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 Archive name: Hairy Peeter and the Philosopher's bone - Chapter 3.txt
Authors name: SensualKink (senskin@gmail.com) Story Title: HP 1 - Ch 3

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------------------------------------------------------------ Hairy Peeter
and the Philosopher's Bone - Chapter 3 (ped, inc, cons, size, cum eating)
By SensualKink (senskin@gmail.com)



   Chapter Three - The Letters from No One

   The escape of the Brazirian boa consphinctor earned Hairy his
longest-ever punishment.  Uncle Vermon had made good on his threat for some
time, visiting Hairy three times a day and fucking his smooth, little-boy's
ass.  He did so with great relish and Hairy soon discovered his Uncle had a
`thing' for Hairy's tight, pre-teen asshole.  So much so, that - even when
the thrice daily visits tailed off - Hairy was commanded to walk around
commando in pajamas with the ass cut out.

   Hairy learned that by presenting his bare, white ass and finding reasons
to flex his cheeks or bend over in front of his uncle, he could diffuse
almost any situation and steer it to a rousing butt fucking.  Vermon loved
fucking Hairy's ass but that ironically seemed to make him equally angry as
horny.  He frequently bent Hairy over the kitchen counter or made him kneel
in the family room and pounded him relentlessly, smacking his cheeks until
they were red then depositing a copious load of his fiery ball cream deep
in Hairy's rectum.

   Peetuna also `punished' him with increasing frequency.  Hairy realized
from her psychotic murmurings in the cupboard as they lay naked together
that she secretly appreciated her husband's interest in Hairy's tight butt.
She still frequently drowned him in pee, spanked and fucked him viciously
with a strap-on, or gagged and tortured him.  But she also began following
these activities up with tender blowjobs in the wee hours of the morning or
night.  Once she even slid her wet pussy up and down his long cock and
Hairy squirt right away at the thought of once again getting his cock
inside his aunt's beautiful pussy.  Hairy found himself constantly
fantasizing about her and picturing the way she reveled in his enormous
loads of thick semen, taking it in her mouth hungrily and sometimes
directing him to stand over her and squirt hot cream all over her sexy
body.

   By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard for anything other than
butt sex with Uncle Vermon and school, the summer holidays had started and
Didley had already worn a hole in his new fleshlight, smashed his remote
control spy camera when it failed to record his mother blowing the milkman,
and, first time out on his dildo-seat bike, knocked down old Mrs.  Frigg as
she crossed Pervert Drive on her crutches and rode the front tire right up
her ancient crotch.

   Hairy was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Didley's gang,
who visited the house every single day.  Quiers, Dummis, Malcolm, and
Gordong were all big and stupid and flamingly queer.  But as Didley was the
biggest and stupidest and queerest of the lot, he was the leader.  The rest
of them were all quite happy to join in Didley's favorite sport: Hairy
Raping.

   This was why Hairy spent as much time as possible out of the house,
wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could
see a tiny ray of hope.  When September came he would be going off to
secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with
Didley.  Didley had been accepted at Uncle Vermon's old private school,
Smackings.  Quiers Polekiss was going there too.  Hairy, on the other hand,
was going to Stoneball High, the local public school.  Didley thought this
was very funny.

   "They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stoneball.
Then the entire class fucks you in the ass and pisses on your head," he
told Hairy.  "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

   "No, thanks," said Hairy.  "The poor toilet's never had anything as
horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then he ran, before
Didley could work out what he'd said.

   One day in July, Aunt Peetuna took Didley to Longdong to buy his
Smackings uniform, leaving Hairy at Mrs.  Frigg's.  Mrs.  Frigg wasn't as
bad as usual.  It turned out she'd bruised her labia tripping over one of
her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before.  She let
Hairy watch some old lady porn and gave him a nice hand job as she sat next
to him.  She caught his enormous load in an antique teapot and offered him
a snack as she sipped cup after cup of his aromatic testical goo.  She gave
him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd used her nasty cunt
juice in the recipe but Hairy didn't mind since he got to watch her drink
an entire teapot of his pearly ball cream.

   That evening, Didley paraded around the living room for the family in
his brand-new uniform.  Smackings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange
knickerbockers with the ass cut out, and flat straw hats called boaters. 
They also carried phallus-headed sticks, used for poking each other in the
ass while the teachers weren't looking.  This was supposed to be good
training for later life.

   As he looked at Didley's big, smooth ass in his new knickerbockers,
Uncle Vermon played with his short, fat penis and said gruffly that it was
the proudest moment of his life.  Aunt Peetuna burst into tears and dropped
to her knees to suck Didley's tiny penis gushing that she couldn't believe
it was her Ickle Didleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.  Hairy
didn't trust himself to speak.  He thought two of his ribs might already
have cracked from trying not to laugh.

   There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Hairy
went in for breakfast.  It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in
the sink.  He went to have a look.  The tub was full of what looked like
dirty rags swimming in gray water.

   "What's this?" he asked Aunt Peetuna.  Her lips tightened as they always
did if he dared to ask a question.

   "Your new school uniform," she said, smacking Hairy's bare ass sharply
with the hot wooden spoon she was using to stir the mess.

   Hairy looked in the tub again.  As usual, proximity to his aunt was
making him rage with lust.

   "Oh," he said, glancing down between her sexy legs, "I didn't realize it
had to be so wet."

   "Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Peetuna, rapping the spoon sharply on
the bulge in Hairy's pajamas.  "I'm using old jars of Vermon and Didley's
cum to dye some of Didley's old things gray for you.  It'll look just like
everyone else's when I've finished."

   Hairy seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue.  He sat
down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on
his first day at Stoneball High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant
scrotum, probably.

   Didley and Uncle Vermon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the
smell from Hairy's new uniform.  Uncle Vermon opened his newspaper as usual
and Peetuna dutifully knelt between his legs and began loudly slurping and
sucking his cock.  Hairy thought she made a big show of wiggling her
shapely, thong-clad ass at him as she did so.  Didley banged his Smacking
stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table and Hairy could still
smell his shit on it.  It seemed his uncle had been training Didley to
tolerate the Smacking stick up his ass again.

   They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the
doormat.

   "Get the mail, Didley," said Uncle Vermon from behind his paper.

   "Make Hairy fucking get it."

   "Get the mail, Hairy."

   "Make Didley get it."

   "Poke him with your Smacking stick, Didley."

   Hairy dodged the Smacking stick and went to get the mail.  Three things
lay on the doormat: an x-rated postcard from Uncle Vermon's sister Mudge,
who was vacationing on the Isle of Woot, a brown envelope that looked like
a bill from the sex shop down the road, and -- a letter for Hairy.

   Hairy picked it up and stared at it, his cock twanging like a giant
elastic band.  No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him.  Who
would?  He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the
video store, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for porn tapes back.
Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

   Mr.  H.  Peeter

   The Cum-stained Cupboard under the Stairs

   4 Pervert Drive

   Little Whanging

   Slurrey

   The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the
address was written in emerald-green ink.  There was no stamp.

   Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Hairy saw a purple wax
seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake with
enormous human-like genitalia in a daisy-chain surrounding a large letter
H.

   "Hurry up, you little shit!" shouted Uncle Vermon from the kitchen. 
"What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own
joke.

   Hairy went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter.  He handed
Uncle Vermon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open
the yellow envelope.

   Uncle Vermon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over
the postcard.

   "Mudge's ill," he informed Aunt Peetuna.  "Ate a funny cunt on the
train."

   "Dad!" said Didley suddenly.  "Dad, Hairy's got something!"

   Hairy was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the
same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his
hand by Uncle Vermon.

   "That's mine!" said Hairy, trying to snatch it back.

   "Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vermon, shaking the letter open
with one hand and glancing at it.  His face went from red to green faster
than a set of traffic lights.  And it didn't stop there.  Within seconds it
was the grayish white of old porridge.

   "P-P-Peetuna!" he gasped, suddenly squirting hot piss into his wife's
mouth.

   Didley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vermon held it
high out of his reach and kicked him in the balls.  Aunt Peetuna wiped her
mouth on Vermon's shirt tail and took it curiously, reading the first line.
For a moment it looked as though she might faint.  She clutched her throat
and made a choking noise.

   "Vermon!  Oh holy fuck!  -- Vermon!"

   They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Hairy and
Didley were still in the room.  Didley wasn't used to being ignored.  He
rubbed his aching balls, stood up and gave his father a sharp tap on the
head with his Smacking stick.

   "I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

   "I want to read it," said Hairy furiously, "as it's mine."

   "Get the fuck out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vermon, stuffing the
letter down the back of his pants.

   Hairy didn't move.

   "I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

   "Let me see it!" demanded Didley.

   "OUT!" roared Uncle Vermon, and he took both Hairy and Didley by the
scruffs of their underwear and threw them into the hall, slamming the
kitchen door behind them.  Hairy and Didley promptly had a furious but
silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Didley won by
threatening to rape his ass if he knelt at the keyhole, so Hairy, his
glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the
crack between door and floor.

   "Vermon," Aunt Peetuna was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the
address -- how could they possibly know where he sleeps?  You don't think
they're watching the house?  You don't think they know what we've...?"

   "Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vermon
wildly.

   "But what should we do, Vermon?  Should we write back?  Tell them we
don't want --"

   Hairy could see Uncle Vermon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the
kitchen.  He could also see his aunts knees still on the floor.  He stopped
in front of her and the sound of her slutty mouth frantically slurping and
sucking rose to his ears.  Peetuna always sucked Vermon off during a
crisis; it helped him think.

   "No," he said finally.  "No, we'll ignore it.  If they don't get an
answer...  Yes, that's best...  we won't do anything....

   "But --" Peetuna's words were cut off as Vermon obviously stuffed his
cock back in her mouth.

   "I'm not having one in the goddamned house, Peetuna!  Didn't we swear
when we took him in we'd stamp out that fucking nonsense?"

   That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vermon did something he'd
never done before; he visited Hairy in his cupboard and didn't immediately
begin to fuck him in the ass.

   "Where's my letter?" said Hairy.  He had assumed the ass-fuck position
the moment Uncle Vermon had squeezed through the door.  "Who's writing to
me?"

   "No one.  it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vermon
shortly. He licked his lips and eyed Hairy's smooth ass.  "I used it to
wipe my ass."

   "It was not a mistake," said Hairy angrily, pulling his ass cheeks apart
like he was supposed to.  "It had my cupboard on it."

   "SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vermon smacking his tender cheeks, and a couple
of spiders fell from the ceiling.  He took a few deep breaths and then
forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.  His hand shook
as he switched to gently caressing Hairy's reddened ass.

   "Er -- yes, Hairy -- about this cupboard.  Your aunt and I have been
thinking...  you're really getting a bit big for it...  we think it might
be nice if you moved into Didley's second bedroom." He then fondled Hairy's
enormous balls, something he had never done before.

   "Why?" said Hairy, flexing his anal sphincter, hoping to seduce his
uncle into telling him the truth.

   "Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle, squeezing Hairy's balls
painfully.  "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

   The Droolsleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vermon and Aunt
Peetuna, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vermon's sister, Mudge), one where
Didley slept, and one where Didley kept all the toys and things that
wouldn't fit into his first bedroom.  It only took Hairy one trip upstairs
to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room.  He sat down on
the bed and stared around him.  Nearly everything in here was broken.  The
broken, month-old spy camera was lying on top of a life-like doll made to
look like a 8-year-old boy; in the corner was Didley's first-ever 3D porn
television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite reality
ass-raping show had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had
once held a parrot that Didley had fucked to death then swapped at school
for an articulating sybian, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent
because Didley had sat on it too vigorously.  Other shelves were full of
porn magazines.  They were uniformly caked and ruined by dried cum.

   From downstairs came the sound of Didley bawling at his mother, "I don't
want him in there...  I need that room...  make him get the fuck out...."

   Hairy sighed and stretched out on the bed stroking his huge penis. 
Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here, so close to where his
sexy aunt slept.  Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard getting fucked
in the ass by Vermon or Peetuna with that letter than up here without it.

   Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet.  Didley was in
shock.  He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smacking stick, shat
himself on purpose, ass-raped his mother, and thrown his furry handcuffs
through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back.  Hairy
was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the
letter in the hall.  Uncle Vermon and Aunt Peetuna kept looking at each
other darkly as she silently knelt and bobbed her head on his cock.

   When the mail arrived, Uncle Vermon, who seemed to be trying to be nice
to Hairy, made Didley go and get it.  They heard him banging things with
his Smacking stick all the way down the hall.  Then he shouted, "There's
another one!  'Mr.  H.  Peeter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Pervert Drive --'"

   With a strangled cry, Uncle Vermon leapt from his seat and ran down the
hall with his wet cock and balls flopping around madly, Hairy right behind
him.  Uncle Vermon had to wrestle Didley to the ground and pull his pants
down to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that
Hairy had grabbed Uncle Vermon's drawers from behind and yanked them down
to his ankles.  After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got
hit in the nuts a lot by the Smacking stick, Uncle Vermon straightened up,
gasping for breath, with Hairy's letter clutched to his wet crotch.

   "Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Hairy. 
"Didley -- go -- just go."

   Hairy walked round and round his new room.  Someone knew he had moved
out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first
letter.  Surely that meant they'd try again?  And this time he'd make sure
they didn't fail.  He had a plan.

   The repaired alarm clock rang with the sound of farting at six o'clock
the next morning.  Hairy turned it off quickly and dressed silently.  He
mustn't wake the Droolsleys.  He stole downstairs without turning on any of
the lights.

   He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Pervert Drive and
offer him a blowjob or ass-fucking - whatever he wanted - to get the
letters for number four first.  His heart hammered and his asshole pulsed
as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door -

   Hairy leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on
the doormat -- something alive!

   Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Hairy realized that the
big, squashy something had been his uncle's scrotum.  Uncle Vermon had been
lying at the foot of the front door on a sleeping bag, clearly making sure
that Hairy didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do.  He shouted at
Hairy and made him suck his aching balls for about half an hour and then
told him to go and make a cup of tea.  Hairy shuffled miserably off into
the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into
Uncle Vermon's lap.  Hairy could see three letters addressed in green ink.

   I want --" he began, but Uncle Vermon tore the letters into pieces
before his eyes and then pissed on the whole pile.  Uncle Vermon didn't go
to work that day.  He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

   "See," he explained to Aunt Peetuna through a mouthful of nails, "if
they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

   "I'm not sure that'll work, dumbass." She was not happy with her
husband, presumably because him staying home had precluded her daily
blowjob of the milk man.

   "Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Peetuna, they're not
like you and me," said Uncle Vermon, trying to knock in a nail with the
piece of fruitcake Aunt Peetuna had just brought him.

   On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Hairy.  As they
couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door,
slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window
in the downstairs bathroom.

   Uncle Vermon stayed at home again.  After burning all the letters and
pissing on the ashes, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the
cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out.  He hummed
"I Touch Myself" as he worked, frequently emitted long, nervous farts, and
jumped at small noises.

   On Saturday, things began to get out of hand.  Twenty-four letters to
Hairy found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of
the two dozen eggs that their very confused and disappointed milkman had
handed Aunt Peetuna through the living room window while she gave him a
handjob.  While Uncle Vermon made furious telephone calls to the post
office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Peetuna
shredded the letters in her food processor and discretely drank the load of
cum she had man-handled into her coffee mug.

   "Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Didley asked Hairy in
amazement as he held Hairy down and fucked his mouth while his parents were
pre-occupied.

   On Sunday morning, Uncle Vermon sat down at the breakfast table looking
tired and rather ill, but happy.

   "No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread Peetuna's
pussy-juice marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"

   Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and
ricocheted sharply off his dangling scrotum.  Next moment, thirty or forty
letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets.  The Droolsleys
ducked, but Hairy leapt onto his chair trying to catch one.

   "Out!  OUT!" Vermon screamed, holding his aching balls.

   Uncle Vermon seized Hairy around the waist, his face momentarily buried
in Hairy's bare ass, and threw him into the hall.  When Aunt Peetuna and
Didley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vermon slammed
the door shut.  They could hear the letters still streaming into the room,
bouncing off the walls and floor.

   "That does it," said Uncle Vermon, trying to speak calmly but pulling
great tufts out of his pubics at the same time.  "I want you all back here
in five minutes ready to leave.  We're going away.  Just pack some clothes.
No arguments!"

   He looked so dangerous with half his pubics missing that no one dared
argue.  Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the
boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway.  Didley
was sniffling in the back seat and rubbing his crotch; his father had hit
him soundly in the balls for holding them up while he tried to pack his
porn collection, VCR, and sybian in his sports bag.

   They drove.  And they drove.  Even Aunt Peetuna didn't dare stop her
cock-sucking duties to ask where they were going.  Every now and then Uncle
Vermon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a
while.  "Shake'em off...  shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did
this.

   They didn't stop to eat or drink or piss all day.  By nightfall Didley
was howling.  He'd never had such a bad day in his life.  He was hungry,
he'd missed five porn programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so
long without blowing his load.

   Uncle Vermon stopped at last outside a seedy-looking hotel on the
outskirts of a big city.  Didley and Hairy shared a room with twin beds and
damp, musty sheets.  Hairy didn't resist as Didley jumped on his chest. 
Hairy wanted time to think so he took Didley's little penis in his warm
mouth without protest and quickly sucked him off.  Didley was quite proud
of how much hot cream squirted from his little dick and Hairy had to admit
to himself that it tasted better than usual.  He made Hairy sleep with him
and use his fat ass as a pillow, which Hairy secretly liked as long as
Didley didn't have gas.  Later, Didley woke and Hairy deftly licked his
tight asshole and jerked him off until he fell asleep again.  Didley snored
contentedly but Hairy stayed awake, nestled amongst Didley's prodigious ass
flesh, staring at the lights of passing cars on the ceiling and
wondering....

   They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast with a
healthy topping of Peetuna's pussy juice for breakfast the next day.  They
had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. 
She was a huge, matronly woman and she seemed embarrassed as she popped one
of her huge tits out and topped off everyone's tea with milk from one of
her huge paps.

   "'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr.  H.  Peeter?  Only I got about an
'undred of these at the front desk."

   She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

   Mr.  H.  Peeter

   Room 17

   Raveloo Hotel

   Cokewhiff

   Hairy made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vermon smacked his face so
hard he saw stars for a moment.  The woman tucked her huge, billowing milk
bag away and stared.

   "I'll take them," said Uncle Vermon, standing up quickly and following
her from the dining room.

   "Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Peetuna suggested
timidly, hours later, lifting her head from his lap.  But Uncle Vermon
didn't seem to hear her.  Exactly what he was looking for, none of them
knew.  He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, took a piss,
looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went
again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway
across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

   "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Didley asked Aunt Peetuna dully late that
afternoon.  Uncle Vermon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside
the car, and disappeared.  Aunt Peetuna was in the back seat with Didley's
cock and balls in her mouth, trying to console him.

   It started to rain.  Great drops beat on the roof of the car.  Didley
sniveled and Hairy could tell by the glassy look in his eyes that he was
pissing in his mother's mouth.

   "It's Monday," he told his mother as she worked to swallow his piss and
not let any ruin the car's interior.  "The Great Humpberto's on tonight.  I
want to stay somewhere with pornovision."

   Monday.  This reminded Hairy of something.  If it was Monday -- and you
could usually count on Didley to know the days the week, because of
pornovision -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Hairy's eleventh birthday.  Of
course, his birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Droolsleys
had given him a roll of toilet paper and a pair of Uncle Vermon's old socks
that were stiff with cum.  Still, you weren't eleven every day.

   Uncle Vermon was back and he was smiling.  He was also carrying a long,
thin package and didn't answer Aunt Peetuna when she swallowed the last
mouthful of Didley's piss and asked what he'd bought.

   "Found the perfect place!" he said.  "Come on!  Everyone out!"

   It was very cold outside the car and Hairy couldn't stop looking at his
aunt's hard nipples.  Uncle Vermon was pointing at what looked like a large
rock way out at sea.  Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable
little shack you could imagine.  One thing was certain, there was no
pornovision in there.

   "Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vermon gleefully, waggling his
genitals up and down.  "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his
boat for a blowjob!"

   A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather
wicked grin, at his wrinkled old cock bobbing up and down from his
zipper-hole.  Peetuna gave Vermon a withering look then got on her knees
and got to work.  Several minutes later, the old man held her head and
rammed his stiff cock down her throat, groaning loudly over the wind.  When
Peetuna stood up and arranged herself, Hairy could see that her cheeks were
bulging with hot cum.  She gulped loudly then smacked her lips.  Obviously,
the old man had a tasty load.

   "I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vermon, "so all aboard!"

   It was freezing in the boat.  Icy sea spray and rain crept down their
drawers and a chilly wind whipped their genitals.  Peetuna's flimsy dress
became so soaked that Hairy got a huge boner eyeing up her sexy body. 
After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vermon,
slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

   The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed and beer piss,
the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace
was damp and empty.  There were only two rooms.

   Uncle Vermon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four
bananas.  He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and
shriveled up.

   "Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said, cheerfully
working each banana in and out of Peetuna's pussy then handing them out.

   He was in a very good mood.  Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance
of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail.  Hairy privately agreed,
though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.  But the tangy taste of his
aunt's pussy juice and the way she kept her dress hiked up and her legs
spread wide so he could stare at her beautiful pink pussy made it bearable.

   As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them.  Spray from the
high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the
filthy windows.  Aunt Peetuna found a few moldy blankets in the second room
and made up a bed for Didley on the moth-eaten sofa.  She and Uncle Vermon
went off to the lumpy bed next door and soon Hairy heard the unmistakable
sounds of Peetuna punishing Vermon's ass for the day's events.  Hairy was
left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the
thinnest, most ragged blanket.

   The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on.  Hairy
couldn't sleep so he jerked off instead.  He shivered and turned over,
trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger.  Didley's
snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight.
The lighted dial of Didley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the
sofa on his fat wrist, told Hairy he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time.  He
lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Droolsleys would
remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now and if they had
sexual designs on Hairy.  He made up his mind to cum at the stroke of
midnight.

   Five minutes to go.  Hairy heard something creak outside.  He hoped the
roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.  Four
minutes to go.  Maybe the house in Pervert Drive would be so full of
letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.

   Three minutes to go.  He could feel a powerful orgasm rising in his
balls.  His sexy aunt had been a tease all day and Hairy needed to cum
badly.  Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that?  Or was it
Peetuna slapping Vermon's fat ass as she fucked him again?  And (two
minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise?  Was the rock crumbling
into the sea or had Peetuna devised some other devilish punishment for his
uncle?

   One minute to go and he'd be eleven.  Thirty seconds...  twenty ... 
ten...  nine -- maybe he'd wake Didley up and jerk off on his face, just to
annoy him -- three...  two...  one...

   BOOM.

   The whole shack shivered and Hairy sat bolt upright holding his
enormous, throbbing cock.  He was frozen, staring at the door.  Someone was
outside, knocking to come in.