, the implications of this weird action. He had always called women and girls "broads" and had thought of them simply as cunts, more or less nicely packaged in a female body for him to poke his dick into. The youngest girl he had ever fucked before today had been his sister, this child's mother, and she had been fourteen to his very mature twelve. And never, never had he felt any sense of obligation, of commitment. He could not have phrased it, but this is true-unless you give as well as receive, you can never commit yourself nor can you experience the peace and security of feeling that another person has made a commitment to you.
"I want you to have my jism in your sweet little tummy," he said. "I want you to be a part of me. I want you to have your sweet virginal blood back, too, to nourish you, to give you more and richer blood to pump through your heart when you and I fuck."
The girl's eyes twinkled. "Just don't suck out any part of that nutty maidenhead and give that back to me. Any girl in her right mind hates the darn thing! Whoopee!" she cried, as her Uncle Tommy went down on her, sucking so hard that her guts seemed to be pulled out of her cunt hole. "Whoopee! I've been fucked!"
What grace, what love, what warmth of freedom for a young girl to have!
The two of them stripped the bed and took the bloodstained sheet into the laundry room, where they ran it through a cold water soaking cycle, then through a long washing cycle.
Naked and happy, they hung the clean sheet on the line behind the hedge. Far below, some drivers or passengers in cars along old Highway 101 might see two small and nude looking figures and wonder if their eyes deceived them, or if the pair really were naked. But they didn't care. They were happy. "I've never been so fuck-happy in my life, baby," Tom had said, and the gay, laughing child, holding his warm, sticky prick, giggled! "I guess I'm the fuck-happiest I've ever been, too, Uncle Sweetmeat!"
In her own home, watching a young boy cover his beautiful nudity with a boy's uniform of jeans and T-shirt, that same little girl, now forty-one, felt a lump rise in her throat for that glorious time so many years ago. A lump that reminded her of the size and sweetness of her Uncle Tommy's cock. And with that thought, the automatic accompaniment of more mental pictures-of Mike and their love, of all the bright, gay, courageous fun they used to have when "swapping" was so new, so adventuresome, and the strangest things happened among neighbors now growing middle-aged.
"Look here, young lady," Uncle Tom had said with mock severity, "you can't walk around with no clothes on. Especially if you're going to keep bleeding out of that sweet little hole of yours."
He had tumbled her on the bed and sucked her out again, very gently, but not so gently that she did not feel the deep thrill of pain in her lacerated young vagina, the sharp and exquisite pang of a twisting orgasm as her seared cuntal nerves rasped together under his suction.
She felt a great burst of happiness as she looked at young Tim Shelton. The look of strain and fear and anguish had left him. The close contact with her body, her deeply generous cunt, her warm and giving mind had helped him. Just that, very simply. And that was all she had wanted for him, that he accept her help. Oh, God! The pleasure of giving! And here and now, as it had been so long ago with her beloved uncle, the giving of help and love to one who needs it-herself, in that long ago time, and young Tim, here and now-resulted in an even richer gift to oneself.
Tom had tried to tell her that, but she never understood it until now. As she took one last suck at the young boy's delicious young cock, pushing her hand into the fragrant dark of his crotch before he zippered up, a tear came into her eye, and her well used cunt, feeling unusually warm and soft and happy, and still filled with the slippery mixture of young Timmie's sperm and the artistically faked dildo's juice, made a deep inner flutter of joy which almost stranded her, helpless, on the sheets.
"Remember," she said to the boy as she let him out the front door, "you come back tomorrow. Or tonight, if you get a hard-on. I want you to tell me more about that telephone man. I don't think I ever heard of that kind of plain-clothes job for a telephone service man." She put her hand on his arm. "Look at me," she demanded.
"The door may be latched," she said to him. "But you know my bedroom. Come around and speak my name. I'll come up through three layers of sleep for you, my dear. And you bring that girl, little Alice Bond. I have something in mind. I don't want you and she to have to worry about anything. You hear?"
The boy fell against her soft, warm breast and kissed her. He was as full of joy as a lark on the wing. He was as happy as she had been when she felt so secure on the love of her uncle, in the certainty that she would be fucked and sucked and that she, in turn, could fuck and suck. Learning a little, every day, from her uncle.
CHAPTER SIX
The blonde woman with the beautiful body and the soft, warm pussy went unhurriedly back into her kitchen. From its big window, she saw the dark, handsome young boy, who had just left her, swing along the lower part of the block. Bound for home.
She saw a girl stop as he neared, saw him stop to talk to her. It wasn't Alice. It was a dark girl. Sheri Olson. What a girl! What an opulent figure for a child of her years. My God, the woman thought with a quirk of humor, is he getting set to bang every girl in the neighborhood? The thought gave her a teasing itch between the flaps of her pussy, so well covered with curly blonde hair. How nice it must have been for little Timmie, thumbing them apart, feeling the softness, the aliveness, of a grown woman's cunt.
"Pretty nice for me, too," Lola said aloud, scratching herself where that lively little itch had originated. She licked her finger, then licked her lips, and patted herself on her puss. It felt so good! If she were only a contortionist! How marvelous it would be to bring her own happily oozing cunt right to her face-or vice versa. As long as she could kiss it sweetly, suck it, lick her clit.
As she so often did, she wondered what had happened to Uncle Tommy. He would be sixty, now. When she had been in her twenties, a man of sixty would have seemed very old. Ready to hang it up. But now, approaching her own middle years, she thought that a healthy man of sixty might have a great deal to offer. "Not that I need any more instruction, dear Tommy," she whispered, his memory coming back to her in a flood of warmth. She owed him so much!
In his young mind, now sharper than ever, due to his afternoon of unexpectedly furious sex, young Timmie looked boldly at the freely flaunted charms of young Sheri Olson. For a kid with a Swede name, she sure as hell was dark. Like his idea of a French woman. And man, those French girls!
He stopped, somewhere in his mind, and thought: You jerk! You just had everything that any French woman could ever give you! What are you goggling at?
But Sheri really was something, and, now that he knew how ignorant she was-as compared with himself, that is-he suddenly felt a deep empathy for her. And so he was patient with her silliness.
"I didn't see you in the Green Room," she said archly. The "Green Room," of course, was their name for the secrecy of the ditch, with its walls of green hedge plants. "Alice and I were there." She thrust out her full, spit slicked lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Where were you? In the bathroom, jerking off?"
He laughed easily. "How about you?" he asked. "Your nipples are sticking out like bullets. You were in the Green Room, you said. Playing stink-finger with yourself?"
The girl's lip trembled. She really liked this good looking kid. He was the only boy she knew that talked the way she wanted to hear a fellow talk-as though she knew what it was all about. Some day, she earnestly believed, he and she would get up the nerve to do it. "Do it!" How stupid that infant phrase sounded, even in her mind! Some day, they'd fuck. That's what she meant.
She dropped her eyes and her voice, her fresh young face pink. She knew her boobs looked their very best, big and firm, nipples sticking out, in this knit shirt. And she was proud that she had so much dark, curly hair on her puss, and under her arms. But she was, for some reason, not so sure of herself with Timmie, today. But she couldn't let him know it.
"Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't," she said, giving him a look from the corner of her dark eyes. "Maybe Alice and I were playing with each other. Yeah, that's what we were doing! Sixty-nining!"
The boy looked at her with interest. He knew she was lying. Both of them-and Sheri's older sister, Sandra, who was almost as old as he was, two or three months short of thirteen-were so deep into sex mentally that that was all they wanted to talk about. And they welcomed him into their circle of secret disclosures. He, also, knew that he would fuck one or the other of them, perhaps very soon. He didn't think beyond that, to the larger scene of fucking them all, of having group parties, or two-and-one daisy chains. Caught by the ancient, prisoning chains of his mother's spoken rules, he knew it would be sinful to do anything with any of the girls. But he had already sinned enough to damn him. But, if he got his young dick into one of these tender little pussies, and IF he made that girl HIS girl, in some vague way he felt it would be less sinful. Although, to be honest about it, it was very nice to think about all of them, the three of them, two dark, one blonde.
From a window in his home, a short, bountifully built woman, as naked as the day she was born, except for the wet patch of hair on her cunt, peeped through the Venetian blinds, watching her son. By glancing to her left, she could see herself in profile in her vanity mirror. She could also see the tall man, also naked, who stood beside her, his big, wonderful cock limp and sticky after their long afternoon of fucking.
She thrilled to the thought that she, at forty-two, could so completely enthrall a man twelve years younger. A guy married to a girl even younger. She reached back and took his cock in her hand, squeezing it gently.
It was horrible and 'sinful, of course. If their church only had a confessional! She hated and distrusted Catholics and their church, but at least they didn't have to carry a burden of guilt. No, all they had to do was to tell some dirty old priest, cop a plea, do a little praying, and bang! There they were, clean as an angel's drawers.
She leaned back against the warmth of the man's naked chest, turning her face up to be kissed.
"I'm sorry we've got to stop, darling," she whispered. "I'll hold my son in the kitchen while you get dressed and scoot. Take a look up and down the street before you go," she warned him. "I've got some neighbors who are just so interested in me that they might cream their chaste little old jeans if they thought you were sticking this great big, beautiful old piece of meat up me! Ohhhhh, how I love it! I never get enough! I wish you had three cocks, so you could shove them in all three places at once!"
The man laughed. Now that she had exhausted him, he wanted to get the hell out of here. That kid looked very sharp. This was murder, if he got caught. If Sue wasn't so Goddamned frigid! Having those two kids had fucked up their fucking, no doubt of it. But then, she never had liked the idea of getting it slipped into her ass. And this old broad would take it up her nose if he wanted her to. Still a damned good looking piece of stuff, too.
He looked at the two of them in the mirror, and, fucked out as he was, they made a hot sight. He put his arms around her firm, opulent little figure, and squeezed her titties until the soft flesh came out between his gripping fingers and she melted against him. Hurt 'em a little and they loved it!
They heard a noise at the door, and she put on a short robe, one that hung open to show her rounded belly, her black bush of cunt hair, the tops of her big, smooth thighs.
"This will keep the little monster interested," she joked. "And as soon as you can, go on out. If you see anyone, step back, look at the house number and then at an envelope, and shake your head. That way, they'll just think you came to the wrong address."
It was cooling off a bit, after the hot afternoon. The sea breeze was moving her kitchen curtains, and Lola Todd shivered. She looked out and saw that young Tim had disappeared. So had the girl. As she watched, a tall, young looking man appeared, strolling leisurely down Ocean Avenue toward where one of those new, bullet shaped little cars stood against the curb. Could that be Timmie's "telephone repair man?"
She shrugged and went into her bedroom, picking up a man's long tailed shirt. It covered her down to just above the knee. Mike had been a pretty big guy, and he loved fine materials. She was glad she had the shirts. They were nice as cover-ups. But they were sort of short. If she didn't stop leaking juice out of her pussy, she'd have to put on a pair of panties.
The thought of the strange man crossed her mind once more, and she shook her head. "Be pretty funny if old Ellen was cheating on Larry," she said, in a conversational tones. She chuckled. "You're being defensive, old girl. Just because you're screwing her son, you want to believe she's getting a little outside stuff, too."
In the house below, Ellen Shelton paused in her darkened dining room. She had heard Tim come in, and assumed that he would go into the kitchen for a snack. He usually did. But she did not hear him, so she had to decide, quickly and correctly, where he was, so that she could engage his attention while her friend, Frank Byrd, made a safe departure.
The terrible fist of sexual desire had loosened its grip on her vital parts. It had been a marvelously wild, tough, raunchy afternoon of sex. Worth it, to lose the few dollars she would make at Mrs. Price's little store, where she worked part time. Who needed the money, anyhow? She only did it to get away from the house.
She and Larry had had a simply wonderful sex life when they first married, eighteen years ago. They were both naive, but they were both very healthy young animals, and they had a desire to have everything that life offered. Larry had bought "one of those books," a marriage manual, of sorts, and the two of them had almost died of love, trying all the bypaths of sex which "the book" said were okay.
And then there was the sudden underground interest in mate-swapping, so brilliantly new at the time. What a ball that had been! It wasn't like fucking strangers. Every one in their little group had been a friend. All were young and horny, all of them wanted to try everything. To fuck two guys while your husband watched! What a gas! To go down on a woman while your husband fucked her in the head! Crazy, wild, funny. And harmless, they all told each other. Until Reg and Bunnie Smith, for God only knew what reason, had divorced, told everything to the judge, and he, a dirty-minded man up for re-election, had made a big public thing out of it.
All of this was a split second flash of memory. Now that her body had come back to life, after such a long numbness, she hated to think of it. She pulled the robe tightly over her belly. It showed her tits real good. Tim could sort of digest that little presentation, then she would let the robe go, giving him just a flash of her boobs and pussy. Poor little guy!
She really felt bad about that other time, but what the hell! That Frank Byrd, he had the guts of a burglar, and he had given the boy some cock-and-bull story about why he was there. And then, Tim had seen her come out of the bathroom with Frank's load running down her leg. She had been yelling at Tim about "peeping at his mother," which he hadn't been, she knew that, when Larry had come home. She had been in a panic, so she had actually kept on at poor Timmie until Larry had begun to beat him. And during that time, Frank had left.
She turned toward Timmie's room, realizing that, if he were in there, she would have to go back and steer Frank out the back. But she got a surprise that stopped her in her tracks. And made her heart start a double bump, while the tautness in her well worked pussy came flooding back.
Timmie, oblivious to anything else, was playing with his cock!
She had never believed parents ought to knock and receive permission before going into a child's room. What kind of Communist bullshit was that? Invasion of privacy? What sort of privacy would a kid need? From his parents, at that?
So, she had just opened his door without knocking. And she found out what kind of privacy a kid might need. And why.
Like most mothers, her first reactions were, in approximately this order, as follows: , First, a blinding rage against the boy for doing such a horrible, nasty thing when he'd been told five million times that it was wicked even to think of his penis, let alone to play with it.
Second, an equally wild and vengeful anger against whatever neighborhood kid had corrupted her perfect and darling son into an act so depraved, since, left alone, he wouldn't even have thought of such a thing.
Third, an unutterably melancholy sense of failure, a sickening realization that Timmie was growing up, she was growing old, and that she had lost him forever.
And fourth, a gut-ripping wave of lust, a gush of drool as she visualized how that lovely prick would taste if she could only force him down on the bed and go down on him.
Jesus Christ! What lust is as overpowering as that of a mother, abandoning herself to every animal craving buried in her psyche as she gives full rein to the carnal love she has always hidden, even from herself, the darkly sickening lust for her son?
She never heard Frank Byrd leave the house.
He had, as he always did in these matinee performances, been as tigerish, as brutishly fuck-crazy, as she was. With a frigid young wife, he had a deep need for something beyond the normal in sex. Not just because of his hunger to have his balls drained and refreshed, but to "show" his wife-even though, of course, he would never let her know, just how hot, how wanton, other women could be.
When he was rumping this chubby and salacious little housewife with the hot ass and the equally hot mind, when he had his big cock buried in her asshole and she was chewing the bed to muffle her screams, he always thought of his wife, and in his mind he said: "Wham! Bam! Up your ass, sweetheart! Right up your tender little ass, Lucy baby! And when I squirt my fuck juice up your gut, I'll shove my cock down your throat, shit and all!" Yes, indeed! Even if the frigid wife never finds out, it gives a man a deep feeling of prideful accomplishment. And, to be frank about it, he didn't like women any too well as a general thing, so just to degrade Ellen a bit gave him added pleasure in their wild fucking.
Therefore, her body was primed. Not exhausted, as some women might have been, after so much animalistic sex. She could have taken on three guys like Frank Byrd, all at once, and if it were ten, she would have been just as happy.
Ellen had been on, not a toboggan slide, but a roller-coaster.
After the little town had been shocked, amused, exhilirated, and titilated by the swapping scandal, she and Larry had returned to their church. His mother's church, a church of violent exhortation, violent repentance, violent purging of the Devil from sinners. She remembered their sweating confrontation after they had both, before the entire congregation, accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior, renounced all sin, and stood forth, presumably sin-free, on the rostrum.
"I can hardly wait to get home," Larry had confided, grim lipped, as they left the church. When she asked why, he had laughed in a strange way and said: "Now, whatever we do is okay with God, okay with Jesus, and okay with the church!"
As a matter-of-fact, he hadn't waited. There was a large, flat place behind the Arco service station at the bottom of their hill. And the station was closed for the night.
She had been spread on the ground by more than a few of her young classmates, long before the marriage to Larry. She had been in gang-bangs in dark and rocky coves along the beach, when everybody fucked everybody, and anything went. She had been fired out of a State College because she had organized a group of white female students who had done their share for social justice by publicly taking on six black students each. And, of course, she had been in the forefront of every drive for more violent and kinkier sex in the swinging group.
But never, absolutely never in the adventurous past, had she had a going over like Larry had given her in that gravelly lot back of the Arco station.
He had been like a bull, snorting and slobbering as he had held her up from the ground, jabbing his big cock into the tightness of her overly sensitive cunt. They had both been celibate from the first day of the trial until this evening of absolution by the shouting elders and congregation of their church. Part of the ritual had been for them to disrobe, and for a number of the church officials to finger them thoroughly and derisively. Some of the younger and juicier female members of the sect had given Larry a number of strange caresses as they, urged on by the gaunt preacher, had derided him as a beast, a sinner.
He had shouted and screamed at Ellen as he mauled her, jerking her blouse open, brutally plucking at her breasts, and he seemed, in some way neither of them ever understood, to have inhuman power.
By the time they lay gasping in the sandy, thorny patch of waste land, the small, voluptuous woman was smeared with semen and dirt, filled, front and rear, top and bottom, with Larry's wild discharges of cock juice, and in a hysterical condition.
It was a sick-making thing. And it made both of them sick in a very sad and pitiable way. Only, Ellen had not felt that her way was, in actuality, pitiable at all.
She knew she had a beautiful body, and she believed that it, like all her possessions, was a gift from God. And, while she no longer was turned on by Larry and his cock she kept a fire of fuck lust smoldering in her body every minute of every day.
Any housewife's life is filled with opportunities for outside sex. While papa does the work, mama does her job. Shopping at the supermarket, going to the laundromat, the post office, the service station, the hardware store, the lumberyard, the drug store.
Ellen Shelton had been fucked in every such establishment in her area. She had known times when the very sight of a cock turned her stomach, having had so much. But she had never said, in her mind: I've got enough.
Her son's cock, the sight of it, so hard, so red tipped, as he gently drew the foreskin back and pulled it forward, watching himself and his play in the mirror, almost drove the woman out of her mind. She had become convinced, in some weird twist of her mental processes, that she had been forgiven completely for all the "sins" she had committed before her and Larry's absolution by the church. Anything was all right with God. She had paid the price. That was her feeling. She assumed it was Larry's. She was, in her own thoughts, like the person who has been tried for murder and been acquitted, and who could now freely admit to the murder without being tried again. The rule of double jeopardy.
But she was smart. She did not go directly to him. Instead, since she knew he would feel the lash of guilt, the stigma of sin which she and Larry had heaped on him so many times, and would thus be unable to perform, she quietly, quickly backed out of sight.
When she was in her bedroom, where the aromas of lust still hung in the stagnant air, she smoothed the sheets just a bit, then lay on her back, letting the robe hang free. She was like a hunter waiting for her prey, and her cunt was the bait.
When she had set the bed lamp just right to play across the hotly inviting undulations of her body, when she had gently pulled her fat, soft, hairy cunt lips apart to show the wet, red gash between them, she called weakly: "Timmie! Oh, help me, Timmie! PLEASE! HELP!"
There was a moment while she knew he was putting that lovely cock back into his pants. And then, praise God! She heard his hurrying footsteps, and his voice: "Mom? Mom? Where are you?"
She did not answer, for she wanted to leave the impression that her one call for help had exhausted her frail strength, that she was truly unable to call out again.
Naturally, he came to her room first. And, naturally, he stopped dead still. "Mom," he called in a low voice. "I'm here, mom! What's the trouble?"
She did not stir, except to raise one hand an inch or so and let it fall. Oh, guile! By that feeble gesture, to signal that she was alive, but helpless. To underline that she was not dead, she moaned.
She heard him draw closer, felt him standing by her side, in easy reach of her and hers. It was not easy to keep her breathing slow and regular, as any fainted person should. Oh, God, she prayed silently, please let the little devil get on me, get his cock into me. Then I can hold him in my arms, kiss him, fuck him. FUCK HIM, the silent scream flared in the hot corridors of her lascivious mind.
He looked closely at the cunt he had never seen except in quick peeps, in which he was too startled to look more than a second or two. He leaned close. He inhaled deeply. He almost fell into it from a whirling giddiness.
His mind flamed with a quick desire. For this brief moment, this mysteriously lovely cunt, which had caused him so much trouble, could be his if he wished to take it. He had heard his dad say that, when his mom fainted, she was likely to be out for an hour. And he had more than love to make him want to penetrate this softly juicing pussy, these thick lips with their scarlet lining, running that clear juice that he had seen-and licked up-in another cunt, only an hour ago. The hair was thickly curled, massed in a puff over the top of the split, coming right down the thick lips clear to the cunt hole. It went farther, and his mother was arranged so that he saw this, too. Below the hole, there was still a thick growth. He had to imagine it, but he knew it clustered around her asshole.
He felt his cock throb, knew it was almost as hard as when he had first rammed it into his Aunt Lola's mouth. He had been peeling the foreskin back, just to enjoy that wonderful scent that had come from the blonde woman's vagina. Now, it was skinning back all by itself, and the itch in his tender cockhead was making him pant, making his blood pump faster.
His mother felt his hand even before it touched her. She was trembling, and hoped that he would be too excited to notice. The heat inside her, far up her fuck tube, seemed to be ready to flow out of her. Her clit was throbbing, a sharp, lively, beautiful feeling. She was grateful to her God for such delights.
She had to grit her teeth and exert all her will to keep from screaming in fuck-fever when he at last stroked softly between her outer lips. Let him but strike that finger into her, and she would have to give way, would have to let it cum.
She almost fainted in reality when her son spoke loud and clear: "Mama! Mama! I'm going to fuck you, mama. Do you hear that? I'm going to sin by sticking my dick into you. Into your cunt, mama. Do you understand that?"
What made this scene so fantastic was that the boy, as if he, too, were hypnotized by his boldness, inserted his finger into the hot and juice-slopped folds of his mother's cunt. Where she had been sure she would shoot her wad if he touched her, his voice had quieted her, mind and body, so that she felt his finger seek her most tender, eager spots, and did not leap screaming from the bed.
What was even more thrilling to her was that he bent his head-she knew he must now be kneeling beside her-and took such an enormous mouthful of her breast that she thought he would suck it all in.
She had a great deal of sexual fire in her boobs, any time. Now, fresh from the abandoned, long drawn out fucking with Byrd, her nipples were sore with a glorious sensitivity. His lips, his tongue seemed to stroke her and suck her into a golden mist of fuck lure.
Sonny, her baby, sucking the deeply hidden milk of human love out of mommy's big ol' tits, and sonny's tiny little hand, now with a finger like a cock, jammed into mommy's great big ol' sluicing, juicing, cock-crazy cunt!
She was cumming, now. She could let it out, freely, since she could not have stopped it. She wanted his cock, but this was better than nothing. It engaged the nerves in the vital first two inches of her vagina. His thumb was raking her clit. How could he know to do that? And the fork of his hand was wallowing in the slime-lovely folds of her inner labia. Best of all, she had not scared him off by the undulations of her strong body. Her smooth, beautiful belly was as beautiful, as young looking as Sheri Olson's. Only, because she did not go to the beach, it was milky white, and the little blue veins under her satiny skin seemed to move with her pulsing blood. Her cunt smell came up around his nose like an invisible cloud, and he was lost for long seconds, under the spell of this lush body, these titties, this cunt, all of which he had yearned for in dreams.
Ellen controlled the wildness she would ordinarily have shown. She released her breath in a low sound: "Mmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmm!" But, since Timmie did not move, did not start back, she knew he, too, was too absorbed in the fuckiness, the deeply sexual raunchiness, of finger-fucking his own mother's swollen, deeply haired cunt.
Her pussy was chewing at his finger-was it his fingers? Did he have two in her? She closed her strong, slippery cunt muscles, their juice augmented by the long shots of rich male protein fired up her by Frank. He had bung-holed her, also, in their afternoon of fuck play, and the raw nerves in her rectum seemed to be churning as she writhed inwardly, letting out her vaginal orgasm, her clitoral delight.
Who would think a kid-my own kid-could bring me shooting out of nowhere like this? Why am I so hot for him? Oh, how can I get that lovely cock, that sweet, red-tipped, gamy smelling, blood pounding, nerve aching cock into me? And the thought fanned her cunt flame, made her throat muscles spasm in hard inner hunger to eat his jism, to swallow his cock, so that her moans grew.
"AAAAAAERRRRGGGHHH! AAAAARRRGGGHHH!"
It was still nowhere near as loud as she usually saluted her body's swelling greed for the male article, her fountaining spasms of hot-shooting lust.
In the toilet at Bendo's Service, on the highway, standing up with one foot on the toilet so that big Ole Bendo could get it in her, she had brought three men off the streets to pound on the door, calling: "What's wrong?"
And she, her hot, tight, plumply aroused pussy throbbing to the sperm floods of the big Finn, Bendo, had cried: "Go away! I only hurt my foot!" Then, grinning at the big man whose cock still beat its blood throbs and its jism blasts inside her, whispered: "Well, God damnit, Ole, it feels like a foot!"
But that was yesterday, and now was now and now was home and now was her lovely baby boy, finger-fucking his mommy. So sweet, so beautiful, so-well, so right!
She could hear his hoarse breathing, guessed that his eyes would be staring right at the sloppy-pink, juice spilling, muscle dancing cunt, and wished he knew enough to get down where his thumb was, on her hard-cumming clit, and give it a sweet little suck. How would you like that, Mister Prick-ass Larry Shelton? Who still felt it was a sin to fuck unless it was in the dark, and who wouldn't eat cunt any more, a guy who used to boast that all the lunch he wanted was Ellen's cunt in his bright blue lunch pail.
She felt as if she had cum for ten minutes. Her vagina felt tired from its writhings, her entry muscles slippery and exhausted from gripping. There had been Moose Hartmann at the hardware store on her way home. Back in the dark stock room, on quilts they used when they shipped plate glass. And Frank Byrd this afternoon. And now, her son, the sweetest and most meaningful of all.
But all good things must come to an end. She wanted to have Tim's sweet, wholesome, little-boy cock in her pussy. Or in her mouth. Yes, that would be better. So she did the wrong thing. She reached for it.
The boy had been in a dream. His finger was his cock, and it was in his mother. He was sucking on Lola Todd's titties. He had his head, his cheek, on the warm belly of dark haired Sheri Olson, and guess whose pink, eager, spit drooling, tongue filled mouth as so sweetly and gently sucking on his cock? You're right. Little Alice Bond, that angelic child with the innocence of a cherub in her elfin face, and the cock-yearning of a thousand courtesans in her slim, lovely little body. And all of them, mother, Aunt Lola, black haired Sheri, and cherubic Alice, all were a part of one enormous cunty dream of delightful love, of fuck and suck and smear-it-on-me sex, full of cum and jism and spit and shit, all a brilliant dream.
Thus, when Ellen's impatient hand reached and jerked, however gently, at his cock, it just simply blew the vision all to hell. It awoke the boy, and blasted all the sweetness out of his self-induced orgy of tender, innocent lust.
"Ma!" he screamed, leaping to his feet, his eyes popping open and really seeing what he was doing. "Ma!" using his infant name for her, before she made him afraid of her.
She was on fire, her cunt still hammering out the last, sweetest notes of this orchestration of her own improvisation in High-F, F-for-fucking, for fucking her son. She could not let go his cock, and he could not control it, having been rudely awakened from a wet dream. So wet that his fingers were pruny-tipped from soaking in mama's hot pussy for so long, waifting that cunty delight to his nostrils. He could not stop it, his shoot-off, his ball explosions, his hard jets of hot jism striking his mom in her distraught face.
She had her mouth open, trying to order him to stand still, to stick his dick in her cunt, to let her suck him with all her maternal strength and power. But she could not get out a word.
Her aim was instinctive, each long, slimy white rope of his seed splattered in her mouth, struck the back of her throat with stinging force. And all she could do was to swallow, and in a hurry, too, before another fierce spurt of rich, thick, life-bearing sperm hit her open mouth again, giving her another mouth filling splatter of the hot, thickly curdled protein from her baby boy's young balls.
It was too beautiful, too sweet. She knew defeat in her heart and in her imperfect mind. Her sin had found her out. Not the simple, church-defined sin of loving and taking cocks of every size in every way. But of being unkind. Of making this boy afraid of her. Her sin!
She watched, helpless to raise a hand or her voice as he turned blindly and staggered from the room. He had to hide. If they beat him for only looking at his mother's juicy, fat, hairy old twat, what would they do to him for finger-fucking it? For sucking on her long, heavy, dark nippled, softly radiant titty, with that feel of blood and weight in it? And, oh, boy! For shooting off all over her face and neck and tits? For she had not caught it all, by no means. He had seen the thick drops roll down her softly rounded breasts, her smooth neck, just beginning to show, crepe-like wrinkles that tell a woman her youth is going. But he was fiercely glad as he ran to his room, HO snatching up his clothing, stuffing a few things into his Boy Scout duffle bag. Clean Jockey shorts, clean T-shirts and sox, his tooth brush and such gear.
"I did it," he repeated over and over. "I did it! I had my finger in her cunt! Right up mama's cunt! Wow-eee!"
His heart was pounding as he ran out of the house. Far down the block, he thought he saw his father's small gray car as he turned to the back of the house. There was a board nailed on the back of their garage, two feet off the ground. It made a step for him to pull himself, unseen from any spot in his home, through the hedge and up into his ditch, his hiding place. He fell into it, lying on his back, blowing out his breath in a final, desperate sense of escape.
CHAPTER SEVEN
There was a strange congestion of feelings in Lola Todd's mind. And in her body, as well. She held the glorious thought of having helped a boy who had been in mortal fear of life and people. In doing so, she had evoked the olden, golden dream of her Uncle Tommy, the laughing, vital man who had not been afraid to teach a young girl what she needed to know about herself, her cunt, and men's cocks, and how men needed to be treated.
She always felt good throughout all her cuntal system. Warm, just a bit itchy, an occasional sliding, slipping twist of vaginal muscle that made her stand still, trembling with joy at these signs of life's richness in her beloved fuck-channel.
But in this late summer afternoon, with the late fog creeping up Ocean Avenue from the mighty Pacif c, with no cover on her gorgeous body except Mike's old shirt, she could almost feel again the power of young Timmie Shelton's lusty, hard, boyish prick. So full of that clean, healthful sperm. So beautifully flushed with hot blood from his heart, so generous in its outpourings of his thick, cummy seed.
God, what a taste! What a savory, gut-churning flavor! The briny, acrid, tingling treat of stray drops of his sweet piss! The delicatessen richness of the little, cheesy lumps of semi-solid goop from under his foreskin, the slightly herring flavor left on it by her own cunt ooze.
It lay warmly and nutritiously in her tummy; she felt as if she could have swallowed a quart of it. And her own pussy juice, too, the humanly rich, heart warming flavors that a woman distilled far up her vaginal tunnel, from where life originates, in her womb.
As she thought of this, and of mingling her fuck juices with Timmie's as he fucked and shot into her, she had a flash of another face. And another body, too, with another cunt.
Not the sweet little blonde, Alice What'shername, nor that fat-tittied little bundle of fuck-candy that lived across the avenue from the Shelton's, Sheri Olson. No, it was a body from memory.
"This is my day for reminiscence," she giggled. "But baby, I've got some good things to remember! Not that everyone else feels the same way about it as I do!"
She had prepared a large casserole of scalloped potatoes, good smoked ham, and plenty of well aged cheddar cheese. As she thought about that delicious body from the past, the cooking aromas reminded her that her dish was ready. With a pair of heavy mitts on, she took the dish out of the oven. Its rich taste jogged her memory again.
".You girls aren't doing your stuff," her husband had cried out, clapping his hands like a cheer leader. "Come on, you amateurs, act like you liked it." And the scene was as bright and plain as if it had been yesterday, instead of thirteen or fourteen years ago. Six of them. Or was it eight? Herself and Mike, for sure, and that girl with the gorgeous muff of red blonde hair on her cunt, who was it? Had to be Marian Olson. Sheri's mom? Yeah, sure, they were neighbors then, and still were. But it had to be closer to fourteen years than thirteen. And certainly not fifteen. That chubby girl that she, Lola, was pared off with, the one whose belly was tight as a drum and six months large with the child she had so enjoyed this afternoon. Ellen Shelton, pregnant with Timmie. And hotter, tonight, than she had ever been. Even now, Lola could remember the excitement in her own breast, the leaking from her twat, as the stacked little brunette hugged her, whispering low, just for her to hear. Silken smooth, warm, swollen with pregnancy, with a drop of "witch's milk" on Ellen's hard, dark nipples every time they bounced and swung. "God, I'm hot," Ellen had said shiveringly. "Oh, I love to dig into your cunt! I just hope you don't drown in my juice tonight, baby!" And they had been the "Lesbian" pair declared winners in their games of sex and love.
"Too bad, the way Ellen and Larry went," Lola said aloud, putting the casserole back on top of the oven, where it would stay warm. "The rest of us just outlived the scandal. It ruined Ellen."
Ruined her for love play. Why should a word like "lesbian" be so frightening? Utterly foolish, completely immature, to let words become master instead of servant. "Every one of us sucked those guys," Lola mused, so many years later. "We must all have been cocksuckers, then."
The thought made her laugh. "Whatever I am, I like it," she hummed to herself.
She passed near the sink and saw, from the corner of her eye, a bit of movement at the back of her lot. It was after six, well after. The fog shrouded the sun. It was getting dark early. But she saw the top twigs of the hedge move. It made her think of young Timmie. Timmie, with his big, hard, manly, jism shooting penis, his big, manly balls. And it made her think that eating alone was a lonely scene.
No one could see her in her back yard. She wanted to surprise and please Timmie, so she shucked out of her old shirt. It was cool but not cold, and she had enough warmth inside her to protect her down to zero, at least.
She crossed her yard to her redwood fence, and was almost to it when she heard a young, light, excited voice. Not Timmie's. A girls's. And what it said stopped Lola in her tracks.
"Oh, Timmie, when you get through with her, will you suck me out next? Please, Timmie? OOOOOOH! That looks so hot! Oh, gracious! Suck her, Timmie!"
And over that voice, another, hoarse with passion, crying "OH, you wonderful sucker! Oh, Tim, SUCK ME! AAAAAAHHHHHH! OH, MY JESUS LOVER SUCKER SUCKER SUCY! OOOOOOHhhhhhhh! Ohhhhh! Oh!"
Lola was very careful going to the fence. She need not have worried. The three children were so absorbed in what was happening that they would not have noticed a California Condor lighting in one of the hedge trees.
She had not noticed earlier, but young Tim had some furniture. Of a sort. Two chairs, with flaking paint and shaky legs. An ancient kitchen table, with one leg shorter than the others, but propped on the ditch's sloping side so that it was more or less level. And all the furniture was in use.
A curvaceous, warmly tanned young girl with a great deal of black cunt hair for one so young lay belly up on the table. Her sweetly plump young thighs were spread wide, and raised and held by Tim's shoulders. The girl's calves were clamped on his back. He was eating her pussy, or had been, and, with her short skirt around her waist, and her T-shirt around her upper chest, she was naked except for two bands of fabric. Her big breasts, with big nipples empurpled by a powerful rush of hot blood, were clutched in the boy's hands. He's going to have to do me down there, Lola thought. In just exactly that position!
She thought of how her ass would look, turned up in the same manner, and knew it would look like the young girl's. Different color cunt hair, of course. But the important things, the slick, swollen, blood laced, slime-dripping lips, the redly wet and oozing hole, twitching in mute ecstasy, even strong legs clutching the boy deeper into the forming lips-they would be the same. Even the gut-scorching heat as her fun gun fired salvo after salvo would be the same.
Her eyes were fixed on the pair engaged in the cunt eating, one receiving, one giving, but both enjoying. But there was another movement, a sharp cry, and she moved her eyes just a little to see the third piece of furniture, one of the chairs, just released.
While Timmie had had one chair pulled up to the table to feast on the adult loveliness, slickness, and pouring pussy juice of the well stacked brunette, the angelic looking little blonde, Alice Bond, had been creating a Greek chorus of lust, as Lola had heard but had not fully understood. Now, she knew why.
The slender young girl, simply beautiful in her nudity, had been fucking herself with a long necked plastic bottle. Lola had seen one like it. The neck was formed by round ridges of soft plastic, the cap was rounded to look like a man's cock. As the neck descended to the shoulders of the bottle, it grew larger. Shoved into a pussy, it gave a marvelously thrilling feel, with its softly ridged surface. And, as Lola well knew, and every drug store salesperson was careful to point out, with an appropriately sly expression, the soft head could be punctured "so you can squeeze the stuff out when you want it." Thus the sales pitch ran. And "the stuff" was pale and slick and very similar to jism in appearance and consistency. Not in smell or taste. Mary Fallon's product was so superior-like day and night. Just as the expensive, double ended, heat buzzing dildo had it all over the plastic bottle.
But the bottle was better than nothing. Lola shuddered, looking at that slender, gloriously formed young body, with its small but classically sculpted breasts, thrashing in the dead leaves and loose dirt of the ditch bottom. The cream from the bottle was pumping out of the child's opened sex crack, out of the quivering, softly slicked hole, as some inner talent of the little girl worked and moved and squeezed, and the child grunted "UUUNNNHHHH! OH, TIM! UUUNNNHHHHHH! SUCK ME NOW! PLEASE! OHHHHH! OHHHHH!"
As for Lola, she was right back where she had been this afternoon, but with an exception. Her cunt, although warmed to the boiling point by the wildly orgiastic sight of the three children, was under control. She was ripe for more sex, throbbing with the luscious and lurid thoughts of cunt and cock, of fucking and sucking, but at least she could control it. Thanks to Tim. And to her own good sense, her sudden yearning to help the boy in his fears and anguish.
It was the dark girl who saw Lola. Opened her dark eyes, her face relaxing even as her plump, moistly heaving little belly also relaxed. In those first few seconds, Lola knew, everything would be hazy and out of focus. But the girl's face cleared, her eyes became sharp, and she turned rigid, her beautifully shaped legs, so mature for a young girl, straight up. Her mouth formed a dark red "O" of shock and surprise, of the deadly fear which strikes children helpless in the face of adult condemnation.
Tim felt it. The blonde girl, herself also blinded by passion, was slow in picking up on it. But Tim stood up, looked at Lola with perfect trust, and said: "Close your mouth, Sheri! Cool it, Alice! You both know Aunt Lola, and I can tell you, she's all right!"
It was the strangest and yet, somehow, the most rewarding surprise of Lola Todd's full and happy life. That these three kids, able to scramble over her fence carrying their little white panties, and so great that they could accept what Tim had said.
The dark little Olson girl, with her T-shirt properly down over her lovely young titties, and her skirt down to a few inches above her plump knees, was crying.
"I can't help it," she whispered, leaning against the older woman. "Oh, Aunt Lola, I'm still scared! Seeing you over that fence!"
And little Alice found it hard to talk, but she too, rubbed against the smooth, solid, sweetly warm flesh of the woman they had all known all their lives.
"Let's get inside quick, kids," Lola said huskily,, "before we all freeze our balls off!"
There was warmth and ease in Lola's comfortable kitchen. And all the kids had ravenous appetites.
"My mom had some kind of dumb health food soup," Alice said, with a dinty curl of her pink, full lips. "I couldn't eat it!"
"I couldn't eat," the dark little beauty declared. She looked down at her heaped up plate, unable to face Lola, and blushed. "I saw Timmie take off and I just left the table and went across the street and up the ditch. Good thing I did," and she grinned at the little blonde nymphet in perfect sistership. "Old Alice was just coming in from the other end of the hedge."
"Oh, go fuck yourself," the angelic looking child said, then flushed scarlet. "Excuse me, Aunt Lola," she gasped. "I just feel so free and easy here. So comfortable, like. I'm sorry I said such a word," and she leaned back, looking virtuous.
They all laughed, but Timmie said quietly: "I couldn't go home to eat. Tonight or ever. I'm in bad trouble."
It did not queer their party or permanently dampen their bright spirits. The girls were already high on excitement, walking on eggs because they could not get used to an adult accepting their wants and needs as legitimate, equal to her own, equal to their parents' requirements. And Lola watched and saw that Timmie, bless his brave little heart, was far from panicked.
After dinner and co-operation with the dishes, when they went into Lola's big bedroom, the first thing she said was: "As long as I'm naked, I don't see where it would hurt if we all were. And she said another thing, a strangely warm and understanding thing: "All of us are free to do or not do, to look or not look, to touch or not touch. Cross my heart!" and as she made a motion across her ripe, sexually plumped up, eagerly thrusting left breast, the well stacked little Sheri said sweetly: "No, Aunt Lola! Let me cross it for you!" and brought her smooth, warm young hand down across the full titty, at the hard and sweet-aching nipple.
"There!" she said, blushing slightly. "I've always wanted to feel a grown-up lady's boob, to see if it's as firm as mine. And now I've done it!" She shifted her lovely rump slightly. "It sort of got to me," she grinned. "Made my pussy wiggle inside!"
Lola held out her arms, her great heart renewing the warm blood in every vein as its rate picked up. "Come here," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Let me feel yours, my dear."
With a little cry of fulfillment, the young girl moved into the soft warmth of Lola's arms, turning her body so that the woman could feel her anywhere she wished. She moved and groaned as the soft, wise, compelling hands moved into her secret places, over her responsive breasts, deep into the dark patch of damp cunt hair at the base of her belly.
And, when Lola, her face sweet, her breath coming fast, held Sheri's sweet face between her hands, pressing the full red lips into the rosette of dripping flesh, the child met her with a hard, sucking, deep tonguing kiss, and the young girl's tongue was as strong and eager as Lola's. And Timmie and Alice, looking on, fell on them both, kissing, feeling, squeezing, prodding.
Lola found her right hand buried in the smoothness, the slick beauty of dark little Sheri's cunthole, her mouth avidly sucking the out thrust titty of slender Alice, who was breathlessly holding the sweet morsel of tit-flesh to the older woman's lips. Her young face was taut with need, but when Timmie rooted under her, between her sweetly formed thighs, and stuck his tongue deep between the child's delicately oozing cunt lips, she raised her split ass for him, leaning to hold on to Lola's shoulders, and choked out: "Oh, golly, Timmie! Oh, kiss me, Aunt Lola! Suck me, Timmie! OHHHHH! I'M CUMMING! SO GOOD! SOOOOO GOOOOD! Oh, let me cum! OH! OH! OH! AAAIHEEEEEE!"
If Lola had not lived through the experiences that brightened her life, none of this could ever have happened. For a woman of forty-one to insert herself without friction into the sex acts of a group of children is almost impossible. But her uncle had come into her life at a time when her sexual curiosity was at its height. By the most unbelievable good luck, she had mutely cried out for help and understanding by her impulsive sucking of his cock, truly a courageous act for such a young girl. And he had been the kind of man to understand. Not at first. His flash reaction had leaned toward selfishness. It was her love that reached him, changed him, and, through some alchemy, made them right and good for each other.
Equally impulsive now, and undoubtedly, equally perceptive, Lola had sensed the need of all these three kids, their need for acceptance, their hunger to have grown up understanding.
Plus, of course, the lightning hunger that had seared through Lola for the sweetness, the juiciness, of a ripe and ready cunt. And she had seen, from the wildness of these young ones in that ditch, that Alice and Sheri were both ripe and ready.
"Oh, my dear," she whispered brokenly, holding the slight but beautifully modeled body of the little blonde, "kiss Aunt Lola again. Give me your tongue. Ahhhhh! And she sucked in the pink and pointed tongue of the little kid, feeling the warm little body go tense with a grown-up kind of excitement, and she put one warm hand into the split between the child's legs, letting her fingers slip in the delicately scented, crystal clear pussy juice that was dripping steadily from the youngster's sweet little cunt.
And she felt Tim's eager mouth, licking her fingers as he, too, dived into the lightly haired, puffy lipped little sex notch, his nose rooting into the flowing lips, his mouth busy.
Lola had not asked him why he was in trouble. But the fact that he was kept turning over in the back of her mind. It had something to do with Ellen. Of that, she felt sure. And it may have been this random thought of the cuddly, hot, fucky little woman with the big breasts and the sweetly pulsing cunt that had made all this possible.
She had moved her strong, fully matured body so that the small blonde could nestle against her breasts while the darkly voluptuous Sheri could have free access to her bottom and its treasures. There was hardly a minute when some deeply moving feel of cum-pleasure wasn't gently burning her oozing, happy, muscle-moving vagina. But she had time to notice that Timmie, seemingly on the outside of their triangle, was not left out.
She knew that, as he was sucking the big breasted Olson kid, he had a big hard-on. As had happened with her, earlier, he had not shot that load. In fact, he still had the hard-on. It had never left him, only diminishing while the four ate dinner.
In a moment when she was kissing the strong flavors of her cunt off the open lips of Sheri, she reached a hand to Tim's crotch to feel his cock. It was truly hard, trembling in its fullness, and, when she squeezed it, he gave a convulsive leap.
She suddenly turned and rose to her knees and elbows between the lovely thighs of the smaller girl. With strong and loving fingers, she parted the little blonde pussy. "This is the last time around, kids," she said gaily. "Lift it up, baby! Give me your cunt!"
She twisted her strong tongue deep into Alice, rimming the smooth, slick ring of muscles at the child's cuntal opening. Just as Uncle Timmy had done with her, so many years before.
Also, as Uncle Tommy had shown her, on her own sensitive little fucking apparatus, she opened her mouth big and slick, and plastered it right over the young girl's wildly jerking clit.
There is always love and satisfaction in making a loved one cum. Next to getting off, ourselves, it is the hottest experience in the art of fuck-and-suck.
And so, when the small, strong body of the hot little blonde came thrusting, butt first, at her hungry lips, already reeking with the sweetness of the little kid's cunt juice, Lola felt the churn of a coming storm of orgasm deep in her own bowels.
In silence, she made her plea, mentally begging the dark little girl with the big-lady's body to pick up on her desire: Oh, Sheri baby, please, please, do something!
She was in tune with all of them. It was because of her own learning with her uncle that all this could happen, that she had this ripe, sweetly juvenile cunt sucked up so fiercely in her lips. And her mind reached theirs. Eerily, hotly, the invitation flared in young Sheri's mind. Those fat cunt flaps with their close-curled yellow hair, with the wet gleam of coral pink inner lips poking their way out as the big, smooth ass of the older woman spread before her. She was as hot as Lola, and to her, at the moment, nothing was more stimulating than that lovely, open, juice spilling, slowly throbbing cunt. She pulled the beautiful buttocks apart with all her strength, and sank her mouth into the widely distended cunt. The flow of juice, so strikingly similar in flavor to her own-or to Alice's, which she knew full well-was pure, slick, wholesome delight. And the super-smooth lips, made slick by this flow of cum goo, were sweet to her own tongue, her loving mouth.
It was Timmie who, in his aroused frenzy, filled their hottest dream with the reality of his body.
He had rolled around to watch, and the softly voluptuous spread of the dark young girl's generously styled ass, with her fat and black haired pussy as exciting to him as Lola's had been to the girl. When he saw it, so accessible, he did an instinctively loving act-on his knees, pressed so close to her as and her round, strong thighs, he simply held her cunt hole open and fucked into it with all his might.
He could feel it hit something hard and slick inside her, up her twat. Hadn't Aunt Lola mentioned that? A womb? Did such a young kid have a womb? And then he realized how silly he was, for he knew that both Alice and Sheri were old enough to have periods, to have babies, to fuck and be fucked, and ditto sucking. Her juice ran down his balls, pumped out of her extremely tight snatch as he-shot his cock deep into her dark, slickly loving interior.
Again and again, he banged his cockhead against that hard, slick business in Sheri's pussy. And each time, she grunted, pushed back at him, and sucked deeper, more fiercely, on the pulsing cunt of the blonde woman. It was so juicy, so warm, and the sweet, clear flow was filling her with heat that exploded around Timmie's cock. It was the first time anything alive-except her or some friend's fingers-had ever been in the darkly oozing, crazy-nerved, pulsating clasp of her cunt. She was scared to death, but only for a second.
Then she opened her mouth and screamed, as best she could. But her mouth was full of the slippery softness, the tasty fullness, of the older woman's pussy. Her vibrating but muffled scream brought a violent cum, which had been hanging on a hair trigger, from Lola's happy pussy. And they collapsed on the bed, all of them, and with Sheri releasing Lola's buttocks to hold her hands on her own clit, helping to intensify the blaze of fuck joy from Timmie's spurting cock. But she had to do one thing.
As they fell, it was only natural that they separated, however briefly. Timmie, stricken with the stunning effects of a big cum, was uncunted, But he got a bonus.
The young girl, on fire with all the loveliness of which she was a part, had felt two big jets of Tim's hot sperm shoot into her happily, beautifully stretched vagina, spraying wet and slick around the dark mouth of her young uterus.
She turned as Lola fell away from her, as Tim fell on his side, and her sweet young mouth, its lips glazed and shiny with the foaming slobber from Lola's cunt, opened joyfully to take in the boy's spurting dick. As she did it, the next blast of boiling seed hit the back of her throat, filling her mouth with the incredible richness of the young lad's pure portein mixture. The force of the jet, at this point blank range, stung her throat, and some of it was forced up into her nose, its raunchy beauty engaging at least three of her senses. And, as she went down on the spraying cock with all her might, her firm young breasts smashed flat against Tim's muscular legs, giving her a heart filling blend of pain and delight.
And Tim, having had his first cum up a young girl's cunt fore-shortened, could look down and see the job finished by the red, spit slicked lips and tongue of the bounteously stacked girl he had known all his life.
There was a great deal of kissing, and fondling, the slippery and hot exchange of warm flavors from the three deeply pleased, freely flowing vaginas. Even new kisses on the rosy, foam flecked lips of each of them, and friendly, shyly smiling girls handled the young boy's wilting cock with new appreciation and new respect.
It even smells like cunt, Lola thought happily. It's like Uncle Tommy's room used to be. On those marvelous, loving afternoons when I was a kid.
The thought of Tom Storick, never far from her whenever the warm touch of sex was laid on her brain, her flesh, her memory, made her even warmer in her assurances of continued friendship and support for the three kids.
Both the girls, once more clothed, embraced her with the heat of youthful acceptance. I was this way with Tommy. He did so much for my mental and emotional growth.
"I love you, too," she said softly, tears in her voice, as each of the girls, in turn, kissed her warmly, their slick, hard tongues boldly probing into the sweetness of her mouth. "You're the most, too! You sweet things!"
She let them out the front.
"Timmie can sneak back through his ditch," she assured them. "It's better for you two to go along without him."
And, as she closed the door quietly behind them, she turned to the boy and held out her arms.
"You don't have anything to worry about, baby," she said. "Your Aunt Lola's going to take care of everything!"
And in her heart, she felt that this was true. She held the boy to her, her mind recalling in detail the way in which his cock had responded to the sweetness of young Sheri's mouth. Just think! Sheri was eleven and so was Alice. I was nine when it all began, he thought, fiercely pleased with the brilliant pictures she saw in her mind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Yes, she had been nine when her sex life had really begun. That is, if you don't count the day she was born, since that is, in truth, when even one's sex life actually begins. Nine and a half, really, give or take a few weeks.
But time passes, and things change. She and her Uncle Tommy had an "anniversary." At least, he said it was exactly one year since she had come downstairs and had found him asleep, his balls so filled with jism that his cock was about to burst.
He stood her in front of him, both of them naked, of course, and they looked at themselves and each other in the tall mirror on the old-fashioned golden oak vanity.
"Look at yourself," he said in the low voice that always gave her such a thrill. "Look at these tits! I told you I'd make them bigger, didn't I?" He had his smooth, warm hands on them, pinching them so hard that they hurt. Really hurt, like a bad bruise. But in a way that made her belly crawl with warmth, made her pussy feel like it was opening and closing, like a mouth, sucking on nothing.
She had her hand behind her, gently squeezing on his hard cock. It was still the smoothest skin she had ever felt. Not as slickly smooth, maybe, as the inside of her outer lips, where the vein-marked labia swelled and dripped. But they weren't really skin, anyhow. Membraneous tissue, epithelial tissue. Yes, and erectile tissue as well. She knew because Uncle Tommy had let her read his secret store of books, let her look, with glowing loins, at the lovely pictures of men and women doing all the things that men and women can do to each other. But she couldn't read these. The plain books, the ones without pictures, were printed in English. Printed in England itself, as a matter-of-fact. But the ones with the pictures were in French. But who needed to read?
"Look at the hair on my cunt, too," the proud young child said, her warm little hand closing tighter on her uncle's big prick.
Strange how it was no longer frightening to her. After that first time of fucking, once it had gone in, it had seemed no longer a frightening thing at all. But she had never tired of it. Which was not so strange. She loved the man.
He might have been looking into her mind.
"Is there anything new you want, baby doll?" he asked her softly. "Did you like when my finger was in your cut, puckery, pink little rectum, and I was sucking on your hard little clit?" He laughed, also filled with pride. "You screamed loud enough."
She shivered and tugged at his cock. "I want you to stick this in my ass," she said, and shivered with the hard, chilling joy of rectal anticipation. "Right up my butt! You said you would, as soon as my pussy was covered over with hair."
The man grinned at her, feeling under her slender young arms, lifting her off the floor. "Leggo my dick," he growled, "or I'm liable to stick it in your ear. Listen," he said earnestly, as he turned her to him, so that he could feel her hard nipples boring into his chest, "that's too much for a little girl. You are still a little girl," he reminded her, stroking her buttocks lovingly.
"You're chicken," she scoffed. "It's always you who's afraid. Let me suck on your dick a minute, glom it up with spit. It'll go in easy, I'll bet. Your finger just felt great!"
She felt his cock grow, felt it harden still more, and stepped back. "Hey, don't shoot it before it's in," she gibed, but her voice was tender and loving. Somewhere in some dark place in her mind, she acknowledged to herselft that she could not hold him always. Some day, of course, he'd leave as he had come. Let me have all of him, God, she prayed. Oh, let me have all of him to remember!
He pulled her over onto the bed, and her young heart leaped. I'm going to get it. He's going to lick my asshole, and drizzle spit into it, and then he's going to give me that wonderful peter, all the way up in my guts. He wouldn't pull me down on the bed if he wasn't going to brown me! "Brown me!" What a phrase. She had heard one of the big boys at school use it. And, feeling so grown up in her liaison with her uncle, she had boldly asked him, in the cafeteria line, what he meant by it.
He had almost dropped his tray, blushing beet red, and an older girl in front of him had said scornfully: "It means a guy stuck his cock into this guy's asshole, Miss Brighteyes."
The poor guy had fled from the line, and the girl, mean-faced, had said: "Damned queer! That's all those fags know-butt fucking and cocksucking!"
But the courageous child had thought the girl protested too much. Probably tried to cop the poor guy's jock and got rejected. What did words mean? Uncle Tommy had said: "Never be afraid to be yourself. No matter what some prune-faced old bitch says. Do what you feel like doing. Listen, kid, if I wanted to suck cocks, I would suck them with aplomb, and if any sonofabitch called me 'cocksucker,' I'd spit a little jism in his face!"
So she held his swelling cock, squeezing it so that it wouldn't shoot off prematurely.
It rarely did, now that she kept him so well fucked. For it was this ten-year-old who felt she was the responsible party. The one who managed things. Much as she loved him, much as she knew that he was teaching her all she knew, she also felt it in her woman's mind that it was she who used the knowledge properly.
She had had her first period just before she had gone down to his room that first time. Her pussy had been swelling regularly, at monthly intervals. And her breasts, soft little nubbins that were mostly nipple, pained her at those times. But of course, once she had been getting that big, hard, hot cock, with the rubbery knob that Uncle Tommy called his "glans," battering it harder and harder against her tiny, hard cervix, she had really begun to pour out the menstrual blood, the cellular trash and thin, clear goo. And naturally, her little bud breasts had flowered, until they were as big as mama's. And mama, hidebound church-goer that she was, still had had to be secretly proud of how such a young girl had grown so.
"Not even ten," she would marvel. "And just look at your little boobies! It's this California sun, all these vitamins."
And little Lola would look down at her plate, blushing, not daring to look at Uncle Tommy. When he was at the table with them, which wasn't often. For he managed to keep always on different shifts than mama and daddy.
She squeezed his wonderful, smooth skinned, purple headed, big veined cock. He had taught her how.
"I knew this nurse, or medical student, or something like that. When I was in school at Minnesota. She was taking some sort of course in sex education. Wow! Hold it like this, see? Your sweet little hand around it and your thumb on the hard part, just under the head. There. That's right. Now, just squeeze, real easy, and hold it. Man, is that magic! I was about to shoot my wad, now I'll bet you I could suck it for a half hour without me letting it go!"
So that's how she held it. The way that graduate student, or whoever it was, had done, the one that was trying to get her Masters degree in sex education. So now, because Uncle Tommy had taught her, she knew.
"Stick it in me," she whispered. "I held it the way you said. You won't cum too soon. Oh, Uncle Tommy, it's our anniversary. You said you'd do it like that, stick it up my fanny. Please!"
He laughed and goosed deep into the crease between her young, softly firm buttocks. "Right up there, hey, baby?" he teased her. "Listen, if you give me everything, or I give you everything, won't we get tired of each other?"
Laughing, she gave his hard cock a hurting jer. "Not me," she vowed. "You, maybe. It's the guy that gets tired, isn't it? But not me. Not ever!"
She turned and sucked really hard on the red knob, holding it between her lips like a ripe plum out of which she was trying to suck all the juice. "I'm not tired of being your cocksucker!"
He groaned. "There you go again, talking trash," he complained, but his voice was tender, and so was his hand, pulling at one of her soft, full breasts. "But if I get tired, then you'll have to bring me some new stuff. Would you do that, Miss Priss? Would you be old Unk's procuress?"
She jacked the thick, soft skin up and down, each time exposing the swelling red head, looking so smooth as it filled with blood.
"There's two chickies at school," she said. "Both of 'em just dying for a chance even to see a man's prick. Let alone play with it. Or suck it. Older'n me. Want me to bring them? Then give me a sweet, solid fuck in my sweet, solid little ol' butt! Looky!" and she turned, got on her knees and elbows, her sweetly divided little rump stuck right up to her uncle's face.
He clutched her, one softly muscled asscheek in each warm hand, and pressed until her puckered little asshole opened to show the pinkly grained inner skin. Exactly like her cunt. But even tighter. And I hear it's a degree hotter. A whole degree.
Still holding her that way, he ran his tongue into her rectum, thrusting its muscular point as deep as he could get it, while Lola squealed with delight.
"It's better than my pussy!" she moaned. Honest, Uncle Tommy, I'll get you those babes. You'll love 'em. They're beautiful. And never had so much as a finger up their little twats! Please buggar me!"
There was an intense pang of need in her as she got up, at his direction, and brought back the vaseline.
"Smear it on my cock, baby," he ordered, his voice now tense.
He had wanted this, he had wanted both these things. To sink his cock in her virgin asshole, and for the girl to bring him the fresh young cunts of her schoolmates. But he wanted her to beg to do both. "Smear it on thick, baby. This old cock isn't all that big, but it's going to feel like the thick end of a baseball bat, going up your ass!"
He loved to watch her delicate, graceful hands at this job. It felt even better, a girl so young, with such tender hands, preparing his cock to plunge into her bowels. Whew! He reached out and squeezed her breast, hard, making her jump, making the pussy juice build up in the inner pouches of her young vagina.
"Now," she said, turning her butt toward him, handing him the vaseline bottle, "You do me."
He touched her in the sensitive closure of her trembling cunt.
When she bucked back so hard that his finger went clear into her, he twisted it around and said: "You're a juicy little angel! How about I just insert it in your sweet little twat?"
But he slipped his left hand to the front of her thigh, holding her while he stuffed vaseline into the twitching, tender, sensitive rectum. Goddamn, she was ready for it!
"Okay," he said, "I want you to be in charge. How it goes in, how far, how fast. Understand? How do you want to do it? Looking at yourself in the mirror, watching it sink slowly into your butt? Or looking at me, watching me screw up my face as you fuck the skin off my poor ol' cock."
She was over him, facing him, on her feet, knees bent in a hard squat, feeling for his cockhead with her blind little asshole.
"I want to look at you, Uncle Tommy, she whispered huskily. "I want you to have it, just like you've had every other virginity I've got. And I won't hurt your 'poor ol' cock,' you big ninny! I know a little more about men's cocks than I did a year ago!"
She stuck out her tongue at him, and he looked between her straining thighs, seeing the nice bush of taffy blonde hair on her pussy. It made him proud. Of her, of himself.
"Reach behind you," he said, finding it a bit hard to control his voice. In a few seconds, he'd have it in her tight little ass. Something about the slick way he'd engineered it made him gloat. She'd do anything for him! If she had a cunt in her ear, she'd give it to him.
She had his greased cock, now, and was doing exactly the right thing-trying to find her asshole with the cock, instead of trying to find the cock with her asshole.
"That's it, baby," he grunted. "OHHHHH! NOT SO FAST!"
She fell forward on him, and he still kept it in her, but it was almost out.
"Back," he hissed. "Back! Try to get back up on your legs. The way you were! Oh, baby, that's a tight squeeze!"
The feeling was so big that it was making her cry. It was much worse than she had expected, and still, much better. She could tell that there wasn't much of it in, maybe only two inches. But she felt like Uncle Tommy had said. Like a baseball bat was up her ass. And it felt, strangely enough, more cunty than the first time she had gotten on it. "It feels so good," she croaked, dry mouthed. "It hurts me, but it hurts me so good, Uncle Tommy!"
He reached under her and held her buttocks, holding them open again, helping her at least to get back on her knees. It was good as he had hoped, and now, he was going to teach her something more.
"You know how your inside muscles work when we fuck?" he asked. "How you clamp down? Like when you're on the toilet, and you're cutting off your peepee, you know?"
The cock seemed to be sliding into her, for all she could do to stop it. It was her weight; no, it was her choice "OHHHHH! OHHHHH! It's too much!" But she still chose to push down.
Her entire body shook, giving the man the most excruciating pleasure along his cock nerves. By looking down, under his niece, he could see that all of his cock except the last inch was buried in that virgin rectum. She trembled. "What did you ask me?" she breathed.
"Clamp down on the cock," he coaxed. "Bite me with your muscles. Suck up! Use your butt muscles!"
"I can't," the girl sobbed. "I'm too tight. You're too big! It feels good, but I can't do it. Oh, please, Uncle Tommy. I can't!"
He suddenly remembered an old song. Something about trying a little tenderness. After all, a kid ten years old. And he did love her, just as she loved him.
He took her little face between his hands, rubbing a trace of vaseline in her hair. "Kiss me, little lovey," he whispered. "Never mind. I wanted it to be right for you, and I'm sorry I'm so big. Just open your sweet mouth and kiss old Unk!"
With a frantic little cry, she strained to kiss him, her tight young butthole coming up and partly off his greasy dick. The movement of withdrawal inflamed those erotic nerves more than when the two of them had strained her sphincter to get him into her. Beautiful! And a relief of that hard, pressing pain that was so good, but that hurt deep up in her guts, all the way to her liver. He's wonderful and big and hard. I'm so lucky he'll fuck me, teach me, love me!
She had her tongue in his mouth as she thought this, and it caused a mysterious change to strike her in her pelvic floor. It was all fucking, no matter what hole it was in. It was all delight. It started as a wave, a ripple of fire in her vagina. At least, she thought that's where it was. It made her move and leap and push down on his cock. She was cumming, that's what. And she always rode his cock, crazy with cum fever, when she began to spill it.
Only, this time, the cumming was inside her. Deeper. It didn't seem to be in her cunt at all. "OH MY GOD!" she screamed. "FUCK UP ME, UNCLE TOMMY! OHHHHHHH! IN MY AAASSSSSS! OHHHHHH!"
She realized that she was plunging up and down much harder than with any regular vaginal orgasm. The strain was twice as bad, now, and she knew it was because his cock was swelling bigger with its normal explsion of sperm from his balls. If she had not been so virginal, so tight, in her little rectum, it would not hurt so bad. OR SO GOOOOOD! OH! WOW! And she lost herself entirely, falling into a sensual put of writhe-and-absorb, quaking with a pleasure too deep to bear, to wonderful to describe.
"AAARRRGGGHHH! AAARRRGGGHHH!" She was screaming inarticulately, now, the vital force of her orgasm making her a puppet of love, conscious only of the terrible delights of her first butt-fucking orgasm. She felt as if each new shot of Uncle Tommy's semen would blow her off his big, hard, jet firing cock, release her like a toy monkey frigging up and down on a toy stick.
Except for one thing. His arms holding her, and her arms holding him. And her sweetly gripping young rectum, now becoming fanatically in love with the stretching prick inside it, hanging on to the big organ with every loving muscle in her guts.
When she finally came down to earth, Uncle Tommy was stroking the sweated locks back from where they had tumbled down over her face.
"My baby blonde," he was whispering. "My little miniature fuck-freak woman! What a sweetheart!" And his hands were now going down to her round little behind, cupping the firm globes, squeezing them with loving brutality, so that her body kept moving on his prick, her weary muscles, slick with vaseline and the great white gobs of his semen, grasped and released unconsciously, as he had begged her to do when they started.
"Anniversary time's over, baby," the man said, kissing her on her sweating forehead. "Don't forget, this is your mama's early day. No work, only one of those missionary excursions. Her feet won't stand a whole afternoon of that."
The child released her rectal grip on his cock slowly and grudgingly. For a moment, she felt a glow of jealousy and anger at her mother. Interfering with the pleasure, and above all, the schooling, that she was getting from her wonderful uncle.
"She's so mean," the little girl choked. "Most of the time. She's into that religion of hers until it's freaked her out. She and dad, too. But she's the worst. You're always laughing about it, saying you can't understand it. Especially her. Why do you say that? 'Especially your mama.' What's that supposed to mean?"
She was cleaning up, wiping between her legs, between her asscheeks, for his jism and hers, for vaseline. She looked at the tissue. There was no sign of shit, merely one brown streak.
"I never realized I was so clean inside," she said.
She used a handful of new tissues on her uncle's cock as he lolled back on his elbows, grinning, his big old peter still pretty hard. Hard enough to sort of loll around, like he was doing.
She leaned and sucked on it, rolling her young eyes up at him. He was so great!
He patted her on her blonde head. "I've known your mama a long time, remember," he said. "When she was younger, she wasn't all that strict." Something made him laugh. "One thing, baby. As long as I'm around, she won't get too tough with you."
As she zipped up her jeans, he fondled one of her ripe breasts and grinned at her. Don't forget the new chickies," he said. "You know, the two who're dying for the sight of a man's dick."
She kissed him passionately. "I promised, didn't I? she asked. "I'll bring 'em. You just tell me when!"
CHAPTER NINE
Lola lay awake for some time after the boy, Timmie, had gone to sleep. In her bed, of course.
"You can stay here until you decide what to do," she told him. "I don't think your mother will look for you here. Do you think she will start right away to make a big effort to find you?"
The boy smiled at her, his beautiful young face looking tired and sleepy, the way a baby's face does. It touched her heart.
"I don't know," he said. "I don't think so. Considering what happened. She won't want me back."
Without coaxing, he told Lola exactly what had happened. It was a weird story, but to Lola, whose life had been somewhat off the beaten track, it was not unbelievable. In fact, there were parts where she clung to the boy and pressed her solid, smooth thighs tightly together, feeling her vagina turn and twist with licking flames of fuck fire, far up inside her. Especially the part where his mother had cum on his finger, and he had had the strange sense that his finger was his cock.
"Honest, Aunt Lola, I felt just exctly as if I were fucking right into her. Into my own mother!" He shivered, and did his best to sound as if he felt it was terrible. But Lola detected a note of male triumph in his boyish voice. He must have had that fat, hairy pussy on his mind for a long time, she thought. She had thought of it, often enough. Its padded softness, its warm, slickly dripping inner lips, its richly feminine odors.
She chose her words with care.
"She may choose to forget that it ever happened," she said slowly. "After all, she seems to have tried to trick you. Could she have seen you, uh, doing something? I mean, just before she called out for you to come to her?"
Timmie snapped his fingers. "Hell, yes. I was sort of, you know, playing with my cock. Not jerking off or anything. I had just been talking to Sheri, and you know her, she's sort of hot." He flushed. "So is Alice. They both like to talk about sex a lot. But I was fresh from being over here, too. And my dong was kind of hard, and felt good. So I was skinning it back. Just looking at it. And I thought I heard someone. But when I looked around, nobody was there."
"I have a very strong idea that your mother will want you back, very much. And that, if she says anything about it, it won't be anything mean. What I'm trying to say, she won't be telling your dad, to get him to beat you."
The boy laughed, but looked unhappy, and Lola said: "Look, we'll have a bedtime snack, and you can sleep here. With me, or in another bed."
So, after they drank milk and ate crackers and cheese and cold meat, they curled up together and Timmie fell asleep almost at once. Because the sweet lady he had always called Aunt Lola had told him it was all right, and nothing to worry about.
True, he had tried very hard to make her open her thighs and let him sleep with his face in her w pussy, but she had laughingly turned him down. "You must be worn out," she said kindly. "Rest up."
In the morning, she awoke slowly, warmly. It had been over a year since any man had shared her bed. Her body had the delicately beautiful feeling of having been loved, and each of her nipples stood up in a hard, almost blood red cone. She knew that the juice from her pussy had congealed, sealing her puffy cunt lips, and that there would be a slight kissing noise, a twinge of delightful pain, as her movements made the big, hairy outer lips break this seal of cooled love juice.
And best of all, lying right by her, was Timmie.
So beautiful! Such a big little man! With his wonderful peter sticking up so straight and hard, its big veins standing out on the thick, soft, tender skin.
Remembering Uncle Tom, she leaned toward the dick of the sleeping boy, ovaled her mouth into a wet, pink cavern of hot flesh, and sucked him in, going down until the rubbery glans went clear down into her gullet.
The taste was magnificent, the taste of his exudates fermenting under that cloak of skin, the preserved and ripened taste of Sheri's young cunt.
Lola made a mental note to call Sheri this morning, find out if the child had ever even heard of The Pill, and make sure she was supplied. "I'll need 'em, too-now," she whispered happily to herself, folding her hand around the wonderful cock that jutted up from Timmie's ring of pubic hair. "This could knock me up," and she quivered, almost in tears, thinking of this magical wand that would shoot life up its tubes and into any woman's fertile belly.
While she was in the bathroom, she heard her door chime, and put on a light robe, still not fully awake.
She lost all the peace of her recent slumber, though, when she opened the door.
There was a State Highway Patrolman, one she knew very well. He was young, he was smiling, but he looked terribly official, and very, very threatening.
"Hi, Miz Todd," he said. "I'm Barry Pogue. Remember me?"
She was getting her breathing under control. "Sure do, Barry," she smiled. "What happening?"
"It's the little Shelton kid," the young officer said. "He must've run away, or something. Wasn't home all last night, his mother says. We're, uh, combing the neighborhood, if you'll forgive the cliche. Kid over behind you," and he waved vaguely, "Alice Bond, you know her? She said that she thought you knew him."
Good little Alice! For a second, Lola had been scared stiff.
"I sure do know him," she answered smoothly. "I guess I know every kid in the neighborhood. If they've been here any length of time." She looked thoughtful. "Did his mother say anything about the circumstances? Any thing happen just before the boy disappeared?"
It was a mean trick, she knew, but it wouldn't hurt Ellen any to get a slight jar. Besides, it would give Barry something else to think about. Besides trying to look down the front of her robe.
She pulled the thin wrapper tighter around her, cupping one of her breasts in her left hand, watching the young copper turn red. "Have you asked her? Miz Shelton, I mean? About whether anything special might have happened to upset the boy?"
The young man laughed. "You're pretty good, Miz Todd," he said. "Yeah, I plead guilty. I was looking at your, well, your figure, unless you want to get more specific. And if you're going to say something dumb, like you're old enough to be my mother, I'm going to tell you that I always liked to look at mama's goodies, too. So now, what does that make me? Some kind of pervert?"
A new and warmer response arose in Lola. This perceptive and good humored young guy, with his ready tongue, might be good for a woman like herself to know. But not now. Later. But she had to make some kind of answer. There had been a challenge. Two. Hers and his. So she laughed and relaxed her hold on the robe.
"Sorry, Barry. I'm not prudish. Perhaps it was just an old, instinctive action. To get back to Timmie. I'm not seeking gossip. I wondered if anything had happened."
Barry looked at her with new interest, new friendship. "I said I liked to peep at my mama's female parts, didn't I? Timmie's how old?" He looked at a small notebook. "Thirteen. What do you know!" He smiled conspiratorially at Lola. "Maybe you've put me on a good track. But listen, lady, I know where I'd go if I were thirteen, and wanted someone warm and nice to look after me." He grinned.
"That's sweet, Barry," Lola said. "If you ever get to be thirteen again, let me know, will you?" Or if you ever feel thirteen, she commented in her mind.
Timmie was looking worried, sitting on the edge of the bed, his clothes on.
"I heard the guy," he said. "I'm getting out here. I'm not going to get you in any trouble."
She moved and stood between his thighs, letting her robe fall open, so that his face was just under her warm breasts, his cheek on her satiny tummy, the strong, lovely femaleness of her cunt flowing its rousing scents up into his nostrils. She held his head against her, waiting until she knew he had gotten hold of himself.
"That young cop is plenty hip," she said. "I'll bet a cookie he has a pretty good idea of what happened between you and Ellen-your mother, I mean-yesterday. Part of it anyhow."
The boy, his arms around her, over her strong, rounded hips, nuzzled into her belly, just above her aromatic puff of curly cunt hair.
"Okay," he laughed. "What do we do? I can't go out of your house. Not until after dark tonight. So what do we do?"
His hands went lower, down over her generously sculptured rump, and he teasingly shoved his fingers into the wet mat of hair that was directly over her pulsing twat. "Can I crawl in here?" His fingers slipped in, into where her heartbeat made a pulsing warmth that made his cock begin to stir. He licked his lips, swallowing spit which hushed into his mouth.
"Please," he said, "can I have some of this for breakfast?"
That day was spent in fun, in love, in instruction.
"You know a lot for a boy your age, Timmie," Lola said, again and again. "Lick there. Now, a little higher. OHHHHHHH! You're on it! You're on my clit! Now, move down and suck up some of my juice."
He enjoyed having his nose in her slash, his cheeks tickled by her crisply curled cunt hair, the thick, throat clogging smells of open cunt and quivering asshole.
But she would not let him blow his nuts. "Later," she would say. "Now, look here. This is good for you to know. How to calm down when you're afraid you're going to blow your nuts too soon. And it's a nice thing to teach Sheri and Alice." She looked at her clock. The hour was nearing three. "I wish we'd hear from them," she said.
"They'll come to the ditch," he said simply. "They always do."
She enjoyed the feel of his damply sweated balls, his hard cock, in her hand. And she showed him that girl's way of gripping a cock.
"It's scientific," she said. "College stuff. Lady got a Masters for inventing it," she said, wondering if she remembered it right.
"I don't care," Timmie said, laughing, falling on her, pulling at her full, smooth, heavy breasts, so warm and sweet. "I don't want to know how to not cum! I want to stick it in you and shoot it! Now!"
She felt his cock. It really was hard. "My nuts ache," he said, unhappily. "You don't want me to look at your cunt, or feel of it, and jerk off. Shoot it in your face, like I did my mom?"
Lola felt her throat constrict. "Watch it, baby," she said. "I might take you up on that. Wow! All over my face, in my eyes, up my nose! If I thought you could cum about six times, that would sure be one of the six. But I want you to have it like you want it. You know that."
She leaned across his body as he lay on his back, her fist closing on his dick. It would be the most marvelous fun to hold this lovely thing, pointed right at her face, and see the white jism come shooting out that little pink slit in the head. She leaned and sucked on him, nice and hard, lips and tongue working, for a few seconds.
"Okay, Timmie, you can have it," she said huskily. "Any way you want it." She looked at him anxiously, playing with one of her heavy, smooth titties, squeezing the nipple out at him. "In any hole I have."
He shoved her aside and got astride her back, playfully slotting his cock between the firm, smooth ass globes. She had her chin on her laced hands, looking in the mirror. This was silly. He was too young even to think about ass-fucking. Anyhow, he'd barely found out what just plain old cunt-fucking was all about. Wouldn't need any vaseline, that was sure. She was bigger, now. He wasn't as big as Uncle Tommy and her vagina was so full of cunt oil that it would have furnished enough lubrication for a baseball bat. A baseball bat? The hand of memory jogged her, goosed her softly in the nerve-taut center between the firm, ivory-smooth buttocks. She looked up at Timmie's image in the mirror. He was grinning mischievously.
"I know how I want it," he said out of a clear sky. "Just put your legs apart a little more, Aunt Lola."
His cock probed into her cunt, and she tightened her vaginal muscles around it. She was a teensy bit disappointed, in her heart, but felt it might be too much to expect, a kid to fuck her in the ass.
He was going up and down, more than in and out. His cock was coming clear out, and she could feel that it was dragging out a lot of her slick juice, making a clammy, cool-warm, very wet sensation all over that humid, odorous valley where dwelt her quivering rectum. But it felt so good in her cunt that she bucked up at him, raising her ass. "It's really sweet this way, Timmie," she said. "You get into me awfully deep when you fuck into me from the rear. OHHHHHH! You're hitting my womb. Can you feel it?"
"Can I ever!" He was waggling it about inside her, and his voice sounded a bit strained. "It's nice to pull it out, like this, isn't it Aunt Lola?" He had it clear out, up in her crack, and once again she felt the wetness of her own pussy juice anoint her asshole.
"Nice, and I know you're having fun, but I'm getting hot. I sort of wish you'd fuck me real hard. It'd make me cum." She was feeling so great, now, just on the edge of a nice, smooth orgasm, wherein she would wrap the soft, sucking, wetly flowing, blood warmed folds of her cumming, squeezing, caressing cunt around him. "Ooooooh! Any minute now, baby! Ooooooh! It's so nice and hard! It'll feel so nice when you shoot that big load into me? Is it nice for you, this way?"
She felt his young body rise, felt his hands pull her asscheeks apart as if he would tear them from her body. And then she knew what he had planned all along, why he had been dragging her slick, clear, thick, lovely cunt slime out of her with his dick, using it as a basting tool to drop its lubricating slickness on her now trembling asshole.
There was a momentary shock of really bad pain, but she was more afraid for his young cock than for her rectum. One hard, deep pang, as if she were having a very tough bowel movement, when you think you'll die if you don't shit, and tear yourself apart if you do. And then he was into her, and her eyes cleared, and she saw his face mirrored, a little white with shock and surprise, but happy.
"There!" he breathed. "You said I could have it any way I want it. And this is how I want it! Up your ass, Aunt Lola!"
He fucked into her more easily now, and whistled: "Wow! I knew a kid had a brother in the Navy. He said that a guy who knows one who was really with it, he'd crawl over a hundred cunts to get to an asshole. It's so tight!" And he pulled out and shoved back, giving the woman the most unbearably delightful fuck pain she'd known in years. No use in Mike trying to buggar her. With his cock, he'd have split an elephant. But this-oh, dear God! This was heaven. Heaven, in a nutty, raunchy, possibly perverted way.
"Fuck it to me, baby," she groaned. Fuck that perverted business. "You love it, I love it!" She waggled her warm, mature ass, feeling his cock strike all the demanding nerves of her asshole. "Can you he on me, Timmie?" she implored. "Grab my titties and squeeze them?"
He was rather tall. He had a better idea. He turned slightly crosswise, and dug into her breast with his face, with his hands.
As she sensed his desire, her breasts flamed with feeling. She rolled a little, and one of her big pillows of sensitive tit-flesh came out. It was wild, but there it was, and by squeezing and pulling, damn near killing her, but feeling almost too good, he got the nipple in his mouth. He sucked and pulled, and jabbed his cock into her asshole, all at the same time.
"Good Jesus, Timmie!" the woman groaned.
"That's almost too good! I think I'm going to cum. OHHHHHHH!" she screamed, humping so hard she almost lost his dick. "HIT ME AGAIN! SUCK MY TITTY! OHHHHH! YOU'RE KILLING ME! I LOVE IT! I LOVE YOU, YOU LITTLE AUNTIE FUCKER! AAARRRRGGGGGHHHH! Oh, shit! Oh damn it! What happened?"
"Pulled out," the kid panted. "There! There it is again!" And he pumped his hard meat into her. It was marvelous. But different. He reached with his lips for her tit, but he was missing it by an inch. Aunt Lola was still pushing up, still waggling her big ass from side to side, and it felt absolutely wild. But something had happened.
Still, it felt so good that he forgot about the big, sweet, warm titty, and pushed himself up to look. He felt so cummy! Oh, God, to look and see it go in her ass!
He looked. He shouted. "I'm in your cunt!" he yelled.
"I know," Lola said. "It's wonderful. But slip it in my ass again. That's wonderful, too." And she screamed again in that first fuck-pain, as he pulled his slick organ out and quickly ploughed into her ass.
"Ugh!" the boy grunted. His loins were hammering against the blonde woman's beautifully rounded behind, his hard young cock appearing and disappearing as he drew out and plunged back. Once more, in the nerve-rasped eroticism of her rectum, Lola felt the deep plunging dick, the lovely strain and stretch as he drove into her.
The young boy was panting and sweating, sliding on her smooth back as he bent to get her nipple captured between his lips again. The tight clasp of the sweetly blonde haired asshole, the lascivious idea of fucking this beloved woman first in one hole, then in the other, brought his youthful cum nerves to the pitch just before the final, raw surge of fuck power.
But he slipped out again, and this time, blindly thrusting, his dick shot between her cum-slicked buttocks. It was marvelous, too, a different feeling entirely, as the weight of his own body pressed the lovely, smooth butt-flesh around his throbbing young dick.
He raised his loins higher and plunged down, and once again he aimed low, and his length of rigid, cum slicked meat slid easily into the slowly working lips of the woman's pussy.
He plunged in, enjoying the warm, loosely slobbering folds of pussy instead of the hard grip of rectum. It made the woman he called his aunt happy, too. She had been on a razor's edge of about-to-cum as he slipped accidentally out of her bung hole. So, as he stabbed it into her muscle-slipping pussy, striking the sensitive hardness of her womb's mouth, she began to cry out again, this time more hoarsely, since she had strained her vocal cords in her hard orgasms.
"AAAIIIIIIEEE! AAAIIIEE" She was humping up as hard and fast as she could, feeling the giant fist of fire hammering inside her. He was going in so deep! So hard! "I'M CUUUMMMIIINNNGGG!!" Her voice had a tired note, but the wave of bursting heat was wonderful, just the same.
And then, miracle Of miracles! The boy, also tired, missed a plunge into his marvelous friend's pussy, and he sank it into her ass once more.
Hitting her at just that time, in just that way, when she was in the torturing loveliness of a hard cum, seemed to act as a sharp, hard spur. Her body used the last of its strength, while her rasping voice croaked out its last paean of happiness and fuck joy: "OHHH, OHHHH, OHHHH! OH, LOVER! OH, PRECIOUS BOY!"
And he was too tired to do any more than lie on her soft, strong butt, sweat dripping from him into the sloppy crack of her ass, and let his jism pour out, almost in a warm stream instead of hot jets.
When he at last rolled off her, panting, she reached for his sticky, wilted, but still warm cock, loving the humanity of it, the weirdness that had brought this fulfillment of her reminiscence.
How strange that she, anxious to help this young boy in the same manner that she had been guided and loved by her uncle, should have wallowed in both the dream and the reality.
She licked dry lips, smiling, and spoke in the quiet afternoon air: "How in the world did you ever get such a crazy idea?" She squeezed his cock. "Not that I didn't love it. I did. But why?"
He was still panting hard. It had been by far the most strenuous fuck of his short career. "Last night," he said, gasping, "or early this morning-did you have a dream?" He paused, still breathing very deeply, then went on: "I woke up, and you were sort of, well, hollering and thrashing around. You kept saying: 'Stick it in my Hunky,' or something like that." He blushed, and patted her behind.
"Right then," he confessed, "I don't think I could have stuck it in anything. But it made me sort of dream, too. You know when I wanted to suck you this morning? I was that hot because of thinking how it would be to stick it in someone's butt. Your butt, I mean," he said quickly, but Lola knew that his dream had been of any butt.
Lola laughed softly. How marvelous it was to have this boy, to feel in her bones and in her hot flesh that she could have this lovely boy as she wanted him. But without ever being stuck with him. She pinched his cock, making him leap in the air.
"Stay the way you are, you wonderful little man," she said. "Be the way you are. My uncle-believe me, a marvelous man-was always quick with a joke. He told me about a real estate man who said to his daughter: 'Get a lot while you're young.' That's the best advice in the world. And you, you horny little devil, with me and Sheri and Alice, well, you're going to get a lot. Incidentally, it was 'Unky' I was saying. I don't remember a dream. But I think of Uncle Tommy a lot. Especially lately."
You and Alice and Sheri, Timmie's mind listed them, thinking of the likedness of cunts. And their differences. I'll get a lot. I love it so! And in that instant, that fraction of a second when his sex-filled young mind was lying fallow, a new idea warmed him, the bright picture of another cunt. Fat and mature, buried in cum-stiffened baack hair, its thick inner lips, its love-slopped interior folds as warm and sweet as Lola's. Or Sheri's. That's my mom, he thought in a burst of love and pride. And in that second, he knew that Lola was right.
His mom didn't hate him. She loved him and his cock.
CHAPTER TEN
Because he had exerted himself so much, Lola gave Timmie a bath in the big tub, which he allowed her to do in dreamy, good humored acquiescence. Undoubtedly, one of his unknown, unacknowledged pains had been loss of his mother. And this was Aunt Lola. Almost the same. Plus the strong, long drink of blackberry brandy she had given him lacing it with a couple of tablespoons of ice cream, telling him it was tonic, it would relax him.
He sat with a smile on his handsome young face as Lola washed his face, turning at her command so that she could get at his ears. And standing up so that she could wash between his legs, wash his ass and balls, even his cock, Which seemed so small and soft and harmless.
"Gee, Aunt Lola, that sure was good tonic," he said sleepily. "I never knew medicine could taste so good."
"Sex is medicine, too, you know," Aunt Lola said, wiping gently around his balls with a big washcloth. "You like that, too, don't you?"
He got out of the big tub and stood as she helped him towel off.
"It's even better tasting than the tonic," he said, and laughed like a pleased child as she patted him on his prick.
He willingly let her tuck him in the big bed, and he was asleep in less than three minutes. He looked more like three than thirteen when Lola came in to look at him, and she took her telephone and its long cord and carried it through the hall, out to the kitchen. In line with her fiercely maternal desire to make sure he rested, she also went to her big door chime on the wall and flicked a switch. Now, if anyone pushed the bell button at her entry, a light would flash on the wall by the chime, another in her bedroom.
Life was strange, she thought, sitting down with a large cup of coffee, smiling softly. Mike was gone, even much of her memory of him was now vague. Uncle Tommy was more alive. At least her image of him was. And yet Mike had been the love of her life. She remembered a line of poetry, part of a poem Uncle Tommy often quoted. "Man has but one virginity to lose, and where he lost it, there his heart will be." Maybe it was so. What it really meant, Uncle Tommy had said, referred to man's work, but to woman's love. "You'll remember me, baby, because I popped your little cherry. I'm a dirty old man. But you'll remember me."
Hard as she had been fucked, she felt a stir of life, a warm slippage of twat muscle. Partly in memory of her uncle, certainly a part of it for Mike and easy going love, his cock always so ready. And Young Tim, napping peacefully in her bedroom. It could hardly be classed as a memory, such a recent fucking.
Mike had had a little riddle: "What's the lightest thing in the world?" And the answer was: "Your dick, because a thought can lift it." Men were so silly in their pride. Many of them thought, because they had a cock to lift with a thought, or by feeling under a girl's skirt or in her bra, that they had some kind of an exclusive.
Boloney! A woman, at least a hot blooded woman like Lola, could start their cream to flowing with a thought. And not necessarily a thought about a man.
She couldn't have Timmie in her house and not think even one little thought about his mother.
Lola sighed and looked out her kitchen window. She had lived here a long time, and a lot of it was tied in with Ellen Shelton. Unconsciously she pursed her lips and ran her tongue around both the inside and the outside of her gums.
They had, all of them, moved so swiftly, so inncently, into swinging. The Ranees and the Clays, the Bonds and the Olsons and, of course, Larry and Ellen Shelton. They had a party, they drank a lot, and someone began kidding about the new game called "swapping." And, since they were all young, all getting beyond the first novelty of married sex, and all of them, of course, just dying to try something new, it had happened. And the biggest thing of all was that one of the men insisted that the girls "put on a circus."
Some of the girls faked it, got in a sixty-nine position, held their partner's cunt lips between finger and thumb, and made smacking noises. But when it had been Lola's turn and Ellen's, the big blonde got the shock-and the pleasure-of her life. Because the tiny brunette with the cuddly body and the gorgeously long, full tits, her arms around Lola's legs-Lola on the bottom-obviously wasn't kidding. And Lola, with the dark haired, fat lipped, redly wet cunt open just above her mouth found it impossible to resist. And both of them had loved it!
After that, Ellen never missed a chance to stand by Lola, to hug her, to feel her breasts, to stroke her round, softly muscular bottom. Or to eat her cunt.
Until that scandal.
Well, the Ranees moved to Los Angeles, the Clays split up, and the Sheltons got religion. Lola shivered, her warm pussy turning a bit cold. What could religion offer a hot woman? Of course, she had no way of knowing what Larry and Ellen did. She saw them no more except by accident.
Ellen's cunt! It had been the sweetest thing in Lola's life for a long time. They were like sisters. The swinging parties they held were so immature. All those cocks, all those pussies, all that fucking and sucking. Wonderful fun, of course, but nothing more than a projection of children's defiance toward authority. "See, mama. See, papa? We can do all those things you said we mustn't do. Fuck and suck and play with our little dongs and snatches."
But with her and Ellen, it had been sweeter and deeper.
She heard a noise from the bedroom and got up to look in on Tim. He was lying on his back, his face flushed from the heat of the afternoon. And it was easy to see what was keeping him from sleeping soundly. His young cock was sticking straight up, its red head swollen to a satin-smooth fullness by his dream. As Lola stood there, the boy said: "Mama! Mama! Why don't you-" and then he rolled and turned and came partly awake, his dark eyes wide with some deep emotion.
And Lola, her cunt convulsing inside her, laid a cool hand on his forehead and said: "It's all right, baby. Go to sleep." And for some strange reason, he did. It was one of the hardest decisions Lola had ever made, going away and leaving that stiff young peter. But he was only a boy. And all men have limitations. "And I've always got my good old fake prick," she murmured, knowing in her heart that there wasn't all that much to recommend it.
It was not until an hour later than Timmie came out to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, smiling. His cock was back to normal. It had been only a piss hard-on. And Lola and Timmie, after a long, gentle, searching kiss, and a good, long feel, which set their pulses to throbbing, were having milk and cookies when they heard a "Pssst!" at the back door.
Lola reconnoitered, motioning Tim to be still. But it was only Alice, and the little blonde came in furtively, latching the screen behind her.
She buried her face in the warm, maternal fullness of Lola's breasts, and said: "I'm sorry, Aunt Lola! Did the cops come here? Some neighbor told the man that Timmie and I were always together, and that she had seen us this morning. So all I said was, I thought I had seen Tim walking down the street in front of your place. Did they grill you?"
She had moved away from Lola, standing by Tim, and the older woman was tickled at the protective arm the boy threw around the child's slender but intensely female body.
"No problem," Lola said. "Timmie was sleeping with a hard-on, but I don't think he really needed any immediate attention."
She had a quick rush of warmth as she uttered this peculiarly challenging statement, and she knew why. She wanted more than just the boy. And more than the girl. She wanted to be a part of it, a partner in whatever happened. It was the resurgence of an old idea, a time when her beloved uncle had told her: "Never be afraid to. be what you are. Never be ashamed of being a human being. The world's a cafeteria-take what you like and leave what you don't."
That hot, smelly old room! Where she had kept her promise to Uncle Tommy. Bringing him the two girls from school.
"This guy doesn't live here, you know," she had lied. To protect whom? Her uncle? Her folks? Herself? Who could be certain. But she knew that there might be trouble in girls eleven years old, coming to see and handle, for the first time, a man's hard cock.
They had not been nearly so brave and bold as they had been in the girls' room at school. In fact, if there had not been the two of them, it wouldn't have happened. Neither dared chicken out before the other. But Lola had had to push them in. And Uncle Tommy had been just right, helping them in, with his cock half hard, laughing, saying: "Come on, come on! A couple of girls like you-you can't be scared of a little old prick, can you?"
It had been so thrilling to her, Lola. To help the kids get out of their clothes, to shove them at Uncle Tommy, to say: "Go ahead, you dummies! Grab his cock! Like this." And she had grabbed it, put it in her mouth, sucked it with roguish side glances at the blushing kids. Until at last, Nola Prentice, boldly took it away from Lola, looked around defiantly, and went down on the tall man. While Lola, delighted and hot, squeezed Mary Lou Smith, the other kid, and said: "You never lived until you taste that jism!"
And how Uncle Tommy had thrived in that harem atmosphere! It seemed as if he might kill himself, fucking. Every Wednesday, for a long time, Mary Lou and Nola tagged along home with Lola. And he would open their girlishly mature little cunts, and, in one or another variation, work his cock into them. Or they would work their juicy, tight little cunts around him.
Blonde hair, dark hair, red hair, and sweetly dripping juice from one cunt tasted just like the clear, sweet, rich, thick nectar from any other.
Half in a dream, the grown up Lola licked her lips, a secret smile on her face. It had been so great when Mary Lou, the redhead, sat on Unk's dick with her back to him, looking at them all in the mirror, her eyes screwed tight together with the lovely feet of that big cock stuck so deep in her young vagina. And it was even better when Mary Lou lay back on Uncle Tommy's chest, with her youthful beautifully stacked thighs open so wide that her cunt was like a big, raw wound, all wet and shiny from the excess of her cumming. Because old Mary Lou was the hottest of them all. Her inner labia seemed so big, so thick and mature. And their surfaces were marked by traceries of small veins pulsing and dark red with engorged blood.
It had seemed so natural and sweet, so right, that Lola never hesitated. She knelt by the pair so furiously locked in their fuck, with the hairy base of Uncle Tommy's cock seeming to grow out of Mary Lou's grasping fuck hole, and sucked ail up and down all of that lovely split that she could reach.
Any girl worthy of her sex knows the taste of her delightful little cunt almost from birth. And Lola knew not only her own, but that of Mary Lou and Nola as well. But today, it seemed better, creamier, thicker, and far more pungent. And certainly more sensitive.
"Oh, baby," the young redhead groaned. "What's happening?"
She put her hands down toward her crotch, and felt Lola's head, felt it move as the blonde girl moved up and down in the warmth and hotly beautiful slickness of the parted lips.
She reached one hand up and squeezed Mary Lou's full, firm tit, mashing it hard against the other girl's rib cage. Mary Lou exploded.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!" She screamed, her legs rising, knocking Lola's head away from her writhing pussy. Her lovely legs, so big and well shaped for an eleven-year-old, flew straight up. "AAAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!" She was uttering the choking, piercing, wordless screams as if some terrible force were squeezing them out of her, until Uncle Tommy, his strong arms around her, shoved her off him.
"Shut up!" he cried. "You little idiot! Do you want to bring the whole neighborhood in?"
He pulled on his jeans, then a T-shirt, and went to the door.
"Get her out of here," he snarled. "And don't bring her back. Hear?" And he ran out, leaving the slender, naked Lola, to hold and comfort the well stacked, naked Mary Lou.
Ah, recollection! The grown up Lola's mouth was still salivating. That was the day when she really knew, in her heart, in her taste buds, that a cunt, a hairy, soft, openly dripping, red-lipped cunt, was as sweet, as hot, in its own way, as Uncle Tommy's cock.
The girl's body was so smooth, so soft. And only she and Mary Lou were there that day. What a time to have a friend! Mary Lou, her young fuck nerves all afire, all yearning from having that big, hard cock so rudely snatched from her pussy, clung to Lola, kissing her, crying, moaning: "Oh, I need a fuck so bad! Oh, why did I do such a dummy thing! Please, please, Lola! What can I do?"
And the younger, smaller girl, so much more experienced, and with her own desires raised to their highest heat, simply rolled the amply built redhead onto the bed and said coarsely: "Open up your cunt. Wrap your legs around my head. And when I begin to suck you, you'd better suck me, too!"
It was a delight she never forgot. The pulsing movements of that young, sweetly oozing pussy, the clip of muscle as she shot her tongue deep into Mary Lou's cuntal aperture, they were unforgettable. And that rush of juice as her sucking and tongue lashing made the redhead cum again and again.
She could feel Mary Lou's mouth working on her own split, too. She was on top, so she had to work out a way to get her pussy wide open and on Mary Lou's mouth without choking off her breath. So she had her knees right at the other girl's shoulders, raising and lowering her bottom, feeling the sweet, soft lips, the slick, hard tongue as they dug and licked and caressed and sucked with such wonderful understanding.
"You're so dear," Mary Lou had sobbed, holding Lola's little face, shining with pussy juice, and kissing her hungrily. "I don't care anything, ever again, about that mean old man!" She kissed Lola again. "Oh, baby, isn't it wonderful to French kiss another girl?" she asked rapturously. "Gee, kid, I hope your pussy tastes as good to you as mine does to me!"
But all things end. The most wonderful things end. You remember them, so they live. They help you, too. Lola, after that, had never been reluctant to have oral sex with another girl. Any more than she would with a boy. It seemed so natural, so wholesome. And girls sometimes needed another girl. For her sympathy, her understanding. And especially for her knowledge of just how to find another girl's most tender places. On this day, over three decades later, Lola Todd could still taste the sweetness of Mary Lou's delicious split. And another, nearer, gamier, juicier. And with the ripeness of flavor that most young girls don't have. Except that last night, that kid with the big tits had tasted mighty sweet.
She jerked herself awake. Timmie and Alice were looking at her. Smiling, happy, unafraid, and it made her glad, deep inside, that she was here, that she had the understanding, that she could offer these kids a chance to be themselves, without fear or guilt. She had never had it. Not really.
But uppermost in her mind, for this moment, was of that unforgettable moment-or series of moments-with Uncle Tommy. And Mary Lou.
"You weren't exactly asleep, I know," Timmie said, coming around to put his hand down between her big breasts, on down to her smooth belly and its wild cluster of curly blonde hair.
"I just hope I'll be like you when I grow up, Aunt Lola," little Alice said. She was glowing from the run of Timmie's warm hand as he had reached up between her thighs to finger her sweet, juicy, pink lipped little twat.
She had unbuttoned the boy-style shirt she wore, so that Timmie could see and feel the beautifully formed young breasts which adorned her slight but lovely frame. She held Lola's face against her bare little boobs, and the older woman, delighted that these two kids could be so aggressive in their love play, gently sucked on Alice's hard, blood-swollen, deeply creased young nipples. And mashed her face against the soft warmth of the child's breasts.
"You were sort of like dreaming," the boy said, cupping the warm weight of one of Lola's big, smooth titties, hefting it, raising it, squeezing it until nerves across her belly carried liquid lightning down to her still throbbing twat. "Sort of like I was, I guess, when I was dreaming a while ago." And he laughed deeply. "Man, I sure had some kind of a hard-on!"
Lola, remembering the closeness of these children, marveled at their openness. "If Alice had been here, she would have sucked it, wouldn't you, dear?" Lola asked, stroking the blonde child's bottom. The little blonde gasped, then blushed, but nodded.
"I would've, oh, yes, Aunt Lola! Of course! But I'd rather-you know what Timmie did with Sheri?" Her head was low, her face blazed scarlet, but she went on. "Stuck his cock in her, you know."
"Fucked her," Lola said. "Yes, he did. We were all pretty wild, I guess. Did you ever see my intimate attendant, Alice? My pink plastic fucker? The one with a cock on each end, four batteries, two heating elements, two vibrators?" She laughed huskily. "If I'd been thinking right-if I had been better organized, instead of flying out of my nut with love and sex, we could have had a lot of fun with that old thing."
Timmie laughed, fingering boldly between the fat, sweet, hair thatched fullness of Lola's sex. "You girls could have," he said. "But you could never replace the real thing." He waved "the real thing" in Lola's face, and she closed her soft hand on it, smiling up at him.
"Don't be too sure," she laughed. "Sometimes, it's fun to watch!"
She suddenly felt the rising power of the wave of heat in her strong body, and pushed the kids aside with gentle hands, so she could get up. "Come in the bedroom," she whispered, her rising gust of passion making it hard to speak.
"Stand here, child," she said, holding shapely little Alice between her thighs. "Let's get you out of these heavy clothes," she joked, pulling the partly unbuttoned shirt over the girl's head.
"Ahhhhhh!" she sighed, sucking in one entire breast, tonguing it as hard as she could, letting it out with a little "pop!" of released suction. "Do your breasts seem to connect with your little pussy?" she asked, running her tongue around her lips, holding the young girl to her to get full contacts with her smooth, warm skin.
"Oh, yesss! Yes, Aunt Lola! Oh, boy, do they ever! Like hot wires. Ooooooh! When old Timmie was kissing them-you were, like, asleep-and stuck his finger up me, I like to've died!" She wriggled her round, firm little bottom in Lola's hands.
"She like to've bit my finger off," the boy laughed. "I only wish I could get crazy enough to stick it in her." His young face clouded. "I just hope I didn't put a baby inside of old Sheri. I'd hate that!"
"You don't have to worry about me," Alice said eagerly. "I've been taking The Pill for a week!" She looked confused, then said, "I was sneaking mama's pills out, and she missed them. I went to old Doc Gold, crying, and told him what had happened. He gave me some more for mama, and two months worth for me." She laughed. "He was so nice! Gave me an examination to see if I needed them!" She dimpled at the two of them, and Lola thought, with an inner grin, of dark, kind, genial old Doctor Gold, his blunt fingers working in Alice's sweet little twat.
"I imagine he told you to come back any time, and he'd give you anoother examination, didn't he?" Lola asked. As the child nodded with enthusiasm, Lola said, as if it were no more than an invitation to do the dishes together: "Well, then, why don't you two go at it? Why don't you fuck?"
There was a blushing silence from Tim, but the young girl, her sweet little face very serious, said: "Look, Timmie, you've always said you would if you knew for sure you wouldn't knock me up. And you did old Sheri. I'll bet she doesn't take The Pill! Come on, Timmie! Look at me, Timmie!"
She turned away from the sheltering thighs of the blonde woman, her sweet young face lit by an inner glow, her slender young body so beautiful that Lola's mouth watered for it.
And Lola did her part. Taking Timmie in her arms, kissing him on his bare chest, she pulled him down on the bed. "Look at that peter," she said admiringly. "Aren't you ashamed, not wanting to stick it into Alice's sweet, wonderful, juicy little twat? Come on," she cried, her lovely face warmly wrapped in gaiety and laughter. "Get on him, Alice, baby! No, turn the other way, so he can see it go in, and you can watch it happening."
She was, actually, more excited than either of the kids. To be a witness as well as a participant, this was the most. And it was what had been the sweetest when she and Mike and all the rest-oft, Ellen, darling, I miss you so! I just realized it!-were in that burst of innocent lust they called "swapping," which actually meant group sex, for it wasn't swapping Mike for Francis, or for Larry, or for Pete-since anybody fucked anybody, any time.
She nearly died of maternal love and lust as naked little Alice, hot, cocksucking little Alice, got her small body across Tim's loins. Like me and Uncle Tommy, except Tim's younger. She had to try twice before she could say it: "Raise your sweet little butt up, baby!" and she put her warm hand under the small girl's beautifully divided little ass, feeling the warm slickness of the child's juice. My goodness, she was a hot little thing!
She heard a sob of desire, felt a sharp lovely pang in the darkest depths of her vagina, a truly hard quirk of nerve and muscle, as she held the little blonde girl's tender cunt open. Her other hand was holding Timmie's penis around its stem, and he had his head up on a pillow, panting as he watched the hot sight of Lola rubbing his soft, rubbery glans in the meaty, slobbering inner lips of his friend's cunt.
Bless Aunt Lola! She was holding his pecker in that light grip she had showed him. He still felt very cummy, but no longer ready to shoot his pure, hot, slick wad the second his dick slipped into the tight split of Alice. For he knew it would be tight. It was. even tight on his finger, the time or two he had obliged her by giving it to her that way, as she crouched over him, sucking his dick.
As he thought of the sweetness of this little kid, of her consuming interest in sex, far more intense than his own, a burst of fuck warmth struck him, and he lunged up against Aunt Lola's guiding hand.
She soothed him with a hand on his belly, letting go, for the moment, of his rampant cock, and he thrust up again.
This time, he went right between Lola's fingers, greased with the little girl's cunt oil, and felt something solid, tight, warm, slippery, and living go around the head of this throbbing dick. Cunt? Alice's tight little fuck sheath? Was he burying his bone in her softly yielding, graciously oozing little fuck hole?
Lola held his cock with her mouth open, watching the girl's soft little pussy let the boy's penis into her, slowly, slipping and sliding against her sensitivity and tightness, until the soft, blubbery lips mashed wetly against the fork of her hand. The pistoning action of Timmie's cock sent the girl's juice spurting out on Lola's hand, and the girl's quavering voice trilled in the dim, hot room: "Ohhh, oh, Aunt Lola! It's so sweet! Look in the mirror, Aunt Lola! Look at me, taking that big thing in! OHHHHHH! MOM! MOM! I'M GETTING FUCKED! OH, DADDY! OH, DADDY! LET ME SUCK YOUR COCK! PLEASE, TIMMIE!" And she was gyrating like a rag doll whirled on a stick, her hips jerking, her small head thrown back, her pink mouth twisting and drooling.
And if young Tim was at all shaken by the girl's wild outcry, he didn't show it. This was the stuff, the real stuff. Yesterday, he was a pure jerk, nothing but a peter-puller, scared to let this chickie-or any other-lip his meat, except on rare occasions. And doing nothing more aggressive than sticking his finger in a childish little pee-hole. No more, baby! He was cooooool!
I shot off on Aunt Lola yesterday, and she ate my jism. I gave her a couple of fucks, and ate her pussy. I stuck my finger in my mom's fuck hole and made her cum like crazy. And she grabbed my dickie and pulled me off-for he had now modified his panicky experience. And last night I sucked 'em all, and stuck my cock into that cute little old fat assed Sheri Olson. Wow! And now Aunt Lola's helping me fuck Miss Little-Tits Alice!
This was .Timmie, bragging to himself. And, if he had but known it, both of the two females concerned-plus two others, not there at the time-would have echoed all he was thinking. With love and pride.
Lola's hand was softly mashed between the girl's fat, leaking cunt lips and Timmie's bushy ring of hair around his prick. There was a rhythmic movement as Alice ground her little body down on the wonderful tool. It was hurting her. Why not? It was bigger than the biggest thing she had ever jacked off with. But she didn't care.
"I love it," she whispered raggedly. Her first big cum was echoing in her body, along every brightly tuned, sensitized cuntal nerve. "Timmie, do it hard! Oh, Timmie! Let me cum again!" and she whispered so softly, so lovingly, that she was barely heard. Lola heard her, but Lola was also listening to the vibrant silence in her own cunt, tasting the raw bite of imagined fuck goo in her mouth, rubbing her hand on the softness, the fullness, of Alice's pussy lips.
But this time, she wasn't going to just go shooting every part of her fuck power in the air, all over a writhing group of kids. No siree! This was planned, all of it, and she felt carefully in the fat, juice-swilling pussy, making young Alice shift her body, making her moan in gut wrenching delight.
She suddenly drew her hand away and got on her knees, right at Timmie's loins. She looked down at the boy's pleased face. There was no doubt that he was in control of himself, but the sight of the young girl's sweetly rounded little ass, so perfect in its small proportions, with his cock stretching and swelling her fat little cunt, had to be a powerful aphrodisiac. "The principal erotic center of every human body," Uncle Tommy used to say, "is not the sexual organs but the mind."
And the blonde child, on her knees with Timmie's cock buried so deeply in her juicy flesh, was a marvelously hot sight to see.
"Don't sit on it," Lola said with quiet force, placing her hand on Alice's firm young thigh. "Straighten out your legs, then lie back on Timmie. Ah, my dear! That's it! Ah, you sweet little cunt! It's so lovely, so wide open! Can you feel how open it is?"
The little girl grunted, moving her body from side to side, getting the stretching thrill of the boy's peter moving from side to side in her young vagina. "It feels wonderful, Aunt Lola," she whispered. Not so deep in as before, but it sure stretches me."
The older woman, who was dying to ask the youngster what she had been using on herself to make her so open for Timmie-he does have a nice-sized peter, Lola thought-placed her hand on the girl's belly. "You're pretty wonderful for such a young girl," Lola said. "You've got the kind of cool you usually find in a grown woman."
The child gripped Lola's forearm, bracing herself to fuck back and forth as best she could, sweat popping out on her upper lip, her young face suddenly flushed with blood. "UUUNNNHHH! UUUNNNHHH!" she grunted, animal noises signifying an animal pleasure. "DAMN YOU, TIM! FUCK ME! FUCK ME, LAZY DOG! UUUNNNHHH!"
Her strong, slender young hips snaked back and forth across the boy's narrow loins. Her entire body sweated, became suffused to a deep rosy pink with the power of another orgasm.
As she relaxed, her cunt more juicy than ever, redder, with its lips seeming to bulge out from Timmie's cock, Lola leaned down.
The musky scent of hot pussy choked in her throat, it was so lovely, and she wanted it so bad. She gathered spit in her lower hp, drawing breath in over it to make a sibilant whistle, and when she had the suction just right, she put it all, teeth, lips, gums, in direct contact with the hard, pinkly raised ridge that centered in Alice's young cunt, still pulsing nervously from her third orgasm.
"Baby!" she whispered through her teeth, making only a confusion of wordless sound. "Baby! Your cunt! Your delicious cunt!" But most of this was in her mind as she drank in the delicious cunt nectar.
Under her light sucking, as she tasted the clear juice and let her soul grow and swell as she drank in the essence of Alice's sex, the young girl's body, not accustomed to such subtleties as being fucked and sucked at the same time, tensed and became rigid.
Timmie cried: "Hey! What's happening? Aunt Lola! What's she doing to my dick? OOOHHH! Her cunt's closing on me!"
And then, as the older woman felt Alice start the first of a series of convulsive spasms, she brutally pressed her forearm on the young girl's breasts, got her other arm across the child's legs, and pressed her open mouth down hard on the upper part, the most sensitive part, of the young pussy, sucking as hard as she could.
"Oh, DON'T, AUNT LOLA!" the child begged, her voice almost strangled as a gush of saliva matched her gush of cunt oils. "OH, TIMMIE! IT'S TOO GOOD! STOP! PLEASE! OHHHHHH!" and then she began to really thrash, her body like steel cables as she whipped her beautiful, soft young pussy up and down, and always with Lola hanging on, sucking as if to take the flesh off the child's painfully throbbing clitoris.
Only when she had subsided into a jelly-like armful of warm, boneless flesh, and Tim had shot her full of his white jism, did she roll her tear-stained face toward Lola and say brokenly: "Thanks, Aunt Lola. What did you do? It was good. Too good!"
She was shivering, and Timmie, panting, said: "Alice, that's the greatest! Oh, baby, how that feels on my prick!"
He fucked up and into her gently, his young cock still hard enough. And Lola, who was steadily licking her lips and swallowing the sweet juices from the boy and the girl, laid her face on Alice's smooth young belly, whispering: "You're what I've been needing!"
Her knees were rubbery from what she had been through. She had known that she would be able to have an orgasm or two, even without anything solid in her cunthole. The sight of Alice impaled on Tim's prick, the taste and smell of the joined organs, all the rank beauty of a fuck that she had planned, taken part in, would be enough. But she could not have known how hard, how strong, how gut-stretching it would be. She felt wrung out.
With gentle strength, she lifted little Alice up, holding the slight but rounded body warmly against her breasts. "My dear," she whispered, kissing the young girl tenderly. "Did you love your fuck-and-suck? Not many people ever have them both at once!"
She moved to a big, deep chair, loving the feel of the sweaty little armful of sweetness pressing her swollen breasts. "You'll have that as often as you want it," she whispered, kissing the girl's closed eyelids, loving the smile she got, the loving feel as the child's naked arms slid around her neck.
Timmie, watching them with laughing eyes, thought: If I watch this a few minutes, I'll have a hard-on big enough for both of them.
From where she sat in the big chair, with little Alice's head on her breast, and with the child's soft, warm body nestled against hers, Lola could see, from the corner of her eye, a segment of the kitchen wall. Through the bedroom door, across the wide hall, through the open door to the kitchen. And something was flickering.
Thought processes move fast, or they move slow. When we are suddenly awakened, they are slow. When we are apprehensive, they are very, very fast. As Lola turned to see better, she realized that she had never changed the chimes back, that the flash of light meant that someone was at the door, pressing the bell button. And, at the same moment, there was a loud knock, and a voice that yelled: "Open up this damned door!"
All of them recognized the angry voice.
It was Ellen Shelton's.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lola's mind snapped back to full efficiency. She did not put herself in a false position by going to the door and calling out: "Who is it?" Instead, she stood in the hall, so that her voice would obviously be coming from the depths of the house, and shouted, as if in irritability: "Okay! Okay! Hold it! I'll be there!"
She hastily put on one of Mike's beautiful old shirts, and winked at the kids, who were hurrying into their clothes. As she tugged on a pair of tightly fitted white shorts, she jerked her thumb at the back door and whispered: "Go out through the ditch. It's dark, and no one can see you, anyhow." To Timmie, who looked very dubious, she said: "It's my belief that you can go home safely. Your mom won't be mad at you. Or, you can stay in the ditch and come back later."
She carried her robe in her hand, to indicate she had had to dress, and yelled again, as she neared the door: "Keep your pants on! I'm coming!"
She opened the door, after turning on the porch light, and eyed an obviously distraught Ellen. It was not in her to be unkind, but she felt a deep resentment toward this old friend, a resentment founded on a number of grounds, chiefly Timmie's mistreatment.
She did not open the screen and invite Ellen in, although that was her first reaction. To drag her in, hug her and kiss her, shake her thoroughly, and to say: "What's the matter with you, darling? Why have you stayed away so long?" But she did not.
She was coolness itself as she said: "Well, surprise, surprise! Look who's here! The reformed swinger. What can I do for you, Miz Shelton?"
The small woman with the voluptuous body, well displayed in T-shirt and stretch pants, narrowed her eyes. "I have an idea you're hiding my boy," she said in a flat voice. "I want him."
"Well, he's a nice-looking kid," Lola observed. "I don't blame you for wanting him. If you think I've got him, why don't you swear out a warrant and have me arrested? Then I could sue you and Larry."
The woman on the porch looked away, and Lola knew that Ellen had thought of all these things. Her soft heart got the best of her.
She unlatched the screen and said: "Come on in. Why would you think I have Timmie? Come in! Come in! You don't have to get a warrant. I can't say we're old friends, but we once were. Why should I want to see you hurt?"
Ellen edged in, her eyes darting all over the living room. Lola watched, smiling. She waved at the rest of the house. "Look around."
She stumbled blindly, braced herself on a big chair, and said: "Oh, God, Lola, don't make sport of me! I deserve it. Maybe. But I can't stand it, right now! If I've lost Timmie, I think I'll kill myself!" her voice was hoarse, croaking, near to tears.
Lola remained firm, although her arms ached to take the solid little woman in her arms and comfort her. "He's sort of young to run away from home. No job skills. Couldn't join the Navy. Where could a kid that age go?"
Ellen did not look up. She was obviously under great emotional strain. Her breasts were swollen, her nipples stood out, hard as .45 caliber bullets. "That's why I came here," she said in a low voice. "He always loved you. Lola, for God's sake, tell me! Do you know where he is? Please, please! Where else could he go?"
Lola said: "I asked you that, remember?" but her voice was soft. "It's the real question. Why can't he go home? WHY?" she almost shouted the one-word question. "Maybe you don't want to go into that. Maybe the reason he can't come home is the same reason why he left."
The small woman stood as tall as she could, then turned blindly toward Lola. She took two staggering steps and fell on the soft, warm, resilient breasts, feeling their voluptuous nakedness under the fine cloth of the shirt. Some instinct made her nuzzle like a suckling child, and Lola held her old friend tightly, then steered her toward the kitchen.
After she got Ellen in a chair, she poured a cup of coffee and brought her a bottle of brandy. Without comment, she added an ounce of the clear, golden liquor to the strong, hot coffee. "Drink it," she ordered tersely. "Pull yourself together. Tim's all right."
Humbly, without looking up, the woman took the coffee mug in both hands, obviously making an effort to handle it without spilling.
"I'm not supposed to touch this stuff," she said. "Even the coffee. My church, you know." She smiled apologetically. "I sometimes wonder how God can keep track of so many millions of trifling things, happening every day. Credit for the good, debit for the bad." She laughed tremulously. "That was good. Thanks, Lola." She wrinkled her small, straight nose. "Smells good in here," she said, like a sleepwalking child. "But you always did smell good, Lola. And so did your house. I remember." And her dark eyes filled with tears.
There was no doubt of what she smelled. Lola was as excited as a virgin bride, or as a scientist on the brink of discovery. She knew that the small woman smelled sex, raw sex. After yesterday and last night and today-especially the past hour-it had to be the warm perfume of fucking, of hot cunt and skinned-back cock, of sweated crotch and ass-crease and armpit. In spite of the tight shorts, she could smell herself. But there was another smell, and one she had never forgotten. Ellen's cunt.
She made no bones about it. She stood up and moved around to the little woman whose spirit seemed, somehow, to have been chastened by her ordeal of the past twenty-four hours. When she was an inch away from Ellen, Lola spoke quietly: "What smells good, Ellen? What is that perfume you notice? You and I, we always loved it!"
The turnabout, physically, emotionally, mentally, was complete, Lola found herself with a tearful, warm-breathing face buried in her soft belly, just at the hairline of her splendidly flowing pussy, just where the musky sweetness of her cunt would be strongest. Ellen's hands went around her waist, slipped down to her full, smooth buttocks, the fingers suddenly gripping into her flesh, right where it was the most sensitive.
"Oh, God!" came the muffled cry from Lola's crotch. "Help me! Help me to do what's right! Oh, Lola, forgive me, darling! If you can forgive these harsh, hateful, dishonest years!" Her face was actually burrowing into the blonde woman's crotch, and Lola could feel Ellen's hot, moist breath on the raw nerves where her fat cunt had been crowded open by the swelling of blood-crawling inner lips.
Very surely, in no hurry, she put her arm around the small form, her hand in Ellen's armpit, so warmly fragrant, and pulled her up. "You come on, baby," she said in a low voice that almost cracked. "You've started back to being human. Let's go all the way."
There was a childish anxiety to please in the chubby little brunette's every action. Very docilely, she held her arms up while Lola shucked the T-shirt over her head. Her titties, freed from restraint, bounced and jiggled in their rosy weight as the shirt came up and off, and Lola said: "Ohhhhhh! They're so sweet!" and bent briefly and got her full, wet lips over a hard nipple, sucking so hard that Ellen screamed blindly, her compact body trying to rise.
And then, without being told, she lay back with her beautiful legs in the air, her eyes tightly shut but her face calm and happy as Lola pulled her stretch pants off.
There was so much of unspoken love in the room that Lola felt a deeply spiritual lift. "Your God-or maybe it's mine-must love us a lot to give us this," she said chokingly, dropping to her knees to kiss the hot little brunette right in the musky center of the dark bush of cunt hair. She rooted with her nose, knowing what she was looking for. And Ellen, her heart sudenly freed of coldness and spite, flooded with love and warmth and that strong, sweet, clear juice that flows so thickly from a woman's vagina, met Lola's seeking mouth with a loving, frantically eager push.
For a second or two, as Lola, her own heart overflowing, sucked as hard as she could, Ellen simply thrashed on the bed. Then, very gently, she took her old friend's face between her hands, leaned down as Lola's head came up, and kissed the lovely blonde on her ripe lips, tasting the acrid-sweet slickness of her own cunt.
Then she let go, hunched her softly swelling ass across the bed, and said: "It's no fair if only one can play."
She was full of love to the bursting point as Lola hastily and gracefully kneed her way over the brunette's sweet little face. Ellen spread her own chubby, beautiful thighs, closing her eyes for the deep, spine-tickling thrill of having her sweetest friend diving into her muff of hair, her tasty, juicy, fleshy pudding of hotly leaking labia, and her fuck hole.
As the delicious blow struck into her engorged lips, swollen with blood and tautly pleading nerves, she locked her arms around Lola's soft, lovely rump, raising her craving mouth to the pinkly oozing tissues that lay between the blonde furred cunt lips.
Heaven! Pure heaven! Taste and softness, slickness and warmth, the sweet-salt clarity of body-heated pussy juice, better, more lovable, than she remembered. And then, as Lola's body began to shake, and the big clitoris hardened right at her lips, the wet-lipped little woman joyfully gave Lola what she needed-love, orgasm, reconciliation, and, in giving to her friend, she gave the same treasures of cuntal delight to herself.
They lay clasped for a long time, each content to lie with her face between the other's smoothly warm thighs, to let their pink tongues slide playfully between cum-slopped cunt lips that might have been sated, but were still alive with warmth and feeling.
"You know," Ellen's voice came from down around Lola's twat, "I'm glad I didn't find Timmie here. Know why? Because I'd have had to take him home. Meaning, I'd have to leave," she giggled. "I wouldn't have liked that!"
Lola squeezed with her vaginal muscles, nipping the smaller woman's tongue. "Terrible!" she murmured. "Glad you didn't. But if you think you know what Timmie needs, and if you think you can give it to him, I can tell you where he is."
There was a gasp, a struggle, but the bigger woman closed her warm, soft thighs about the other's face. "Easy, there," she smiled. "I think if you went home right now, you'd find your boy right there. Maybe, even, in your bed. You see, darling," she said, and released Ellen, who sat upright, her face one big question mark, "I know what you need and what Timmie needs. I don't know about Larry." She left this statement hanging in the air, sounding like a question.
Ellen sat up on the bed, her arms clasping her tender breasts.
"I want you," she said thickly. "I've done without you too long. The hell with Larry. He's leaving me. Surprised? I couldn't live his lies any longer. I'm going to be a half-owner of Miz Price's store. Oh, baby, it's a gold mine! And I'll just simply love that little old Timmie to death! You knew," she said. "He told you!" she smiled. "I don't care, though, and I know you don't."
She threw herself on the soft, warm body of her old friend, gaily squeezing one of Lola's beautiful titties, sucking the nipple, ramming her soft little hand into the blonde's softly spilling cunt. She held her big friend between her beautiful legs, fucking hard against the firmness of soft muscle. Her hand sawed in the warm, slick, juicy cunt, making Lola fuck back, making her scream a little.
She turned like a crafty little animal, which she was, burying her sweet face in the widely opened lips. She sucked, then looked up.
"How beautiful things can be," she said, tears in her eyes. "Oh, I'll never get enough of this!" and she sucked again, hard and sweet.
Lola held the little woman's fat, delightfully aroused pussy.
"What about Timmie?" she asked.
Ellen fucked at the blonde's face. "Fuck Timmie," She said. He's a big boy. And I have an idea that he's had a fair share of sex. For the moment." She applied her mouth to the pinkly slick, softly pulsing closure of the blonde's fuck hole, sucking hard, getting a mouthful of that delightful vaginal flow.
"Besides," she boasted, "I can suck you inside out, make you beg for mercy, and still have enough heat in my pussy to burn that little old kid to a cinder!" she laughed. "I'll bet you a million!"
Lola laughed, things were going so right, so beautiful, in a world not always rose-colored. She humped into the seeking, merry, cum-smeared face, burrowed her own mouth deep into the fragrant runny split.
Her nose was buried in the aromatic crease of Ellen's butt, so full of the promise of good times to come. She laughed triumphantly and sucked hard, the raised her head.
"Put your money where your mouth is, baby," she murmured.
CHAPTER TWELVE
That was a wonderful week for Lola, and for a lot of others.
It began with a boy, and ended with a man.
It began the morning after Ellen, half staggering from love and sex, left Lola's back yard via the fence, scrambled into the famous ditch-"because I want to know how my son's been living"-and went into her own home.
That was the morning when Lola, sleeping late and with a smile on her face, awoke slowly and happily. To a remembered feel, a remembered bouquet. Young Timmie. Proud, laughing, with a marvelous hard-on. Pushed right against her face.
"Mama said to tell you she sent you this," he grinned, pushing the high-smelling peter right across her upper lip. "She said to ask you if you recognized the aroma."
It woke Lola right up, and she hugged the boy around his narrow hips, his hard cock under her chin. "Your mom," she gasped. "Timmie, you didn't."
"I did," the boy said calmly. "You told me that mom really wanted me, deep down." He giggled. "You were right. She got it. Deep down!"
She gave his throbbing penis a quick, loving suck, wrapping her tongue around it, as Uncle Tommy had taught her. "I won't fuck you," she said softly. "I want it. But your mom needs it worse, just for now. Don't worry," she cried as she saw his face fall. "What I've got here," and she put her hand on her warm pussy, "is always yours. I mean it. Any time you want it, you can have it.
And back here, too, you naughty boy," she smiled, patting her behind. "Ooooh, Timmie, we discovered some new country, didn't we?"
"New cunt-ry," he echoed, then laughed at his joke. He hugged the blonde woman in controlled excitement, squeezing her bountiful breasts. "Golly, Aunt Lola, you're some kind of miracle worker. Mom said to say that both of us love you all to pieces."
That was the first morning.
That afternoon, there was a timid knock at her back door. It was the two young girls, Alice Bond, the little blonde sprite, and Sheri Olson, the darkly lovely child with the happy-jiggling breasts, the marvelously mature behind, the sweetly dark haired pussy.
They looked solemn, then looked at each other and began to giggle. "You say it," Sheri said, turning scarlet, and the blonde nymphet shook her blonde tresses and said: No! You!"
Wisely, her heart thumping, she took them in her bedroom.
"Take off your clothes," she said, her tongue feeling marvelously thick and hard, her mouth gushingly flooded with spit. "I'm sure we can all talk better, that way."
When they were all in a friendly state of warm nudity, rubbing against each other, sweating a bit, kissing each other, Lola said: "Ask me what you were going to ask."
The two children, their arms around her and each other, rocked with laughter. "You already answered," Sheri said. "We wondered if we dreamed all that stuff. All that fun and love." Her chubby face grew serious. "Oh, Aunt Lola, we never knew that sex was supposed to be fun.
Everybody's always so serious about it. Except you."
Girls their age are so sweet. Lola remembered Nola. And Mary Lou. And now, with these hot little kids, willing to try anything not only once, but as often as she wanted, she was a kid, too. How hot, how slick their little twats! How sweet the flow from those near-virgin cunt lips!
"God, baby, you're so sweet," Lola groaned, lifting her face from between blonde Alice's strong thighs. "And don't you stop kissing my cunt from back there, lazy," she admonished the giggling Sheri, whose face was between her big, satiny asscheeks. "I've said the same to you! Sweet things!" and she pushed into the small, delicious flaps of flesh over the tiny girl's oozing little pussy. "OH, GOD!" she wailed, as Sheri's tongue touched the tenderest spot of all, her hard clitoris. "SUCK ME, SWEETIE!"
And her own sweet mouth brought little Alice into a tensely jerking fit of girlish orgasm.
A lot of nice things. Like Ellen coming over the same way she'd left, grinning as she came over the fence.
"Gee, I know that's undignified," she remarked, looking lewd. "I hope I didn't show anything I shouldn't."
"You couldn't, not here," Lola answered, and the two reunited friends embraced lovingly, fully, mouth on mouth, tongues meeting.
Drinking coffee, Ellen looked shrewdly at Lola. "How'd you know I was ripe for a return to normal?" she asked. "Witchcraft?"
Lola smiled. "I never told you all about my Uncle Tommy," she said. "Not really all. I told you that mama was poisonously religious, didn't I?
Did I tell you about Uncle Tommy's hints that he and my mom had been very brotherly and sisterly?"
Ellen laughed. "Kept it in the family," she said.
"Right on," Lola replied. "That was when they were young. And I told you that Tommy never could believe how strict mom was?"
At Ellen's nod, she laughed. "She was the first girl Uncle Tommy ever fucked. And one day, when I came home from school, they weren't there. Only a note: 'Good-bye, Lola. It's been sweet. But you're too young, and I'm leaving with the only woman I ever loved.' Funny thing," Lola said drily, "under his signature, mama had written 'be a good girl and take care of your father.' That was it."
"God damn!" Ellen swore. "And you figured if your mama got tired of religion, that I would?"
"You two are a lot alike," Lola said calmly.
"But where'd you go to live?" Ellen demanded, seeing in her mind that sexually precocious ten-or eleven-year-old nymphet, suddenly bereft of her ration of hard cock. "What did you do?"
"Like mama said," the blonde answered, her lip quirking up in an odd smile. "She said to take care of daddy. And daddy changed a lot. He sort of dug me. Remember, I had tits and cunt hair. I was no little kid anymore. That's how I knew you were ready!"
It held so many memories, that brief explanation, that Lola and Ellen came time after time, bodies warmly meeting, tongue-fucking each other until it seemed their cunts would bleed.
But the best of all, in some ways, happened on Friday afternoon. Late, sort of. Around five. Starting with her bell chimes ringing.
"Well, well," the big-breasted woman said, opening her door. "If it isn't Officer Pogue. What's the charges, officer?"
"Not admitting an officer," the young guy said boldly. He had on a sport shirt instead of his tight uniform blouse, but all the same, he seemed to have trouble with his breathing.
Lola opened the door and walked straight back to her bedroom. She was unbuttoning the shirt she had been wearing. She didn't worry about her panties. Someone else, someone strong and eager and dear, would take care of that for her.
"I said come back if you were ever thirteen again," she said, tensely waiting for the sound of his zipper. "I must say, you do look very young. And handsome." she shivered. The sound of his zipper was sweet and sibilant.
"I got to feeling about thirteen," he said. "If you don't believe me, just look!"
"Oh, God above us," she whispered. "He's so beautiful! Will he bite me?" she dimpled at the tall young man, who had dropped his pants and shorts, and dropped to her knees before him, taking the purple smoothness of his blood-gorged cock into her mouth. It was the best of the week. Maybe the best of her life.
She looked up at him, her dimples showing. "You never did say what brought you here," she said brazenly.
He pulled her up, his big hands warm on her butt, pulling the firm cheeks apart, so that she felt her cunt lips pop apart.
"You're just about to have it stuck in you," he said.
