Anonymous - Uncle Roy's secret

"Yeow!"

Mercedes sank her fangs into pissing pussy.

Sucked slit.

Kissed pusslips.

Quaffed piss.

Without a blink.

Mercedes cackled and began to glow from below with a liquid halo of her own brew. Pissing sucksisters cavorted in gilt-tinged mist.

Randy added his own broth to the stew. He strewed strips of liquid silver in high-flying arcs from his pricktip.

Pizzle scampered over the backs of the two young ladies who drank mixed liquid from each other's cracks. Bubba backed off.

Jacked off.

Blew a wad of cockcome through the air to land upon the tightly entwined tresses of the girls who now bussed each other's breasts.

"Hold onto me, Mercedes. Please don't let them take me away."

"Don't worry, dollbaby. They'll take you right here. On top of me."

Little Ramona worked the final squinks of jizz from Yancey's fizzling hard-on. She wiped the withered pecker between her legs.

Lapped a few thick patched of cockcorne from her fingers and picked up Yancey's derringer. Twisted her hiney from where she had been sitting on his belly-her cunt smooching his chest.

Asshole oinking up in rut action toward Yancey's mouth as she went down on his hawg. Loading her jowls with pork.

"If what you say, Ramona, about the way they work the system here-if that's how they do it, I think I know a way to get Uncle Roy out of the jug before he goes stir crazy."

Ramona belched lazily.

"A little late for that kind of talk tonight, Yancey. But I guess I can rous up the rest of the clan for some serious discussion."

Ramona rustled her clothing from the floor. Danced the derringer between her boobs.

"Cute, Ramona. Now you just give me that pretty little popgun."

"Give me my Colt.45."

"If I'm alive after you get to fooling around with my Remington."

"We call it quits?"

"How about it?"

"Okay. Exchange weaponry?"

"When we get dressed."

Lafayette had ignored the obvious gunshots from the next room as he had fucked cousin Sallie Anne in the cabana shower.

Sallie Anne had not even lurched at the sounds of the bullets being fired. Lafayette thought that things were so wired around here it must happen all the time-gunslinging, fucking.

Sallie Anne fucked Lafayette's cock with her ass. He bucked off a load of jizzom.

Swinging his coming penis from Sallie Anne's keister, Lafayette turned face to face with Little Ramona and the deputy.

"Randy and I have something to say."

"Can't it wait until after we finish taking a fucking shower?" Sallie Anne slavered.

"Where's Sadie Mae?" Sallie Anne said as she sashayed into the saloon at Uncle Roy's Roadhouse. "Here's her blouse-"

Ramona's voice hacked:

"Ah na. Na na-na na-na. Na na-na na-na. Na na-na. Na na-na. Na na-na na-na."

"Fuckingchrist," Sallie Anne sprayed. "My very own sister. Sadie Mae-what are you doing?"

Sadie Mae spoke through pliant maw:

"Drooling."

"Stop your fooling around now," Ramona jabbered. "You boys-Randy and Buhba-get back to the bungalow cabins-"

"There's whores down there for yuh-" Sallie Anne chauvered.

Ramona grabbed Sadie Mae by a wet hank of hair. Pulled her with a pop from on top of Mercedes. "Maybe Mercedes should be in on this too."

Mercedes woozed in postorgasmic haze.

"Who?"

Cuntlips choking ladyjuice in sluices beneath her business suit, Cassandra Louise Lafayette LaRue Jones Massey honed her hard clit with only the movements of her thighs as she was walking. High heels clicking down the halls.

Echoing off the colorless, clean, uninviting tilework inset with metal-louvered willdowshades. She turned into a room barren of everything except a lamp, couple hardbacked chairs and a card table.

Encamped there.

Feeling the wetness from her crack exude through her underpants and perhaps cake onto the tops of her hose.

Chewed a bit on a lit cigarette.

Wrinkling her nose at the marks made on the filter by her lipstick.

She knew her nipples were thick.

And that if you looked straight there on her chest you could see her jugs through the prim blouse she wore.

Dig at her dugs with your peepers through the scoring of lace stitchery on Cassie Lou's sneeringly cut brassiere.

Cassie Lou allowed the lit faggot to dangle from her yip. Crossed her legs at the ankles.

Began to think about having a drink.

It was a mark of the respect this prisoner had among the penal system that when he was escorted to his meeting with an official from the pardon and parole board he was not led in shackles-no manacles, no guns pointed.

Uncle Roy was just followed down the hall by a pack of uniformed guards.

"Pardon me, men," Uncle Roy said to them with a wave. "I gotta duck in here for a bit."

"You want luncheon?" one of the guardsmen said, idly fondling a truncheon.

"Maybe later," Uncle Roy jawed. "Remember, I'm on a diet."

"Turkey okay?"

"Say-sounds right by me. But you can skip the gravy and add some fresh greens."

He glanced through the door before he entered. Eyes centered unhesitatingly on a titular leer seeming to emanate from a tight set of jugs encased by a lacework brassiere that could be seen through sheer silk blouse.

"Way to go, Cassie Lou," LeRoy LaRue chewed through a plug of tobacco as he walked into the room alone.

"You know you shouldn't do that. Call me by a familiar name even before we've met."

"Balls."

Uncle Roy sat even with Cassie Lou catercorner at the card table.

"I knew when I heard from you, Cassie Lou, it would be goodgood news."

"Your choice of words. Loads of other things in with most of the good things I know of."

Uncle Roy reached out and patted one of Cassie Lou's paws at the wrist.

"We're clear here, Cassie Lou. Speak softly and they can't overhear us-the echoes."

"As you know, Cassandra Louise Jones is the name on my law degree. Then that hassle they called a marriage and I kept the Massey cause the mutt already had my money-"

"Now that's funny-"

"Won't be if they ever find out about the Lafayette strand of the LaRue brigade. I'd be packed away with a passle of bulldykes serving life in no time-"

"Might try to pull your connections,"

"On the other hand, my contact with you is tenuous enough to trace-"

"The paper trail diverges from the flesh-"

"So to speak."

"Nevertheless," Uncle Roy expression did not change, "discretion is our advantage."

Cassie Lou unloaded a sheaf of papers from her alligator briefcase.

Eyes drove into his.

She saw dick reflected in his irises.

Assholes in his widening lens apertures, and a glaze come over his face.

"Flatter me, why don't you, Uncle Roy. You won't get far that way."

"I was just looking at you. You know they don't allow women in here with us."

"Even though as one of your perquisites you do have private visits on occasion."

"Those are my relations."

"Little Ramona. Sadie Mae and Sallie Anne and the rest of your inbred clan. We know all about that fancy dalliance."

"Let's cut the chitchat then and let the bargaining commence."

"Too much we got on you to do that."

"There was no evidence."

"Now forgetting about the long-buried skeletons and our rotted family ties, there is not much I can do to convince the other members of the board to consider your parole-"

"I did not request a parole review," his eyes were skewed toward her twat.

"Your appeal won't come up for years. Now, Mister LaRue, what we can do-"

"Doctor to you," Uncle Roy chewed as though serious. Then broke into a pricklike grin.

"Ah, yes," Cassie Lou said, refreshed at the lightening of the situation. "And I see from your resume you were a professor. Dean of graduate fellows at State for a spell."