Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book three

Robin felt him filling and emptying her again and again. It was totally unlike anything she had ever felt before. Filling and stretching her babyish channel. By instinct and to heighten the good feelings that were building in her belly, she pushed back softly with her round assheeks, sliding her vagina over the cock inside her. Was this called incest? She couldn't remember, but she knew that it was beginning to feel good, what Uncle Jim was doing to her. Her mind swam with the reality of it. She was doing it, having sex with her father's brother, in this strange submissive position, not face to face as she had thought she would with her husband. She didn't like being bent over the marble top like this, her bottom thrusting back at him like some animal in heat, but she soon found that she couldn't stop the backward heaving motion of her body. Her hot, soaking girl-hole wanted more and more of this, and try as she might she couldn't stop it from pushing itself back and forth over her uncle's big, gut-stretching penis. She felt her cheeks and lips burning, and she wanted to kiss him, wanted to fold her legs around him and pull him deep into her pussy, but if she did that, she would have to let his cock out of her and she couldn't bring herself to do that.

"Uncle Jim," she whispered. "Please kiss me."

Leaning forward, he kissed her burning lips, never slacking the fucking actions of his cock in her tight, oozing cunt. He kissed her for a long time, his tongue duelling with hers, his cockhead battering her cervix while wet slurping sounds filled the room and mingled with her throaty sounds of growing pleasure. He was her uncle and it was wrong, but he was having intercourse with her and it felt so good, so very, very good. With each instroke, she felt his pubic hair tickling her asshole and she wiggled her hips back at him.

Devereaux broke the kiss and increased the speed of his plunging penis.

"Like that, Robin?" he said, looking down at where his cock was drawing tiny ridges of pink vaginal flesh out with every outstroke, then pushing them inside as he fucked back into her. "Do you like that, baby?"

Robin was trying to catch her breath as her hips followed him stroke for stroke.

"Like… it," she panted. "Like it, oooh… yes, I… like… it." Feeling the joy shoot through her undulating loins, she cried out. "Oh, yes, Uncle Jim. I love it. Please do it some more. Please don't stop."

He felt the impending explosion of semen building behind the base of his cock, rising up from his heavy, swinging balls. He was going to give it to her, whether she wanted it or not. "I won't stop, Robin. I'll do it all you want, all summer. I'll fuck you until you've had all the fucking you need."

The lovely girl groaned at his use of the obscenity, but there was no stopping the bucking of her hips as her vagina sucked lovingly on the cock shoving deeply into it. Something was expanding inside her, something that she couldn't stop, even though it threatened to burst her trembling young loins.

"Something's happening to me, Uncle Jim," she grunted, bouncing her butt back at him harder and faster. "Something…"

"Go with it, baby. Go… with… it. You're going to… to come." They were going to come together, the first time. This was fucking great, he thought. "And I'm coming too. I going to come inside your sweet little pussy."

The coarse language fuelled her passion and she bucked against him all the harder. "Oh, I love it. I do. I love it." She felt the joy building in her like the sunrise, slowly at first and then brightening to a blinding flood of light. Her body began to shake and she felt the muscles of her belly squeezing and vibrating as her vagina clamped down on his glistening, fucking cock. She cried out again and felt him begin to hammer into her pussy like a madman.

"Coming, Robin, coming," he grated. "Coming in your pussy, baby. Everything I've got."

And then it began to throb, and spurt. Weeks of stored-up, teeming sperm gushed out of him like a broken hose, flooding her young, convulsing vagina, spurting into her pure, untouched love channel. They kissed again, writhing together in gut-wrenching pleasure and joy as he filled her with his dangerous semen. Neither of them had any time to think of where all this was leading them, this young teenaged girl and this fifty-three year-old man, both possessed of lust and love and lewd joy. No time or room in their minds to think of what this huge injection of sperm could do to her precious young body. They were concerned only with the joy they both felt in each other's body.

"More! Give me more!" Robin pleaded.

"This is all I've got, darling," he groaned. "All I've got." He felt the last drop of juice drain from his balls and felt his cock finally lie still, thick, and softening inside her feminine hole. Robin shuddered to stillness, lay exhausted on the marble top, her breasts crushed beneath the weight of them both, his cock soaking in the warm swamp of her vagina. It was a long time before either of them could think.

"Oh, Uncle Jim!" she said in a small soft voice. "What have we done?"

Devereaux stood up and drew his cock free of her loving cuntal grasp. He turned her around, drawing her up against his hairy chest and middle-aged paunch.

"What have we done?" she asked again, laying her head on his chest. "I feel so ashamed." She started to cry silently. "What are we doing to do?"

Devereaux lifted her face up to him, dried her tears and kissed her. "What are we going to do?" he repeated. He swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed and climbing on top of her without hesitation. He slotted his hips between her uplifted thighs and quickly found the opening of her vagina with his cock, sliding it in all the way.

"This is what we're going to do," he said, starting to move his rejuvenating cock slowly in and out of her sperm-flooded pussy. "Priss won't be home for hours."

Robin moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around him, forcing his huge, knurled, fifty-three-year-old cock deep, deep into her hungry belly.

Bill Canning and Sam Quaid sat in their Mercedes in the upmarket housing area of Pickford's Meadows, watching the comings and goings of the residents. This particular house they had been watching for quite some time while the former's feverish brain plotted revenge for the murder of his older brother John. In his mind, DesirЋe Denning was equally to blame for Clete Anderson's murder of the young man. DesirЋe, he believed, had enticed John into raping her and thereby incurred the wrath and revenge of the amoral black sheriff. Bill knew that his brother had been disembowelled by a garden tool, wielded by Clete and which had torn him open systematically from groin to gullet.

"You know what we're talking about is killing a politician's wife as revenge on the town sheriff," Sam said conversationally. He was not at all worried or repelled by what they were contemplating, but was weighing the realities of an act that excited him more by the minute as they planned it. DesirЋe was the kind of girl he, or his companion, could never hope to win. The only substitutes he could hope for were those impressed by his ill-gotten wealth from drug dealing. DesirЋe, the blonde-haired angel of everyone's dreams deserved what she had coming, just for the pain she caused to men like Sam in withholding her charms.

Just now, DesirЋe was arriving home from somewhere in her modest but new little Chevrolet, almost colliding with her husband's own BMW as he was pulling out of the driveway. The two young criminals watched the young newlyweds adjust their approaches, DesirЋe allowing Mark to back out before pulling into the crescent-shaped driveway. While the husband drove away, they saw the blond girl get out of her car and gaze wistfully and lovingly after her departing love.