Her sister's son was as precious to Melba Simpson as he was to her own flesh and blood. He should be. At fifteen, Donald, her very own nephew, was physically large enough and developed enough to be instructed in the finer arts of sexual lovemaking. A task Melba understood with some reluctance because of the age-old prohibition against just such lecherous temptation on her part ... the totally forbidden taboo against incestuous sexual relations with a child.
Pedophilia is defined as sexual arousal and gratification through sexual contact with a child or a sexually immature person of either sex. The aggressor can be quite thoroughly heterosexual. Although secretive, the pedophile is often caught because of ineptness brought about by unconscious guilt.
Occasionally, especially in the case of young boys, adolescent victims of pedophilia may be actively seductive, and, since they may also appear older than their true age, the act may not strictly be a deviation. Maladjusted adolescent children have been known to get many relatively normal people (sometimes their own mothers or aunts) into serious sexual and legal trouble.
Incest refers to sexual activity or coitus between members of the same family. It usually refers to coitus between parent and sibling or between siblings, but it may involve other close relatives such as aunts or nephews. The ban against incest is one of the most stringent of sexual prohibitions in all cultures.
Normally, oedipal incestuous strivings of childhood are gradually resolved and replaced by adult sexuality. If they remain dominant in adulthood, neurotic conflicts manifested by psychosexual disturbances and deviations may result. Owing to the social taboo against incest, an individual who actually carries out the incestuous wish to the point of engaging in physical sexual intercourse is usually suffering from an ego defect and is often psychotic.
In this novel, Vicki Keyes has attempted to portray the psychiatric compulsions driving Melba Simpson toward consummation of her physical sexual desires with her young nephew.
A commonplace occurrence in the larger cities as well as the smaller, more rural settlements. And, since it exists as such a taboo subject, Vicki Keyes fictionalized account of how it could have happened in one family deserves serious consideration on the part of every layman interested in the subject beyond the point of idle curiosity.
You will find the Rated X books, along with their companions, the Surree Collectors Series and the HIS 69 gay titles at your favorite adult bookstore or newsstand each and every month. Serious collectors of strictly adult reading will want them all, side by side on their private book shelves for definite re-reading and ready reference.
We want to make all Surree Limited Inc. books the perfect reflection of your reading and sexual desires and invite your comments at all times, so we can better serve you. We urge you to write us with exact details of what kind of books you would like to read, and any other sexual matters you are concerned about, IN ABSOLUTE, STRICT CONFIDENCE. It is not even necessary to identify yourself in any way. Only in this manner can we be sure we are giving you precisely what you desire. No matter is too complex for you to approach us with, and nothing is too difficult for us to attempt ... but only if you want it ... and only if you take the time to write us with your specific requirements.
Only you can do it. We here at Surree Limited Inc. only exist to serve you in these matters of great concern.
All especially significant letters will be answered directly, and all story suggestions will be turned over to our staff of writers all over the world.
-THE PUBLISHERS Santee, California November, 1978
CHAPTER ONE
Naked, he was beautiful. There was no other word for it. As Melba Simpson moved back from the nude form of her fifteen-year-old nephew, Donald, her heart fluttered in her throat and the muscles of her crotch wavered, making their presence known deep inside her belly. She could almost feel the lips of her cunt flutter and begin to gape open, moistly tingling at the sensuous promise displayed before her.
It happened to her every day, just the same way. Oh, it didn't at first, but the more she looked at little Donald's genitalia, hanging heavy and warm out of the thatch of his just forming pubic jungle and angling provocatively out over his fine young balls, the more it got to her. Maybe she shouldn't bathe him so often. Still, if she didn't, she couldn't see his cock and boy balls this way.
More important, she couldn't touch him ... there. The heavy little boy-thing that tempted her so readily, especially as she would work the soap into thick lather between her hands then softly, so very softly lift his warm firm penis and work the soap lovingly into it, his testicles, until the little boy-thing jerked and began lifting under its own weight, stretching out slickly between her hands, the foreskin rolling back effortlessly off the head, leaving it bright and love starved, pulsating pinkly just beyond the palms of her hands.
A little boy-penis no more a full grown cock no less.
Oh, God! The pains of remorse shot through her consciousness, forcing her to turn loose of the heavy flesh she so desperately needed.
Oh, God, why do you torture me so?
It had been four months since the unfortunate accident took her sister Eunice and her husband Don little Donnie was named after his dad. Melba wondered often if little Donnie's dick wasn't really larger than his father's sailing out over the cliff down by Devil's Head Bend on the main highway out of town.
Donnie had been in the car, too, but miraculously had been thrown clear of the wreckage. He landed in a clump of bushes that cushioned his fall and saved him from being crushed and broken like the limp nothings that, at the bottom of the cliff, were burned beyond recognition by the flames that erupted from the full gas tank of the big old Oldsmobile sedan.
When they found him, poor Donnie was like a babe in arms again. Something to do with acute shock, Dr. Clyde Johnson down at the County Medical Clinic had said, trying to explain it to Melba.
As Donald's only living relative, it naturally fell to Melba to take him in and care for him, and that she was saddled with the responsibility of caring for a big strapping fifteen year old who acted no more than five was a challenge to her delicate sensibilities that Melba had to constantly battle with herself to maintain.
Why, the dear little boy couldn't even go to the bathroom by himself. Melba had to lead him inside the bathroom, pull the zipper down on his pants, fish around inside the flap of his tight cotton briefs and find his dick, relaxed and limp in little-boy fashion. She even had to peel the foreskin back clear of his cockhead so little Donnie wouldn't piss all over himself, as he had done the first few times, before Melba figured out how best to do it in order not to mess up the bathroom and have to do all that cleaning, not to mention washing Donnie's clothes.
The feel of his urine rushing down the length of his little-boy dick was clearly transmitted to her fingers, making them yearn to close lovingly around the shaft and work it up to a full seven-inch erection.
Just one little taste. Oh, God, just to close my lips around Donnie's cockhead once and feel the taut fullness against my tongue, to taste the delicious funkiness of his secret flesh, there beneath his tight protective foreskin.
Ahe smelled the heady aroma of his hot yellow piss flowing in a steady stream from the single eye in the head of his dick and splashing noisily into the toilet bowl.
She shook her head clear of the memory and brought herself back to the task at hand, giving Donnie his daily bath. If he were fully conscious of what was going on, no doubt, he would object very strenuously at having to take a bath every day. To say nothing of having his elderly aunt in the bathroom with him. And ... worst of all ... actually touching him intimately.
Surely he thinks of me as elderly, Melba Simpson thought. At thirty-five and unmarried, she often thought of herself as being elderly, even though the people who whistled at her as she walked down the street as if she were still twenty, admiring the way her soft brown hair nestled down around her shoulders and the way her brown eyes, floating in perfectly white pools, seemed to sparkle and radiate an exciting life all their own.
Of course she knew it was really her breasts that drew the stares of the crude men on the street. They were perhaps a bit too large, and she might hold them in somewhat by wearing a bra, but she just couldn't sacrifice the feeling of freedom that came without one, to say nothing of the exciting feel of her nipples as they rubbed sensuously against whatever tight, clingy fabric her blouse happened to be made of.
At five foot eight, one hundred ten pounds, Melba Simpson, even if she was thirty-five, was still one hell of a woman.
To everyone but Melba Simpson. Somehow she had never found the right man to turn her on, to turn her into the wanton woman she wanted to be, to discover lurking somewhere deep inside her soul. All the local men were so crude, somehow. Just beasts, really, interested in only one thing, their disgusting pleasures.
Nothing at all like Donnie Bates. When he grew up to be a full size man Melba paused and giggled at the thought, wondering just how large his cock would eventually grow he would be kind and gentle and considerate of his woman. Melba was sure of that.
Perhaps it's my responsibility to teach him.
But God, she thought, that's incest. INCEST!
The word seemed to scream aloud in her mind staggering her thoughts and filling her with horror. Surely something dreadful would happen to her because she had that thought.
The thought no, more than that, the urge to take her little nephew's flesh and blend it with her own into a wild, passionate explosion of uninhibited lust.
His flesh is my flesh. His blood is my blood. We are the same. Then why is it wrong to take his firm hard boyflesh and ease it gently between the slick smoothness of my cunt lips and let it sink deep, way down to the very bottom of my soft, buttery cunt, letting it strike and grind against the very lips of my empty, yearning womb, so eager to gulp down every drop of little boy cum he can eject?
Christ, I must be sick.
Melba fought to regain control of her thoughts and pushed Donnie down into the tub in a seated position, releasing the fond grip she had on his upstanding boycock. She pushed him forward and began lathering his back, running her hands gently all around then slipping them tight under his armpits, feeling the fresh growth of boyhair.
"Now isn't this nice, Donnie?" she said, her voice wavering and cracking a bit from her excitement.
"Donnie like bath," he said, splashing at the water in front of him then pulling at his foreskin tugging it up and over the big knob of his boycock, hiding the pink pleasure flesh from her view.
"Stand up again, dear," Melba said, tugging at him under his armpits.
"What, Melba?" he asked. Since the accident he had lapsed into the little boy speech, but at least he did recognize her, or at least he seemed to.
"That's right, dear, stand up and bend over. Yes, just like that." Melba stared at the firm flesh of his buttocks, smooth and flawless and perfectly symmetrical.
As Donnie bent forward, the cheeks pulled up taut and separated slightly. Melba took a cheek in either hand and pulled gently, making the deep crevice between the boy's buttocks open even wider.
She sighed and ran one finger gently down through the crack of the boy's ass, feeling the feverish heat of him there.
For a moment she allowed her fingertip to circle and caress the gentle brown rosette of his anus and it fluttered against her touch like a thing alive. With soap on her finger she gently pushed, harder and harder, until the end of her finger disappeared up inside the boy, her fingernail, the first joint, the second.
Her whole finger was tight up inside Donnie's little ass-hole and he seemed to push back against her. The warmth between his ass cheeks was almost blistering Melba's hand.
She sobbed and withdrew her finger, watching closely as his sweet flesh seemed to roll back off it effortlessly until, at last, her fingertip was free and the irresistible little opening gaped just a hair then twitched closed and seemed to roll in tight upon itself, waiting for the next touch, the next caress of love's real desire.
"Ohhh," Donnie said, turning to look back over his shoulder at her, his long blonde hair wet and damp matted behind his neck and down to his shoulder. His clear innocent blue eyes, as light and as deep as the Caribbean waters off Jamaica where she had once spent a vacation, seemed to probe past her heaving breasts and stare straight into her sex-starved soul.
Melba worked up a fresh batch of later on her hand and insinuated her hand carefully between his legs. He hunched forward slightly and bent, opening his legs wider for her.
She let her soap-slick fingers work gently down over his perineum, the little ridged line starting near his ass-hole and running underneath, covering the roots of his heavy dick. She could feel the flesh of his boycock there, beneath his skin, where the root of it throbbed and pulsated with his heartbeat.
Then on his scrotum, the pouch of crinkled skin that contained his testicles and their coverings, one the left hanging much lower than the right ball. She laved them gently with soap, massaging them in her hand.
Donnie flinched and jerked as if in pain.
"Oh, does that hurt, Donnie?" Melba asked, loosening her grip as she continued soap-massaging his testicles.
"Not hurt," he said. "It feels funny."
"Yes, Donnie," Melba said. "And it's making you all clean and nice for bedtime."
"Feels good," Donnie said, straightening somewhat. A shudder of pleasure rippled down his spine and his buttocks clenched tightly, almost trapping Melba's hand where it worked steadily between them, gripping his testicles in a fluff of soap from behind.
She released them and moved her hand quickly forward, grasping the firm, throbbing shaft of his boycock and working the lather up and down it, lengthwise, gripping his shaft tightly and forcing the skin of it to ripple up and down the burgeoning shaft, pulling the foreskin back down tightly and exposing the entire broad width of his pink-purple boycock head.
'like this?" he asked, rapidly swirling around to face her.
His cock, angling sharply upward from his testicles, was sheathed in soap and glistening desire. Because of the rapidity of his movement, it bobbed and swayed and slapped hard against his left thigh. The sound of his dick banging against his smooth, warm flesh rebounded again and again inside Melba's feverish ears.
"Yes, Donnie, that's just right," Melba said. "We have to make sure you're all clean for your pajamas."
She took his cock again, from the front this time, and pulled the foreskin back tightly, making the shaft stand out more rigidly and the darker colored cockhead fill with more blood, turning tight-surfaced and slick. With her hands free of soap, she could grasp it more securely and work up and down the whole long length of it.
Donnie sighed and hunched forward, hip-thrusting against her hand involuntarily.
OH! I CAN'T! Melba's inflamed, tortured mind said. Her thoughts screamed insider her head, It's insane to go on like this, torturing myself! I'd suffer eternal damnation in hell if I surrendered to the vile urges to have sex with my innocent little nephew. Oh, God! What'll I do? What CAN I do?
"There," Melba said, reluctantly releasing her loving grip on his cockshaft and easing the foreskin forward, covering the purple engorged head of it. "Just duck down under the water once more to wash off all the soap."
"All clean?" Donnie asked, gripping his dick the way Melba had been doing and masturbating himself.
"Yes, all clean," she said, gently pulling his hand away from his boycock. "Rinse off, dear. No more bath, it's pajama-time now."
Donnie ducked down under the water in the tub and sloshed himself from side to side, getting rid of all the leftover soap.
Satisfied that he was clean enough, he stood up and turned squarely towards Melba, his still erect cock poking out in front of him like an accusing finger of Fate, aimed directly at Melba's crotch.
Her cunt spasmed involuntarily, recognizing the closeness of the relief she urgently need.
Surely I could, just a little? She thought.
What would be the harm in fucking him? He's a baby, really, at least mentally. She looked at his big hard boycock bobbing forlornly before her and saw the size of the giant appendage again and giggled. Well, not a baby there, at least.
Christ, I still can't do it. It's wrong to commit incest. I have to cleanse my mind of these depraved and heathen thoughts. I certainly don't want to go to hell just because of fucking my own flesh and blood.
Melba took the large peach-colored terry cloth bath towel and held it open, surrounding Donnie with it as he stepped from the tub to stand on the off-yellow bath mat while she massaged his skin dry.
God, I need someone, so badly. I need a cock of my own, to love and cherish, to hold and to fondle, and to fuck.
My cunt's empty. It's been empty too long. Where is a cock for ME? A dick of my very own?
He was almost dry. turning now inside her hands with only the towel separating his hot boyflesh from the kiss of her loving hands. She could feel the hard outline of his cock and balls through the thickness of the towel and it inflamed her desires anew.
No, I will not yield to this heathen temptation. The devil is inside me, trying to force me to debase and betray this sweet young nephew of mine, the flesh of my sister. My own blood runs through his veins.
Melba shook her head to clear her thoughts, making her bown hair flop from side to side.
Donnie watched and giggled, reaching up and letting some of her hair trickle through the fingers of both his hands, his clear blue eyes locked tightly on her deep brown ones.
Melba could prolong the drying ritual no longer. She straightened up and pulled the towel away from his naked boyflesh. His cock had begun to subside, the blood leaving it slowly and running back into his system. It was still engorged and hanging heavy, though not at such an outstanding angle. The color of it had grown deep rose, from all the friction and handling and, as it slowly relaxed and drooped down over his heavy hanging boyballs, Melba sighed anew and hated herself for having to resist such magnificent temptation as this, that could be satisfied, surely, with one taste of her sweet nephew's firm-fleshed young cock.
"Now pull the plug, Donnie, and let the water run out of the tub," Melba said.
For the four months he had been in her charge, she had been steadily working on his vocabulary, trying to build it back up again by teaching him, showing how to do very simple tasks.
Donnie bent way over the tub and pulled the plug from the drain in the bottom. As he did his cock fell forward and slapped noisily against the top of the tub, and he recoiled.
"Cold," he said, wrapping his cock and his balls warmly inside the protection of his left hand.
Melba noticed he often favored it, though he had definitely been right-handed before the horrible accident took his parents away from him, her sister away from her.
"Your little pecker'll be all right, don't worry," Melba said.
"Little pecker?" Donnie asked, a puzzled expression crossing his face.
"Oh, a crazy word, Donnie," Melba said. "I shouldn't have used it because you might think it's right. That is your 'penis', dear. When it's big and hard, it's your 'cock'. "
She turned aside and reached for his pajama bottoms, from where they were atop the toilet tank.
"I like cock," Donnie said.
"So do I, dear," Melba said. "So do I. Now lift your foot up, Donnie, and slip it into your pajamas."
"No!" he said, petulantly. "Donnie don't like pajamas."
"Say doesn't, dear, not don't," Melba said. "But you have to wear pajamas," Donnie."
"No," he said again. "Doesn't like the feel of them against my pecker."
"That time you should have said don't." Melba thought for a minute then put the pajamas aside, unused. "Well, just this once, Donnie, if you stay in bed and don't get cold."
"Okay," he said, smiling now and walking out of the bathroom, his firm young flesh radiant from the cleanliness with the warmth of the toweling she had given it his completely relaxed boycock still heavy and swaying proudly as he moved toward the bed.
"Don't like cold," he said. "Cold hurts my pecker."
"Your penis, dear," Melba corrected, pulling the covers back open, making his bed ready for him.
Donnie slipped in between the sheets and squirmed around, settling in comfortably as Melba pulled the sheet and blanket up over him, hiding his irresistible boyflesh from her lusting view.
"Now, dear," she said, "I want you to get a good night's sleep. Remember Doctor Johnson's coming tomorrow morning to give you your shot."
"Like Doctor Johnson," Donnie said.
"Hmm, yes," Melba said, almost absentmindedly.
Dr. Johnson was perhaps the one exception she could make among all the local men. A man who just might know how to really treat a woman of passionate needs.
"Kiss, kiss," Donnie said, puckering his lips up and reaching his arms out toward Melba.
She bent down over the bed and he wrapped his arms around her head, pulling her suddenly and forcefully hard against him.
Melba lost her footing and slipped forward on the bed, her full weight crashing against Donnie and her lips meshing solidly with his. He was stronger than she remembered.
Christ, she thought, feeling his arms tightly around her neck and his full moist lips pressing savagely against hers, I'm going to have to start reminding myself he's no kid, at least not in physical strength. I can't remember when I've been so firmly held.
Melba regained her senses and her footing, pushing back gently from Donald, feeling how their lips clung together to the very last fraction of a second then parting, reluctantly, sticking together and pulling apart as if they were adhesive tape.
A tiny droplet of her spittle fell down from her mouth and struck across his lips, half vanishing inside his mouth and half trickling down his sweet, innocent cheek.
Melba stood up and stroked his forehead, smoothing back the long lock of his blonde hair that half covered his bright blue right eye.
"Good night, Donnie," she said, backing away from the bed, fighting her desire to rip off her clothes and pull the covers back, flinging herself naked and passionately atop his feverish boy flesh. "Have sweet dreams."
"Oh, yes," Donald said. "I'll dream about you, Auntie Melba."
He closed his eyes and started breathing regularly, almost as if he was asleep. As Melba left the room she noticed the deeply satisfying smile that crossed his lips. She left the bedroom door open, though, just in case little Donnie should need her during the night and call, out, frightened and seeking comfort.
The comfort that she so desperately wanted to give to him, to receive from him.
CHAPTER TWO
Alone in her big empty bed, Melba Simpson dreaded every one of her thirty-five years that brought her there, without a man to hold, while her beloved nephew, innocent little Donald M. Bates, fifteen years of firm-fleshed, eager-to-learn, hard young male slept alone just across the hallway.
She shuddered and squirmed down deeper under her covers when she remembered that little Donnie wasn't just alone in his bed ... he was stark, livid naked, his primo boycock still untested and just waiting for the right woman to stretch it out for him and peel back the foreskin and slide right down his huge joystick until her full red lips bottomed out against the soft pubic nest of his just growing hair where it nestled so charmingly around his big heavy boyballs.
Oh, Christ, Melba cried aloud in her mind. Why couldn't he have at least been someone else's kid? Then I could have seduced him without fear of the depraved sin of incest. I just can't fuck my own flesh and blood, however easy his cock is to get to and however much he might want me. No, I'll not sink that lowdown.
Melba eased her hand down between her legs, shifting them slightly to make room. It felt to her as if her cunt lips were gaping wide, standing open and waiting for little Donnie's big dick. She was certainly moist all down there, around her crotch, and her exceptionally long pubic hair seemed to mat and stick together from the dampness seeping out of her unused pussy in hot, tickling trickles.
She used her thumb and finger to pull her cunt lips wider apart then, before they closed, she moved her finger over so it rubbed across her clit that was blood engorged, almost like a little dick, and so sensitive she could hardly stand the pleasure all at once.
Nevertheless, she continued stroking her clitoris while she shuddered, hip hunching, through a shattering climax. Then, as the after waves of pleasure rippled through her entire being, she slowly eased her finger deep inside her vagina, savoring the feel of it as it slid deeper and deeper into the searing hot pleasure depths of her, stroking the walls of her cunt almost exactly the same way she wanted a big hard dick to stroke her there.
No, not a big hard dick, but one specific big hard dick. The proudly upstanding, never before used, virginal dick of her sweet little nephew Donald Bates.
Then, with the muscles inside her talented cunt rippling and squeezing along the length of her finger, milking it like a cock, trying to nurse the last drop of white hot mancum out of it, Melba Simpson finally drifted off to sleep, finding in her dreams the actuality of her desires, holding little Donnie close to her and pounding down against him as fast as she could, continuously bumping her mound hard against the ridge of his pelvic bone, grinding away throughout the night, singing a serenade with her clit stroking the length of his hot, hard boycock.
It was very early in the morning. Melba knew that from the way the light was still subdued, coming in through her window where the big old honeysuckle vine allowed the sun to peek through past the curtains and across the bed. There were birds chirping outside, too, and one persistent mockingbird that was attacking something, probably Fluffy, the fat half-Angora calico that owned every house in the neighborhood.
Melba couldn't fight off the dawn any more. Reluctantly she pulled back her covers and slipped from the bed, her nightgown that had been working up around her waist as she slept fell to her feet, covering her still hot, still unfucked crotch from even her view.
She tiptoed into her bathroom, not wishing to awaken little Donnie, in case he was still asleep, and closed her door gently behind her.
Standing in the middle of her big bathroom, the master bathroom, Melba pulled her nightgown up over her head and tossed it aside. It caught and hung over the top of the shower door, reflecting bright red in the mirror in front of her.
The starkness of the color of her nightgown pulled her eyes to the big mirror like a flesh magnet, like Donnie's cock and balls attracted the full attention of her lustful thoughts, and she saw her self in the full-length glass.
She was still very good looking, for thirty-five, she thought, examining herself minutely. Her nose was perhaps a hair too long, and the beauty-mark brown birthmark on her right breast might not be attractive to some people. Her waist was still trim, that was for sure, and her hips pleasantly rounded where they flared out to make a lush picture frame for the torrid density of her pubic triangle.
The hair around her pussy was almost heart shaped, and Melba worked at it, now and then, trying to make it retain that alluring outline. Sometimes, though, like now, her cunt-hair seemed to be unusually long perhaps a sign of abnormally high passion and she felt the urge to trim it back a little.
Maybe that was just because she was growing so familiar with Donald's pubic hair, and it was just now bursting forth into vigorous growth, still sparse and unformed and just radiating the faintest hint of redness among the golden hairs. Looking at his fledgling cockhairs somehow made her pussy hair seem long and coarse.
She pulled her gaze away from her genitalia and ran on down her long, lean legs, liking everything she saw, the way it was shaped and molded, especially the flesh of her silky smooth thighs.
Melba Simpson even liked her feet. They weren't deformed and squashed together like so many female feet. She had never vainly tried to force too-small shoes onto them.
Christ, she thought. Don t I look as good to other people as I do to myself? Why then can't I find someone who wants to fuck me?
She sobbed in almost pain and turned to the toilet, lifting the lid and settling down on the seat. She bent forward slightly, looking down at her cunt-hair, then took both her hands and, easily pulling back her cunt lips, exposed her clit again, and the moistly pink, rosy opening along with every fold of her passion flesh. Then slowly at first, then building up strength as she watched, she began relieving herself, the strong, full stream of her first piss of the day rushing out through her pussy and striking against the side of the toilet before running, deep yellow, down into the water below.
Goddamn, but that feels good. Melba thought, watching the fragrant yellow urine leave her body.
Finished, she clinched her muscles rapidly several times, expeling every last drop of her piss, watching each one of them trickle out and fall from her. Reluctantly she released her cunt, allowing the lips to close over her hungry clitoris again, almost hiding it from view. Surely it would subside soon and stop making its incessant unsatisfied demands upon her.
She stood up and flushed the toilet in one move, then took her nightgown off the shower door and stuffed it into the laundry hamper.
Melba reached inside the shower stall and turned on the water, letting it run and build up the warm temperature until she could feel brave enough to step under the flow. Finally she thought it might be right, so she eased her body carefully under the stream, closing the amber plastic door to keep the water from splashing out over the bathroom. The temperature was exactly right, not too hot and not too cold.
Melba picked up the big bar of bath soap and began working up a heavy lather, rubbing it all around her body. She was especially concerned with her armpits. There were days when she was sure her perspiration smelled offensively, and she wanted to feel extra safe.
She lathered her breasts especially good, both of them, and spent long loving minutes at her nipples, working the soap into them and exciting them until they began tingling from the pleasurable sensations and stretching out, the erectile tissues inside them filling with hot red blood.
Her navel was another spot of special attention. It was an in. She couldn't stand outs. She worked the soap deep into her navel with the tip of one finger, then began laving her belly.
That was when she took on a detached feeling and began observing herself from somewhere up above her, almost omnipotently. She was no longer lonely Melba Simpson standing alone in the oversized shower of her master bathroom laving soap into her gently rounded belly. No way! She was some superhuman voyeur, looking down in pleasure and watching the divine creature in that shower stall make love to herself.
Melba's hands moved involuntarily to her pubic thatch, running the big bar of soap thickly through her dark brown pussy hairs until they were frothing with white, hiding almost all her genitalia from her view.
She hunched her hips forward solidly under the stream of almost hot water, washing away the built up suds, then moved her ass back, pulling herself away from the water.
Holding the bar of soap firmly in her right hand by one end of it, she looked down at the green and white striped, curving bar of Irish Spring. Almost like a curving cock, she thought, and smiled at the ridiculous notion of a green and white dick.
Still, it might work at that.
Melba crouched down slightly, bowing her legs wide, and held her cunt lips open with her left hand.
Slowly she began working the big bar of soap against her clitoris and down into the almost gaping maw of her cock-starved crevice. She started hunching her hips forward slightly and singing a monotonous humming note in her throat as the feelings of pleasure originating in her pussy made themselves known to her sex-starved brain.
Then, as she watched, glazed eyes blurring out part of the scene in front of her, she could see the big bar of soap actually start to slip inside her. True, it did have a peculiar shape to it, especially so since she had never ever seen a rectangular cock before, but then Melba Simpson had seen actually very few cocks in her thirty-five years.
Slowly the whole end of the bar of Irish Spring eased inside her cunt, stretching it just slightly in unaccustomed directions, and after that it was easy to work all of the bar into her cunt, right down to the little end she had kept grasped tightly in her right hand.
Melba certainly didn't want to lose the bar of soap somewhere up inside her pulsating pussy.
With her cunt stretched out to accommodate the peculiarly shaped false dick, Melba began working it in and out of her feverish flesh rapidly, loving the way it slipped and slid in and out of her gaping fuck hole, looking on in amusement as the green and white streaks of it blurred even more and started to look like the funniest cock in the whole world to her.
Then her orgasm grabbed hold of her belly and started thumping hard, deep inside, right about where a cockhead should have been striking against her unused womb, but wasn't. The ripples of her passion shook her entire being and slowly settled into a throbbing pleasure pain that was her living, fluttering cunt, clinching tightly against the slip-sliding soap and rippling along its length, cock-massaging it to nurse the cum she so desperately needed to fill her cunt to overflowing.
And the green and white cock cummed all inside her, filling her with heavy white froth that dribbled down her legs and streaked her pulse-pounding thighs with dense soapy lather.
As her orgasm subsided and the starkly sharp peaks of her passion began receding, Melba straightened up a bit and breathed deeply, pulling in great gasps of oxygen to fill her tortured lungs. Then it was all over, almost, leaving her as quickly as the need to masturbate had arrived in the first place.
Melba Simpson turned loose of the green and white striped cock that protruded from between her cunt lips and looked down at it, at the nubby end of the bar of soap that stuck out from her flesh like someone else's cock.
She laughed as she squeezed her cunt muscles tightly. Once. Twice. With each move the bar of soap jerked outward from her fuck flesh noticeably. Three times. Four.
The big bar of bath soap popped out of her pussy as if propelled by a rocket engine, and thumped hard against the amber plastic shower door.
At that very instant her cunt clamped tightly shut, instantly returning to its original convolutions now that the funny shaped rectangle that curved to the side was out of her fuck hole, and her flesh tingled and burned from the soap and the unaccustomed massaging.
She had no serious thought that she might have damaged the delicate tissues of her vagina by jerking off with the cake of soap, even though it was the large bath bar.
As Melba began breathing more easily and her heart slowed down to a more normal pace, she decided it was time to finish her morning shower.
She worked up fresh lather and reached behind her back, working it into her shoulders as best she could, then down to her waist and, bending over, deep into the crack of her buttocks, then on down her legs.
Melba rinsed off all the soap and washed her feet last, working them up heavily white until they looked like slippers on her feet, then washing away all the lather at once, looking at it as it swirled around in circles, disappearing down the drain.
All through with showering, Melba turned off the water and stepped quickly from the shower stall, wanting to get to her towel before her body reacted to the morning temperature and she could feel chilled.
There was a large sunshine yellow bath towel hanging just outside the stall and she wrapped it around herself hurriedly, shuddering at the thought of being cold, which she definitely wasn't. It was just a mental reaction to her all along, much like her constant need for a man of her own and now way to rationalize out getting one within her own thoughts.
She took a second smaller towel and dried her long brown hair, finally wrapping the towel turban-fashion around her hair and leaving the bathroom.
In her bedroom she sat before her dressing-table mirror and finished drying her hair, tossing the turban towel to the floor when she was through. She pulled the wrap-around bath towel off her body and finished drying her legs, her feet, and carefully between her toes.
As she reached for her brush, she looked behind her in the mirror, startled for a moment.
Donnie was standing in her doorway, leaning up against the frame. He was so big and strong-looking, almost exactly like a man. He was tall, too, already taller than Melba's five foot eight.
But most of all it was his cock that made him look like a man, big and hard and standing out there in front of her pointing at Melba as Donnie, almost absentmindedly worked his fist up and down the fine firm length of it, masturbating idly as he looked his naked aunt's body over from every angle, front and back, as she was clearly revealed to the naked youngster by her very own dressing table mirror.
"Oh, God, you scared me, Donnie," she said. "How long have you been there, anyway?"
"I just woke up," he said. "My cock feels funny."
"I'll just bet it does, dear," Melba said, standing up and walking quickly and awkwardly, trying to hide her breasts and pubic thatch from the child's eyes at the same time and grasping for her dressing gown.
She pulled it quickly around her shoulders and covered herself, blushing because she knew he had seen everything she had to see. Why, the innocent little boy could have been standing there for many long minutes, minutely examining her mature woman's figure.
Thank God he's mentally a child right now. I'd hate to think of him as a normal fifteen year old, looking at my old pussy. My tits.
"Stop the hurting, Autie Melba," Donnie pleaded, looking down at his boycock in confusion, pulling the foreskin and stretching it out to cover the head of his burgeoning pleasure prick.
"Yes, dear," she said, moving over and taking him gently by the shoulder. "Come into the bathroom. All you need to do is urinate. That'll probably cause your erection to go away."
"Okay," he said happily, walking with his aunt into her bathroom.
She positioned him in front of the toilet and, standing behind him, reached around his hips and took the shaft of his hard cock in her right hand, looking at their profile in her mirror to see if she was doing it correctly.
Carefully she pulled the foreskin back, revealing the deeper rose coloring of his still untested cockflesh, then she aimed it slightly downward, bending it with some difficulty, forcing the sharply etched eye of his cockhead to point into the toilet bowl.
"Now dear," Melba began, "just relax. You've got to release the tension here or you'll never be able to do it."
"I'll try, auntie dear," little Donnie said, and she could tell he really meant it.
The firm flesh of his boycock shaft seemed to relax just a bit, throbbing and pulsating infuriatingly against the feverish touch of her dick-hungry fingertips, until finally it began.
Slowly.
With Melba watching in the mirror, her hand firmly on her little nephew's dick and her eyes glued to the sight of it.
Hot yellow droplets squirting out in broken spurts.
She could feel the flow running through the shaft of his long hot cock and over her fingers as they held it. She could watch it pouring freely, finally, from the lips of his cockhead. She could smell it as the strong morning-yellow fluid sliced, arching through the air to rain down in the toilet bowl like a torrent.
As he finished, and the stream of his piss dwindled to nothing then was squeezed out in two final weakening bursts, Melba slowly and reluctantly shook the final drop free of his cockhead.
Donald's dick wasn't hard any more. Just as she had thought, the boy had only had a morning piss hard-on and the urinating freed his built-up tensions.
But not hers.
Still watching in the mirror, saddened because she had to do it, Melba rolled the loose foreskin back down over the head of Donnie's relaxed but still tumescent cockhead and released his dick.
It fell down against his heavy boyballs with a slapping sound.
Melba sobbed and stepped back from Donnie, turning him around to face her.
"It's about time you learning to do that for yourself, Donnie," she said.
"Okay, I'll try," he said.
"That's my good boy." Melba began leading him out of the bathroom and through her bedroom.
"We've got to get you dressed, young man," Melba said. "Doctor Johnson'll be here soon to give you your shot."
"Don't like shots," Donnie said. "They hurt me."
"I'm sure he'll be gentle, Donnie," Melba said. "Now come on, let's get your clothes on and go have a big fat breakfast.
"I bet you are, Donnie," Melba said, but it wasn't food she saw in her mind, listening to Donnie talk about 'eating lots'.
It was Melba.
Specifically it was Melba Simpson's fragrant, Irish Spring-scented, gaping-lipped cunt.
And her innocent little nephew was laving her clit with a dexterity she could never comprehend.
Her cunt twitched and spasmed as they walked into Donnie's bedroom and began picking out his clothes.
CHAPTER THREE
Dr. Clyde Johnson looked down at his penis. He always used that word, penis, even in his thoughts. To call his cock anything else would imply something dirty to him. Something dirty and something he had really never known and something he had lusted after every conscious day of his life.
He finished urinating and shook his dick hard, freeing the final drops of urine, then reluctantly tucking it back inside his trousers. When they were zipped closed, he went over to the row of sinks beneath the long mirror and washed his hands carefully. Being a doctor, he could never tell when he might pick up or pass along some dangerous germs.
Particularly at a time like this, with his cock just out of his hands, standing in the first-floor men's room of the County Medical Clinic, preparing to leave for his daily rounds.
Why says doctors don't make house calls any more? They're full of shit, Dr. Johnson thought.
He looked at his reflected image as he dried his hands, standing alone in the large men's room. Just six feet tall, cheating by half an inch, and his black hair still full on his head, even if a bit graying around the temples. At fifty years of age, Dr. Johnson had earned the privilege of appearing aging and distinguished. His green eyes stared deeply into his green eyes, mirror style, and he checked for red streaks.
Nothing. No sag, just a few lines across my forehead. Guess all that handball does help, after all.
Dr. Johnson stepped back from the mirror so he could see more of his reflection, down past his waist which was quite trim. He exercised enough to make sure not even the slightest little trace of a spare tire ever formed around his flat, trim midsection. He knew, even though he couldn't see himself in the mirror under his clothes, that his thighs and calves were tautly muscled, standing out firm and ready for whatever physical action was required for them to perform.
like his penis. His inordinately fine penis, in his evaluation, that hung very heavy and very unused over those so special thighs.
Dr. Johnson had been married once, briefly, while still an intern. Shirley had been older than him, and definitely set in her ways. Clyde, of course, had been a virgin. The minute Shirley got her hands on his body, his secret manflesh, she had began pulling on him and making one demand after another of his body and his energy and his emotions and his undivided attention.
He never ever really had a chance to find out what life with a woman was like. like what sex, on a regular and mutually shared basis, was like.
When his brain became taxed to the limit with Shirley, recognizing that he was on the verge of both a mental and physical breakdown, Clyde called it quits.
He packed up one day while Shirley was down at the supermarket, buying groceries in the Safeway, and left before she could return to their apartment.
He never went back gain, regardless of how much persuasion Shirley or her lawyer tried to heap upon him.
No way. That greedy woman was never going to get her coarse talons on his penis again, his testicles.
His overly large cock and cum-filled balls.
Shirley had done almost a complete trip on Dr. Clyde Johnson's startlingly handsome head.
Thanks to her, he was to void all other women like a plague, no matter how strong the urge to fuck one of them became, no matter how heavy and painful the thumping, ball-squeezing pain way up between his legs, buried deep inside the love knot of his fuckroot became.
All women were undoubtedly alike. It might be all right for most men to endure that body torture, that mental mindfucking, in order to stay married, but not him.
No sir, not Dr. Clyde Johnson. He'd had a woman and he knew what it was all about, from then on it would be just the shameful solitary solitude of masturbation for him.
For fist-fucking in the darkness, hunched over his toilet so the spurts of precious manfuck fluid could all be gathered up there and so he could flush away the copious physical evidence of his incredible shame. His deep, dark depravity.
Dr. Clyde Johnson had perfected beating off to the point where he had raised it to a positive medical science.
There was not one single salve or ointment that he hadn't used, rubbing it thoroughly over the big broad head of his regrettably circumcised cock.
He had even tried some of the absolutely forbidden drugs on himself to see if they would heighten his onanistic, single-sexed fist-fucking.
Cocaine, both sniffed into his nostrils and rubbed lovingly and carefully directly into the tender flesh of his blood-filled cockhead.
Now that had been a beat-off session to end all beat-off sessions.
LSD, locked inside the privacy of his bedroom and writhing naked along the floor, letting the coarseness of the fibers of his rug dig into the tender flesh of his cock and balls as he pounded them repeatedly down into the nap of the rug.
It had taken him hours to cleanse away the cum spot left on the carpet after that little solitary sex.
Cannabis Sativa, purchased at great risk from the kid who came in, nights, to sweep out the County Medical Clinic. It hadn't done much for him. Or he had been so horny he couldn't really wait to find out. He smoked the grass but, by the time he came on to it, he had already finished pounding his pud and his cock was limp and his heavy, full testicles hard at work manufacturing yet another load of fresh hot mancum.
Of all the drugs, he preferred Cocaine. Clyde didn't have balls enough to try anything any heavier, although there was plenty of morphine, even heroin, available to him as a doctor. He knew more than one doctor or registered nurse who regularly dipped into the endless cookie jar to sample the illegal ecstasy.
Finished with his examination of his after-piss professional appearance, Dr. Johnson left the men's room and went to the front reception desk.
Nurse Butler was on duty. An aggressive dyke if he ever saw one. She never passed up an opportunity to ogle him, especially from his crotch level. She had once even had the audacity to call him "buns" to his face and tell him he had a real nice ass.
She'd do almost anything to get her greedy hands on his great body.
"Leaving for your rounds, Doctor Johnson?" she asked as he approached the desk, his black bag in hand.
"Yes, Nurse Butler, I'm on my way. You can reach me through my answering service if you have any emergencies."
"Oh, I've got one right now, Doctor," she said. "Do you think there's time to step into the unused examination room and take care of it?"
"How could you be so crude?" he asked, becoming indignant.
"Oh," Nurse Butler said, her one eyebrow raised provocatively over her left eye, "don't you want to play doctor with me. Doctor?"
"Good day, Nurse Butler," he said, walking rapidly away from the reception desk.
Christ, what a hunk of man, she thought, looking at him walk away from her. I'd give anything to get my hands on that ass of his.
I'd like to fondle those buns and kiss them. I'd like to pull those beautiful cheeks apart and get to his ass-hole. I'd kiss it and lick it and ram my tongue way up inside until he came all over my breasts.
But Dr. Clyde Johnson was out of the hospital and in the parking lot, free of Nurse Butler's gaze and the unrestrained rape of her sex fantasy.
In his car, he tried to clear his thoughts of Nurse Butler and get back to business. He had at least three stops to make that morning, then back to the hospital for the schedule DNC for Mrs. Groveton at 3:00.
He flipped open his appointment book and read the list over silently. Melba Simpson's name was on top of the list. It was underscored, as if her name had special meaning.
Donald M. Bates, Dr. Clyde Johnson's teenaged patient, wasn't even listed there.
It was almost as if his real reason for going to Melba's house was to see her, and not Donnie at all. The poor unfortunate shock victim.
As he read her name listed there a thumping began deep in his crotch, down under his balls where the root of his extra-wide dick was buried deep inside his thrust zone. The pounding of his blood continued to be centered there and running out into the length of his dick, making it stretch uncomfortably inside his trousers as he drove down the street toward West Washington Drive, where Melba lived.
At the stop light on the corner of Crosstown Boulevard, Dr. Johnson released his seat belt and put his hand down past his belt and inside his underwear, stroking his long hard cock and shifting it around to a more comfortable position, sticking straight up, the almost purple head of it sticking out of his trousers, up past his belt, the single eye of it winking at him and gasping like a fish mouth out of water and desperate for sustenance. As he watched a faint film of stickiness, pre-lube that was designed to assist him in the sexual intercourse he wasn't about to engage in, formed at the mouth of his cockhead and oozed noticeably to the surface, staining the head of his dick with pre-cum fluid.
The light changed and he reluctantly pulled his hand out of his trousers where it had been soothing his tortured balls. It was impossible to close the seat belt again, around his waist and rigidly hard cock, so he drove away from the busy intersection unprotected.
Looking down at his crotch, driving along the street toward Melba's, he watched his cock slowly relax and retreat until the head of it changed from a violet to a normally pink cock color then finally disappeared once again beneath his belt and pants, leaving a faint track of fresh cum streaked across the powder blue shirttail where it bulged up and out of his pants.
He was lucky. He could stick his shirt back down inside his pants and one one would be able to tell he had spotted it with cum.
It was just in time, too. Otherwise he would have to sit there in front of Melba's house and wait for his dick to shrink back to its usually normal half hard. No wonder Nurse Butler stared at his crotch so much. No other doctor in the whole hospital, or patient for that matter, had a dick that poked out their pants as often as Dr. Johnson's big whopper did.
Melba Simpson wouldn't be like Shirley, Dr. Johnson thought, looking up toward Melba's house where she was already opening the door in anticipation, having seen Dr. Johnson drive up and park at her curb.
She's such a refined lady. Wonder why she never married? I guess she never had a husband. Surely she's not a virgin, though. She's so gentle.
He looked up and saw Melba standing in her doorway, waiting for him, a radiant, welcoming smile across her face. A natural smile, one of genuine delight, not stuck on like Shirley would have done.
I bet Melba Simpson wouldn't be like Shirley in bed. I bet we could make love together and it would be good, feel good for both of us. Melba couldn't be so greedy she couldn't give of herself to me.
Sr. Johnson carefully stuck his shirttail down inside his pants, hiding his disgrace, and adjusted his cock, unnoticed by Melba, of course, then turned to walk up the sidewalk to Melba's door.
"Good morning, Doctor Johnson," Melba said, calling to him slightly.
"Good morning, Miss Simpson. Isn't it a fine day?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "Donnie and I have been sitting in the kitchen, looking out at the flowers in the back yard, admiring the view."
Melba stepped aside so Dr. Johnson could enter the house and, after closing the door, led him through to the kitchen where Donnie was licking the syrup out of his just devoured waffle plate.
Dr. Johnson saw him and laughed, walking into the room and placing his hand affectionately atop Donnie's head, digging his fingers down into his thick blonde hair.
Donnie looked up at him and smiled, licking his full sensuous lips clean of syrup.
"Would you care for some coffee, Doctor Johnson?" Melba asked hopefully. If he had a cup of coffee, he wouldn't leave in such a hurry.
"Well, I guess I have time for a cup," he said, "on one condition."
"Oh?"
"Yes, you've got to stop calling me Doctor Johnson," he said. "I feel as if we know each other well enough by now to go by first names. Please call me Clyde. That is, if you have no objection ... Melba."
"Oh," she said, a little surprised. Melba giggled, as if she were the fifteen-year-old and not little Donnie. "I think I'd like that very much ... Clyde." It still was hard for her to do, to call him by his first name.
Donnie just sat there beaming at them both while Dr. Johnson pulled up a chair and sat at the table, between Melba and Donnie.
Melba already had the extra cup ready. After all, Dr. Johnson had been having "just one cup" every morning now for months. She poured it full and passed it over to him.
He took it and sipped once, testing the temperature and finding it acceptable to him. He drank his coffee black. He liked it straight, just the way he liked his women, with nothing between his flesh and theirs but their flesh and their body secretions and their perspiration and their cum and their...
Dr. Johnson took a big gulp of the hot coffee to try to force his mind to abandon the sex thoughts again, to keep away from the thought that was becoming obsessive with him to throw Melba Simpson down right in the middle of her kitchen floor and rip both their clothes off and to fuck her right there, while little Donnie watched, encouraging and applauding.
"I have some great news for you both today, Melba," he said.
"Oh, what is it, Clyde?" His name was becoming easier for her to use now.
"The last tests we ran on Donnie were quite positive. The antishock treatment is working and he should slip back into his actual self any day now," Dr. Johnson said, turning to Donald and hoping the child had understood what he said. After all, it was very important to the boy, if he was ever to resume being a normal horny fifteen-year-old teenager again.
"Oh," Melba said. She said it often, especially around Dr. Johnson. "That's wonderful." But inside she didn't really think it was wonderful at all. That means he'll be able to take care of himself again, and I won't get to see his fine little body. I wont get to give him baths and feel his firm boyflesh grow and change under my fingertips as I stroke and caress his gorgeous genitalia.
"Be all well," Donnie said, his smile growing even broader.
"That's right, Donnie," Dr. Johnson said. "Soon, you'll be all well again."
"Good, no more shots," Donnie said with finality.
Dr. Johnson and Melba laughed together. It was natural and spontaneous and both of them recognized it was the very first time they had laughed together.
"Not so fast, young man," Dr. Johnson said. "I'm the doctor and I'll tell you when the shots are finished."
"Damn," Donnie said, not at all like a retarded youngster.
"So you just drop your pants and bend over, young man," Dr. Johnson said, opening his bag and fumbling around inside it for the hypodermic syringe and Donnie's medicine, preparing it for the injection.
Donnie mumbled and grumbled and stood up while Melba opened his trousers and turned him around, his back toward Dr. Johnson.
"Now just bend over and pull down your underwear," he said, looking at Melba but talking to Donnie, as if the mentally confused child could follow the doctor's instructions.
"I'll do it, Clyde," Melba said, taking the sides of Donnie's clean white cotton briefs in her fingers and pulling them downward, letting her fingertips slide along his flesh, caressing him tenderly.
As his underwear moved past his genitalia, his cock caught in the elastic band and was pulled, floppingly back between his legs. Dr. Johnson, bent over ready to give the boy his injection, saw the pink eye of his cockhead poke out from his foreskin before his cock, limp and relaxed, fell back to a normal position, out of Dr. Johnson's view.
"I can see from that that little Donnie's not so little," he said, smiling at Melba as he jammed the needle firmly into the solid flesh of the little boy's butt. "I imagine you really have your hands full with him."
Then he thought of the possible double meaning of his remark and blushed. Melba, too, saw and connected the two.
"No, Clyde, she said. "Donnie's remarkably cooperative. And he is, after all, my own flesh and blood. If I can't take care of him in this emergency, who can?"
"Of course, I didn't mean anything by what I said," he said, jerking the needle, empty now, free of Donnie's buttocks and placing alcohol-soaked cotton over the tiny puncture wound.
He slapped Donnie playfully across his buttocks. "Okay, young man," he said, "you can get dressed now."
Melba leaned forward, picking his briefs up from where they hung around his ankles and pulling them slowly up his legs. She inhaled, breathing the honeyed fragrance of his buttocks, knowing that, just inches away from her ravenous mouth, his sweet innocent dick hung, just right for savoring.
She had them in place, Donnie's shirttail down and his pants up and fastened, before the fragrance of his fine young sex parts faded from her nostrils. She turned then, in a daze, and walked to the front door with Dr. Johnson, bidding him a reluctant farewell, until the next day's coffee and shot.
As Dr. Johnson walked away from Melba Simpson he could feel her standing behind him in her doorway, watching him. Watching the subtle way his buttocks glided back and forth as he walked.
He became self-conscious all of a sudden and thought his steps altered, becoming peculiar, making him walk in a funny fashion.
Soon he was inside the safety of his big black Mercedes 450 SLC. It cost him over thirty thousand, what with the available options, but Dr. Johnson always felt that image was important. If you were a successful family practice doctor, you might as well look like it, too.
He looked back at Melba, standing yet in her doorway, watching him, and waved good-bye to her.
Melba waved back then, reluctantly, went inside and closed her door.
Dr. Johnson fired up the almost silent engine of his big expensive Mercedes and pulled away from Melba Simpson's house, driving down West Washington Drive, heading for his next house call some thirteen blocks away, in a cheaper section of town.
CHAPTER FOUR
He was gone. Dr. Johnson's big black Mercedes had driven out of her view. Reluctantly Melba Simpson released the corner of her drapes she had been peeping out from behind, letting the heavy fabric fall back to its natural shape, hiding the outside from her.
Still, in her mind's eye, the vision of Dr. Johnson's heavenly buttocks rippled and undulated through her imagination. She could see them nude and succulent, spread out before her. She could see him walking away from her so she could see them move, naked, so she could thrill at the sensation each rippling muscle of his ass could give birth to inside her feverish crotch.
Already moisture was gathering there, between her legs, and making itself known to her consciousness. The silky smooth lips of her cunt seemed to know it too, eagerly taking on the moisture and reacting to it, moving more sensuously together as Melba walked across her living room, the movement making her cunt feel pleasured and pampered.
Oh, in her dream-vision of the naked Clyde, her fantastic Dr. Johnson whom she had never once seen naked, turned around, there across her wide living room, and faced her squarely.
Naked.'
He stood standing right in front of her, unafraid and proud, and let her eyes take in every single inch of his ruggedly athletic male frame.
She could see his big broad shoulders and the biceps, bulging just a little from all the effort of his racquetball playing, and across the wide plates of his pectorals, standing out in sharp relief from his chest, his tiny little man-nipples sharp pointed and taut.
There was a gentle matting of dark black hair across his chest, too, there just had to be. It was essential for the man of her dreams to look manly, and nothing did it for Melba so thoroughly as a little chest hair. Oh, he couldn't look like a bear, mind you, or a coarse animal of some sort. Just the hint of hair that she could see or feel or run her fingers through.
Oh, God, to have it rubbing across my breasts, to have my nipples nestled in his chest hair. Her thoughts were inflaming her otherwise sizzling snatch.
Then she saw his waist in her vision. Dipped in tightly from his wide shoulders and barrel chest and dotted in the center with his tiny little navel, almost hidden in the tufts of hair that seemed to begin there and swell out broadly, just as his hips were flaring to a wide masculine stance, until the pubic triangle was nothing more than a deep, dark forest of prick hair from which, protruding relaxed and not the least bit blood-engorged yet was his cock.
It wasn't the penis that Dr. Clyde Johnson thought he had.
It was the cock that Melba Simpson knew he absolutely had to have.
They were both right, of course.
Even relaxed it was heavy, swaying gently from its own meat like some pendulous pendulum of penile pleasure. It was rope-veined with heavy blood vessels and twisted just noticeably toward his right.
Surely not the result of so much masturbation? Surely it is not possible for prolonged manual manipulation of one's genitalia to permanently alter the angle of the desired dangle?
His cockhead was bare.
Damn, I sure like the way uncircumcised cocks feel, like little Donnie's huge, hefty dick.
Melba thought that naked cockheads looked rough and toughened, and she suspected they might be insensitive to the finer subtleties of the deep insides of her cock-starved cuntal tissues.
She wanted everyone, especially Melba, to get every possible pleasurable sensation from fucking. Every day and every way.
Melba was sure, even, that the right man wouldn't have the slightest fear of ramming his big hard cock deep into her pussy, bottoming out in it even, on the heaviest day of her menstrual cycle. The thought of her body-cleansing blood and his body-cleansing cum intermingling inside her fucked-out pussy during her period made her sway momentarily and grasp at a chair back to steady herself.
She clung to the chair frantically, holding her legs tightly together and spasming through an involuntary orgasm. The moisture that was copious now at her crotch poured liberally through the lips of her cuntal mouth, deseating the hot buttery depths of her fuck channel and pouring down her thighs in a trickle of over-hot fluids. They backed up even and seemed to be running upward, through the crack of her ass, around the tiny brown puckering rosette of her ass-hole and on up, making her buttocks slippery and heated.
"Oh, God, Oh, God," Melba Simpson called aloud. Her agony at last beyond her efforts of self control. "I need a man so much."
"What, Auntie Melba?" Little Donnie had heard her call, and came into the living room.
"What?" Melba looked up, seeing the child through dazed eyeballs, her knees still weak and her cunt spasming. "Oh. I didn't call you, Donnie."
But why not? Her evil mind screamed at her.
He's got a cock, as you WELL know. That's all you want, isn't it? Take it!
No, her good mind fought back, her consciousness, her conscience. You can't fuck your own nephew. That's awful. That's even incest.
Remember what Doctor Johnson said her evil mind wouldn't even call him Clyde. Clyde was for sweetness and sensuality and soft sexuality. Right now she needed a hard-dicked Doctor of Fuckology that Donnie's almost cured. When he regains his senses there's no way you can get your hands, or better yet your lips, or Oh, God! your cunt, onto this lovely little-boy big virgin cock.
"Oh, God, yes, yes," Melba screamed aloud again, swaying from side to side and releasing her grip on the chair back
"Oh, God, yes," little Donnie said, as if perfectly echoing her heart-felt, cunt-felt desires.
"Yes, Donnie," Melba said, smiling at him peculiarly and putting her arm around his shoulder, drawing him close and tight against her feverish warmth, "it's time for your bath."
"Not time. Bath time is later, before bedtime," little Donnie looked at his aunt, who was at eye level with his eyes, and tried to puzzle something out of the depths of her deep brown eyes.
"Now, Donnie," Melba said, "I tell you when it's bath time, and I say it's bath time now. It's even bed-time now."
"Okay," he said, "will you kiss Donnie good night?"
"Oh, will I ever, Donnie," she said, "will I ever."
In the bathroom of her big master bedroom, master bath suite, Melba sat down on the toilet and slowly undressed Donnie, letting her fingers and palms trail sensuously over his chest muscles as his shirt came off, under his armpits into the thatch of hair, feeling his warmth and heat there, then down to his slender, firm waist, as she unfastened his belt and opened his pants, letting them fall to the floor where he kicked them aside after she removed his shoes and socks.
He was standing there in front of her all innocence and trusting youth. A mental child of five and a physical man of ... on, easily twenty-five, and hung like an experienced thirty.
Only the thin cotton of his Jockey-style briefs, wearing with just the faintest trace of gray from several washings, separated his boyfuck flesh from her eager gaze. She reached out eagerly, her eyes fixed on the gently rounded pouch of his briefs, her tongue hanging out of the edge of her open mouth, her lips full and red and glistening moistly with desire, and took both sides of his briefs in her hands and slowly, as if teasing herself by the ecstatic revelation, she edged them down, inch by inch.
One inch and his just growing pubic hair, blonde and speckled with red highlights, came into view.
Two inches and the root of his boyish mancock kissed her eyeballs.
Three inches and more cock grew into her gaze.
Four inches and more cock stretched out.
Five inches and more cock lengthened before her eyes.
Six inches and the coronal ridge of his cockhead, sheathed inside his gently enfolding foreskin, became visible.
Seven inches and the whole cockhead was in view, right down to the puckered-closed end of his boyish foreskin.
Melba sobbed deep in her throat and gasped for air as she freed all of his cock and balls from the hot grasp of his underwear. He lifted his feet and she pulled the clingy cotton free of them and looked at it closely. It was warm, definitely, and she could smell the boy scent of him, as well as feel the heat radiating outward from his just worn underwear. She opened them and looked inside. There was a faint smear of brown where his ass-hole kissed the clean fabric.
Melba was jealous suddenly. She brought the underwear up to her face and crushed it against her nose, her mouth, simultaneously tasting and smelling the flesh she so loved to touch.
Donnie watched, impassively, his heavy hanging cock still limp and relaxed, completely unaware of the erotic fantasy that was unfolding right in front of his very eyes.
Completely unaware that he was about to become King of the Ball.
Melba tossed the soiled underwear aside and hastily pulled off her own shoes before she stood up.
"Today, Donnie," she said, pulling her cotton housedress up over her head, "we're going to do things just a little differently."
"Oh, like a game, Auntie Melba," he asked, smiling playfully as he watched her pull her dress over her head and toss it aside, where it fell, covering and hiding his soiled underwear.
"Yes, a lovely, loving game, Donnie," Melba said, reaching behind herself and unfastening her bra. She felt just a moment's regret, as if something inside her had finally died a welcomed death, just before she pulled her bra completely off and tossed it aside, shaking her shoulders from side to side, freeing her breasts and letting them actually breathe of the air that was growing more sex-heady by each passing moment.
Donnie watched her breasts bounding before him and sighed wantonly, reaching out to touch, tingly, the nipple of her right breast.
"Oh, yes, Donnie," she said, encouraging him. "That's all right. You can touch Auntie Melba there if you want to."
"Touch Auntie's ... touch what...? " he asked, puzzled.
"Tits, darling," she said. "You can touch Auntie Melba's breasts."
"Touch tits," Donnie said, taking a breast in each hand and holding them, squeezing them sponge-like and letting both nipples poke out between his fingers.
Melba, sighing in pleasure, skinned her panties down and off, leaving them where they fell at her feet.
"Oh, God, yes, Donnie," she said, "do that some more."
As he continued to massage her breasts, squeezing them gently, she moved backward until her legs made contact with the top of the toilet again and she sat down, her move causing her breasts to pull free of his grasp.
He looked down at her, puzzled.
"Auntie Melba not like that?" he asked.
"Oh, Donnie," she said, "I loved it, but I know something you'll like even more. Come closer, dear, yes, just like that," she said, pulling him up in front of her.
From her seated position his crotch was just even with her face and she was staring right at his fledgling pubic patch.
Slowly, as if in a dream, as if being played in slow motion, Melba reached out, her hand finally coming in contact with his fuck flesh, the limp shaft of his unexcited cock. She hefted it slowly, feeling of it, sensing the really heavy weight of it, and palmed it gently in her hand, making a fist around it but being careful not to begin working it up, not just yet.
Carefully, using one hand to hold the shaft and the other to gently roll back his tender foreskin, Melba bared the entire big broad head of his satiny slick, flesh taut boyfuck glans. A newer, more exciting fragrance suddenly touched her nostrils to tantalize her palate with promises yet unrevealed.
There was a faint film of turning-to-white moisture that had collected in the dark recesses under his foreskin and she saw it and shuddered, cunt spasming. She turned the cockhead this way and that way, viewing it from very angle, carefully examining it as if under a microscope ... a sex microscope ... finding nothing to mar its juvenile perfection, no flaw along the whole long length of its firm surface.
"Now, Donnie," she said, "you just stand very still and relax, and feel what this is like to you, inside your head and inside your body."
"Yes, Auntie Melba," the little boy said, completely trusting the older woman who sat nude before him, his cock and balls cuddled gently inside her big old hands.
Slowly, as he watched, Melba began moving her head forward, inching it gradually closer and closer to his crotch, to the gaping fisheye in the head of his cock.
Then, when she could not stand the torture any longer, Melba flicked out her tongue, reptile fashion, and came into contact with the savory flesh of her nephew's virgin cockhead.
The flavor was, all by itself, as good as having a cum.
Donnie flinched just slightly from the contact, but not in pain ... in pleasure, and gasped audibly.
"Yes, yes," he said. "That feels good."
"Hmmm," was all Melba could say as she stretched her tongue out as far as she could, making a wide, broad sweep, laving as much of the surface of little Donnie's big Dick as she could, cleansing it and swallowing rapidly, not talking at all while the succulent flavor lasted.
Then, unable to withstand her emotions any longer, she gasped loudly and opened her mouth wide, plunging her head forward and taking the entire length of little Donnie's big heavy dick inside her mouth, deep inside, all the way to the back of her throat where the searing warmth of her fuck-hungry mouth wanted to pleasure-devour the limp boyfuck flesh.
But not limp for long.
As Melba laved the big spongy cockhead lovingly, working her tongue frantically around the folds of his foreskin, keeping it pulled tightly back in order to keep exposed every minute inch of his super-sensitive virginal cockhead, his dickshaft began filling with blood.
Slowly, pushing itself out of her mouth, stretching out and lengthening and becoming fuller and more firm and pulsating with a new life all its own. It was no longer necessary to hold Donnie's foreskin back as his dick became erect. The burgeoning, bulging plum shape of his cockhead set in, making it impossible for the foreskin, by itself, to slip over the well-marked coronal ridge.
Soon his cock was growing rapidly out of her mouth, jerking and throbbing with new life and vitality.
One inch from of her lips.
Two inches free of her lips.
Three inches free of her lips.
And more than three still left inside. The important three inches of Donald M. Bates' almost not virginal cock, the super-sensitive head of his dick kept sensitive and alert and always ready by the protection of his silky foreskin.
And still growing longer and harder and fuller and wider.
Gasping for air, twisting and turning around the heavy full knob of Donnie's dick, Melba pulled her head free and sucked in large helpings of breath. She still cuddled and gently massaged his boyballs in her hand while he swayed back and forth in ecstasy, eyes closed, just luxuriating in the sex sensations he was experiencing for the very first time in all his fifteen long years of unfucked life.
"Oh, God," Donnie said, "suck my cock some more, Aunt Melba."
"Yes, yes," she said, moving her head forward again, again taking the whole naked head of his boycock into her mouth and washing over and over the sensitive surface with the talented caress of her tongue, only once remarking to herself that Donald sure didn't sound like a retarded kid any more.
Donnie began hip-thrusting, pushing forward, forcing more and more of the long length of his cockshaft deep into the back of his aunt's throat, humming and whining audibly, way inside his throat.
"Hmmmm," Melba mumbled, swallowing the funky boyfuck juices that were collected under his foreskin and around the head of his big boycock before she pulled her head off his dick with a strong sucking motion, pulling it forward as her head moved back and finally popping free with a loud smack.
Melba looked up into Donnie's eyes, beaming and radiating happiness to the little boy.
"Oh, God," he said, "I liked that. But you can't stop now, Aunt Melba You've got to show me some more things."
"I've got something like that in mind, Donnie," she said, standing up and taking his hand, pulling him after her and walking rapidly into her big bedroom where the big queen-sized bed waited for the passion that had never come.
Before this point in time.
Before her savage but gentle lips closed around the cockhead of her innocent, virginal little nephew.
The ultimate sin. Incest. There is nothing that can stop me from fucking Donnie now. From actually fucking my own flesh and blood.
She fell forward on the bed, pulling Donnie down onto it beside her and rolled toward him, her arms and legs opening wide and enfolding his little naked boy-body into the sensuous, sexual grasp of her wanton and fiery older body.
He sizzled inside her torrid embrace, his boycock lengthening even more and jerking of its own volition, large white pearly drops of heavy pre-cum oozing out of his cuntal mouth and streaking cross his plum-wide cockhead.
Donnie moved his head forward and captured the end of her left breast in his mouth. It was open wide and the whole large brown surface of her areola disappeared inside the boy's mouth and his tongue began, child-like, pulling on her nipple, trying to get milk from her.
Nursing nephew, she thought, thinking of Donnie in terms of a baby that he definitely was not. She could tell that easily, judging from the size and really intense heat of the big hard cock that was stretched out along the curve of her right buttock, nudging and searing into her overly excited womanflesh.
Oh, God, she thought. Forgive me for what I'm about to do.
Melba reached down between them and under her legs to where his dick poked at her and felt of it, of how longer and heaver it had grown since she had last touched it, tasted it.
She sobbed from the double pleasure of just reeling his cock in her hand and his tongue against her rigidly engorged nipple.
Reluctantly she pulled back and released his cock, using her hand to nudge his head away from her almost too sensitive breast.
"Okay, Donnie," she said, comfortingly. "Every thing's going to be all right. There's time enough for everything. No need to rush or get all flustered. We're going to do this right."
"Oh, Aunt Melba," he said, staring right into her eyes and smiling rapturously, "I love you, I really do."
"Here, dear," Melba said, "Lift up a little and move your legs like this, between mine."
He did as she instructed, pushing him around easily until he was poised on his knees and hands, raised up over her feverish, passion-wracked body, staring down in rapture at her heaving breasts, nipples taut and erect and throbbing with sensations all their own.
He looked down lower, to her flat belly, churning now and heaving slightly in anticipation, then on down some more, to the deep tangle of her dark brown pubic hair.
There, nestled in the fur, was the target he seemed to recognize instinctively and strive toward. It was visible to him from the angle of his body as nothing more than a tiny vertical slit of deep rose, opening gently inside the dark brown. As he watched, it seemed to open wider and blink at him like a vertical smile, slick and smooth and generating soothing moisture and waiting, so impatiently for him to ... to...
He didn't know what he was supposed to do, even though the torrid sensations surging through his loins, centered way up inside between his legs at about the spot where the root of his cock began to be joined by his heavy hanging testicles, all seemed to urge him forward, to move down and in and up and full against his auntie.
"What," he asked, stumbling for words, "should I do, Auntie Melba?"
"Let me help you, Donnie," she said, reaching down and taking his rigidly pulsating cock in her hand, stroking it soothingly. She peeled back the foreskin, making sure every particle of the surface of his lush virginal boycockhead was revealed and open for the searing sensations its super-sensitive surface would transmit to the pleasure centers of his sweet young mind, instilling in him a proper appreciation for fucking an older woman, one mature in all respects.
"Donnie," she said, hesitantly but wanting to rush forward with all possible speed, "I'm going to place the head of your cock right up against the opening of my pussy, my cunt hole. Now I don't want you to do anything, just tell me when you think the flesh contact has been made."
And she did just what she said she was going to do, placing the head of his boycock right up against the opening of her moistly fluttering cunt and smearing it around a bit to make sure the contact was solidly achieved.
"Oh, God," little Donnie said, recognizing the instant his virginal boycock touched the forbidden fuck flesh of his aunt, his cockhead kissing her clitoris in the first forbidden instant of horrendous incest.
"Yes, yes," she said, loving the pressure the huge plum-shaped boycock head gave to her, bumping smoothly against her clit and teasing almost unbearably, the delicate tissues that formed her cuntal mouth, so eager now to devour the entire whole long hard length of his boyfuck shaft.
"Now," she said, "just do whatever feels best to you, Donnie Dear."
And, saying those words, she lifted her hips up, angling them slightly, forcing her fuck hole to gape open widely and eagerly, waiting for the smooth sensation of fullness as he moved forward to mush his sweet young sexflesh with her much older cuntal tissues.
He did, in one move, sliding his whole huge blood-filled cock into her pussy, forcing the side walls of it to move apart, making room for the bulk of his boyish prick until he reached the very depths of it, his cockhead, larger than ever now and fiery to the touch, bumped up solidly against the opening of her unused womb.
"Oh, Christ," he said, collapsing atop her, burying his face in her neck and his arms falling limply to his side.
Suddenly nothing existed for little Donald M. Bates that his fifteen years of life had prepared him for. No imagination, no fantasy, however grand, could equal the feeling surrounding his long, pulsating fuckshaft as it soaked, bottomed out, deep inside the soft buttery depths of her cuntal mouth, basking in the caresses of her rippling pussy muscles and marinating in the fuck juices her cunt was manufacturing just for the purpose of pleasuring his once virginal prick. But virginal no more.
The game of incest was almost complete. The only thing missing to make it final and fatally sinful was the intermingling of their cum juices. The product of his sweet young balls and her ovaries, gushing freely and uninhibited throughout their fuck flesh to unite them once and forever as flesh of one flesh and blood of one blood and fuck of one fuck.
"How do you like this, Donnie?" she asked, as if he could give her an adequate answer.
"Oh, God," he said, "it's the greatest thing I've ever felt in my life."
"Yes, isn't it," Melba said, lifting her hips more and jamming them up solidly against the bone of his pubic mound, grinding her mound against it, stroking her clit and getting of again and again.
Her actions caused him to begin moving, too.
"Oh, yes," she said, "just like that, move your big fat cock in and out of my juicy old cunt."
"Yes, yes," Donnie said, working frantically, hunching his hips and slipping, sliding his fuck funky boycock in and out of her gaping cuntal mouth, pushing the sides and the lips around wildly in his haste until, lost beyond any measure of control, his body erupted in the first of many really great orgasms of his sweet young life.
He filled her fuck hole with fresh hot sticky boycum. It gushed out around the pressure pounding of his still drilling boycock and dribbled through the crack of her ass and down to the bedspread, puddling there in a wide stain, stark evidence of the degree and intensity of their unparalleled passions as they flooded over the peak of ecstasy again and again.
Melba thought she would never stop her involuntarily cunt-clenching that signaled her endless string of run-on orgasms. Each little cum of hers encouraging the sweet virile boy on to greater efforts, to greater depths where his fat, boycum-spitting cockhead bathed her womb in fresh boycum again and again.
Then, completely exhausted, his very first fuck being much more strenuous than he could have ever imagined and definitely more satisfying, he fell forward against his aunt, their bodies cemented together from shoulder to tit to belly to cock-in-cunt with searing, hot sweat. The bed was heavy hanging in fuck smells, the juices of their bodies intermingling and filling their nostrils with fragrances totally unknown just minutes earlier.
And little Donnie, the fifteen-year-old, thoroughly fucked-out ex-virgin went to sleep just like that, his still tumescent boycock deep inside her caressing cuntal tissues and his mind filled with years and years of endless cums.
And Melba, practicing the ripples of her inner cuntal muscles, grasping along the relaxing length of his boyfuck column, milking it, nursing out the final trickle of sweet little boycum, closed her eyes and drifted off to slumber, too.
Each of them, in their own fashion, having had the very best fuck of their life and each, in their own way, making determined plans that it would definitely not be the last.
CHAPTER FIVE
Somehow during the night, they slept in each other's arms, all exhausted and fucked out, little Donnie's fifteen-year-old cock had shrunk back to its usual big size and slipped, unnoticed, out of Melba Simpson's thirty-five-year-old but practically new pussy.
The puddle of their intermingled cum had grown considerably, during the night, as if each had spurted out involuntary additions to their fuck fluids. Both their crotches were caked and matted with drying cum streaks that mingled through their sex hairs and down their thighs.
Little Donnie awoke first, being younger and more resilient, and eased the covers back, gently, so he could look at his naked aunt's body, to see if it really had been as good as he thought it was the night before.
It was. Just the sight of her, warm and bed snuggly and cum streaked seemed to enflame his already awakening desires. The funkiness of their bodies, the heady aroma of their all-night fuck, only served to reawaken his desire once more.
He watched his cock, without touching it at all, as it jerked to full erection, moving decidedly upward and stretching out and filling and growing rigid with the ache of his need to fuck his elderly aunt yet again. The protective foreskin peeled back off the cockhead all by itself, in eager anticipation, and the big, broad, plum-shaped boycock head, so recently free of its first session of soaking inside a fiery cunt, throbbed and pulsated with a new life all its own.
At last little Donnie knew exactly what his cock was for.
Knowing made all the difference in the world.
Without waking her, he moved carefully over until he was positioned in fuck position just above her body. Her legs already hung loosely to the side, making plenty of room for his slender boyish form to move snugly in between them. Her old pussy was already so well lubricated with their night's cumming that he could have slipped the driest dick in the world into it.
But Donnie's dick was anything but dry. The activity of the night before had awakened all his glands and organs to full adult type use and they were generating his fluids at an excessive rate. A large, slippery drop of pearly white pre-cum oozed out of the mouth of his cockhead and he smeared it around the delicate, sensitive tissues, making the whole broad head of his boycock glisten slickly, ready for full force fuck action.
Looking down at her cunt while she slept, Donnie took his hands, one on either side of her vertical slit, and pulled gently, opening the cuntal mouth wide and staring down into the hot sizzling depths of it. He could see her clitoris, though he did not yet know that was what it was, and the incredibly alluring pinkness of her inner pussy walls, pulling his prick inward like a giant cock magnet.
Then, using no hands at all, just adjusting the angle of his hips as he held her cuntal mouth wide open, he bottomed his boycock head solidly up against the opened fuck hole and slowly, as his aging Aunt Melba came awake to the pleasures of his penile intrusion, he moved forward, watching his cockshaft as it sank slowly out of sight, until all of it was buried deeply there inside the searing, cum-washed slickness of her cuntal walls and his pubic bone was pounding soundly and relentlessly against her sensitive, well-fucked clitoris.
"Yes, yes," she said, raising her legs up to shift the angle of his in-and-out cockshaft movements, lifting her arms high over his head to close around his shoulders and pull his sweet little boychest hard against her feverish breasts, she began hip-hunching up to meet his cock as the broad end of it battered ecstatically against the receptive walls of her womb itself.
"Good fuck," little Donnie said, holding his hips still, his pubic bone tight up against hers so his pubic hair was grinding into the delicate tissues of her clitoris, just letting the clasping massage of her cuntal muscles ripple along the entire pulse-pounding length of his completely engorged boyfuck flesh. "Fuck" was one of the words he had learned during their all-night meat-swapping session, and he liked the sound of it almost as much as he liked the sound of the body-to-body, direct contact action itself. The sight of fucking. The smell of fucking. The taste of fucking. But best of all, the feeling of fucking.
But to cum, to have that heady fluid jerked free of his balls to hurtle through the shaft of his cock like hot lead being fired from a monstrous cannon, to have it force its way up through the tiny puckering lips of his cockhead and splurt out, away from him, free of his body and his soul and his mind. His seed, the fruit of his fuck, being offered to the closest, most willing receiver. To cum was, to Donnie, the very best of the very good all.
"Oh, yes," Melba said, twisting her hips from side to side to make his cock search around inside her cunt at varying angles, to slide so slickly and smoothly along the walls of her fuck hole with his feverish flesh prod of a genuine boyfuck. The first heat of his fuck flesh, burning on overload. The first fillings of his fuck staff, designed for a woman to handle, bursting beyond the limits of his capabilities. And all of it hers, to know and enjoy, to feel and to savor with her body, her hands, her lips, her cunt.
All too soon, she knew, the passions for him would regulate themselves and slow down somewhat, the flush of fever and the overfilled penis becoming accustomed to daily use as an adult man's flesh should be used, for the benefit and pleasure of his woman. His Melba Simpson. His aging aunt. His mother's. . .
Jesus Christ! Melba recalled with a start, the shameful knowledge she was trying to hide even from herself forcing its way to the surface of her lust-filled mind. I'm actually fucking my little nephew. This is awful. How did I ever let myself get into this ... this sin? My flesh can never be cleansed of the touch of his precious boycock? From feeling it, like this, poked all the way deep up inside my old belly? From feeling the huge width of it, the size and weight, the blistering heat? From feeling how good it ... How good ... How...
Goddamn, that feels good!
Melba let out a sharp little yelp, like a young puppy almost too excited to control herself, and scissored her legs wide in the air, hefting his body and jogging it, making his cock caress the mouth of her womb and trying to force room inside it for the big broad head of his plumb-shaped cock.
Donnie groaned arched his back away from her and upright, forcing the angle of his hips to move tighter against her, the shaft of his slippery, sliding boycock moving up inside her just a little more, the increased pressure of her pubic mound against his tightly pushing body only serving to make her cuntal lips close tighter around the base of his cock, grabbing it by the roots, forcing more and more blood up into the fuck-column and holding it there, making his already immense cock shaft burgeon even more. Becoming longer and fatter and harder and hotter. Thumping now with a pulse-beat she could feel radiating all the way through her tirelessly undulating fuck hole and right to her super sensitive clitoris where the message was picked up and instantly shared with every sensitive nerve ending in her entire body.
The cock of her dreams, and it had to be a little boy's. Worse than that, it had to be the cock and balls of her very own young nephew that dominated all her thoughts, dominated her flesh. That more than dominated her fluttering pussy, which held it helpless victim within the sensuously caressing boycock machine.
"It's too good, Auntie Melba," little Donnie said, beginning to move his hips, jack-hammer fashion, drilling his slippery, sliding, slap-sounding, odor-swirling boycock through the pleasure passageway, making her clitoris, instantly so sensitive Melba thought she would surely pass out at any second.
"Oh, yes," she said, hating the way his calling her "Auntie" had almost reinforced her feelings of shame. Of primal sin. Of unbearable guilt. INCEST! Right out of her boyfuck crazed mind. She shook aside the growing thoughts of wrongdoing and hip-hunched in counter-rhythm to Donnie, concentrating all her pleasure on the tiny point of her clitoris that repeatedly struck first against the ecstatic pressure of his tireless body.
"I gotta cum, Melba," Donnie said, his cock feeling radical inside her, the way it was moving so wildly, growing bigger and hotter and more explosively sensitive, second by second. "Now way I can hold it back now."
"No, Donnie!" Melba said sharply, wondering if, just by using the superior position of her thirty-five years, she could, through will power, manipulate his obviously overextended little-boy sensibilities.
Donnie stopped moving, his body freezing with his long, cum-shiny cockshaft more than half way out of her voracious fuck hole, just the bigger, broader head of it still held captive inside her, the sharply rising coronal ridge of it stretching the very lips of her cuntal mouth and threatening to withdraw from her almost immediately.
"You have to pace yourself, Donnie," she said, all Aunt Lecture-like. "You do want to grow up to be a real man, in every way, don't you?"
"Oh, yes," Donnie said. "So I can fuck regular."
"That's right, Donnie." Melba was aware of how the heat, along with some of the throbbing fullness had slowly withdrawn from his plum-like cockhead. She decided to test her control even further. "You see, the best men are very concerned about giving pleasure to their lovers, not about finding their own pleasure there."
"Aren't you pleased, Melba?" he asked, incredulously.
"Of course, dear," she said. "But I'm not as ready to have my orgasm ... well, the big one ... as you are right now. That means you have to control yourself and hold back, so you can keep on giving me pleasure until I'm ready at the same time you are. The very best cums happen together, with both of us going off together simultaneously."
"I'll try, but I sure feel like cumming already, Auntie Melba," Donnie said.
"Donnie, please," just a little exasperated, "fry not to call me 'auntie' when we're alone."
"Gee, I'm sorry," he said.
"All right now, Donnie," Melba said, brushing 'auntie' out of her thoughts in favor of the cock in the bush being so very much better than the bird in the hand. "Turn over, carefully. Make sure your cock never slips completely out of my cunt. I want you flat on your back on the bed, with me on top. Can you handle that?"
"Oh sure, Aun-" he stopped abruptly, his face flushing from a rush of embarrassed blood.
Melba laughed and rolled gently on top of him as he turned until his back was flat against the mattress and her hips were spread beside his, the lips of her cuntal mouth tightly stuffed with the fullness of his long, hard column that had never once thought of slipping free of its pleasure prison.
Melba reached under him and pulled a pillow up under his head, lifting him slightly to adjust it, making him as comfortable as she could considering how comfortable his cock was making her lusty old cunt. She smiled and watched him cross his arms, like a sultan, beneath his head, elevating it so he could effortlessly look down the flat hard length of his body, past the bobbing delights of her brown-nipple-tipped breasts, right into the torrid jungle of her pubic hair, overwhelming his scraggly red-brown thatch, to where his whole long cock was hidden, buried from all view inside a seething caldron of mixed cum and pussy juice and boyfuck fluid and everything nice.
"Yes, dear," she said. "That's right. Look at it. At us. Admire what you see. The most beautiful thing in the world, visually, your flesh and my flesh ... as one. Moving in and out and up and back. Around ... like this..."
As Melba said the inflammatory words to him, she illustrated each one of them by the way she was moving, angling herself deliberately so she could look down, as he was doing, to watch the movements of their fuck flesh merging in unconscious ritual. She would slide up along his shaft until even the coronal ridge of his broader cockhead slipped silently out through her rippling cuntal lips, then pose there so they could both admire the glistening, moisture ringed communion, only to slide back down it, slowly, swirling her hips around as she did, massaging the entire long length of his fuck-shaft in several directions at once, counting the inner action as well, the intensely involved clutch and snap of her almost too long unused real woman's cunt.
Donnie was moaning anew in no time at all, rocking his head from side to side on his arms, on the pillow, his eyes still open but glazed over in ecstasy as the lusty reality of his position washed over him in proof-positive sensation that he, simultaneously, savored to the fullest extent of all his natural capabilities. His hips involuntarily began hunching slightly upward off the big old mattress, pushing more and more of the length of his shaft up into Melba, riding him high and hard, like a prize bull at the county rodeo.
She could feel the size of his cock growing, increasing once more. And, as the huge plum-shaped cockhead expanded, growing tighter and more like a fist by the minute, it got hotter and hotter and started pulse-pounding like a jungle drum, sending messages of love and lust right to her heart, striving to beat in time with his.
It was imperative, if she was to continue leading him along at her pace, that she force him to back off a bit, to prolong their morning's delightful wake-up exercises.
"Donnie," Melba said, abruptly stopping her motions, high up on his shaft but noticeably gripping the whole head of it, "you're getting too excited again. I think you'd better relax a little. There, just lie back," she pushed gently against his hot, flat belly, letting her fingers stroke his sweet little-baby pubic hair and her hand-spans, just for a moment, measure the really incredible narrowness of his trim young fifteen-year-old waistline.
Donnie let her push him back into the mattress, stroking him differently around his belly and chest. Light, soothing, aunt-like relaxing touches. Then she told him to begin regulating his breathing, to take in heavy amounts, to pause, then exhale slowly. In no time at all, she could easily feel his pulse relaxing, his explosive heat retreating, the overfilled flush of his cock shaft slimming, trimming down.
Until she thought little Donnie might be ready for more fucking.
Melba Simpson was positive she was.
"Now, Donnie," she said, smiling as the inspiration for prolonging her game appeared suddenly, fully realized, in her imagination. "I'm going to move off of you, to take it out...."
Donnie's head looked up at her sharply, his eyes clearing of the lustful glazing, and he whimpered. "No, please. No..."
"Don't worry, Donnie," Melba said, smiling reassuringly, "we'll do it some more. We're just going to change it a little. That's all. You'll like it maybe even better. You'll see."
"Well, okay," he said, a little reluctantly, and looked down at their mingling flesh just as Melba, abruptly, backed up and off of him.
His cock, free of her flesh but still connected by stringy moisture, bobbed wildly in the air for a moment as, freedom brought with it the chilling breeze of the bedroom rather than the fiery clutch of her cuntal walls. Then, as if surrendering, it flopped straight back, hard, against Donnie's completely flat belly, making damp smacking sounds as it did.
Melba, oblivious to the stains dotting her big oversized bed, sat down beside Donnie and smiled at him, her hand almost unconsciously examining his bicep and intruding into his sweet young armpit where the hair was just beginning to grow, nursed along with all the moisture and dampness their exertions had nestled there so protectively.
"Donnie," she said, "go into the bathroom and bring me a washcloth. But first, get it wet. Use the warm water, dear."
"Sure, Melba," he remembered, "right away." Donnie jumped up from the bed like a little boy. His big cock, still quite hard, snapping out from his body at an upward angle like a salute to her wanton desirability ... not at all like a little boy. But, filled with youth and energy, he bounded across the bedroom carpet, cock swinging from side to side and balls banging, slap-slap-slap, against his smooth, down-covered thighs.
In the bathroom she could hear the boy moving around, turning on the water faucet, shuffling his bare feet around. Melba leaned back and relaxed, a sigh of certain pleasure oozing almost inaudibly through her lips. She looked up just in time to see him coming back toward her. Walking that way, facing her, was especially a visual treat for Melba Simpson. In all of her thirty-five long adult years, she had never seen anything so desirable, so spontaneously fuckable, as little Donald Bates' fifteen-year-old, just recently unvirginized cock.
Hot and hard and still standing strong. Rigid, just barely relaxing enough to start listing, bent to the right and arching out and down, over his heavy balls, the column of his fuck flesh, like a construction-site crane, swinging freely from side to side.
"Here, Au Uh, Melba," Donnie said, grinning boyishly and offering her the warm, wet washcloth.
"No, you do it, dear," Melba said, her eyes sparkling playfully so he would know that was part of the game. She slowly spread her legs wide apart. "You do it. Take the rag. Oh, yes, that's right. Only be more gentle. Yes, and go over all of it dear, as good as you can. Yes, pull the lips apart and get inside. Dab! Yes. Whatever you do, don't wipe across my clit with that rag. OH! Oh, yes, Donnie."
Melba's cleansing ritual itself turned into ecstatic pleasure for her. Pleasure that could have been easily doubled had she known to what extent little Donnie was reacting positively to the same little chore. His cock was no longer shrinking and sagging downward. It had started a slow, head-jerking reawakening, pushing out longer over the heavy orbs of his cum-filled boyballs.
"That's enough, Donnie," Melba said, smiling and taking the wash cloth from him, spreading it out around her hand, palm open. "Now, you just relax, dear. I'm going to clean off your beautiful big cock."
Purring, like the sound of her words, the instinctive male reaction to unabashed priapism, cock-worship, Donnie closed his eyes and stretched sensuously. The image of a cat, long and sleek and in running trim, but with enormous genitalia, ran across the television screen of Melba Simpson's sex-washed mind.
When his cock was as clean as it would ever be, Melba tossed the washcloth aside, instantly out of her thoughts. She leaned forward, over Donnie, sniffing and smelling the fuck-funky fragrance of his broad cockhead where a fresh drop of pearly pre-cum was already gathering and oozing heavily out of his tiny cock-mouth. Melba darted her head forward her tongue reaching, and lapped across his cockhead. The drop of boycum was gone, the plum-like, taut-fleshed head of his cock standing firm and waiting for her lips to surround it.
Melba could wait no longer, her head moved rapidly forward and she took in all of his cock and shaft she could hold, until it reached the back of her throat and threatened to make her gag. Backing off just a bit, taking the root by her hand and pushing gently downward into his balls, his pubic mound, she began laving the super-sensitive head of his cock with a side-to-side mouthing motion that quickly brought new blood, new strength and rigidity, to his cockshaft.
Her seeking tongue moved, in a life all its own, around and around, constantly laving the slick, smooth cockhead, digging down deep into the single eye of his cock mouth and trying to pull, through a steady sucking movement, more and more of his delicious nectar up through the soda straw of his twitching fuck column.
As quickly as she had begun, Melba stopped the action, moving back and off is spit-slick, now flushed red and raw boyfuck shaft.
"Now, Donnie," she said, abruptly moving onto all fours like an animal, like a slobbering dog in heat. "Get behind me. I've got it all wet and ready, so you can put it in me that way. Dog style," She said, laughing, twitching her ass from side to side and, reaching behind her, pulling the cheeks wide to make room for Donnie who was eagerly in position already, anxious to follow her lead.
He gripped the wide, blood-filled shaft of his cock with both his hands, near the base, and lifted the column, looking at what he was doing, until he had it lined up properly where he could see the hole of her fuck channel gaping wide in invitation. He could see way up inside her body from that angle and feel the heat radiating outward from her fuck-flesh along with the almost overwhelming odor of her mature lust.
"Hurry, Donnie," Melba said and moaned, her hip twitching becoming almost involuntary with her.
Donnie, saying nothing, positioned the broad head of his cock tight against the cuntal hole and, straining to make it as big as he could, pulling back on the root to stretch it out longer, fell forward, burying the super wide cockhead, coronal ridge and all, along with every fraction of every inch of the whole long shaft in one single, effortless plunge.
Melba sighed and moaned incoherently.
Donnie closed his eyes and tried to heighten the sensation that was surrounding his boycock where it was just beginning, once again, to soak up the marinade of a well-intentioned fuck.
Jeff Dickson, Donnie's social worker from the County Adoption Board, couldn't believe his eyes.
It was true, he had been preoccupied when he entered the house unannounced, but that was his right. He was almost a police officer, and could walk, freely, in or out of any of his client's houses. When he had heard the guttural, groaning sounds coming from Melba Simpson's big old bedroom, he had, naturally, presumed someone was in pain, so he had rushed to their aid.
And froze in his tracks just inside the door where, in profile, he could see all of Melba Simpson's naked body, hunched over on the bed, her ass high in the air. And all of little Donald Bates' naked body, arching down over her, like a dog. All but Donald's cock that was, until it started moving in and out, as Jeff Dickson, amazed, watching in silence.
CHAPTER SIX
Working for the County Adoption Board as an investigator, Jeff Dickson thought he had at one time or another seen everything because of his job. But even Dickson had to admit he had never seen anything like the kid's prick sliding in and out, in profile, of Melba Simpson's still trim-looking cunt. He knew, of course, that Melba was just thirty-five. Her age was all over the documents in little Donnie's file folder. At almost sixty well, fifty-eight years old, actually she looked like a young woman to him, and fifteen-year-old Donald Bates looked like a boy without his diaper, who had grown an especially admirably shaped extra leg that was being solidly used.
Jeff Dickson had been offered all kinds of bribes on his job, too, often including sex. But he had never seen anything so exciting as the torrid tableau spread out, banquet fashion, for his enjoyment. He wondered if he had, ever, looked anything like that to anyone. Of course he had fucked dog-style before, who hadn't? Unconsciously his right hand came up and brushed, in nervous reaction, inspecting the beads of perspiration that had formed there, through his balding gray hair, his matching gray eyes never leaving the in-out, in-out juncture of the naked couple writhing in incestuous lust on the oversized bed. At two hundred pounds, Dickson was sure he had never been that thin, that trim, even as a child, like little Donnie.
A child. The thought repeated itself in Dickson's tortured, tormented mind. Repeated again and again until recognized, then running on from there. Melba Simpson is having sex with a child. Her temporary ward. Her very own nephew. The child she had made application to legally adopt. Why ... that's outrageous. Illegal. At least incest...
The idea, because of his thoughts, began building in the core of Jeff Dickson's guts, down around the root of his shriveled up old dick where his long neglected balls began throbbing, demanding attention.
She could go to jail for this, at the very least. I could just take her away right now, and lock her up. I could ... I could...
Jesus Christ! The idea became clear to him in a second and, as it did, his almost forgotten prick, as old and as shriveled up as it was, began stirring to life, jerking and lengthening and becoming, somehow, sexy.
I could crawl right up there and fuck her. I could do anything I can think of with her beautiful body...
Goddamn! His hands, moving rapidly over his buttons, ties, clasps, zipper, were the only sound he had made since entering the room through the open doorway. All his thoughts, his reactions, even the unconscious but definitely building erection, had happened in just seconds, really. There had been no time for the definitely preoccupied couple, their flesh joined in a single-thought objective, to acknowledge an intruder.
Dickson's shoes, his shirt, his pants, all fell silently to the floor and he was standing here, his fat stomach stretching a large pair of boxer shorts sky blue and well worn to their absolute limit, his feet still in tall black Banlon stockings. Wearing them, he walked to the side of the bed, right up against them. He could just reach out and touch them, their flesh, both of them, where it joined in sibilant, ball-slapping-ass sounds.
He tapped Melba on the shoulder. For a moment she thought it was Donnie, until she counted hands, then her eyes flew open and her body, hunched back against Donnie's incredible dick with all she could put into it, froze rigidly against him. Recognizing her alarm, Donnie's eyes opened almost simultaneously.
Awed, both of them gaping in astonishment, frozen in sex-locked cock-in-cunt, they looked at the almost naked stranger in their midst.
"Do you mind, Miss Simpson?" he said, ripping open the buttons of his boxer shorts and letting them fall out of sight beneath the bed, his old cock, wrinkled and aged, just barely standing hard beneath the enormous round of his belly, layered in rippling strata of fat on fat, poking out and demanding attention. "Since this end is unoccupied, I thought you might oblige me with a little head...."
"My god," Melba said, finally recognizing him, "Mister Dickson!"
"Mister Dickson!" Donnie said, almost simultaneously.
"Please don't let me disturb you," he said, trying to be gentle but the unmistakable edge of steel on his voice allowed for no misunderstanding. "I've been enjoying your little ... performance, and thought I might like some, too."
"That's revolting," Melba said, her ardor rapidly leaving as she sensed, within her cuntal walls, that Donnie's dick was shrinking at a hazardous rate.
"Surely you will reconsider that position, Miss Simpson," Jeff Dickson said, reaching down over his stomach to touch his cock, that he couldn't even see, lifting it and pointing it, as best he could, toward her face. Toward her lips.
"You are clearly at a disadvantage and I'm sure, legal considerations alone, will bring you around to my way of thinking. Right now..." Dickson's voice was growing more forceful and his twitchy old, gray-hair surrounded prick moving closer to Melba's warm, sensual lips.
The clarity of his words washed over her with a sobering effect she would have doubted possible and she knew, suddenly and quite completely, that she had to do whatever he wanted. Or else...
Oh, the sin of it all, to be caught incestuously coupled to my little nephew. I could never stand the publicity of it all, the trial. Prison. Oh, my God!
Perhaps ... if I do what he wants, he would forget what he knows about me and let me go free. The thoughts were worth a trial to Melba, anyway. Carefully she thought of her phrasing, before speaking.
"And ... if I do what you want, you'll forget about what you saw?" she asked.
"Of course, my dear," Dickson said, his prick moving still closer to her waiting mouth. "I thought that was understood."
"Then I suppose I could. Just ... once," Melba said, steeling her courage, her tongue moistening her lips, dreading the first taste of his depraved old flesh.
"Oh no," Dickson said, grunting with effort and bending himself more forward, forcing his crotch closer to her. "Not once. Whenever I.. shall we say . . feel the urge?"
"Oh, no," Melba said, wailing, her head turning away from his sweat-scented pubic area. "That's too cruel. Too heartless..."
"So is what you are doing to innocent little Donald," Dickson said, smiling at Donald who, his dick quite limp but still snug inside Melba's cooling-off cunt, looked at him guiltily, uncomprehendingly.
"It's all right, Donald," he said, speaking to the boy. "Nothing's wrong, really. You just go right ahead. I know it feels good to you, and I like to watch. Nothing's going to happen to you or to your aunt, as long as we all have fun together. Understand?"
"Oh, yes," Donald said, smiling finally. "Lots of fun fucking. It feels real good to me."
"And it should," Dickson said. "I can remember when I was your age, believe it or not, and I had a hard-on all the time. Just go right ahead, son, and fuck her all you want."
His words of encouragement removed some of Donald's fear and, almost unnoticed, his boycock began stretching out again, there inside Melba's cunt, and filling up, growing long and fat and hard all over again. When he thought he was ready for it, Donnie made a tentative, texting prick plunge, pulling it way back almost out of Melba's cunt then jamming it all back in again, tight and hard. His balls slapped up and under Melba in her bent-over dog-style fuck position, striking hard against her engorged clitoris with their prickly little boy hairs, sending her fresh messages of endless orgasms.
Sensing Donnie's newfound courage, Melba began slowly resigning herself to her captive position. She literally had to do whatever the awful old man from the County Adoption Board wanted her to do with or for him. For his awful, fat old body. For his shriveled, sour-looking, old gray-haired cock.
She turned her head back again, forcing herself to face Dickson's crotch and belly, heaving out over the edge of the bed and pointing at her face. She forced herself to smile and to think good thoughts.
Perhaps I can pretend his old cock is really Donnie's delightful dick, and I'm really giving the boy pleasure.
Yes, I can try that. She sighed, her body shuddering visibly from the effort, and she closed her eyes and smiled.
"Yes, yes," she said, passionately, beginning to whip her hips from side to side and to push back, hard, against Donnie every time his cock, moving in long-dicking pace, bottomed out inside her cunt, "give it to me. Now. NOWWWW!"
Dickson fell forward on the bed, supporting himself with his hands that were sliding, digging into the bed beneath Melba.
Fortunately his gross bulk didn't land on her and he was just right for Melba to reach. In astonishment, he saw her mouth open, glistening red with moisture and desire, and close around the almost cold, long-neglected head of his cock.
Her nursing action, suctioning and pulling gently at his flesh, reawakened inside him thoughts long forgotten about lovers and long passionate nights of lovemaking. The flesh of his genitalia responded along with Melba's mouthing motions, along with Dickson's mental recollections, and grew larger and more desirable.
The harsh acrid taste that Melba had at first detected soon left his cock in a bath of spittle and all that remained was the sweat around his balls and the faintly lingering trace of urine on his pubic hair. As lone as she could keep her eyes closed and not have to see his gross ugly fat, it might be all right. So far, so good, she thought, moving her lips at both ends of her body, each set surrounding and trying to devour a different cock, fucking hear at the same time from both ends of her sensation-wracked body.
As best as he could, Dickson was working with them, hip-hunching and trying to get more of his cock-shaft into Melba's mouth, her throat. He was caressing her breasts with one hand and stroking his hand through her hair with the other, mumbling encouraging love-sounds.
Donnie was in an animal mood, without question, his eyes again closed and his body arched way back up and off of Melba's back, his knees bent to perfect the angle of entry where his incredibly long boycock, relentlessly, sliding on their mingling cum juices, moved in and out in long-dicking, fast-paced plunges, his boy balls growing up hard and tight against the column of his fuck shaft as he tried to drive them, also, deep inside the hole of her body. He, too, began mumbling unconscious sounds as his orgasm rapidly approached.
Sensing the cum that would wash over her momentarily at both ends, Melba really swung into action. She didn't know how much longer she would have to stay in her position and, already, her knees and wrists were aching painfully, threatening to cause her to fall over in exhaustion even before they could finish their fuck. She forced her buttocks back against Donnie, sinking as much of his cockshaft into her whirling snatch as she could. She opened her throat and, gasping for air around Dickson's plunging prick, began laving the head of it with her tongue as frantically as she knew how.
The sensations surrounded her all at once. The certain knowledge that little Donnie was about to pour fourth his massive hot boyfuck juices into her cunt. The certain knowledge that fat old Jeff Dickson's cock was about to start spitting into her throat ... the flavor she hadn't yet sampled ... the special taste of his fuck fluid. The certain knowledge that her own orgasm, cum-like, was rippling through her belly and vibrating out to all her nerve-endings as she cunt-spasmed, mouth-twitched, into the first three-way cum of Melba Simpson's thoroughly adult life.
They all came off together. Donnie's cock lurched and throbbed, the little mouth on the head of it opening wide and spitting forth gallons of sticky hot boyfuck, pouring it out and into Melba's upside down cunt where it oozed freely around the sides of Donnie's cock and streaked down Melba's thighs ... down Donnie's thighs, in an endlessly flowing, overheated river of commingling cum ... his and hers. One.
Dickson's randy old dick throbbed and sputtered, sending out jerk after jerk of motion along with splurt after splurt of long pent-up cum that tasted like plain yogurt to Melba as she eagerly, greedily, swallowed it all down, all but the trickle she couldn't get inside her lips that ran, in a streak, down her chin and down his balls to puddle on the sheet by her face.
Melba's overheated cunt spasmed uncontrollably from the all night, all morning, endless fuck, squeezing tightly around Donnie's dick and trying to milk it of the last precious drop of his boyish juices. Her tongue, responding to the spasming action of her cunt, closed tight inside her mouth to the gaping hole of Dickson's fuck-stick, trying to tease it by pretending to force his cum to stay down inside his dick before she finally let it out into her mouth ... her throat ... her belly.
They had no cum left. Except Melba Simpson, of course, who had most of theirs by that time. She had never felt so stuffed before, by anything, and the knowledge that it was fresh hot mancum well, really, considering Donnie's youth, in his case she should have thought boycum filling her belly, filling her cunt, was pleasure fantastically accented for Melba, where she had fallen over, limp, her knees and wrists finally giving out on her after the frenzy of their multiple orgasm.
Donnie had pitched forward, atop Melba as she fell, striving to keep his long, relaxing cock shaft still buried up inside her still twitching cunt. To no avail. It slipped out just like that, washed out of Melba's body on a tide of flowing cum and, after a moment, he rolled off her body to sprawl, almost motionless, heavy breathing, beside her on the bed.
Jeff Dickson had never had such a thorough orgasm in all his life. He was sure that not only his rusty old balls, but his ass-hole as well had, somehow, squeezed out through the end of his dick, and been swallowed up down somewhere inside Melba's stomach. Along with his cum and his imaginary balls and ass-hole, she also sucked all of the strength right out of his knees, leaving him weak and helpless and shaking like a baby where he hunched over, too tired to move, half on the floor and half draped over the wide of Melba Simpson's oversized bed.
It took him a long time before he was able to move, and when he did he noticed that Donnie was definitely asleep, on the far side of the bed. Poor boy, she probably had him fucking every minute since he's been in her care. Probably exhausted by now. Christ, look at the size of the kid's whanger, and it's soft, too.
Melba wasn't asleep, but he could tell she was still quite exhausted from their three-way ordeal. Her eyes, though open, were misted over and she was mentally someplace else, relaxing.
Using all his strength of will, Dickson pushed at Melba until he had had pushed her over just a little on the bed, until he thought there as room enough for him to crawl up beside her, too.
When he finally stretched out on the hard flat bed, his tired old knees tension free for the first time in hours, it seemed, with his fat old naked but pushed up against Melba's trim, fantastically warm, real women's buttocks, Jeff Dickson knew he had, at last, entered paradise.
At least the mouth of paradise, he thought. I'll get my dick in the rest of it soon enough.
At least an hour passed before movement on the bed caused Jeff Dickson to come awake, with a start. For a moment he was confused, wondering why he was in a strange room in a strange house on a strange bed. Naked. With wonderful warm buttocks snuggled tightly against his flabby backside.
Then, in a flash, it all came back to him, how he had walked into Melba Simpson's house and accidentally observing her fucking her young nephew Donald Bates. How he had sought to turn his accidental discovery to his advantage, sexually. How he and Melba and Donnie, too had fucked up a storm, giving him the best cum he could remember and leaving him completely exhausted. And asleep.
Raising his head to look across the bed, he saw Donnie smiling at him and pushing at Melba's face. The boy had awakened earlier than the old people. Incredible stamina, that kid, Jeff thought, watching Donald move his crotch over the sleeping Mabel's face and lean forward to just where his cock, already stretching out and filling with fresh blood, teased playfully across Melba's lips.
Soon, her eyes opened and she saw the dear boy looming over her, is precious cock already growing heavy and hard, just waiting to be pleasured by her mouth. She could smell the sweat and the sex juices of him that still clung, in drying, skin-pulling streaks across his thighs, his flat belly, and his little-boy pubic hairs. She was eager to reacquaint her senses with the taste of his cock ... his incredibly delicious little boy cum.
She smiled and let her tongue slip out through her closed lips and moisten then, and she held it still while he ricked back and forth over it with his cockhead, playing cocktip to tongue tip with her seething emotions.
When she could stand the teasing no longer, she pulled at Donnie until she had him seated on her breasts, his hard flat buttocks perfectly kissing a nipple on each side, and his warm ;highs beside her head. In that position, his long cock naturally stretched out and reached over her mouth, her nose, to poke playfully at her eyes. He picked it up in his hand and tested the weight of it, wondering if it wasn't, somehow, growing a bit bigger from all the use it had been having in the last twenty-four hours.
Actually not even that, and he had only been a man for less than one day. No more a virgin, definitely not that, but still filled with the joy of his physical existence and the definite knowledge that he could please a real woman with his cock. That, above all else, made Donnie Bates a man to Donnie Bates.
Holding his hefty cock as it continued to grow and flesh out fatter and rounder, he began moving it, like a pointer, around Melba's head, touching first one eye and then the other, as if make-believe fucking her in her eyes.
Watching his childish play, Jeff Dickson turned over on his side so he could see better, his face right beside Melba's on the same pillow and staring just inches away from the head of Donnie's magical cock.
They looked at each other and laughed, two kids in a sandbox on the playground, and Donnie moved his cockhead back to pretend fuck it into Melba's right ear. He butted it up against each of Melba's nostrils one at a time.
"Gee, Melba," he said, dream-like, not really talking, "I wish there was some way I could really fuck you in all your holes."
She smiled at his boyish imagination. "Don't worry, Donnie," she said, "there are plenty of holes for you. I don't think you'll ever have to worry about finding a place for your beautiful big cock."
Since her mouth was open, talking to him, Donnie just naturally moved so the angle lined up with her throat and, forcefully, pushed the broad head of his cock past her lips and into her mouth. Melba's tongue began laving his smooth-skinned cockhead and squirreling around inside his foreskin, forcing it to roll back past his coronal ridge so it could engorge so broadly there was no way his foreskin could move back down over the head of his cock. With it free to torment with pleasure, Melba attacked his cockhead with glee, using her tongue like a brace-and-bit and drilling down deep into his piss hole, trying to squirm right down inside his boycock itself.
Donnie, appreciating all the attention, was lost in a blaze of fresh cock-in-mouth sensations. He began humming, moaning unintelligibly and hunching his hips forward, forcing more and more of his long hard cockshaft down into Melba's waiting, willing throat.
Jeff Dickson, watching all the time, had felt his own rebirth, deep inside his gut somewhere behind the root of his cock. His balls, although they still ached from his previous exertion, twisted anew and began producing more fuck juice, more cum, as his rusty old cock stretched out and started throbbing, jerking to rigid attention. At least what for Jeff Dickson at fifty-eight passed for rigid attention.
Listening to their sounds, watching them as closely as he was, with his face literally right into their mouth fuck, the odor of their flesh right inside his nostrils, had heated Jeff Dickson up to an incendiary pitch. . Throwing caution to the winds, he twisted around on the bed and, with a minimum of difficulty, maneuvered his fat old frame down until he was inside Melba's legs, between her knees, and lining his old cock up to penetrate that most desirable of all fuck holes, the passionately youthful-looking cunt of Melba Simpson.
Sighing, holding his cock by the shaft, he leaned forward, his chin resting over Donnie's shoulder, facing away from him, blocking Dickson's whole ugly, fat, definitely unfuckable body from Melba's view.
Perhaps that was a good thing, at any rate, his old cock moved easily into Melba's well-fucked cuntal hole, slipping in effortlessly on a well-lubricated pathway glistening from layer after layer of Donnie M. Bates' little boy cum, until it reached its maximum depth, somewhere noticeably short of Donnie's powers of penetration.
It felt so good to him, so good to Melba that she even forgot it was fat Jeff and not her beloved Donnie, fucking her at both ends, and Jeff slipped right into the movements of the fuck, sliding his cock in and out, back and forth, trying to match the energetic pace of Donnie's movements, mouth-fucking Melba just inches away. The heady aromas of their second three-way fuck swirled up around all of them filling their nostrils, and announcing the rapid approach of their second incredible multiple cum.
Just as that was over, for all three of them, Jeff, his cock still deep inside Melba, smiled a secret thought about depravities yet to come.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The entire next day was peaceful and quiet for Melba Siimpson. In the early morning she awoke with the certain dread something horrible, something ominous, was sure to happen. Jeff Dickson would be back, she was sure, making more sexual demands of her frail body, forcing his gross, ugly bulk onto her again and again.
Melba had been pleasantly surprised. Dickson hadn't called on her at all. If she were to know the truth, the day before, for Jeff Dickson, that held three separate orgasms for Dickson, had been almost all his tired, old, fifty-eight-year-old body could stand. It isn't every man his who tries to keep up with a fuck-hungry fifteen-year-old kid like little Donnie Bates. Delighted at being home alone, having the whole house for his private pleasure because fat Dickson's even fatter wife, Mabel, had driven over to Farmersville for a bridge tournament.
That was all right with Jeff. Mabel had long since given up making her physical demands of him, much to his delight. If there was anything he preferred in the way of woman flesh, it definitely was not fat. A fine, trim young thing like Melba Simpson was more his meat any day.
Still, it was pleasant, having the house to himself. He felt so good, early, that he phoned the County Adoption Board and told them he was taking the day off. "A little head cold. Probably be gone by tomorrow..."
He stayed in bed as long as he dared, stretching out and not carrying all his bulk around, feeling good, trying to re-live in his mind all the wondrous fucks he had seen, heard, smelled, tasted, felt, the day before ... letting his almost abused fuck flesh get back to normal so, at least, his old cock wouldn't hang half-hard all the time and red, like an abused, much-used flesh piston.
Melba and Donnie had done much the same thing together. Sometimes in her bed, sometimes in his, with long restful sessions between each shorter, even restful fuck. By day's end, which had seen them exerting themselves to the minimum degree while still engaging in totally satisfactory sex, they found themselves ready for a long, leisurely bath together. Then, after a quickie dinner of broiled steaks, tossed green salad, and french fries, they were ready for bed.
They slept a long time before they woke up to fuck, and even that half-asleep, half-awake fuck had been something special as each of them, Melba and Donnie, roamed around in their minds while they went through the becoming familiar rituals of cock-in-mouth followed by tongue-in cunt. Of upside down, backward, and spiraling cock-in-cunt contortions.
They fell asleep just that way, finally, with Donnie's relaxing cock buried deep up inside Melba's belly, soaking in their freshly minted fuck-fluids. Somewhere, along about morning, it slipped out all by itself. Even then, it took them another hour to discover that fact, and make it hard again so they could bury it once more.
The following morning she was sure she had imagined the whole depraved thing, about Jeff Dickson discovering her incestuous secret and blackmailing her to sue her body to slake his shameful old needs.
They had a quick morning fuck, as usual, then showered together, Donnie finally dressing and going into the living room to read a comic book while Melba busied herself in the kitchen, attending to chores she had been too preoccupied to handle the last few days.
And working at a fat brunch for the two of them at the same time. She breaded some extra-thick pork chops she happened to have had on hand, and started to oven bake them. She prepared some fresh asparagus and pop-out-of-the-can flaky dinner rolls. The different scents of the food going all through the house, reaching even Donnie in the living room and making his mouth water in anticipation. It was onlv good food, next to good cunt, Donnie was discovering, that could make him react in such a basically animal fashion.
Melba finished cooking the meal, phenomenally bringing everything off with precision timing that had always before been impossible for her. She put it on the kitchen table and called Donnie in to eat.
He didn't need a second invitation, dropping his book to the floor beside the overstuffed easy chair and leaping to his feet the second he heard her, "Donnie, come into the kitchen."
"Right away, Au Melba," he said, but he was already in the kitchen, looking at the heavenly food spread out before him and, with a rush, he realized he was actually starving. Famished. Gut empty.
"Guess all that fucking really takes something out of you," he said, almost absently, to himself.
"What?" Melba said, never expecting to hear anything so blunt if true come out of her fifteen-year-old nephew.
"Oh," he said, thinking that perhaps he should correct himself, judging from her startled reaction, "I said I sure am hungry today."
"Yes," she said, smiling. "I thought that's what I heard you say."
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Donnie said, almost repeating his earlier statement.
"Yes, Donnie," Melba said. "It does indeed, so you just go right ahead and eat all you can hold."
"Good," he said, digging into the pork chops and helping himself to the asparagus in Cheddar sauce, then, smiling teasingly, he added, "then we'll make me all empty again, right?"
Melba couldn't decide whether such openness in their conversation about the openness of their bedtime sexing was a good thing or not. She didn't even know if she shouldn't try to muster up a blush or two or not. She did neither. She just picked up the plate of rolls, took one for herself, and passed the plate on to Donnie.
"Good food," he said, gulping down great mouthfuls, using the hot flaky dinner rolls to mop up the last traces of juice on his plate. "Sure makes me feel strong and ready."
"Oh, you," Melba said, deciding it was about time to calm little Donnie down a bit.
That's when Jeff Dickson walked into the kitchen. Unannounced, as usual.
The reality of the nightmare Melba Simpson had been attempting to suppress for the last two days reemerged in her head full grown. It was fat and ugly and fifty-eight years old. It carried a fat, much-scarred and overstuffed briefcase and answered to the name of Jeff Dickson of the County Adoption Board. The one single man who knew of her sinful crime against nature; that she had fucked her own young nephew. The one single man who could lock her up in a shameful prison forever and ever.
Oh, God, she thought and suppressed a long, shuddering moan that tried to escape her body, to betray her extreme vulnerability to the depraved, fat menace who threatened her.
"Glad to see you both healthy," he said, "that way our fucking'll be so much better."
Donnie snickered youthfully and looked up at Melba, his eyes sparkling secret messages of lust and desire straight into her.
"Boy, yeah," Donnie said, turning to face Dickson. "I been eating like a horse."
"You should, my boy," Dickson said, not unkindly, "you're certainly hung like one."
Melba could no longer suppress her gasp, and it escaped her just as Donnie broke out into gleeful laughter.
"Oh, you're just awful!" Melba said, no longer able to control her hostility. "You shameful man. Why don't you just go away and leave us alone?"
"Now, my dear," Dickson said, looking at her with his little steely gray eyes and clucking like a fat old hen, "don't say anything rash, you might-"
"Rash!? " Melba was indignant. "Forcing yourself into my home, into my ... my ... Well, forcing me to have sexual relations with you. That's the most depraved thing I can..."
"Miss Simpson," Dickson said, speaking louder and overriding her words. "That will be about enough of that. Need I remind you that the reason I am here to have sexual relations with you is because you have sexual relations with little Donnie, here."
Donnie, paying close attention to their conversation, especially the way the man seemed to upset and terrify his aunt so, looked up at the man when he heard his name used. He didn't say anything, though.
Melba gasped and her left hand involuntarily moved up to cover her mouth.
"The worst, most forbidden basic crime of all, Miss Simpson, need I remind you, is the abomination of incest." Dickson smiled as if he were savoring a fresh new flavor on the delicate taste buds inside his mouth.
"But that's still different, between Donnie and me," Melba said, continuing to confront the powerful man who held her fate in his hands. Not just her remaining free or going to prison fate, but more than that, the final say so about whether or not Melba would be allowed to adopt her sweet orphan nephew Donald Bates. "We ... we ... love each other. We want to ... make love. We-"
"Please, my dear," Dickson interrupted her, "at least have the common decency to say 'fuck' when you mean it. Make love ... bah!. "
"We do," she insisted. "It's natural ... normal with us. But with you, forcing your way in here. Why, I hardly even know you."
"An introduction hardly constitutes license for fornication, my dear," he said. "Besides, I don't care if I know you or not. The meat will be no sweeter...."
"No, you just don't understand," Melba pleaded. "A woman can't ... Not just like that. Perhaps if I knew you for a while, but then-"
"Enough, my dear," he interrupted her again. "We're wasting too much time. Shall we move on to the bedroom and start disrobing?"
"Oh, I can't. Never again," Melba said, stark terror in her eyes. "Not with you."
"Now," he said, much more forcefully than Melba expected he would have been capable of.
She froze in shock and Donnie stood up from the table, moving in front of Jeff Dickson, apparently attempting to confront him boldly.
"No, Donnie," Melba said, coming to her senses at the last minute and reaching out to take her nephew by his shoulder, holding him back. "It's ... really ... all ... right. We have to do as he says, otherwise I could go away for a long time."
Donnie, the momentary anger leaving his face, turned to smile at his aunt. "Okay," he said, "if you say so. We fuck now?"
"Yes, my boy," Jeff Dickson said, sounding very much like W.C. Fields, "we fuck now. On to the bedroom, my beautiful sex partners. On to the bedroom."
Jeff Dickson stood in the center of Melba Simpson's big master bedroom. He had placed his briefcase out of the way, near the head of the bed, and moved back where there was more room, standing on Melba's heirloom oval rag-scraps rug, his arms reaching out to his sides.
"Okay, Miss Simpson. Oh, dear. That'll never do. I suppose, as we are definitely intimate, that I might call you Melba at times like these," he said. "Okay, Melba, come here and undress me. I feel like you're my valet today."
Melba gasped again. "Oh, God!" She moved up to stand before the loathsome form of Jeff Dickson, short and fat and decidedly unwashed. His balding gray hair was matted from perspiration and she could smell it as she worked, her fingers reluctant to do the bidding of her mind, to open the buttons of his light blue dress shirt. Finally she had them all open and the tails of the shirt pulled free of the enormous waistband of his "stout and portly" trousers. It was about all Melba could do to reach around his waist, using the whole length of her arms. Still, she pulled his shirt off his arms and put it aside on top of her dressing stool.
"Now," he said, leering at her and warming up to the master slave game, "the pants, if you please. No, better start with my shoes and socks."
Melba, in silence, like a footman from an old late night television movie, hunched down in front of him, up under the overhang of his enormous belly, and untied his shoes, tapping gently on them, one at a time, to indicate that he should raise his feet while she took them off.
She started to stand up but he stopped her, using his hand to push her back down on the floor again. "No, the socks, too," he said. "Just because, in my haste the other day, I left my stockings on, doesn't mean I enjoy fucking that way. To the contrary, naked fucks are best of all."
Melba pulled his long black knit socks off his feet, noticing how scraggly and in need of attention his toenails were, and how a slightly fetid odor began creeping into her nostrils. She gagged because of the thought images forming in her mind and stood up quickly, before he could find another excuse to stop her and force her to remain down before him.
She reached for his belt and unfastened it. Then the hook at the top of his enormous pants and, finally, pulling down the zipper. The yards and yards of dark blue fabric billowed out and sagged down his legs, falling effortlessly to the floor. He stepped out of the circles of blue and, pointing, indicated his shorts.
Melba, struggling to not appear to be gagging, opened the buttons at the top of his boxers and let them fall down.
Jeff Dickson stood before her naked. Acres of fat blubber overhanging a moderately nice cock, she remembered, once it got going. Lots of scraggly, tired-looking gray hair. No gray and silver fox was Jeff Dickson.
"You are forgetting the best part, my dear," he said, "but I can wait. A little."
He crawled, ponderously, up onto the bed, into the middle of it, and, flopping back, looked at them. "Donald," he said, "stand still so your dear auntie can take all your clothes off."
Donnie moved to where Dickson had been standing, kicking aside the soiled, yellow-streaked boxer shorts, and smiled at Melba. As soon as her fingers touched his shirt and her face lit up in passionate expectation, Donnie began helping her. In two seconds flat, all his clothes were off and he was totally naked.
Melba reached down and hefted Donnie's relaxed cock and balls, taking the whole heavy mass snugly into her hand and raising it toward her face. Her tongue flicked out once and moistened her sensual red lips just before she opened her mouth and-
"No!" Dickson called. "Come here, Donald, and sit down beside me."
Puzzled, Donnie moved up onto the bed and sat down, facing Melba. An audience of two, waiting for the show to begin.
"And now, you," Dickson said, "my dear. Undress as if you wanted to perform the most lewd striptease in the world. Now!"
Donnie smiled, watching Melba move into the game. It was still all fun to him, despite the worry he kept feeling from her. Despite the terror and stark fear that was on her face earlier when she had tried to confront the fat old man. Donnie, too, wished he would go away and leave the fucking to him and Melba.
Melba hadn't bothered, that morning, to put on many clothes, and what she was wearing was loose, and not the least bit provocative, nevertheless, she tried to move as sensually as she could as she kicked her loose leather strap sandals off and pulled her sheer, shirt-cut silk blouse out of her much faded Levi's. She undid the buttons, one by one, trying to look sexy, and held the shirt up in front of her, hiding her braless breasts for just a minute before tossing it aside, watching Dickson smile approvingly.
She turned around, her back to the bed, and unbuttoned her tight, man-cut Levi's, wiggling her hips from side to side as she forced them down her legs, acutely conscious of the fact that she was nude beneath the cotton fabric of her pants. Then they were off, and Melba was as naked as the two males waiting for her on her oversized bed. Unable to withhold herself any longer, she took a deep breath and turned around, facing them squarely and raising her arms up, completely opening her nude body to Dickson's depraved gaze.
Melba watched his eyes roam from her nipples down across her flat, trim belly, just slightly protruding, to the heart-shaped pride of her pubic hair.
"Very good, my dear," Dickson said, spreading his arms wide, "now come here. But, on your way, please hand me my briefcase. Yes, that one, thank you."
Melba picked up the case, surprised at how heavy it was, and brought it to the bed, handing it to the fat potentate before sitting down, hesitantly, on the edge of her bed.
"Now," Dickson said, patting the place on the mattress between his fat, pale white thighs, "sit here."
Gulping, Melba crawled over his huge thigh and settled, as well as she could, between his huge legs.
"Now, my dear, you may begin playing with my cock," Jeff Dickson said, smiling down at Melba. "And you, Donald, watch closely. See how sensual she really is, and how well she tends my flesh."
"Oh, God!" Melba said aloud, gasping and, near repulsed, reaching out to cup his loathsome flesh, wanting to take his balls in her hand and squeeze them until he begged for mercy.
"Yes, go on," Dickson said. "And while you do, I'm going to show you all the little toys I brought along for us to play with."
"Toys?" Donnie said, coming alert at the word, his head looking up toward Dickson, his hand momentarily deserting his elongating, starting-to-throb cockshaft.
"Yes, Donald," Dickson said, pulling his brief case wide open. "Toys. Sex toys. The very best kind of games to play."
"Oh, what are those things?" Donnie asked, leaning over to better see inside the case.
"Don't worry, I'll show you all of them, Donald," he said. "And just exactly how to best use them."
He reached into the case and pulled out something. Melba looked at it and gasped. It was a dildo. An imitation cock, well over a foot long and gnarled with globules of soft rubber, as big around as Melba's fist and incredibly black. "This is my nigger sticker,'" Dickson said, using the dildo as a pointer and brushing the head of it across Melba's nose and mouth. She could clearly sense the odor of pussies gone by whose sides had been split wide by the revolting black abomination.
"Doesn't this inspire you, My dear?" Dickson asked. "To, perhaps, a little fellatio? Giving a little head? To, you will excuse the expression, a little cocksucking?"
His command was hers to obey. Gagging down the bile that was slowly crawling upward inside her, Melba took a deep breath and bent her head down, touching the vile but by now erect tissues of Jeff Dickson's dirty old cock. Sighing in revulsion, not in passion, she began to lock it clean, a swipe at a time.
"And this," Dickson said, lifting a second toy out of his brief case and handing it to Donnie, "is a double-headed dildo. See, there's a cockhead on each end."
Donnie looked down at the fourteen-inch-long monster, almost as big around as his boycock. It definitely had a cockhead on each end. "But.. why?" he asked.
"This one is specially for lesbians, Donald," Dickson said, lecture fashion. "Women who prefer their own sex disgusting practice, by the way to men. Using this, they can each fuck the other at the same time."
"I guess I see what you mean," Donnie said, though he didn't mean it at all.
"And this one is the penis extender," Dickson held up a thin, opened aluminum tube designed to lie flat alongside a cock shaft to hold it rigid after nature had given up the task. He explained the function of the splint to Donald and handed him the object.
Donnie held it against his cock shaft where it was instantly dwarfed, the rigidity of his fuck column was, obviously, not going to be brought into question for many years yet to come.
Melba, her ears being assaulted by the foul words from Dickson as he explained one at a time, all the sex gimmicks he had brought along, her nostrils being assaulted continually by the fetid odor of Dickson's flesh where foulness she hesitated to speculate upon crept up to her from somewhere deep inside a fold of fat under his balls, lower down, past the smell of dried piss.
Relentlessly she kept at her task, trying to block out all the words, the sounds, the odors, everything but the taste of Jeff Dickson's randy old prick. Once she had it cleaned, the task of mouthing it had ceased to be quite so deplorable. As she continued working over the circumcised knob of it, drilling down into his piss hole with her tongue, she thought she might actually be enjoying herself in some deep, dark, insane corner of her mind. There could be no denying the genuine sensations growing inside her crotch. The warmth. The sudden itch. The urge to have Donnie's beloved plumb-head rippling in and out just at the threshold of her cuntal lips, pushing against her clitoris and tormenting her with the feel of his foreskin bunching up behind his coronal ridge before stretching out, tight and immovable, down along the long length of his cockshaft.
She opened her mouth wider and bent into her task, swirling her tongue around and around Jeff Dickson's never before truly sucked cock.
He sighed his appreciation and, laying his toys aside for the moment, reached down and patted her gently on the top of her head. Showing his appreciation for her efforts.
Donnie, looking on, could imagine exactly how good it was feeling to fat old Jeff's scrawny old cock. How very much Donnie wanted to have it be his cock instead, inside Melba's mouth where it belonged.
Inside Melba's somewhere, where it rightfully belonged.
He wondered, just briefly, if there was something he could do to drive the dirty old man out of their house, forever, so Melba could suck his cock, aching now from the excitement of watching and longing, as Donnie Bates, in all his fifteen-year-old wisdom knew for certain Melba was designed only to pleasure his burgeoning boyfuck flesh.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jeff Dickson never seemed to go to work much, after meeting Melba Simpson's fantastic cunt. It got to be so regular, his calling in sick down at the County Adoption Board, that they didn't even know, most of the time, whether or not Dickson still worked for them.
And every day he was sick, especially when he wasn't, he was over at Melba's house, pulling some new disgusting contraption out of his seemingly endless briefcase and forcing her to something absolutely foul with it. To put it into her mouth or her cunt or her ass-hole. Dirty things, like Jeff Dickson's shriveled up old cockhead. like the hard rubber ball with all the nubbins on it she'd have to hold in her mouth, saying nothing, for hours, with her lips taped closed over the foul-tasting she was sure it was spotted here and there with flecks of dried excrement object while Dickson slid first one thing, then another, tightly up inside her cunt.
The worst times for Melba were those in which Dickson forced little Donnie to take part in his depraved games as well. The disgusting old man should at least leave the sweet child out of his filthy games.
He was already on the bed, naked, having forced her to go through her every morning's ritual of undressing him. Every day he seemed to get fatter and dirtier. Melba wondered if he ever even got into a tub or a shower. Or how, for that matter, considering his girth.
And, naked, sprawled back on the bed, propped up as well as he could be, fat and clumsy, with pillows. A delightful, charmingly nude boychild beside him. Lovely little fifteen-year-old Donald M. Bates with the extra special, really big cock, almost constantly at attention and begging to be allowed to splurt out great flying gobs of thick, rich, overheated boycum ... falling on everything and everyone around him.
Time to begin whatever horrible fantasy appealed to the bloated bag of slime known as Jeff Dickson.
"My dears," Dickson began, addressing both of them at the same time, "today we're going to get into something a bit special, as three-way fucks go."
Melba shuddered at his crudeness and foul language. She wished desperately that her position was better than it was in reality, so she could at least reprimand the horrible beast for his actions in front of the child. He had no finesse, no tact at all. It was almost, to her, as if the fat monster actually wanted to degrade the sweet child . . actually wanted to win him over so both Donnie and the Beast of the County Adoption Board could force their ill-mannered lusts upon her frail body around the clock. As it was, she didn't have enough time to keep up with her housework. The laundry Goodness, but we seem to be using up a lot of towels and bed sheets lately! the floors, the kitchen sink, everywhere the signs of her lack of time were readily visible.
"Now, look at this, Donald," Jeff Dickson said, pulling a fat, pillow-like construction out of his brief case and handing it to Donnie, motioning to Melba to get back down on his cock at the same time.
Christ, how this old fart-likes getting head, she thought, returning the already licked clean cockhead to the snug harbor of her mouth and fighting back the odors of his crotch that so quickly disgusted her.
"This is called the bachelor's dream," Dickson said, turning the pillow around so Donnie could see it from all angles.
"Gee," Donnie said, looking at it one way and seeing what could pass as a head-on view of a girl's cunt, though not nearly as desirable as his dear Aunt Melba's. Then, turning it around, it looked like a trim ass, buttocks and all. Finally, turning it a third way, Donnie saw a pair of inviting red lips, already moist and forming an open, inviting oval.
"Oh, I see," Donnie said, finally recognizing the openings into the pillow from all three angles.
"Sure you do, kid," Dickson said, taking the pillow back from him and turning it slowly, poking his fat index finger firmly into the cunt, then the ass-hole, then the cocksucker as he called it of the multiple purpose pillow. "You can even warm it up inside, get it as hot as your cock can stand it. No complaints from the bitch that she's got a headache or the rag on or anything."
"The rag on...? " Donnie asked, another new expression for him.
"Never mind, Donald," Dickson continued, almost as if Donnie hadn't spoken, writhing his hips slightly to sink more of his crusty old prick into Melba's unconsciously rippling throat. "Go ahead, try it out for size, kid."
Donnie looked puzzled for a moment, trying to decide which way he might like to fuck the pillow best. He sure liked having his cock sucked, especially the way his Aunt Melba did it, all slick and smooth, pulling on the sensitive surface of his slick-skinned cockhead and running her tongue way down into his piss hole, getting his cock all worked up and ready for the real thing.
Yes, he definitely decided, any fuck worth the effort just has to start with his cock being sucked on slow and relaxed. No hurry at all.
He turned the mouth up on the pillow, looking at the garish lips gaping open in a grotesque burlesque of the real thing. It looked bad to him and little Donnie couldn't understand how any man could actually be desperate enough to buy one of them, much less to carry it around with him ... or use it.
"Go ahead, fuck that thing," Dickson said, putting both his hands behind Melba's head and pushing down hard, trying to drive his old dick right down into her belly from the top side.
Sensing Dickson's possible anger, Donnie made a quick decision to humor the madman Surely he is at least that he thought and held the mouth just over the head of his cock, taking the heavy shaft of it in his hand and, using his cock like a pointer, directed it at the fake red lips, pushing down with the pillow at the same time.
Melba lifted her head up from Dickson's faintly throbbing cock just in time to see Donnie's delightful boycock slide effortlessly into the forever cocksucking mouth of the novelty "For Adults Only" pillow. She wasn't jealous; she was saddened, somehow, that her sweet little lover should be forced to endure such vile abominations as the detestable diversions created by fat Dickson.
Jeff, too, along with Donnie, kept his eyes glued to the shaft of the boy's long, heavy cock as it disappeared slowly inside the pillow. Dickson's old dick gave an involuntary lurch in the air, feeling cooler without Melba's soothing, suctioning, lips and tongue clamped tightly around it, just below his raggedly zigzag line of circumcision behind his flat, arrow-shaped coronal ridge.
"Get back down on the dick, bitch," Dickson said, heaving his hips as far up as he could, just barely making the end of his fully erect cock touch against Melba's delicately fashioned chin.
As she sank her face over his cock, bottoming out with her nose buried in his fetid, stinking gray pubic hair, she heard him say to Donnie, "Okay, kid. Now fuck another hole. Get to see what they all feel like. It's important, knowing what your dick's going to do in different people's different holes." He chortled as Donnie pulled the pillow off his cock, leaving it standing straight up in the air and stretched to its fullest extent, the delicate roll of foreskin that acted as protective covering over his super sensitive, smooth-fleshed cockhead already stretched back, far down the column of hefty fatness, and almost invisible along the shaft.
Pre-lube oozed in copious amounts out of the hole in the head of little Donnie's big dick, streaking over the broad, plum-like head of it and glistening in the light coming in through the bedroom window.
Briefly, Donnie looked at the buttocks of the pillow. He had never even thought of finding an ass-hole big enough to accommodate the monster cock that sprouted outward from between his legs. He passed over the buttocks and turned the pillow so the cunt, with glued on fake pussy hair and all, was near his cockhead where a fresh globule of pearly stickiness was just spasming upward out of his piss hole.
"I saw you, kid," Dickson said. "Ain't no use trying to avoid it. You gotta git your cock in an ass-hole someday, so you might as well start with the one you're holding in your hands."
Almost revolted by the thought, recognizing in one brief flash much of the anguish that had to be going through his Aunt Melba's mind, Donnie turned the pillow back over so the buttocks, held upside down, were against his crotch.
"Angle's all wrong," Dickson said, taking it from his hands and turning it around the right way. "You hold it steady and I'll slip it on."
Realizing the futility of trying to reason with Dickson, Donnie took his cockshaft by both his hands, holding it up straight and pointing the broad head directly at the pillow ass-hole.
Gleefully, almost taking sadistic delight in the boy's humiliation, Jeff Dickson slowly began pushing the pillow down, skewering the pillow ass-hole with it, relentlessly pushing the too-tight aperture down along the too-wide boyfuck shaft. From inside the pillow, through his hands, Dickson could feel the shaft of the boy's cock moving slowly, seeking out the not too sophisticated convolutions of the bachelor's dream's far from dream-like ass-hole.
Melba redoubled her efforts on his old cock, bobbing her head up and down on the shaft frantically, doing her damnedest to make the friction build up so much Dickson would have to cum to get relief. But, she realized, as he was getting older it was much more difficult to get him off. It was difficult to get his cock erect, too, for that matter, but once it was up, it tended to stay up, and Melba would have to work over it, she thought, for hours, before he could finally have his cum, in small, thin, poorly flavored dribbles.
"Guess you can put it in her cunt now, if you want to, Donald," Dickson said, much to Donnie's delight.
He quickly pulled the pillow off of his cock and jumped up, moving on his knees behind Melba who was crouched down low, her mouth at Dickson's crotch. Donnie held her buttocks steady and lined his cock up, the fever of the shaft almost burning his hands, so fierce was his need to sink his cock into something real and fuckable. The smooth flesh of his taut-stretched cockhead butted up against her clitoris and Melba's mouth, involuntarily, Tightened around Dickson's rhythmically throbbing cockhead.
"No, goddamn it," Dickson said to Donnie, picking up the pillow and shaking it at the child. "This cunt, you dummy."
"Oh," Donnie said, disappointed, pulling his cockhead out of her gaping cuntal mouth even before he had it inside her, having had it there just long enough to sense, through the delicate tissues of his cockhead, the fire of her fuck hole and the slick need of hers to have his cock and his cock alone soaking up the juices deep inside her belly. He fell back onto the pillows beside fat Dickson, taking the fuck pillow from him and, without hesitating, slipping the hairy cunt down over his cock, moving it up and down in fuck fashion, oblivious to the void surrounding his cockhead, the senseless nonfeeling inner surfaces of the bachelor's dream.
"Okay, kid," Dickson said. "You don't have to look so glum about it. That pillow isn't all you're going to get your fat dick inside of."
Brightening considerably at Dickson's suggestion, Donnie relaxed and tried to smile, looking down sadly upon his cruelly debased Aunt Melba, devoutly wishing he could not only rid their presence of Jeff Dickson's evil menace, but that he could get his boycock there, inside her especially loving mouth in place of his.
He had to find a way to get his Auntie back to her cheerful old self again.
"Okay, bitch," Dickson said, pulling Melba's head up, using her hair as handles, the softly brown strands that were so lovely to Donald Bates. "That's enough of that. About time we got down to some imagine fucking."
He laughed and hesitated briefly, trying to recall what special game he had devised for the day. Then he remembered, chortling again. "Okay, Melba," he said, "you move up here on top of me and sit on my crotch, facing away from me."
Confused, Melba followed his instructions, knowing it was futile to refuse the monster anything.
"Yeah, that's right," Dickson said as she had seated herself on his crotch, her buttocks back and digging into the heaving mound of his belly. The thought of her flesh against his flesh there was the most repugnant thing she could think of and she had to fight back the vomit threatening to burst free from her. His cock, looking surprisingly youthful and robust, still streaked and wet from her spittle, throbbed upward just between her legs, slicing easily through the heart shape of her pussy hair.
"Okay, Donald, you get down there by her old snatch and help her get it in right," he said, chuckling loudly, his humor growing into a roar that jiggled his belly so much it almost pushed Melba off of it. "The back way. Riding down the old dirt road." Heh! Heh! Hen!
"Oh, God!" Melba said, the full horror of what the depraved being had concocted to degrade her with, the foulness of it all, almost overwhelmed her delicate balance between fantasy and reality.
"No," she said. "Not that. You couldn't force him to ... to do such an evil thing. You couldn't-"
"Oh, shut up, bitch," Dickson said. "You know none of this is going to hurt you. Or the kid. Just do as I say, or it's curtains for you. Remember that. I got you red-handed, fucking your sister's baby boy."
Oh, God, how can you put me through this? Melba creamed in her mind, calling for help. Christ, have you abandoned me because I ... because I slipped and had sex with my nephew?
"Donald," Dickson ordered sharply, "you do as I say boy."
"Yes, Mister Dickson," Donald said, reaching out with distaste and actually touching his warm, spit-wet cock, remembering anew it was his Aunt Melba's precious mouth which had laved that moisture all around his dirty dick. With one hand he held the shaft of Dickson's cock up straight, feeling it throb and pulsate through his fingers while, with his other hand, he gently pushed down on Melba's soft, delicate thigh.
Melba, for her own part, had her hands full, literally, pulling at her buttocks to force the cheeks far apart, clearing the tiny puckering ring of her brown rosette anus and settling it, snugly, against the loathsome head of Dickson's cock, so fresh from her mouth.
"Hurry up, damn it!" Dickson said, growing impatient. "Just pretend you're having a healthy shit, Melba. Squeeze outward and it'll slide right in and feel good to you."
Deciding there was nothing for her to do but take his advice, Melba gritted her teeth, sure the ordeal would hurt terribly as nothing had ever been inside her anus before. Except for a doctor's probing finger, of course, but that didn't really count in matters sexual.
Feeling the gentle pressure of Donnie's loving hand against her thigh, she tried to concentrate on only that as she breathed deep, squeezing down as Dickson was instructed, pretending to be having an evacuation and...
Dickson's still wet cock slid easily into her anus and bottomed out, her buttocks firmly down and against his belly flesh, his crotch, the scraggly gray hairs of his pubes visible between her spread legs, is whole cock had moved up inside her ass-hole and she hadn't felt any pain at all.
Donnie, watching the maneuver, seeing his Aunt Melba's fragile little ass-hole unfurl like a mouth and, in one move, devour all of Jeff Dickson's cock was amazing. He barely had time to get his hand off the cock shaft before it, too, slid easily into his Aunt's bowl.
Melba looked at Donnie. Donnie looked at Melba. They both registered astonishment as the accomplishment that had taken place so effortlessly, despite her heavy presuppositions of pain and torment. Pain and torment were both there, of course, but only at a mental level, where Melba couldn't hide even that from herself, much less from Little Donnie. From the depraved monster whose cock was at that very moment buried full length up inside her ever so fuckable body.
"See, I told you," Dickson said, laughing again, his rumbling gut digging into Melba's buttocks and shaking her up and down vigorously. "Didn't hurt at all. Now, Melba, just lie backward on top of me like I was your mattress. Yes, just that way. You make sure you don't let my cock slip out of you, hear?"
"I I'll try," Melba said, fighting back the revulsion that washed over her anew at having to come into contact with the bulk of his fat as she leaned back over it, sinking down into it like a too-soft bed.
"And, Donnie, you get down there between her legs and my legs at the same time," he said, waiting until Donnie had time to get there, then continuing. "Yeah, I feel you, kid. Now just move on up tight and snug. Pretend I'm not even here and just go ahead and fuck her in the cunt like you want to."
Donnie looked down at the mounding flesh spread out before him. The angle of Melba's delicately trim body was very different. To begin with, she was raised up much higher than he had ever attempted to penetrate her vagina before. The awkwardness of her position, with her legs spread out over fat Dickson's, pulled her cuntal mouth open wide, exposing her clitoris to the surface and making the fragile inner tissues bulge outwardly, invitingly, their more subtle shades of pink acting like a flesh magnet to his cock, throbbing and pulsating in response to the alluring vision, the flesh feast to his eyes.
Looking around from side to side, trying to figure the best angle of approach, Donnie nudged himself up closer to his single target, his legs fitting in tightly between Dickson's legs, between Melba's legs, and his long hard cock poking out flat and rubbing against Melba's achingly engorged clitoris, making her shudder all the way down her body. Her actions involuntarily caused the inner muscles of her anus to clinch and ripple along the length of Dickson's bowel-buried fuck-shaft and he moaned in delight.
Donnie lifted the weight of his cock with his left hand and looked under it, at the spread open cuntal mouth. For no reason at all, except to watch Melba's reaction, Dickson's reaction, Donnie pounded out a rapid tattoo on Melba's clit, using his cock like an enormously enlarged drumstick. Melba gasped aloud and ripples coursed down the length of her body and were transmitted, through her ass-hole to Dickson's soaking prick then all through his body that jiggled like Jell-O.
"Hurry, Donnie," Melba said, pleading with him, her voice almost lost because of the intensity of her passion, "please. Put it in me, don't torture me like this."
Donnie, almost oblivious to her pleas rapped his heavy hard boycock against her clitoris gain, looking at it as the rich sticky globule of lubricating pre-cum was knocked off his cockhead to trickle down over her clit and into the fuck hole, glistening invitingly all the while. The sight of his fuck fluids entering her cock hole without being drilled into it by his hefty hunk of boy meat pulled him yet closer.
Shifting his weight just enough to line up the angle, awkward and unknown to him, Donnie, still holding his cockshaft in his hand, pointed it straight into the lustful fuck hole and, falling forward, eased just the broad plum-shaped head, past his stretching, tormenting coronal ridge, through her cuntal lips and inside her fiery flesh cauldron.
Melba moaned in pleasure and tried to raise her hips to meet Donnie's penetrating prick, remembering just in time to retain Dickson's detestable dick inside her fire-hot ass-hole. She jammed herself back down on top of the fatness, hard, soundly burying the fat man's graying dick again, much to his depraved delight.
His cock inside her cuntal mouth told Donnie that it was, in this uptilted position, significantly tighter than it had been before, at any time he had slid his dick into her. He liked the new tightness, the new angle, the new elevation of her buttocks, and tried, all at once, to slide the whole long length of his dick into her. It was more difficult that he thought it would be, getting all of his cock inside her tight, squeezed-together pussy channel.
Then, with it all the way in, his fledgling pubic hair tight against Melba's continuously throbbing, overly sensitized clit, Donnie discovered yet another new facet of this fuck. All along the length of his cock, buried tightly inside Melba's cunt, he could feel something else that was totally new to him, at least part of the length of his cock, he could feel it.
What he felt was Dickson's old dick, nestled snugly and tightly right up against Donnie's much more desirable fuck shaft, separated only by the delicately thin membrane dividing Melba's anus from her vagina. Each throb, each pulse beat of either Dickson or Donnie was transmitted, instantly, through their most delicate of all delicate sensoring agents, their hard, erect cocks, directly to the other's most delicate of all delicate sensoring agent. That knowledge alone, plus the physical contact, caused Donnie's balls to tighten up quickly against his cock shaft and begin the undeniable first phase of his rapidly approaching orgasm.
Melba could easily sense Donnie's oncoming cum, as well as Dickson's buried in her butt. Never before in her entire life had she been so filled with cock, so tightly, masterfully dominated. Her fuck flesh, front and back, was tingling with new found thrills that were more delightful to her than any dream had ever been before. Using all the power at her command, she began a rhythmic rippling of her secret inner muscles in her cunt, in her ass-hole, milking the double length of hot hard cock she so cherished, trying to get off yet another orgasm of her own before the double load of two simultaneous man cums bather her insides with fresh hot delights of delicious stickiness.
Dickson, as if he were a mind reader, felt all of Melba's thought, all of Donnie's thoughts, sent to him right through the head of his dick that he was squeezing as tightly as he could, trying to hold back the explosion of his cum until the very last minute, thereby prolonging the agonizing pleasure he was experiencing for as long as he could.
The cum arrived for Melba first. Her gyrations, violently within the confines of the two bodies making a fuck sandwich out of her, twitching from side to side, up and down, massaging, whipping, squeezing unmercifully the cocks she held in her vise-like grips, instantly setting Dickson's cock off, exploding sticky goo into her bowels, the very first cum, the very first fuck she had ever known in that sacred cavity.
Dickson's cock movements, rubbing up and down against Donnie's, as well as the forceful way Melba's snatch was snapping, pulling at Donnie's cum-filled boycock, made him, in a rapid flurry of in and out long-dicklings, release his pent-up energy in the form of one grand, glorious, near-cosmic cum. His delicately flavored, almost virginal white semen flowed out of the hole in his cockhead in a virtual torrent, filling Melba's fluttering pussy and squirting out, audibly, around the sides of Donnie's still pistoning, still cum-spitting fat cockshaft.
They collapsed just that way, together and genital joined, until the agonies of the uncomfortable tangle became all too apparent to each of them. By mutual, unspoken agreement, they eased out of each other and collapsed back against the bed, numb and, for the moment, satiated.
Dickson was the first to revive from their Melba-fuck sandwich, though he was far from a second hard-on. Even little Donnie Bates with all his fifteen-year-old vigor and enthusiasm would have been hard-pressed to whip his constantly randy prick into a self-stand. Melba, of course, was no where near a repeat intercourse, still gasping for breath as she was.
Nevertheless, Dickson was boss, and he knew it. Grinning down at them evilly, he forced himself off the bed, moving with difficulty, his mountains of excess fat jiggling and bobbling. Looking down at them from his elevation, he looked positively satanic and Donnie, again, recalled his vows of ridding themselves from his evil presence.
"Okay, Melba," Dickson said, forcing her to attention, to sit up and look at him, "time for the next act. Get down on the floor, on the rug, like a dog."
"Oh, God," Melba said, painfully, slowly, moving off the bed and to all fours, swaying slightly from weakness.
"Yes, good," Dickson said. "You're my mare, Melba. A horse. Donnie, get off the bed and ride your horse. Now!"
Donnie moved as rapidly as he could, considering how exhausted he still was. His naked buttocks across Melba's back felt good to him and his balls spread out under his long relaxed cockshaft, mounding up beside it like two enormous, oval eggs. As far as Melba was concerned, her sensitive skin could detect the outline of the crack of Donnie's sweet ass, merging with his balls, heavy and flat against her and, beyond that, the whole long length of his flaccid penis, heavy and hot against her where, at the head of it, a tardy drop of real cum, still oozing out of his long, well-used shaft, kissed her back flesh with warm, delicious Donnie stickiness.
"Good," Dickson said, grinning. "Excellent, really. Now, Donnie, lift your feet up off the floor so Melba carries your entire weight. And, Melba, walk around the rug with Donnie, your rider, and whinnie like a horse."
"Oh, God, I can't handle this weight on my back," Melba said, trying to walk on all fours and carry Donald Bates at the same time. She wobbled dangerously and started falling over. Donnie quickly jumped off her back, helping her to right herself, still on her hands and knees.
"Well, I guess you're right about that," Dickson said, musing for a moment. "We'll just have to modify the horse game a bit. Okay, Donnie, you get down on your hands and knees, too. We're going to play a game of doggie for a while."
Donnie obeyed, lining up beside Melba and hunching over, the carpet digging into his hands and knees.
"Right," Dickson said. "Donnie, you're the male dog, I can tell by the way your dick hangs down and swings loosely beneath you. Walk around behind Melba. She's a bitch in heat, radiating a scent that's attracting you to her very strongly. That's it, Donnie, just right.
"Now, get your nose right up into her crack. Good, smell of her ass-hole find my cum odor there move on down to her cunt and sniff at it like it was the best flavor you ever found in your whole life. Yeah, like that. Pant, Donnie. Drool. Stick your tongue out and lick her clean all over. All those good fuck juices. Don't forget her ass-hole, Donnie. Eat out all my cum. Her cunt. Yes, like that."
Donnie mechanically followed Dickson's directions, finding most of it to be genuinely exciting, just balking at the anus parts, but even then because of Dickson's involvement and not because he found Melba's butt flesh unappealing at all. He did, and wondered if it would be possible to get the whole of his much bigger cock into her ass-hole as Dickson had.
But more than that, how to rid herself of Dickson once and for all.
"Excellent, Donnie," Dickson said, pulling at his prick and trying to stretch it out from the nest of cruddy gray hairs that surrounded it. "Now, Melba, walk away from him, twitching your tail. Yes, good. Only move over this way more, toward me. Yes, right up against my crotch."
Melba wavered, blackness moving in around the edges of her vision, so strong was her hatred for the vile man, so much was she repulsed by the mere presence of his putrid flesh.
"Melba, bark like a dog," Dickson said, commanding her, and she made a vain attempt at complying. "More. You can do better than that. See, that wasn't hard, was it.
"Come to think of it, neither is my dick. Bark again, Melba, but like you really meant it, and like you really wanted my cock. Yes, now move in closer and lick it clean, get all your funkiness off of it and take it all inside your mouth. Yes, God. Aahhh!" Dickson sighed in delight, looking down at Melba mouthing his disgusting appendage.
"Donnie, bark! Good, now move up tightly behind Melba and lick her cunt out. Keep doing it until she cums, until she makes me cum. Don't you dare stop it until we've both cummed until there's no more. Hear?"
CHAPTER NINE
It had taken a great deal of persuasion on Melba Simpson's part to convince Jeff Dickson that he had to stay away from her, from Donnie, for the day. Not only did they need a break, some definite physical relief from his lurking presence, but it was necessary for Melba to take her young nephew, Donald M. Bates, in to the County Medical Clinic to keep a prearranged appointment with Dr. Johnson. The trip to the Clinic, the waiting, could take up several hours.
Knowing for a fact that Melba's story was true, that she did have to take Donnie to the hospital for periodic checks into his injuries, mentally shocked condition. All those things were included in her file folder at the County Adoption board, the folder, the fat Jeff Dickson held in the palm of his hand. With one brief move he could take little Donnie away from her and, worse than that, cause her to be locked up in the deplorable State Penal Institution for Women. He was gleeful about his position of power and how truly effective he had managed to manipulate her sexually for his depraved desires.
Donnie and Melba had slept together the night before in Melba's big bed. They were almost too exhausted from the extra strenuous session they had been forced to participate in with Dickson in order to have the day free to think about each other's bodies, each other's sexual desires.
Nevertheless, in the morning, when they first woke up, they were feeling pleasantly relaxed and sensual. They moved together, silently, and began caressing each other's worn, much-used genitalia.
In no time at all, Melba had pulled Donnie over her and, taking his cock in her hand, swirled it around the opening of her cunt, smearing his moisture with hers, opening up the lips to accommodate the broad head of his foreskin-retracted cock. Satisfied that his dick would easily enter her slippery hole, she hunched her hips up slightly, just enough to capture the head of his cock and clasp it, tightly, with her lips, just past his coronal ridge where there was precious little possibility of it slipping out of her snatch by itself. She knew, rightly, that Donnie would take over automatically from that point.
Donnie did, drilling his feverish boycock into her fuck hole again and again, slowly and languorously, savoring each moment, each long, drawn-out slide of his whole cock. A gentle fuck. A slow unhurried fuck. One they both enjoyed almost as much as they needed it, after Dickson's terrifying sex games that left little room for delicacy, for subtlety, for communion of sensual flesh-in-flesh feelings.
For as long as either of them dared, occasionally glancing at the bedside clock to check the time, they remained, silently, united as one, their flesh relaxing again for the day's ordeals. Slowly, against his will, Donnie felt his cock relaxing and shrinking, becoming almost loose within the warm, cum-slick confines of her still twitching cuntal canal. All too soon, it plopped free of the hole, covered with heavy streaks of warm, wet stickiness.
"Time for a shower, Donnie," Melba said, sighing regretfully and forcing herself out of the bed. "We don't have much time left. Got to eat something then start on down to the Clinic. Dr. Johnson will be waiting."
Dr. Johnson Donnie thought, recalling the kind man who had treated him so nicely down at the County Medical Clinic. He would know what to do, surely. What better man to help than the doctor?
"Yeah," Donnie said, slow to acknowledge his aunt's comment. "But I don't want to. I'd much rather stay in bed with you and fuck the whole day. Damn, but it's nice not having to put up with fat old Dickson, barking his inhuman orders."
Melba visibly shuddered at mention of the evil man's name. "I know, dear," she said. "I would too, but you know Dr. Johnson's expecting us, and that's important too. We have to see that you get well. If only there was some way to get rid of that horrible man, though..."
"Yeah," Donnie said, the first faint glimmerings of an idea taking shape inside his not-too-confused young mind.
They showered together, as had become their routine habit at times when Dickson wasn't around, that is. Only they didn't have time to linger as they would have preferred under the cascading water, touching each other in secret ways at special points on their bodies, pleasuring the other and their selves at the same time. Melba soaped up Donnie's body, his cock, his balls, slipping her finger up into his anus to make sure the soap reached him everywhere.
Donnie did the same for Melba, remembering his vow to find a way to fuck her, as Dickson had done, in the ass-hole. They they stood under the spray together, holding, caressing, while all the lather left their bodies and swirled around and around before it disappeared down the drain.
After they had dressed, they hurried on into the kitchen where Melba fixed a quick breakfast of fried eggs, over-easy, toast, frozen orange juice, and bowls of cereal raisin bran. Donnie, as famished as he was, knew better than to ask for more. They would delay their scheduled appointment with Dr. Johnson.
The more he thought of the attractive, friendly doctor, the more he knew he was moving along the correct pathways of thought.
Melba rushed him through the meal, as well, sitting in her kitchen naked and looking so deliciously appetizing to her she had rather eat him, anywhere, than all the ham and pork sausage and eggs Benedict in the whole wide world.
Nevertheless, she picked out his clothes and made sure he dressed. After all, he was going to be examined by Dr. Johnson.
Clyde, her memory reminded her, and the image of the tall, trim, fantastically attractive professional man filled her inner vision with goodness. She sighed appreciatively then hurried through her own dressing, rushing Donnie, through the side door, into the garage and into her two-year-old, far-from-paid-for Datsun 240Z, one of her few genuine luxuries.
She opened the garage door and drove out, watching it close automatically behind her. Her second of her few genuine luxuries. Then she pulled into the street, onto West Washington Drive, and driving at a steady pace through the almost trafficless neighborhood, she looked up at the gray-streaked, slightly threatening clouds, hoping the day wouldn't be spoiled by rain.
At the corner of Crosstown Boulevard Melba caught a red light. It never failed. She tapped her foot gently waiting for the light to change so she could turn onto Crosstown, heading directly to the County Medical Clinic and ... Clyde. Oh, Clyde. Could you ever feel anything like attraction for a person as depraved, as sinful, as me?
Alone in his office, Dr. Johnson bent over his desk from the front, his back to the door, searching, upside down, for the X-ray file he knew had to be there.
Unnoticed, Nurse Butler entered the room silently, moving on soft foam-soled sneakers that were regulation attire for the entire female staff of the County Medical Clinic. When she saw Dr. Johnson there, so alluringly vulnerable bent over his desk, his fantastic ass pushed out and up at her, caressed as it was by his slinky double-knits that seemed to cling, to outline his every delightful convolution, she repressed the need to shudder and sigh.
Instead, she padded silently across the carpet of his private office until she stood directly behind him. Then, casting caution to the wind, she used the flat of her palm to sensuously caress the outline of Dr. Johnson's buttocks, letting her fingers creep aggressively into the crack of his ass, feeling, fondling, hefting the weight, the texture of them like a fishwife at a supermarket squeezing the Charmin.
Dr. Johnson froze rigid instantly, in fright and disgusted awe. The audacity of it all!
"Goddamn it!" he said, jerking away from her and whirling around, facing her. "Nurse Butler. I could have you fired for something like that ... ! "
"Yes, I know," she said reluctantly. "But I just couldn't resist. You still have the best buns in the county."
"Not another word, Nurse Butler," he said. "Now, what did you want?"
"Miss Simpson's here with her nephew, Donald M. Bates. They're waiting to see you with an eleven o'clock appointment." she said.
"Oh, yes, I forgot," Dr. Johnson said. "Tell them to come on in. And next time, Nurse Butler, just call me on the intercom. There'll be no need for you to ever enter my office without knocking or being asked to come in. Is that clear?"
"Of course, Doctor," Nurse Butler said, smiling professionally, winking at him, and walking out of the room, closing his office door behind her.
Alone again. Dr. Johnson straightened up his clothes, trying to make his pants hang right, and checked his crotch for any embarrassing signs but, of course, he knew none would be there. His ass, where the wanton bitch had dared to finger it, smarted and throbbed, as if he had been stroked by a hot poker. He hated such aggressive behavior in anyone, preferring to think that, somewhere. true gentleness and consideration existed. Someone with whom Dr. Johnson could have a truly meaningful physical involvement. Someone like. . .
Melba Simpson walked into the door, followed by fifteen-year-old Donald Bates.
Yes, Dr. Johnson thought. Someone really nice and attractive like:
"Melba," he said, smiling, walking across his office to meet her, "and Donald. Good morning to you both."
"Good morning ... Clyde," Melba said, remembering. "We came for Donnie's appointment."
"Of course," he said, smiling genuinely, not smiling professionally. "And how are you this morning, Donnie?"-
"Just fine, sir," Donald said, very matter-of-fact.
"Well," Dr. Johnson looked at him penetratingly. "You sure are cogent this morning."
"If it means what I think it means, you're right," Donnie said and laughed.
"Excellent, I think," the doctor said, then turning to Melba. "Perhaps you should leave us alone, for the examination. I'll see you later."
"Of course, Clyde," Melba said, turning to leave. "When should I come back to pick Donnie up?"
"Oh, " the doctor mused for a moment...
"how about a quarter of one?"
"Fine, I'll be here," Melba said, closing the door as she left.
"Let's get right to it, shall we, Donnie," Dr. Johnson asked, as they were alone. "I'm a bit crowded today anyway, time wise. Please strip so I can give you your examination. Oh, and your shot, of course."
"Yes, sir," Donnie said, standing up from where he had seated himself and removing is shirt, wondering how to go about doing what he knew he had to do.
Finally, standing in front of the doctor in just his tight, clingy Jockey shorts, he knew he had to begin somewhere. "Doctor Johnson," he said, by way of a start.
"Yes, Donald, please go ahead and remove your underwear. I have your injection ready," the doctor said, holding up a hypodermic syringe and watching as a tiny drop of serum shot out of it into the air, then turning to face the totally nude youth. . "Christ," he said, looking at Donald Bates' form, his heavy hanging genitalia, his penis red from obvious use, "there's nothing little boyish about you. Just turn around, Donald I guess I shouldn't even call you Donnie anymore and bend over. Let's dispose of your shot before we begin."
Donnie turned his ass up to the doctor and felt the sharp intrusion of the needle into his fatty flesh, then the sting of th alcohol-soaked cotton being applied to the tiny puncture point.
"Okay, so much for that," Dr. Johnson said, watching Donald right himself and turn around, facing him once more. "I sense there's something special you're trying to say, Donald. Please go ahead and do it. You have to remember that I'm not only your friend, I'm your doctor. Absolutely anything you have to say to me is totally private, secret, just between the two of us. Please..."
"Oh, thank God, Doctor Johnson," Donnie said, visibly relaxing, setting back down in the chair in front of the doctor's desk, oblivious of his nudity. "You have no idea how comfortable that makes me feel."
The doctor waited, patiently, not trying to rush the youngster along.
Finally Donnie Bates began talking. "I'm not sick any more. Doc," he said. "Whatever was wrong with me has all gone away. I think and feel and act as good as I ever did. Much better, in some respects. Being with Aunt Melba's been an educational experience." Watching the boy, waiting for him to continue. Dr. Johnson smiled encouragingly.
"But we're in one hell of an ugly situation, Doc," Donnie said. "If we can't get some help, get out of it soon, something really awful is going to happen to both of us, maybe especially to Melba."
"Please, Donnie, tell me about it ... " he said.
"I can't tell you all of it. Doc. It's bad and ugly and shouldn't ever happen to anyone, but it is happening. There's this awful man who knows some secret about Melba that could cause her to be sent away for a while. It's nothing really, not anything bad, at least. I know that for a fact. But anyway, this man has been using his knowledge against her, against me. He's been . . he's been ... oh, God, I can't even say it."
"You have to, Donnie," the doctor said. "Tell me about it. Now."
The authoritative approach, the need for a father, the desire to have one, worked for Donnie as the man had expected it might. The boy's mouth opened and the words began pouring out of him.
"He's blackmailing her, Doc," Donnie said. "And me, through her. He comes over to the house almost every day and stays there, forcing us to ... Oh, God, you wouldn't believe it. He forces us to do the most vile things to each other. Worse than that, to him, even ... with our bodies, in bed."
"Good heavens, Donald," Dr. Johnson said, "is he forcing you to have sex with him?"
"Yes, but not that way. I mean, not just me and him, but the three of us. He's not ... not queer or anything. It's just that I don't know how long I can take it, or Melba, either, before something happens that could be terrible.
"Can you help us. Doc? Please..."
"Let me think a moment, Donald," he said. "I'm sure there must be something we can figure out. How does your aunt feel about this thing?"
"Oh, she hates him. Doc," Donnie said. "I know that. She's not that kind of person at all. She's the kindest, the sweetest, the most gentle person I've ever known...."
"Yes, I know," Dr. Johnson said.
"She wouldn't hurt anyone. She-likes nothing better than to be gentle and teach me things, natural things, that feel good and right...."
"Oh, God," Dr. Johnson said, remembering his past experiences with his wife Shirley and with that horrible bitch, Nurse Butler. How very much she sounds like the ideal woman for me, he thought. Again.
"Donnie," sharp, authoritarian again, interrupting the youth, "are you quite sure you've recovered?"
"Oh yes, Doc," he said, "there's no doubt about that. I'm a grown up now. I feel like one and I think I act like one."
"You do seem to be taking charge of this situation, anyway," the doctor said. "You said this man ... who is he by the way? ... comes around to Melba's house every day. Perhaps we could prepare a little welcome for him."
"He does, nearly every day," Donnie said. "It's old Mister Dickson, Jeff Dickson, from the County Adoption Board, He's just awful."
"Of course," Dr. Johnson said, having come in contact with Jeff Dickson, officially, many times, "I remember him. Dangerously overweight if I remember correctly. A real crooked customer."
"Yes, you're right, but what do we do, Doc?" Donnie asked. "How can we get rid of him?"
"Simple, Donald," the doctor said. "We'll arrange to blackmail the blackmailer."
"Wow!" Donnie said, as if he had never thought of it himself. "How do we make that happen?"
"Well, here's what we'll do," Dr. Johnson said. "Now listen carefully, Donald. You'll have to play a part, like you're acting in a movie."
Donald M. Bates was more than a little excited. It would be the first time in his fifteen-year life that he acted out a fully adult role. Deliberately acted a roll. As much as he wanted to tell his Aunt Melba about it, he held on to his resolve, as well as his agreement with Dr. Johnson, who had turned out to be a real true friend, that their plan might, somehow, go astray if Melba knew what was underway. Somehow, for sure, she would let things slip in front of dirty old Dickson and destroy all their careful plotting.
Donnie kept his secret to himself, kept it very well indeed. Melba Simpson had no reason at all to expect the day was any different from every other day. Every day after Jeff Dickson began dominating, with his depraved appetites, their routine lives, at any rate.
Melba woke up first and turned on her side to look at Donnie, sleeping so peacefully in her bed, not looking at all like a little boy, except around his chin where no real trace of hair marred his superb beauty. There was the just-sprouting fuzz across his upper lip that, when she was real lucky, brushed against her clitoris, treating her to a miraculous orgasm now and then. All too soon, she knew, he would be a full-sized man, off on his own, living with some extremely fortunate young lady, no doubt.
God, she thought, please let him remember me. Kindly. Please let him come back to me now and then and go to bed with me. Oh, to feel the massiveness of him sliding gently into my flesh.
Melba shuddered in anticipation and desire and, carefully, began pulling back the covers, bringing Donald's youthful, firm-fleshed body into view, devouring each separate inch with her eyes as they caressed it upon seeing it. Shortly, the beautiful little boy was exposed to his knees and then stopped pulling back the covers and let them fall, unnoticed, to the bed.
Damn, but he's beautiful, Melba thought for the millionth time since she had first glanced at the spectacular form of his body, of his truly exceptional genitalia that, somehow, seemed to match his mind and body, though Melba would have found it impossible to explain that feeling to anyone, especially to herself. It was just there. A part of nature. like wanting Donnie's dick rammed all the way up into her belly through her cuntal hole, basking in the soft buttery depths of her innermost womanly core.
She raised up off of her elbow and leaned forward, over Donald's midsection, and looked down at the flesh she so desperately coveted. Donald Bates' fifteen-year-old balls and infinitely old cock. A faint film of dried cum had closed over the mouth of his cockhead that was just peeking, coyly, out of the crinkled, swirling rosette of his protective foreskin. A brief rememberance of Donnie's last fuck, somewhere around midnight.
Once, after that, Melba had heard the boy. silently so as not to disturb her, get out of bed and go into the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being raised, banging against the tank top, was heard before his steady, healthy stream of piss rained down into the bowl.
That, no doubt, was why Donald didn't have his usual morning piss hard-on. That reasonless, rampant upstanding of his cock that greeted Melba's gaze almost every morning. She was annoyed that it did not represent his desire for her but was, rather, his urgent need to relieve himself of stored-up urine.
Still, it was nice for Melba to look at Donald's limp cock, heavy and curving out over his left ball, the heat radiating from his crotch so strongly it washed across her face in waves, like mirage ripples off a rain-washed freeway. With each wave, the fresh aroma of his genitalia reached her nostrils. She could detect urine from his early morning piss. She could detect semen, from his midnight fuck. She could even smell her own womanly fragrance, wafting up from his sweet little balls, so warm and full and wreathed in just forming pubic hairs.
Christ, I can't stand it, she said, moving her face closer to his crotch and blowing her hot breath across it, watching his precious little pubic hairs wave and bend in the scorching gale.
All too soon, as she had hoped it would, his penis begin twisting and turning, righting itself for the stretching growth that was sure to follow. As she watched, she saw it move, snake-like, though she had never heard of a snake being so big around, outside of
Anacondas any way, and lie out straight, not curving to any side. Then, slowly, moving in radical jerks, it stretched and, more slowly, began taking on a fatter shape, more full, filling with fresh hot young boy blood.
It was enormous already, but had some distance to go, she knew from personal knowledge. Now, the best part started, the part Melba Simpson most loved to watch, the foreskin part.
Donnie's delicately protective foreskin began to be pushed out and back by forces from within, as his cockhead swelled to huge proportions. It rolled back upon itself, almost, moving slickly along the smooth, taut, sensitive skin of his glans, until, with an audible pop, it jumped back of Donnie's coronal ridge, revealing all of the broad, plum-shaped, fruit-like, double-segmented on one side cockhead. Only there was more. There was still the final elongation, the additional stretching out of Donnie's cockshaft, wherein the rest of the foreskin, stretched beyond human endurance, was peeled backward along the shaft as it reached forward until it was almost impossible to tell where the heavenly foreskin ended and the rigid, hard, pulsating cockshaft began.
And there it was! All of it! All of Donald M. Bates' delightful dick, spread out full length for inspection. The best fifteen-year-old present any girl could ever hope for.
Melba knew it for sure.
The more sight of it, doing its thing, turning from little boy dick to full grown cock, was enough to turn Melba Simpson's thirty-five-year-old snatch into a seething cauldron of lustful desire. It smarted, deep inside, between her ivory-smooth thighs. It drooled a gentle trace of lubrication fluids that, so desperately, wanted to be used in the manner Nature had intended, to grease up a randy dick.
Bending forward, laying her face flat against Donnie's belly and, with her tongue, digging under his rigidly horizontal fuckshaft, she made the broad head of it bounce up just enough to capture it within her lips, finding it already so huge it seemed to fill the entire open space within her mouth.
As Melba's talented tongue began laving the boy's cockhead, digging into his piss hole and clearing away any traces of dried last-night's cum, Donnie awoke.
He sighed in pleasure, recognizing the sensation of Melba's dear mouth surrounding his cockhead, and reached down, stroking his hands through her morning-tangled brown hair appreciatively, mumbling encouraging love sounds to her.
At his signal, Melba moved up more, taking his cock shaft in her hands and positioning it more upright, away from his belly and using her head in an up and down motion, sliding, twisting along the boy's fuckshaft, taking as much of it into her mouth, her throat, as she dared.
Her ass was twisting around on the bed, waving in circles, as her mouth greedily devoured the boycock of her dreams. Donald, hip-hunching upward, was doing all he could to give her more and more cock to chew on.
"Oh, God, Donnie," Melba said, pulling her mouth off of his cockhead, drooling all over it so much her spittle ran down under his balls and collected in the crack of his boyish ass. "I can't stand it. Please fuck me."
"Yes, yes, Melba," he said, quickly changing places, moving up over her and nestling inside her knees.
Melba's legs raised up, high into the air, angling and aiming her cunt straight at him. She wanted to wrap it around his entire beautiful body, to pull all of him deep inside her sensational warmth.
Donnie's dick, throbbing from her mouthing, super-slick from the mingled spittle and pre-cum of his own, lined itself up and, without even having to touch it, the head disappeared inside Melba's fiery fuck hole.
They both paused just a minute then, savoring the first contact, the first delightful sensation of flesh within flesh that excited them both to newer, greater, fucking.
Melba began moaning then, even before Donnie began the ageless rhythmic in-and-out of fucking, gasping now and then from the sheer pleasure of just feeling his heavy hot flesh slipping around inside hers.
Donnie, for his part, was lost in the sensations radiating through his body from his cockhead, from the sides of his long, hard shaft itself. He reached up under Melba's buttocks and took a cheek in either hand, lifting her ass higher, angling her differently so the sliding, slipping mass of his cock became tighter clasped, giving them both greater friction, greater, more pleasurable sensations.
They hunched together rapidly, singing together until the litany of groans matched the tattoo of his balls slapping resoundingly against her ass-hole every time his boycock bottomed out somewhere in the fiery depths of her unmatchable cuntal canal.
Orgasm surrounded them, together, with a rosy glow.
Donald's burgeoning cock exploded deep inside Melba's gasping, cum-gulping cunt, sending her into yet another series of tiny little run-on orgasms ... rapid-fire cums. Each ripple of her cuntal walls around his boycock shaft seemed to pull it deeper down inside her, making his dick stretch endlessly and strive to fill her entire body with its size, its bulk, its copious outflowing semen. Hot, healthy, manfuck juice. Basking in the fluids of her pussy, marinating, tenderizing, sensitizing, The perfect cock-soak liquid.
They even, much to their surprise, had time for a genuine breakfast. Melba fixed hash browns, that Donnie especially loved he had quite a thing for French fries, too, as well as cunt large sausage patties, scrambled eggs with chopped up cheddar, green onions and mushrooms, toast and strawberry preserves and tall glasses of very cold milk.
They ate it all. Every drop was gone by the time they heard him walking in through the front door, and all the good stopped abruptly.
Leaving the dishes scattered all over the table, the work counter, the sink, they went into the living room to meet the devil Jeff Dickson, in the flesh.
"Good morning, my fuckers," Dickson said, greeting them. "Are we all ready for some action today?"
Melba groaned. She didn't even try to fake a smile for the man.
Donnie, remembering his long talk with Dr. Johnson, smiled. "Boy, yeah," he said, his enthusiasm obvious, if not genuine.
"Good, good," Dickson said. "That's what I like to see, lots of enthusiasm. Shall we adjourn to the sex parlor?" That was the name he had given Melba's bedroom several days earlier.
"Nice to see you've followed my instruction. I like to walk in and see your naked bodies waiting for me," Dickson said. "Don't either of you ever wear clothes in my presence. Remember that."
"Yes, sir," Donnie said, once they were inside Melba's bedroom.
"You may undress me, my dear," Dickson said, assuming his position in the middle of the floor, arms out to his sides, waiting while Melba struggled through what was, for her, a heinous chore. Still, she tried very hard to mask her revulsion, fearing what retribution the evil monster might take from her in exchange.
As he became as nude as Melba and Donald, he waddled over to his toy brief case, a constant companion of his, and opened it, rummaging around inside for inspiration.
"I know," he said, finally. "Today we'll play a new game. Starting with this."
From the brief case he had selected a black garment made of tight rubber and with long straps on it, much like the black lace garter belts Donnie had had erections over before, in the Sears & Roebuck catalogue, only radically different. This one looked evil and dirty, and also as if it might hurt.
"This one is for you, Donnie," Dickson said, handing him the garment. "Put it on."
Donnie struggled through with it, finally saying, "Gee, Mister Dickson, I don't know how to put it on. Can you tell me, please?"
"Oh, all right, kid," Dickson said. "First you step in these holes, here, and pull it up tight. Now, see this other hole in the middle, over this pouch. Yeah, here. Okay, you work your balls down into the pouch, and pull your dick out through the hole, so it pokes clear of the rubber. Yeah, like that, only pull all of your dick outside. I want to see the whole thing. Good. Now, tie back these straps and hook these catches. Okay, don't that feel good, Donnie?"
"Gee, Mister Dickson," Donald said, "if feels pretty weird. Ugly, even. Please, sir, can I take it off?"
"No, Donald," he rasped, "you'll do exactly as I tell you to do, understand?"
"Yes, Mister Dickson...."
"Now, Melba, this one is for you," he said, handing Melba on almost matching outfit, only reversed, tighter, much more evil looking.
"What is it?" she asked, taking the filthy thing in her hands and looking at it, trying to figure out how to put it on.
"Just put it on like a garter belt, honey," he said, annoyed with her reluctance.
Melba squirmed and tugged at the garment, having difficulty pulling the tight black rubber up her legs, over her thighs. Finally she had it in place, snug into her crotch. It dug into her so thoroughly it separated her pubes and, from the front, you could easily see the division there, the entryway into her cuntal mouth, covered over completely with tight black rubber.
"But there's no hole. Mister Dickson," Donnie said.
"Oh yes there is, kid," Dickson said. "Turn around, Melba, and bend over."
Melba followed his direction and Donnie could easily see the hole. There was a circular cut, about four inches in diameter, just over her buttocks, revealing the crack of them and, if she bent over a little more, her anus.
The garment was tightly cinched around her waist, pulling it in abnormally small, clinging to her contours in every way possible, as was the belt Donnie was wearing. Already his sweat was reacting with the harsh texture of the rubber, gathering inside the garment and making him feel all icky under it.
"Mister Dickson," the young boy said, "this feels awful. Can I take it off, please?"
"Not yet, Donald," he answered. "You have to fuck her first, while I watch."
"Oh. God, no," Melba said, finally understanding why there was no hole in the front, but only one in the rear.
For her, too, the unaccustomed tightness and feel of the rubber directly against her flesh was producing a gathering dampness, an acute discomfort within the garment.
"Oh, God, yes, my dear," Dickson said, laughing, beginning to finger his cock and balls, pulling, tugging at it within the confines of his scraggly gray hairs. "And here is your lubrication." He handed Melba a dispenser bottled of Intensive Care Lotion that he took out of his brief case.
"Go ahead, take it," he said. "And smear it all over Donald's cock. Make sure it's good and hard and good and slick."
"Oh, sir," Donald said, "I'm too big for her, that way. You can't force me to do that to her, it would be too cruel, Mister Dickson."
"Goddamn it, Donald," the man said. "Shut up and do as you're told!"
Humbly, reluctantly, Melba bent to her task, stooping and mouthing Donald's cock, nursing, sucking on it, tongue-teasing it to full, startling erection, the foreskin rippled back and disappeared along the rigid boycock shaft.
"That's good enough, now slick it up," Dickson ordered, and Melba obeyed, squirting out large dollops of the off-white goo and smearing it all around and under, down along the whole length of the boy's shaft, finally squirting out an extra gob of goo all over his broad cockhead.
"That's good enough, Melba," Dickson said.
"Now give the bottle to Donald.
"Fine, thank you. Donald, walk around behind her and, Melba, bend over. Excellent. See how her ass-hole pokes out at you, Donald, because of the tight confines of the black rubber."
"I see it, Mister Dickson," Donald said, "only please don't make me do this horrible thing. I'll rip her open, tear her..."
"Silence, my boy," Dickson said. "Bend over some more, Melba. Now, Donald, squirt out some of the lotion and grease her ass-hole up good. Make sure you use enough. Yes, that's good. Now take your fingers, too of them, and work some of the lotion up inside her fuck hole. Yeah, just like that."
Despite herself, Melba began to feel the rising signs of her desire, collecting along with her moisture just under her crotch where her cuntal mouth was forced open, her clit rubbing continuously against the unrelenting surface of tight black rubber. She found herself consciously relaxing her anal muscles, preparing for the surge of pain that might come, remembering her earlier lesson to "pretend you're taking a crap, and it'll pop right in, no sweat...."
"That's enough of the goop, kid," Dickson said. "You can give me back the bottle now."
"Yes, sir, Mister Dickson," Donald said, handing him back the large plastic dispensing bottle.
"Thank you, Donald," Dickson said. "Now, go ahead. I know you want to fuck her in the ass, boy. There's nothing stopping you now."
"Please, Mister Dickson," Donnie pleaded one last time.
"No, boy," Dickson said. "Can't you follow orders. I command you to stick your big fat cock all the way into her ass-hole and fuck it until you cum off up in her bowel. You hear?"
"Oh, Aunt Melba," Donald said, "please forgive me. I'm so sorry."
"Hurry up, kid," Dickson said, "I want to see that big thing slide up into her tight little bung hole."
Donnie, genuinely not wanting to follow the evil man's direction, picked up his cockshaft in his hands anyway, pointing it and aiming it and moving it right up against his Aunt Melba's impossibly little ass-hole.
"Melba," he said, "I'll try not to hurt you."
She gritted her teeth in anticipation, sweat pouring off her face in profusion. "It's okay, Donnie, do what the awful man says."
"Here goes," Donnie said, butting his broad cockhead directly against her well-greased anus and pushing gently. Much to his surprise, and much to Melba's surprise, the entire long, hard length of Donald's immense boycock eased effortlessly into Melba's bowel until nothing was visible between the tight black rubber but more tight black rubber. The union was complete.
Melba's ass-hole was much tighter than her cunt hole. It was good and it was exciting and it was different but he'd still rather fuck her the regular way, around front, where his cock really belonged.
Still, the feeling was somehow much more exciting than he had imagined it would be. Perhaps it was all the lubrication, the Intensive Care Lotion that surrounded his cock shaft, that filled her ass-hole, that was smeared around on his front, her rear.
Whatever it was, the slowly building, in-and-out rhythm was unmistakably fine to Donald M. Bates, picking up bowel-buried messages from his cock and sending them right to his brain about tight, hot pleasure and imagine ass-fucking, and in no time at all, he could feel his balls tightening up inside the tight rubber pouch where they were soaking in his own sweat, gathering in the pouch.
Melba had been as unprepared as Donald for the pleasant aspects of the butt fucking. Cornholing, she remembered a word from her dim distant past and shuddered. In delight. Surely it was because it was little Donnie's magnificently beautiful cock slipping around inside her nether hole that made it all, somehow exciting and pleasurable. There had been none of this when depraved Dickson rammed his crusty old cock deep into her pouting bowel.
Still, she could feel her orgasm washing over her in ripples of ecstatic cumming, making her snatch clamp tightly together and flutter so much she was sure Donald could feel it. all the way back and up inside her bowel.
And he could, and as he felt Melba have her cum, it sent him off, like skyrockets and big booming noises and lights flashing inside his head as the cum poured freely, for the very first time, into an ass-hole from the broad, seed-spitting head of his very happy boycock.
For a moment he forgot where he was, what he was doing, and what role he had been playing ... so intense had the fuck with Melba been, so intense had his own cum been.
It was only after he recognized that Melba had frozen still in horror, and that Dickson, watching them closely, had gasped out in a peculiar fright all his own, did little Donald recognize the sounds that he thought were appearing in his mind were indeed the sound of a tape recorder being played back.
Dr. Clyde Johnson, certified hero, to the rescue.
Looking up, standing in the bedroom door watching them, they all were surprised to see the handsome professional man while, from behind him, safely inside the hallway to the living room, the tape played on in blatant accusation:
"I see it. Mister Dickson, only please don't make me do this horrible thing. I'll rip her open, tear her..." It was Donnie's voice they were listening to.
"Silence, my boy. Bend over some more, Melba, Now, Donald squirt out some of the lotion a dgrease her ass-hole up good. Make sure you use enough. Yes, that's good. Now take your fingers, two of them, and work some of the lotion up inside her fuck hole. Yeah, just like that." All of them recognized the sound of Dickson's voice.
"That's enough of the goop, kid. You can give me back the bottle now."
"Yes, sir. Mister Dickson.
"Thank you, Donald. Now, go ahead. I know you want to fuck her in the ass, boy. There's nothing stopping you now."
"Please, Mister Dickson..."
"No. boy. Can't you follow orders? I command you to stick your big fat cock all the way up into her ass-hole and fuck it until you cum off up in her bowel. You hear?"
"Oh, Aunt Melba, please forgive me. I'm so sorry."
"Hurry up, kid. I want to see that big thing slide up into her tight little bung hole."
"Have you heard enough, Mister Dickson?" Dr. Johnson asked, his powerful voice booming, dominating even the tape recording that continued to reveal their sordid tale.
"I guess I've heard enough, Doctor Johnson," Dickson reluctantly admitted.
"Good. Perhaps I can turn it off now, so we can get down to some serious conversation," Dr. Johnson said, turning back toward the living room.
As he did, Donnie's dick, all by itself, well greased with lotion and fresh hot cum, squeezed inside the too-tight confines of Melba Simpson's fuck-filled ass-hole, popped free with an audible sound and a quick, heavy rush of dribbling boycum.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Standing alone in the center of Melba Simpson's living room, Dr. Clyde Johnson found he was facing a dilemma, one he had rather not ever have to encounter. But he was, and it was digging into his consciousness like a forest fire, raging through the drought-ridden wilderness.
Dr. Clyde Johnson had the hots for Melba Simpson. He had had them for a long time but, seeing her nearly nude, wearing only that grisly black rubbing thing, which her fragile little ass-hole had been forced to endure the intrusion of Donald M. Bates' enormous erect penis even after, at first hand, viewing and examining Donnie's fifteen-year-old cock, Dr. Johnson still had difficulty, mentally, using any word but penis as an ultimate form of degradation.
Well, I guess we've taken care of old Jeff Dickson pretty well, he thought, turning off the tape recorder and, carefully, putting aside the reel of tape. He would, momentarily, carry both of them out to his big black Mercedes and lock them away, beyond Dickson's reach, for safe keeping, to insure the success of the blackmail gamble Dr. Johnson found himself involved in up to his attractive ears.
Still, the throbbing sensations at his crotch, deep behind his balls, refused to leave him and he knew that the lengthening, filling out of his penis was a sure sign of approaching erection. His genitalia giving an unconscious Do genitalia think? salute to his desire to have Melba Simpson. He forced himself to clarify his thought, to refine the precise word.
To hold Melba SIMPSON--no, to make love with Melba Simpson. No, not even that. What I really want to do is to fuck Melba Simpson.
Dr. Johnson tried to, mentally, will his dick to go back down, to not embarrass him by poking out the front of his trousers like some teenager with a perpetual hard-on. like Donnie Bates, he remembered, seeing again in his mind's eye the enormous erection, lotion laced, as it moved gently inside the body Dr. Johnson so devoutly wished to devour.
Succeeding only minimally, he hurried out to the car. making sure he locked the door after putting his office recorder and tape box on the passenger seat. Looking up and down the street, he hurried back inside Melba's house.
How easy it had been for him to follow the prearranged plan with Donald Bates. Donald was to make sure the door was left unlocked, so Dr. Johnson could sneak inside after Jeff Dickson had made his evil appearance. Where Dr. Johnson could, silently, set up the tape recorder and capture the sounds of sexual depravity to have and to keep, forever, to ward off, like some warlock's incantation, the evil presence of Jeff Dickson.
All he had hoped Donald would remember to do The boy sure did it good, he thought was to keep repeating Dickson's name, so it kept reappearing again and again on the tape.
It was all there, all the words, the harsh guttural command, the explicit sexual instructions, the degradation. There was no question remaining, after listening to the tape, that Jeff Dickson indeed was in charge, holding both Melba Simpson and Donald Bates as virtually helpless prisoners to his domineering, prurient will.
And my dear sweet Melba, how she could have withstood such a monster is beyond me, he thought.
If she were truly mine, I'd treat her more like a queen than a slave. I could tell, even from the way she had to accommodate Donnie, that she is everything he said she was kind and thoughtful and gentle.
Dr. Johnson's prick twisted and throbbed again in his pants and he wondered if he yet dared to go back into the bedroom and face the trio of victims, each caught in their own sexual web.
Jeff Dickson was positive the jig was up. What none of them knew was that it was almost all up. He had missed so much work already down at the County Adoption Board he had been severely reprimanded and would, without a doubt, lose his job momentarily.
Perhaps that was why he had been so harsh with Melba Simpson.
Shivering in his nakedness, not knowing whether he should dress or not, Dickson stood beside Melba's bed, his fat belly sagging uncontrollably now, all pretense at pulling it in, holding the sag back through will power, abandoned forever. The rolls of fat jiggled and shook faintly with Dickson's unconscious shudders.
Christ, what if Dr. Johnson uses that tape to get me arrested? Jeff Dickson thought, and his devious mind instantly started making plans for counter offers, should the possibility arise.
My freedom for Melba's freedom, it's as simple as that.
Sure is taking a long time in the living room. Not that I want him to hurry up. What I really want is just to get this over with, once and for all.
Melba Simpson didn't really know what to think.
In one respect, she was very pleased that Dr. Johnson had happened along with his tape recorder, providing an avenue for Melba to escape from Jeff Dickson's horrendous sexual appetite.
But there was the bad side of that. Dr. Johnson, Clyde, she remembered, gasping from a sudden rush of pain had seen her at her most depraved depths, as she was still, standing in her own bedroom garbed in filthy black rubber ... a fool girdle thing that reeked of other women, other sexual encounters, other shameful ass-fucks.
My God, he must hate me now, she thought. How could any real man, seeing a woman degrade herself like I did, ever respect her after that?
Then the really horrible realization came to Melba.
Jesus! He actually saw Donnie fucking me in the butt. Clyde KNOWS now what kind of woman I am. If I would fuck Donnie under these circumstances, it stands to reason I'd fuck him at other times, more normal, without Dickson around.
Melba, as if in shock, turned slowly around in her bedroom, looking at it as if for the very first time. There she saw Dickson, already fading from her mind as a monster, in all his fat wretchedness. A man more to be pitied than feared. How she had ever let him dominate her was clearly a mystery to her.
There she saw little Donnie, so sweet and, still somehow, innocent, even wearing that revolting garter belt where his cock, still magnificent and beautiful even if shriveled and, again protected by its very own loving foreskin, flecks of their lovemaking spotting the heavy length of it along with streaks of his drying cum that also appeared, mixed with Intensive Care, on the front of his black rubber tights.
I'll love you forever, you beautiful little fucker you, she thought.
There she saw the bed where the three of them the two of them whenever possible had writhed so lustfully in so many different unique three-way combinations.
The only thing wrong with the picture is Dickson. He should never have been here at all. Oh, Clyde, I DID want you so much. Can you ever forgive me? Can you ever think of letting me make love to you?
Donald M. Bates wasn't sure he wanted to be an adult, if this was an example. There was something about the tight black rubber garment, cutting painfully into his thighs and cupping his balls a bit too tightly, that he wanted to do without completely.
Oh, the fucking part's all right, he thought. But can't I do that without these silly clothes, or all those trashy gimmicks Jeff Dickson carries around with him? I'd rather just fuck naturally, like me and Melba do when we're alone.
But, as Donnie thought about his situation, he had to acknowledge to himself that he had, at times, actually enjoyed the voyeuristic elements of watching at close range while fat Dickson fucked his Aunt Melba.
What's wrong is him. Donnie thought. Now, I bet Doc Johnson would be a fine fucker to watch. He sure is good to me, to Melba. Sure keeps his body in fine shape, too.
Wonder if he'd let me watch him fuck some time?
Donald shuffled his feet on the carpet, trying to change the tension of the leg bands where they were cutting off the circulation around his thighs.
Christ, I'll sure be glad to get these shitting things off of me. What's keeping Doc Clyde?
He walked back into the bedroom, tall and trim and straight, looking every inch the man in charge of the whole situation. When he was good, Dr. Clyde Johnson was something to behold indeed.
"The three of you've just been standing around here waiting for me to get back, haven't you?" he asked, surveying the room, seeing that not only Jeff Dickson but Donald Bates and Melba Simpson still stood exactly where he left them, apparently rooted to the spot.
"I I didn't know what to do, Doc," Donnie said, stammering.
"So I see," the doctor said. "Guess you like standing around in those ridiculous panties with your penis hanging out."
"If you knew how outrageous you looked, you'd take those things off," he said.
Melba, working not quite as quickly as Donald, began tugging at the restricting garment, rolling it down her hips and off her thighs, bending over to free her legs from the black rubber. As she did, the act of bending sent a sharp signal, not quite a pain, up through her bowels, and she could sense some of Donald's cum trickling out of the recess of her anus to streak, slowly, down the backs of her thighs.
"Much better," Dr. Johnson said once she was nude and standing in front of him, embarrassed somehow at her appearance. Not at all what she would have desired it to be.
"Put on a robe, Melba," Clyde said, more gently, kinder now.
"Yes, of course," she said, moving to her closet and selecting a faded yellow chenille robe. Finding a second one, in dark blue, and handing it to Donnie, who took it curiously. Obviously the boy found no reason to hide his nudity from his doctor.
"And you," Clyde said, ominously, turning at last to face the brute of hulking fat that was Jeff Dickson. "I have no words adequate to tell you what I think of your disgusting behavior.
"Just having a little fun. Doc, was all. Me and-"
"Fun!? " Dr. Johnson's one word exploded loudly in the bedroom. "Do you call forcing innocent women and children to participate in fiendish sexual intercourse with you or for you fun? Christ, man, are you ever depraved."
"Now, Doc, I didn't hurt them any. They both got off on what we was doing, and-"
Again Dr. Johnson interrupted the man.
"I'm okay, Doc," Donnie rushed into say.
"Stay out of this Donald," Clyde said, turning back to Dickson and getting angry again, "Get your clothes on Dickson. Right now!"
"Well, yes, of course," Jeff Dickson said, picking up his shorts and struggling into them, having some difficulty in buttoning them over his enormous belly.
"Hurry, man. No need to take all day, you've been here much too long already," Clyde said, giving him a super rush job.
Watching the fat man trying to get his socks and shoes on was almost laughable. If either of them had been somewhere else, under different circumstances, they would have collapsed in frantic laughter. As it was they held their humor back, turning it into pity for the grossly overweight man
Soon he had his clothes on enough to get by on the street with, and he grabbed up the two black rubber garments and began stuffing them into his fat, well-worn brief case.
"Just a minute," Dr. Johnson said again turning instantly authoritative, "What do you think you're doing with those?"
"Well, they're mine. I was going to take them away with me and-"
"No you're not," the doctor said. "You're leaving them with me. Those disgusting objects, along with the tape recording I have under lock and key, are all I need to guarantee that not one of the three of us. Miss Simpson, young Mister Bates, or myself, will ever see you again. Any time. Anywhere. Do you have that perfectly clear in your fat, evil mind?"
"Yeah, I hear you. Doc," Dickson said, releasing his briefcase reluctantly and turning to face Dr. Johnson squarely.
"And about the other thing, your blackmail threats to Miss Simpson," the doctor said, and Melba gasped audibly, her hand reflexively flying up to her mouth in astonishment that Clyde knew even that about her. "I presume you have already forgotten all about that."
"You're right, of course. Doc," Dickson said. "I never would've done anything about it anyway. Just a game I was-"
He hadn't even said good-bye to Melba or Donnie. Not that either of them regretted the fat man's oversight.
A paling silence hung over the room and Dr. Johnson, still completely the man in charge, turned from Melba to Donald, searching their faces for whatever they knew he could find there.
"I must say," he finally said, his tone guarded so as not to give away any possible double meanings to his words, "the two of you have certainly gotten yourselves into a heap of trouble."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Oh, Clyde," Melba said, her voice rising to a high pitch, and threatening to become hysterical. "I know. I know. I never wanted anything like this to happen."
"Did I do all right, Doc?" Donnie said, beaming proudly now that Dickson had been banished, much like he had figured it would happen once his plan began to materialize.
"You sure, did, Don," Clyde said, smiling at the boy.
"Did ... what, Donnie?" Melba asked. "What are the two of you talking bout?"
"Oh, Aunt Melba," Donnie said, "I just had to tell Doc Johnson that I was all right, of course you don't know that yet. You've been too preoccupied with fat Dickson. I'm not sick any more. I'm grown now. I know exactly what I've been doing for days and days, only it was so good to me, parts of it, that I till wanted you to think I was just a little kid."
"Yes, that's right," Clyde said, picking up Donnie's story. "Then, when he came to see me in the office yesterday, he told me all about what you and Don have been doing, Melba."
She gasped again. My darkest secret of all, known by the one man I've always wanted to think of me as being pure and gentle.
"Oh, don't worry, Melba," he said, "I'm not a moralist. God knows I've had my part in secret sins. I'll never hold anything like that against you."
"See, Melba, now nice he is?" Donald said, beaming at Clyde, his co-conspirator and, he hoped sexually. "So me and Doc, we figured out this plan to sneak a tape recording of Fat Dickson ordering us around. That way we'd have something to counter-blackmail him with."
"That's right, and I hid out on the street and waited until Mister Dickson arrived. I gave him just enough time to get inside the house and start something before I walked in quietly and turned on my tape recorder."
"And ... and you watched us? You actually saw us ... the things I did to Donnie? The horrible things Dickson made me do to Donnie?" Melba asked, her voice quivering.
"Yes, I saw you, Melba," Clyde said. "And I must say I think you did a fine job of it."
"You mean...? " Melba asked, gasping.
"Hot diggedy-dog," Donnie said, a grownup in size, but a boy at heart.
"I guess I do, Melba," Clyde said.
"Do you think you could ever find a way, in your heart, to forgive me?" Melba asked
"I might, after a few years, if we got along well enough together," Clyde said.
"Then you actually could, consider ... maybe ... you and me...? "
"Shit, Melba," Clyde said, "do I have to draw diagrams for you?"
"Melba," Donnie said, suddenly interpreting the hesitancy for both of them, "he wants to fuck you."
"Let's say, rather, I'd like to make love with her," Clyde said.
"And with me. Doc," Donnie said. "Please. Just let me watch, I don't have to touch or anything. Just whatever you feel like. I swear, there's not a perverted bone in my body, Doc..."
Dr. Johnson began laughing and Melba, seeing the genuine humor of the situation brightened up considerably.
"Of course you can watch, Don," Clyde said, "but I'm pretty shy about some things. You've got to remember all the time not to give me any running comments or to criticize my actions or..."
"Shit, Doc," Donnie said, suddenly grown up again, "I'd never think of anything like that. As far as I know, everything's the right way to do it."
"And you, Melba?" Clyde asked, turning to her, rushing his hand through her long brown hair and looking deeply into her brown eyes, his green eyes flashing sultry signals at her, the light from outside the bedroom striking the graying fringes of his black hair and turning him into even more of a god than she had ever fantasized him to be.
"Oh. yes, Clyde," she said, gasping, sputtering her words. "I've wanted you for so long. You have no idea the position you've taken on in my mind."
"I might not be able to fulfill your dreams, Melba," he said, "but I'm asking you for the chance to give it a try. Please?"
"Aunt Melba, please do it," Donnie said. "I want Clyde to live with us. I just know he could handle anything. Please."
"See," Clyde said, "my cheering section approves. What will your answer be, Melba?"
"My answer is yes, of course, Clyde," she said, radiant in her new-found beauty, "only there's one favor I want to ask of you..."
"Yes, anything, Melba," Clyde said.
"Not now. Not here, this way, after ... well, after seeing things and hearing things. Dickson's too much still in the house," Melba said, trying to explain her frustration,her hesitancy.
"Soon, Melba," Clyde said, "I want you very much, now."
"Doc's got the hots," Donnie sang out, but they ignored him.
"Yes, for me, too," Melba said. "Do you think tomorrow night might be all right with you. We could make a clean start from a fresh new approach. I could clean the house up and get rid of Dickson's ghosts. Then dinner, just the three of us..."
"Yeah," Donnie said, "that sure sounds good, and after dinner we could all fuck."
"Don," Clyde said, "you've got to start suppressing your enthusiasm. Remember, you're grown up now."
"Not that grown up. Doc," Donnie said. "Besides, I'm only doing it here, in front of you. I know the difference. Wasn't I perfectly proper yesterday, in your office?"
"Yes, Don, I guess you were," Clyde said.
"And I'm just saying the words you want to say but can't say yet. Isn't that right, Doc?" Donnie asked.
"Right again, Don," Clyde said, smiling at the boy. "You're right, one of these days I'll learn how to say 'we could all fuck.' "
"See." Donnie said, beaming, "didn't hurt at all. You just wait until tomorrow night, man
"Please..." Melba said, tugging at Clyde's shoulder and pulling him toward Dickson's fat brief case. "Don't forget to take these ... these abominations away with you. I don't want anything like that to ever be in this house again."
"Of course, Melba," Clyde said, picking up the brief case and closing it with some difficulty. "Would you walk with me to the door?"
Melba took his arm, formal like, considering they just made a pact to fuck away the following night, and walked with him to her front door. They stopped just inside it and, for the first time, Clyde pulled her into his arms, tight against his body, and kissed her.
As his mouth surrounded hers, his tongue moving easily between her lips and searching around inside her mouth, she could feel the whole long lean hardness of his firm body and, especially, at his crotch, digging into the flesh of her belly, the solid outlines of heavy flesh, the unmistakable promise of his as yet unseen cock and balls, standing out big and clear and in sharp relief against her sensitive abdomen.
Breaking the kiss short of his erection returning to plague him, Dr. Johnson pulled his lips away from hers.
Reluctantly, Melba allowed him to break the kiss. Still pulling his body tight against hers in unspoken promise, she looked deeply into his bright green eyes.
"How about seven o'clock?" she asked.
"Fine," he said, "I'll be ready."
"You better be," Melba said, watching him walk through the door and down the walkway to his black Mercedes.
Suddenly the excitement was too much for her. She dared not stand there any longer, watching him, lusting after him, anxious to get to his still unknown sex flesh. Forcing herself to turn away, she slipped back inside the house and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for support as she sighed heavily, her whole body heaving from the effort.
Donnie, standing in the living room facing her, said, "well. Auntie Melba, I think we got ourselves a real live one to replace fat Jeff with."
"Oh," she said, trying to muster up a blush, "you're incorrigible."
"Yeah," he said, "and don't you love it?"
"You're still horrible," she said, "just a spoiled brat."
"If I am, it's because you made me one," he said. "And speaking about one for me, if we're going to start off fresh tomorrow with a clean slate, we've got lots of things to do tonight, like cleaning up here."
"Yes, Donnie," she said. "I wonder where we should start."
"Oh, I got that figured out already," he said. "We start here!"
Donald M. Bates, fifteen years old and already full-sized, master of his own fate, threw open his borrowed blue robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing his total nakedness, and his decidedly rising cock.
"We've got to have a last pre-Clyde fuck, you know," Donnie said. "Fat Dickson's ghost don't bother my cock any."
"Obviously not, Donnie," Melba said, watching the magical monster rise to startling dimension and, skin-headed, bob around at Donnie's command. "You little devil you."
Melba shrugged her shoulders and her robe fell to the floor around her feet. She was as naked as little Donnie, only there was no real way to see her excitement, Donnie had to smell it, and taste it and feel it.
"Where? How do you think we should do it?" she asked, suddenly swept up in the excitement of the game.
"Maybe there's something new, something different we haven't done yet?" Donnie said.
"If there is, I'm sure I can't think of it," Melba said.
"There's the old expression about the kitchen sink," Donnie said. "Come on, let's try it."
"That's absurd, Donnie," Melba said, nevertheless following him into the kitchen.
"Here, just hop up on the counter beside the sink," he said, starting to help her up. "No, almost forgot. I decided I don't like to fuck until after you suck my cock a little. Gets me all prepared and excited. Slick, makes it go in easier."
"It does a trip on my head, too, Donnie," Melba said, bending down on the floor and hefting his cockshaft in her hand, pointing it at her lips. "Makes me want you to fuck me so much I can't stand it."
"Christ, that's good," Donnie said after her mouth had closed over his cock and her tongue had begun the swirling, piss-hole drilling routine that turned him on so much. Soon the passion was almost unbearable and his balls were tightening and twisting around all by themselves inside his ballsac.
Melba's crotch was throbbing and fluttering, the lubrication gathering just insider her cuntal lips where she ached to have him ram the whole core of his physical being.
"That's enough, Melba," Donnie said, twisting his hips to pull his slobber-coated cock out of her mouth. "I can't take any more without cumming, and I want to fuck you first."
"Yes, yes, dear," Melba said, hopping up on the work ledge into which the kitchen sink was countersunk, spreading her legs wide open and, using her hands, actually opening the lips of her cunt so her clitoris, already throbbing and sensitively blood engorged, like a tiny cock, poked out amidst the delicate inner pink flesh of her fuck hole.
"Hurry," she said. "Put it in me. Christ, Donnie, put your whole big hard cock all the way up into my old hole."
Taking careful aim, Donnie did just that, having to rise up on tiptoes at the last to jam the root of his dick into her right up to his balls. He could feel the pressures of his pubic bone drilling into her fragile clitoris as her cunt began fluttering all around his deep-buried boycock, milking along the length of it, squeezing, snapping, clasping at it.
Soaking up the fluids deep inside the soft buttery depths of her sensuous cuntal mouth, Donnie Bates knew it would not be long before he got his cum. The peculiar angle of the counter top, high as his hips, along with having to raise way up on his toes each time he long-dicked her to the bottom of her pussy, was telling on his nerves, too, and his knees. He grew week from the delightful effort of sinking his cock again and again in the depths of her cunt and, just as she snapped it real hard, real tight around his prick, trying to hold it still while she nudged her clit through half a dozen cums of her own, Donnie had to let go.
He jammed all of his cock solidly up into her old pussy, holding it hard against her clit and straining so an extra millimeter of hard boycock would ooze on into her before his cock mouth opened up and began spitting volley after volley of hard hot boyfuck cum into her womb, straight into it, past the battered, cockhead-tormented walls of her very womg.
Then, as the last dying splurt of his cum was collected up inside her fuck hole, Donnie collapsed from all the effort and fell to the floor, his knees, his tip-toes giving out at last. His cock pulled out of Melba's cuntal clasp long before either of them wanted it out. It was still big and hard and virile looking, if all cummed out, and streaked all over with their intermingled fuck juices.
With a gasp, Melba jumped off of the counter and fell atop Donnie, grabbing up his precious fuck-tool and bringing it to her mouth. She sucked it clean, licked it clean, his balls, down under them and around his spasming ass-hole, taking up every drop of cum and swallowing it devotedly, still nursing at his cockhead, feeling under the foreskin for after oozes of forgotten cum, long after it had shrunk up into a little boy dick again.
It took them a long time to recover from their exertions. When they did, finally, they put the robes back on and began cleaning up the house. They wanted to remove every trace of fat Dickson not only from the house but from their memories as well.
Somehow, secretly, both of them wanted their tomorrow to be a truly fresh new beginning.
Melba Simpson outdid herself with the dinner she prepared for Dr. Clyde Johnson. Of course she prepared it for her nephew Donald M. Bates as well, but it was only Dr. Johnson that she wanted to impress with her domesticity, Donnie was already thoroughly on her side.
Little Donnie, for instance, had not once during the night or the morning suggested a final preclude fuck. Not even one little blow job. Apparently the boy, like Melba, was saving it all up just for Clyde, who was really going to be in for a surprise.
As she cooked the meal, Melba mentally began planning how she was equally going to get to Clyde's body, to finally see, touch, smell, taste, feel the whopper she had, briefly, pressed against her tiny female belly.
First she had to plan what she wanted to cook, what she thought might best appeal to Dr. Johnson. Using Donnie as a sounding board, taking his thoughts about Clyde into consideration, Melba finally came up with a just-for-Clyde menu consisting of: Curried veal paprika on brown rice. Waldorf salad. Southern style corn bread. Deep-disk apple pie with French vanilla ice cream. Coffee and brandy.
She sent Donnie down to the supermarket while she made the last minute touches to the bedroom. She gave him enough money to buy all the things on her shopping list and, in hardly no time at all, he was back and Melba went straight to the kitchen, taking up most of the afternoon with the cooking. She wanted to have everything ready to come off exactly on time, together. like a good fuck, she thought and giggled silently to herself.
Naturally Donnie helped her, doing whatever she asked him to do and, before either of them noticed, it was after six o'clock already, and they hadn't even begun to dress. Everything else was finished, however. The kitchen smelled so good neither of them could hardly stand the temptations, but they resisted and, for the first time in weeks, went off to their separate bedrooms to shower and dress.
They met again, by mutual unspoken consent, in the living room, just before seven.
The fragrant odors had penetrated that far, bathing the whole room with succulent promise, and Melba twirled around in her reasonably new gold and brown print silk dress for Donnie's inspection.
He thought she looked super, and told her so.
Donnie was wearing a light blue sports shirt; he knew Dr. Johnson favored that color. And darker blue dress pants.
"My, but you look handsome," Melba said. "Almost like a doctor."
"I've been thinking," he said, "that's not a bad profession at all. You get to help people out all the time and do good things for them."
"You sure do, and you make lots of money, too," Melba said.
"And you et to play doctor with them and handle their bodies," Donnie said. "I wonder how many of them you could fuck in a single day."
"Damn, Donnie," Melba said, "we've got to do something about slowing you down a little."
Then the doorbell rang and they both jerked to attention. Somehow they hadn't worked out who was going to answer it, when Dr. Johnson arrived.
Donnie decided. He motioned for Melba to stay where she was and opened the door.
"Good evening, Donnie," Clyde said, standing in the door and beaming proudly. After Donnie didn't move back or say anything, he said, "May I come in?"
"Oh, sure, Doc," Donnie said. "Sorry about hesitating. You look different somehow, more human. I didn't expect it."
Clyde walked into the room and Melba noticed instantly what the difference was. He wasn't wearing a suit. He had on a short-sleeved blue sports shirt and a pair of darker blue dress pants. Donnie had been right.
"You do look different without your suit on, Clyde," Melba said, walking over to him and kissing him warmly on the lips.
"My monkey suit, I call it," Clyde said, handing Melba a florist wrapped cone of stark red rosebuds, at least two dozen of them. "This is for you."
"Oh, they're beautiful," Melba said.
"Thank you," Clyde said, "so are you. And these, Donnie, are for you." He handed Donald a three-pound box of filled chocolates.
"Thanks, Doc," Donnie said, opening the box immediately and offering it around.
"Please, Donnie," Melba said, remembering all the work she had already done in the kitchen, "hold that off until after dinner."
"Oh yeah," he said, instantly remembering. He closed the box of candy and set it aside.
"Everything's ready, Clyde," Melba said, "if you don't mind eating in the kitchen."
"Anywhere, Melba, anywhere," he said as she lead him off, dream-like, arm in arm. Donnie trailed right behind them to the kitchen.
"God, everything smells so good," Clyde said.
"You ain't smelled anything yet," Donnie said, and giggled.
The food, including the desert, was eaten in pleasant surroundings by candlelight, until they were down to the coffee and brandy. Then things started slowing down. None of them really wanted the coffee, much less the brandy.
Each of them knew they were all equally anxious to get to bed.
"That's it," Melba suddenly said, standing up from the table. "The kitchen's now officially closed. Come here, Clyde ... " She motioned for him to stand up.
"This is where you get yours, Doc," Donnie said, for the first time lapsing into his intimate behavior. The tensions of waiting were getting to him.
"Don, please," Clyde said, blushing. Now that the moment had almost arrived, he didn't know what to do. All his careful thought, his meticulous planning escaped him.
"He's eight, Clyde," Melba said. "All of us might as well get used to speaking the truth."
She reached out and put her hands around his neck, bending him down and forward until his lips meshed with hers, their tongues twirling together in a deep, sensual kiss. Then, wordlessly, she linked her arm in his and led him to the master bedroom, winking at Donnie so he would clearly understand that he was invited along, too.
Inside the room, Melba began playing the Right game. That's the way she referred to it in her mind. The Right game. The one they had, without clyde, already played.
"Stand here, Clyde," Melba said, pointing down at her carpet, "and hold your arms out to your sides."
Instantly Donnie picked up on what was happening. It was Fat Dickson without Dickson. As he saw Melba begin undressing Dr. Johnson, Donnie began removing his clothes at the same time, beating Melba by several minutes. He jumped up onto the big old oversized bed and fluffed up the pillows, waiting.
Melba had Clyde's shirt off and had dropped it to the floor. She bent over and slipped his loafers off his feet, his black anklets. All he had on that she could see, that Donnie could see, was his dark blue dress pants. Melba had been right about the mat of hair across Clyde's chest. It was exactly as she had dreamed it would be. Already her breasts ached to touch it, to have her nipples buried in the sparse tangle of black chest hair.
She slowly undid his belt, the clasp at the top of his pants, then edged the zipper down agonizingly long, letting her hand brush along the mounding flesh she could easily detect beneath the dark blue fabric.
Melba turned loose of his waistband and his pants fell to the floor Clyde picked his feet up and tossed them out of the way. Now all he had on was a pair of tight, clinging Jockey shorts, the type Donnie preferred to wear.
Unable to delay any longer, desperate to see the secret flesh of the man she had so long coveted but never seen, Melba took both hands and hooked them into his shorts, pushing them straight down his legs until they fell the rest of the way by themselves.
Clyde was naked. Melba gasped and Donnie looked on in true appreciation.
No Dickson he, they both thought at the same time.
Melba had a fantasy picture of what he would look like naked, but that instantly evaporated to be replaced by the genuine article, bigger than life and much more beautiful than she had ever imagined.
Clyde's cock, almost as large as Donnie's and not yet into full erection, twisted around all by itself, once free of the restricting cotton fabric of his shorts, and started elongating, angling outward and upward, arching a bit in a bend from heaviness out over two of the largest, most virile-looking testicles Melba had ever seen.
She shuddered and fell to the floor before him, taking all of him into her hands, cupping his balls delicately as if they were the most fragile of all eggs, then touching the shaft of his cock, hefting it slightly as if testing its potential, its heat and weight.
It was magnificent. The only thing missing that she truly enjoyed was the protective foreskin that had, apparently, been taken from him many years before. She gasped and pushed her face forward, kissing his cock. Not as one kisses a cock one is going to routine suck, but as one kisses a dearly loved one, too long absent.
Clyde was delighted to sense the genuine reverence and gentleness Melba was displaying. It was obvious she was going to give to him, rather than to take from him, as Shirley had done, as Nurse Butler wanted to do.
At last, Clyde Johnson felt like he was coming home.
Melba stood up then, resisting the impulse to devour his cockhead, the whole shaft of his dick, to run her hands down under his balls and caress his fantastic ass, to search between the cheeks of those great buns and find his tiny anus, to skewer her finger deep inside him and find his prostate and massage it until he came, shooting great gobs of cum through his cock directly into her mouth.
All that could wait until it cycle through in its proper tive, Melba knew that. She had no fear that Dr. Clyde Johnson would be, in time, exactly every thing she wanted himto be, for her, with her, and within her.
She lead him to the bed and pushed him down onto it gently. He settled back beside Donnie on the fluffed up pillows.
"What a sandwich," Melba said, moving back from the bed and starting to take her clothes off, striptease fashion. The Right game. Donnie couldn't help but admire the doctor's body. It's just right, he thought. Since he already got to admire mine.
"Hey, Doc," he said, "seeing as how you're about to fuck my Aunt and all, do you suppose it might be all right for me to call you Clyde, too?"
Clyde and Melba both broke out into laughter just about the time she dropped her silk print dress. It puddled around her feet on the floor in delicate, fragile folds, revealing what both had suspected all along, that Melba Simpson had been wearing nothing under the thin, clingy fabric. She stepped easily out of her leather strap sandals, out of the puddle of silk, and ran, in three steps, all the way to the bed, diving onto it, right into the center, between her two almost perfectly matched hunks of maleness. My matched bookends, she thought. No, better yet, my beautiful slices of bread. The staff of life. My staffs. My sandwich-making cocks.
Unable to believe her good fortune, Melba put an arm around both of her men and pulled them in against her tightly, their heads nestling on her breasts, one on either side.
Clyde shuddered against her, his breath drifting sweetly out over her trim little breast, the brown areola, the noticeably engorging, up-standing nipple. He wanted to take it into his mouth, to kiss and lick it, but he hesitated, unsure of what he should do.
Melba sensed his hesitation and encouraged him, turning more fully toward him and pressing his face against her breast. His mouth opened slowly and he pulled in her nipple, suctioning until her breast seemed to mound up inside his mouth before his tongue began swirling around the nipple. Melba's cunt clenched spasmodically at the same time, signaling her approval of his actions.
When she could take the nipple caresses no longer, she pushed Clyde gently back ward and started moving onto him, onto his flat hard belly, lying down flat on him to fulfill her dream of having her nipples dragging through his chest hair. It felt as good as she had hoped, better even.
Donnie raised up on one elbow and turned toward them, minutely watching the action that was inflaming his desires almost unbearably. But he knew he had patience, he could wait until the time was right for him.
Melba lifted herself off Clyde's chest and sat back, feeling his hard cock nudging against her buttocks. Squirming backward, she moved until her face was hovering just over his cock.
Watching her movements, never suspecting how different she could be from anything he had ever known before, Clyde was delighted with her attention. He knew that any minute now she would actually suck his cock, a delight he had long dreamed of but never before experienced.
She brought her tongue into play, much as she did with Donnie, swirling it around and around, cleaning all of Clyde's delicious cockhead then boring, auger-fashion down into his piss hole.
Clyde thought the torture was delightful and hoped it would never end. Through hazy, glazed-over eyes, he looked over at Donnie, just inches away, really, intently watching Melba doing down on Clyde's too long neglected cock. Warmly, in affection, he reached out and cupped his hand around Donnie's head, squeezing the boy lovingly, masculinely.
"Say, Clyde," he said, "do you think I could be a doctor someday, like you?"
Clyde's grip on the back of Donnie's head tightened noticeably and he smiled at the boy, so very much like the son he had never had but wanted so desperately, years before, when he had been married to Shirley.
"I think we might look into it, Don," Clyde said. "Okay?"
"Far out," Donnie said, pulling on his cock again, watching Melba lift her head off of Clyde's almost equally big dick. It shined all spit wet and stretching, like it really wanted some more. Donnie knew the feeling all to well.
"Now, Clyde," Melba said, lifting herself up off of Clyde's crotch and positioning herself, crouching, directly over it. "This is just for you. Not for me, not for Donnie, but just for you."
"Oh, God," he said, looking down at her hovering just over his cock, her cunt just hanging right there, open, eager, waiting.
"Welcome home, Clyde," Melba said, positioning the shaft of his cock with her hand and, slowly, lowering herself down onto it until all of it was deeply embedded inside her fire-filled cuntal mouth.
"Yeah," Donnie said, taking Clyde's hand and gripping it warmly, "welcome home."
