Jon Reskind - Uncle Gaston and niece Voluma One

Responsively, she cried: "Oh don't… don't, Uncle Gaston… Mon Dieu!" even as she rolled her hips and tried to screw her taunted rectum back onto his stiff probing tongue.

Larreau could stand it no longer. Suddenly, he knelt up and tore the clothes from his grotesque body while she lay beneath him with closed eyes and tossing head, helpless mewls and whimpers erupting from her throat constantly as she awaited his next move with almost ungovernable impatience. His cock jerked and throbbed insanely. He grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees, thrusting them roughly back against her shoulders, slithering his squat, corpulent body up her sweat-coated flesh simultaneously. His rigid, cavorting prick brushed teasingly against the wetness of her sparse, soft pubic hair. He splayed his pudgy hands beside both of her shoulders and forced her legs up and back until her ankles were locked obscenely behind his neck. He gaped down between their bodies and saw her upturned crotch and the magnificence of her ivory-white buttocks completely exposed to him.

The expanded, narrow cunt-slit was visibly throbbing, the wet, coral furrow held wide apart by the pressure of his thighs tightly up against her own.

"Now, my little Cheri, I'm going to fuck you," Larreau said down to her, a lewd smile twisting his round, evil face. "Oui… I'm going to fuck and fuck you until that little cunt of yours screams for mercy, eh?"

Madeleine lay beneath him in a sensuously hypnotic state, her eyes fixed on the movements of his ugly mouth spouting the obscene words at her, their vile salaciousness echoing excitingly against the walls of her erotically steeped brain, even as she still fought feebly to control this gradual subjugation of her mind. Her body had betrayed her, but she must somehow maintain control of her wits. Oh, dear God in heaven…! It's useless; useless!

She could feel the fleshy hugeness of his lust-hardened cock lying the full length of her open, quivering vaginal slit. The jerking, rubbery head of his cock lay palpitating between her wide-spread buttocks, insinuating itself in a rising and falling, sawing motion, a maddening tease that caused her to grind her hips down toward it, her agonized pussy searching hungrily for its turgid blood-filled tip.

My God! I've got to have it inside me! My body is screaming for its hot, throbbing hardness! Oh, Antoine… Antoine… forgive me… but I must have it inside me! Must! Must! Must!

In a near frenzy, Madeleine groped with her hands beneath the cheeks of her raised ass to grasp the unbelievable length of his rock-hard shaft. She gasped in awe as her fingers encircled it, unable to go fully around it, and momentarily a little spasm of fright trickled through her, but then her tightly closed hands began caressing it tenderly… almost reverently, and she sensed its convulsive jerk against her soft palms, and the viscid fluid that oozed in droplets from its lust-inflated head. She maneuvered it up the vale separating the soft, full, vibrant moons of her buttocks, never allowing it to lose contact with her flesh, and then she adjusted it between the ravenously lubricated lips of her voracious vagina. She held it in place with one hand while the other clutched at his hip in her effort to pull it into her, that it might satisfy the gnawing, hot, lust burning all the way into her belly.

Larreau could not resist the temptation to taunt as she began to squirm and writhe beneath him, lifting her magnificent sparsely-haired loins up toward the bulging head of his prick that lay with only its tip inside the moist, fleshy lips of her cunt, even though he had all he could do to keep from plunging into her, but his sadistic desire to torment couldn't be denied. Shortly, he'd empty his load of white, hot sperm into her steaming hole, but at the moment, he must taunt her… and he did… listening to her pleading moans to be taken… watching her beautiful, almost virginal ass twist and jerk in its craving beneath him… Then, he flicked his hips forward.

Madeleine winced audibly as she felt the lips around her throbbing vagina forced open. Its elastic rimmed tightness resisted momentarily, then gave way before the sharp, brutal pressure. The sudden, unexpected agony shattered her ecstatic sensations with the finality of a well-placed bullet and mechanically she found herself trying to resist the penetration, squealing a throaty wail at the same time.

Gaston Larreau reveled in that. Her painful cries sent sadistic chills of delight surging through him. But they were not enough; he wanted to hear her scream for mercy! He couldn't endure the waiting any longer! He rammed into her with a brutal thrust of his hips, a momentary, contemptuous thought of his nephew dancing through his brain as he sunk his lust-hardened cock all the way in to his pelvis, his sperm-bloated balls slapping resoundingly against her twitching anus while she ground her frantically squirming buttocks down violently into the mattress in her attempt to escape the cruel, instantaneous impalement.

She screamed! Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his amorphous bulk and kicked, toes curling futilely, in the air.

"Jesus, God! Noooo! You're splitting me apart! Stop! Please…!" Madeleine choked, her naked, white, curvaceous body pinned helplessly to the bed as though empierced there by a great blunt-headed stake, and she quickly learned that with her every resistant jerk the massive head burrowed deeper and deeper into her.

The little czar's outstretched arms pinioned her tightly beneath him, while his wide-spread knees held her thighs apart to their near fullest extent. She was certain that her soft, tender body was being ripped from her navel to her anus and she'd die right there from this giant cudgel imbedded deep, deep in her sensitive vagina. The burning, pole-like shaft felt as though it would burst through her entrails and into her throat as its swollen head battered hard against her cervix, jarring and scrambling the thoughts in her brain as the monstrous thing pummeled into her.

Larreau gaped at her from above with a licentious smirk twisting his ugly features. Mon Dieu! In his lifetime he couldn't remember a more fulfilling seduction. His own adopted nephew's wife! Once more, the mere incestuous thought elated him… and this wouldn't be the end… not by a damned sight! There would be more such occasions… many, many more… God, yes! He looked at her innocent young face, contorted now from the viciousness of his first fiendish stab. Delightful! Delightful! He must train her well… teach her to suck him and submit occasionally to the belt. Oui, oui… the belt! Striping that magnificent ass… ahhhh! He grinned widely as her lips curled back from her white, even teeth, incoherent whimpers emitting from the depths of her throat. Her arms were outstretched between them, palms against his hips, and he chuckled as he watched her attempting to hold back the blunt, hard knob pressing against the tiny mouth of her womb like a great heavy stone.

Suffer, you little bitch, he thought sadistically as he held her pinned helplessly in the obscene, humiliating position. He glanced down once more to see his curly graying pubic hair entangled tightly with her own silken, raven strands, the base of his thick fleshy cock barely showing from its submerged depths in her pink, throbbing cunt… the very same hole that his tongue had licked to moist, craving receptiveness only a few moments before. He could see the tight, hair-lined lips stretched almost to the ripping point, the spongy, outer coral rim clasping tightly about the white skinned origin of his massive prick.

He smiled again to himself, holding her there for a moment, savoring the spectacle of her beautiful impaled loveliness speared helplessly beneath him, with his heavy prick sunk deep in her smooth white belly. Damn! He wished her husband, the stupid parasite punk, could see her now, spread-eagle beneath his crime-boss uncle! Maybe, he wouldn't think he was too good for his dear old Uncle Gaston, then, eh… too good and too smart for the man who had taken him in, raised and educated him? Ah no, Gaston Larreau wasn't fooled by the young smart-ass's glib tongue or pretensive ways… not by a damned sight. The little punk blamed him for his parents' death and he was certain of that. Antoine would sell him out in a minute if he knew how… and if he dared… but he'd never have that chance… any more than this luscious little cochon would ever get away from him again… But how he wished her cockroach husband could see her now, screaming and yelling beneath him. Mon Dieu! What pleasure that would bring him…