The Chronicles of Valen Ch. 03
Early the next morning Rizolvir delivers her items in person. He stops at the central hall and finds one of the acolytes, who runs to wake her.
Morrighu is awaked by a soft knock on her door, “Rizolvir is here to see you.”
Before she can even respond, all she hears is the sound of slippered feet padding away.
She tosses on a robe quickly and heads out to the central hall.
Rizolvir arches a brow at her state of undress. She shrugs at him, “I don’t have anything else to wear. This is even borrowed.”
Rizolvir nods, “Come by my shop. I have a seamstress I work with. I’m sure she can make you some clothes. That’s not why I came though. I brought the things you ordered. I don’t usually make jewelry, but the design is simple enough.”
She grins as she pays him, “Valen needs a present. I can’t imagine anyone’s given him one in a very long time.”
With that she retreats to her quarters where she dresses in the practice armor Rizolvir has brought her and goes to wait in the central hall of the temple.
She spots Imloth and gets an idea. There might be someone here to practice with after all, while she waits for Valen.
She walks over to Imloth, sizing him up, “Nathyrra tells me that you’re in charge of training the Seer’s followers. I don’t suppose you’d mind loaning me a half a dozen or so of them until Valen meets me.”
Imloth raises a brow at her words, “Six of them? Aren’t you being a bit ambitious?”
She chuckles, “Not really. You forget that even blind and nearly dead I came very close to killing at least six of your guards when I arrived here.”
Imloth scoffs, “I don’t really see how you can think that. We had you surrounded.”
She chuckles as she shakes her head, “Yes, they were very nearly in range. I heard someone, Valen perhaps, moving toward me and meant to face them first, while I still had some strength left. Surrounded is not always defeated.”
Imloth shakes his head, “We had a clear advantage over you.”
Imloth finds himself transfixed by an intense olive gaze.
Morrighu scoffs at him, “Hah! Bring your guards, then to the practice ground and I’ll prove it. You seem to forget that I’m a paladin devoted to a battle goddess. The art of killing is my specialty and even amongst those who truly deal in death, I am nearly peerless at my profession.”
He looks her over, “Yes, Nathyrra has told me of your boast.”
Her eyes narrow and she plants a finger in Imloth’s chest, “It is no boast, I assure you. Your mistake is that you have only seen me either weak or in a dress. Underestimating me is an often lethal mistake and it’s not generally an error that one gets to repeat twice. While I am not yet at my full strength, I am significantly better than I was when I arrived here. Your Seer is quite the healer.”
She sighs and relents somewhat, “Halaster teleported me here and my first thought was that this place was swarming like an ants nest. Facing that blind and spitting blood was quite unnerving. I thought my time was finally done and that I would pass beyond the veil once and for all.”
Imloth laughs “Now you sound like him. Just as intense and full of angst, too.”
She grins at him, “Sometimes I forget and take myself too seriously.”
Imloth laughs again, “Of course. I can’t help but notice that this is not what you arrived in. Those are not even your swords.”
She gives him an odd look, “Very perceptive.”
She takes a helm out of the bundle she is carrying under her arm, “I don’t know what you would call this, but we call it a ‘blind helm’. It’s deliberately made so that the wearer cannot see. And these blades are blunted so that I don’t accidentally harm anyone. However, if I do manage to land a blow, it will leave a colored mark.” Imloth’s estimation of her creeps up as he says, “Is this common?”
She rolls her eyes, “Where I come from, yes. It is standard proving gear. I have practiced like this since I was ten.”
Imloth says, “Would you mind if I join the recruits?”
Morrighu flashes him a brilliant smile and, for a moment, Imloth is struck by how lovely she is. She grins at him impishly, “You may, but under one condition.”
Imloth looks at her suspiciously, “What condition would that be?”
Her grin widens, “Nothing serious. Just a small bet to make things interesting.”
Imloth shrugs, “What did you have in mind?”
Morrighu gives him a conspiratorial wink, “If I best you, you have to buy me lunch and tell me everything you know about Valen.”
Imloth frowns, “That seems a bit one sided. What do I get, if I best you?”
She laughs, “Hah! In the unlikely event that happens, what would you like?”
Imloth considers for a long moment and says, “Train the Seer’s guards while you wait for your armor.”
Morrighu shrugs and bows to him, “Done! You have a deal. Now, would you mind doing me another favor?”
Imloth shrugs, liking her already, “What would that be?”
Morrighu looks at him sheepishly, “I told Valen that I’d meet him at the practice grounds, but I don’t know where they are. Would you mind showing me the way?”
Imloth laughs heartily at this and offers her his arm.
Once at the practice ground, Imloth sizes up the recruits that are present and drilling. Making his selections quickly, he pulls aside six of the more skilled ones and dons his own helm as well. While he’s busy making his selections, Morrighu calmly winds up her hair and pulls on one of the blind helms. She stands off to side, waiting patiently as they arrange themselves.
Even though there’s been quite a bit of shuffling about and repositioning, she turns with eerie precision to face Imloth and bows.
She unsheathes her practice blades, “When you are ready,”
The recruits circle her warily and the one directly behind her moves in with his spear. In a single movement, she sidesteps his rush, which carries him past her, plants a foot in his rear, and gives him a big shove. He goes skidding in to two of the other recruits, knocking them off their feet, as well.
Imloth motions for them to have a seat. She snaps a bow at the recruits she’s bested and proceeds back to the center of their circle. Imloth notices that on her way, she kicks a rock well out of the area on her way back to the center of the circle.
An instinctive shiver tries to crawl down his spine - she’s still wearing the blind helm. Imloth braces himself thinking, “How can she know that’s there? Surely she can see out of it somehow.”
She reaches the center and bows to Imloth, “When you’re ready.”
Imloth gives a hand signal to the remaining recruits and they all rush her. She ducks a spear and her sword makes contact with the recruit’s legs and a blue glow marks the point of contact. She sweeps past him and swings around and brings the hilt of her blade down on another recruits helm in a blow that knocks him to his knees. She touches him with the point of her sword and another blue glow blossoms.
~*~
Half an hour later, Valen emerges from the men’s quarters and looks around the central hall. He doesn’t see Morrighu anywhere so he asks one of the guards who tells him that she left earlier with Imloth, headed to the practice grounds. A slight twinge of jealousy creeps in, but he pushes it aside. He has no claim on her and whom she chooses to spend the morning with is none of his affair.
He sighs and heads for the practice ground as quickly as he can.
~*~
Valen walks up and sees the recruits sitting watching her toying with Imloth and the remaining recruit. He eyes her appreciatively, for several reasons. She seems to be quite skilled, but watching her lithe form dodge and twist gives him…other ideas.
She whirls around them dodging their blows effortlessly. As the combat proceeds, they soon have their backs to Valen, who starts laughing. Both of them have a nice blue “M” glowing in the center of their backs.
She hears him laughing and says “Hold! You’re both beaten anyway.”
Imloth stops startled and starts to protest, but Valen holds up a hand still laughing “She’s even managed to sign her handiwork.”
Imloth looks at the recruits for confirmation and seeing their expressions realizes that it’s true. Morrighu removes her helm and bows to Imloth, “You owe me lunch.”
With a small, secret smile she tosses the helm to him and he catches it. He puts it on and try as he might, he cannot see out of it at all. She grins at this for a moment, before she shifts her attention to Valen.
She grins up at him, “Now that you’ve arrived, you may have your surprise.”
His curiosity is piqued as she kneels next to the bundle she has brought with her to practice ground.
Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she opens the bundle carefully, so that he cannot see the full contents. He sees her palm something small from inside it before she turns to him. She flashes him another brilliant smile, “Hold out your hand.”
He obliges and she places the object in it. When she removes her hand, he sees that it’s a pin worked in a 12-pointed star.
She explains, “This is an ancient symbol among my people. It is a reminder to spread out your awareness and not to let your enemy cause you to focus too closely. If you see only what he wants you to look at, you will be missing what he does not wish you to see. The symbol seemed…right for you, somehow. It’s more practical purpose is that it’s a cloak pin. I noticed that you needed one.”
He stands there for a long moment dumbfounded, staring at the pin laying on his palm. No one ever gives him gifts. The only people that have ever given him anything have been his mother and the Seer. “Until now,” he thinks to himself as he swallows heavily.
~*~
She looks up at his face but cannot read his expression, so she asks, “Do you like it?”
She’s slightly disappointed. It’s the first time that he done anything that might even remotely be construed as rude. Even if he didn’t like it, he could at least thank her for it.
~*~
Finally, his hand closes around it, feeling the solidness and reality of the pin.
He bows her before he stammers out his thanks, “My…my thanks. I will treasure it always.”
He tucks it safely into a belt pouch and Imloth notices that every so often, his hand strays toward the pin.
She grins up at him, “That’s not all, though.” He surprised and then intensely interested in what she has for him.
She kneels next to the bundle again and throws it open completely, revealing another helm and a practice flail, padded instead of studded on the head.
She picks up the flail and tosses it to him, “This one seemed to have about the same balance and heft as that behemoth you carry. Test it and let me know if I chose well or not.”
He makes a few experimental swings with and nods his satisfaction.
She tosses him the helmet and says, “Come dance with me.”
He looks at the helm curiously but notices that it’s virtually identical to the one she’s retrieving from Imloth, so he dons it. Imloth, who has been watching the entire exchange, grins largely.
Valen dons the helm and frowns deeply, unable to see.
Valen says, “You need to find a new armorer. This helm seems to be somewhat defective.”
He can her laughing in response.
Still giggling, she says, “No, I chose them on purpose. Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are. I promised to let you push my limits as much as you are able. You can always take it off if it’s too much for you.”
Imloth and the recruits fall silent, waiting for the tiefling to tear into her. The silence becomes tense for a moment, before Valen finally breaks it.
Valen shrugs, “It’s not too much for me. I only wanted to be sure that you knew that helms are supposed to have eye slits.”
Imloth and the recruits roar with laughter. Morrighu giggles inside her helm again, “Well, I wouldn’t want you to trip and hurt yourself. I’m sure Imloth will be happy to tell you if start to wander off.”
Valen, for his part, is a good sport and taunts her back. “Just for that, I will dump you in the rothe beast’s trough before we’re done.”
The two begin circling each other, looking for an opening. Morrighu moves first, making a feint at his arm with her right hand which he blocks with a swing of his flail, but it leaves a slim opening for her left blade to go for his leg, which she takes.
However, he side steps her and forces her to roll out of the way of downswing of his flail. She comes up on her feet somewhere behind him. He can no longer hear her but he turns his head and catches the tiniest whiff of something spicy and woodsy. He moves in that direction and swings but she blocks him with her blade.
However, he feels the flail trap the blade and ducks just in time to miss her other blade. He stands and pulls the flail toward him — hard, trying to draw her off balance.
Her counter to his move surprises even him. He feels no resistance to his pull and suddenly he feels a foot planted in his chest, driving him backward and the next thing he knows, her blade is free of his flail.
As he stumbles backward, he hears the gasp from the on-lookers and realizes that she’s done something dramatic.
He calls “Imloth, what was that?”
Imloth laughs, “Valen, I think you may have met your match. She used the force of your pull to do a back flip to free her blade from your flail.”
Valen sets himself, “I had not pegged you for a show-off, my lady.”
He hears her giggling inside her helm, “Well, the dress didn’t get your attention so I thought I’d try another tactic.”
Imloth, however, notes the addition of the “my lady” to Valen’s speech and realizes that the paladin has made an impression on him.
Valen blushes furiously and is thankful that he’s wearing a helm, but says nothing. The onlookers roar their approval. Imloth realizes what Valen still hasn’t, namely that he’s made quite an impression on the paladin.
~*~
Morrighu must also admit that she respects his skills. No one has been able to trap one of her blades so easily in ages. She’s pleased to find him so skilled and her estimation of him rises further.
She still can’t tell if he liked his present or not, which is a shame since Rizolvir went to such trouble to make it on short notice. She starts thinking about what she can get him that he might like better.
She sighs and decides that Imloth might have some better insights. It will definitely be something to ask him about over lunch. Now, if she can just keep Valen away long enough to ask him.
~*~
Not knowing what else to do, she challenges him, “So…what do I get if I best you? Imloth already has to buy me lunch. Dinner again, perhaps?”
Valen says “Imloth, you didn’t! She eats like a rothe beast and drinks like a Maeviir guard. Your months pay will be gone and you’ll be broke before dinner. I don’t know if I can afford to keep feeding you, Morrighu.”
Imloth and the others all laugh. Imloth says “It will be money well spent. At least I won’t have to eat with you smelly lot for once. It’ll be a pleasant change to have a dining companion I don’t wish to be up wind of.”
Then Morrighu says sweetly, “How kind of you! It’s very gentlemanly of you to admit that you’re beaten. You may call for me at the 7th hour this evening.”
The onlookers, including Imloth, all snicker at this.
Valen growls, “I am not beaten.”
She laughs, “Then prove it.”
With that he comes at her in full attack and to his surprise, it is rather like running into a brick wall. He cannot press his attack and he finds that he also dare not let up, either. For her part, she is as stuck.
Imloth watches as the two dodge, feint, and strike and he begins to see why she told him to dance with her.
Finally, it is Morrighu who cries “Hold!”
Valen pulls his helm off, triumphant but instead he sees he paladin, bent, hands on her knees, sides heaving and he can hear a slight wheezing as well.
He grimaces, not having meant to hurt her in order to win. He moves swiftly to her and pulls her helm off.
She looks up at him at smiles wanly, “You always seem to be removing my helm for me.”
She holds out a hand for him to help her up. He takes her hand and watches her straighten with a grimace of her own.
He shakes his head, “You are going to the Seer.”
She looks at him levelly, “No, I’m not. Don’t be ridiculous. I am not going to bother her with a stitch in my side. I just need to walk a bit until it goes away. Here, give me your arm and you can even walk with me.”
He offers her his arm and they go walking slowly and leaving Imloth to continue drilling the recruits.
He looks down at her and says, “Surely you know that you lack my size and stamina? Do you make a habit out of pushing yourself so hard?”
She laughs, “If you don’t test your limits, how do you know where they are? If you don’t know where they are, how do you know when you’ve hit one? You know, if we had time, I’d have Rizolvir make you some new armor, at least for here in camp. You remind me of thorn thicket. I can’t even put my head on your shoulder.”
He looks down at her, concerned “You really should allow yourself more time to recover. Had I known, I would not have pushed you so hard. And why is being able to put your head on my shoulder so important? I am here, am I not?”
She sighs, “My condition is not nearly what it normally is. Therefore I must do my best to determine what my actual limits are. This is vital information that will tell me how I must shape my engagements in order to be successful. For example, I am not up to long drawn out melee engagements, so I will need to avoid those and force my enemy to meet me in some other way or place. If I must be in one, I know that I need to buff myself with potions and scrolls as much as possible. As for you shoulder, it’s important because I like it.”
Their conversation and their stroll have carried them back to the practice ground. Imloth sees them approach and tells the recruits to break for lunch.
Morrighu notices that he’s dismissed them and grins at Valen, “I wonder what Imloth’s got in mind for lunch.”
Valen attempts to invite himself along, “I don’t know, but after that food sounds good.”
The paladin spins to face him, “Bend down here where I can reach you.”
He obliges and she kisses a finger tip and taps his nose.
She smiles at him, “You can’t come. It’s not part of the bet I have with Imloth. However, if you’ll come for me this evening, I’ll gladly buy your dinner, which is part of our bet. If you like archery, I’ve arranged something you might wish to watch this afternoon. Now, I’m going to go have lunch and suggest you do the same. If you like, I’ll gladly meet you after lunch.”
With that, she kisses his cheek lightly and whirls away.
As Valen watches Imloth offer her his arm, he finds that he is struck by a twinge of jealousy. He watches as the two of them walk off, but he notices that she makes no move to put her head on his shoulder and thinks back to what Rizolvir told him.
He decides to go vent his frustration on a practice dummy. Then he recalls what she said about having her head on his shoulder and rushes back to the temple to change.
~*~
Imloth and Morrighu chat about small things until Morrighu fixes him in her smoldering gaze, “So, tell me all about Valen. I don’t expect you to violate his confidence, but what I want to know about him probably wouldn’t do that.”
Imloth shrugs, “What do you want to know then?”
She grins, “What does he like to eat? What does he do in his spare time? Do you have any idea why he didn’t like his present? Do you know of anything he needs or wants that he might like better?”
Imloth laughs, “First off, you’re wrong about the pin. I’m absolutely certain he adored your present. No one’s really paid enough attention to what he wants or needs to give him a personal gift like that. You simply caught him off guard and he wasn’t sure what to say or do, so he stood there like a lump. He means well, it’s just that he…well, he can behave like a turnip sometimes.” Imloth gestures at her with his fork, “If you plan to get him anything else, I can make some suggestions for things he needs. He needs some new boots. If you decide to get him anything, please get him some boots. His old ones are atrocious — we keep threatening to burn them. They’re nearly enough to reek out the men’s quarters when he’s gotten them wet.”
“Greg?”
“I’ll watch this time. I always wanted to see two chicks eat each other.”
Jan sat against the headboard of the bed, drew her legs up and spread them wide; her thick reddish-blond muff in sharp contrast to Marcia’s silky blondness. She fondled her own tits, making the nipples taut and erect.
“Com’on, Mar, eat me! Eat my pussyjuice! Suck Greg’s cum out of my dirty cunt! Eat me!”
The words assailed Marcia’s mind. How long ago was it that she and Jan had fingered each other’s pussies, trying to capture the new sensations that were beginning to make themselves known? How frequently had she fantasized about making love to another woman? Now the past had caught up to the present and fantasy had become reality. As if it were the most natural thing in the world her head dipped between her sister’s legs and she began to lick at her cunt and savor its musky aroma.
Greg became caught up in the voyeuristic pleasure of watching. He saw Jan’s face contort; her brow crease, her jaws clinch as each wave of pleasure began to wash over her. He saw Marcia’s head bob rhythmically and in his mind’s eye he could see her tongue dip in and out of the sopping pussy of his younger sister. Marcia’s lovely ass stuck straight up in the air; two perfect half moons beckoning to him. His erection was almost painful.
Marcia felt the pressure on her cuntlips, their sudden parting as the rough ridges of her brother’s prick rubbed the walls of her vagina. She moaned loudly into her sister’s pussy.
“Oh, yeah, Greg. Fuck her cunt!” Jan said when she felt the sudden extra weight against her. She rubbed her sister’s back, her tits, squeezing them roughly.
Greg’s cock was sunk to the shank in Marcia’s cunt. He leaned forward, grabbed Jan’s large tits and kissed her hungrily; his tongue probing deep in her mouth. They were completely linked, joined by mouth, pussy, and cock; trans- ported to another dimension, yet each a part of the other. When they came, it was in unison. Their passion, their love could be heard throughout the house.
And they didn’t care.
“(To be Continued)”
“Awwww,” Mary Brady-Cummings yelped as her face contorted with pain and pleasure. “Oh, God, yesssss. Fuck me! Fuck me! I love your black cock.” Her eyes glazed and her mouth flopped open, as if to scream, but no sound came out. She grabbed the black woman for support just as the shattering climax rippled through her body. Her legs shook, her chest heaved and her arms jerked uncontrollably as wave after wave of pure heaven washed over her. Leroy pumped furiously, working his cock all the way up to the hilt, and back down to the very tip.
“Oh, momma,” he yelled. “I’m cummin’ white bitch, I’m cummin’. Take it all! Take it all!”
His cock exploded deep in Mary’s vagina. She could feel the eruptions splash against her womb, each one hotter and more powerful than the one before it and it triggered another juicy orgasm. She bounced like a toy and she raveled in his rough treatment. Slowly, the tremors began to subside as thick, white globs of cum mixed with clear pussy nectar and leaked from her pleasure-raw cunt. The black woman quickly got on her hands and knees and began licking Mary’s cunt and Leroy’s balls, her agile tongue slurping up the droplets of cum and pussyjuice. She worked swiftly, hardly missing a drop.
Mary leaned back against the muscular black man and kissed him greedily. “Ohhhh,” she sighed. “Your wife’s tongue is almost as good as your cock, Leroy.”
He laughed a deep laugh. “You’re only saying that ’cause it’s true. Marcy can blow the hat right off your head.”
John Cummings stood there, naked, stroking his prick. Watching his wife get fucked always gave him his biggest hard-ons, but even his good size cock was no match for the huge weapon the black man carried. He moaned. Marcy, Leroy’s wife, turned, saw his erection, and crawled to him. Her mouth ovaled around his dickhead and slowly his cock disappeared into her hot wet mouth. He grabbed her black, kinky hair and began to piston his hard fuckpole in and out. It felt almost as good as her juicy, black pussy. The suction was electric. Shock waves ran from his cock to his brain and back. Her mouth was a fiery vacuum, sucking the life from his dick as her head bobbed in rhythm to his vigorous thrusting. He felt the pressure building to the boiling point.
“Suck it, bitch!” he snarled. “Suck my white cock! Make it cum all over your black hide. Suck . . . suck . . . oh, shit, I’m cumming, Marcy, I can’t hold it, baby. I’m cummmmmming!”
He felt Marcy Lincoln suck his cock deep down her throat with all the strength of her powerful jaws. It felt as if the tip of his dick was going to be ripped off. His body shuttered, convulsed, and he erupted in her mouth. It was a strong, powerful load.
She held his hips in support as his jism splashed down her throat; globs of it. She swallowed quickly, not missing a drop of the heavy onslaughts - she was a real pro at sucking cock. Then, as the eruptions began to subside she savored the taste of his tangy cum, rubbing it on her face and her tits.
“Good shit, man. Makes the skin shine,” she said with a sticky smile.
Exhausted, John Cummings dropped to the floor while Marcy continued to rum his cum juice over her deep chocolate colored body, and her skin did, indeed, shine. Mary also dropped to the floor, her cunt still oozing, and kissed her husband tenderly. “Oooh, baby, watching you gets me sooo hot again,” she said.
John laughed. “Fuck off, woman. That bitch ate my cock; ain’t nothin’ left.”
“Never send a boy to do a man’s job,” Leroy said with a smile. He swaggered to the women and saw the lustful look in their eyes; his huge rod was hard again, stranding almost straight out and up. “Well, ladies, whatcha say?” he said.
“Whoa, you black bastard,” John said conversationally, “We have a problem!” Quickly he related the phone call from his nephew, Greg.
“The phone rang?” his wife asked, “Where was I? I don’t remember any phone call.”
“You were on Leroy’s big dick,” John said with a smile. “An A-Bomb could have gone off and you wouldn’t have heard it.”
She giggled. “Well what are we going to do about his party? It’s a little strange, isn’t it? Mike and Carol won’t be back until Monday at the earliest.”
Before leaving for Sacremento, Mike Brady had called his brother to tell him what had happened, and to cancel the anniversary party.
“Maybe the kids just want to have a party. After all, they came in from all over the country; they’re probably bored. Hey, why don’t you and Marcy come along, Leroy.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mary Brady-Cummings said.
“That’s not the type of party Marcy and I had in mind, John.”
“Oh, what the hell,” Marcy said, “If we can’t fuck, we might as well have a few drinks and some laughs. Maybe one of the boys will be cute.”
“Hey,” John said, “You’re talking about my nephews.”
***
Children have a tendency never to grow up in the eyes of adults. John and Mary Cummings were no exception; so it was a pleasant revelation for them when Marcia and Greg answered the door to realize that their nephew and niece were now full grown and very striking. Remembering them as children, John was actually embarrassed by the fact that Marcia wore no bra; her well-shaped, taut tits; nipples erect, were plainly visible through the thin summer material of her dress. His embarrassment turned to arousal when he saw that Cindy and Jan were in the same state. Jan’s superstructure was really magnificent, he thought.
When Aunt Mary introduced Leroy and Marcy, the young Brady’s immediately recognized them as the black couple from the home video. “I hope you don’t mind us tagging along,” Leroy said.
“Of course not,” Marcia said, always the perfect hostess. “In fact, this may be a even better party than we planned,” she said with a knowing look at her sister, Jan, who was eyeing Leroy with obvious interest.
“Let me get you a drink,” Peter said, steering Marcy Lincoln to the bar. He gave his brother a sly wink as he passed.
Leroy stood with the other males at the bar watching the women across the room. Like most house parties the men and women had split into separate groups. He noticed that one of the Brady girls - Jan - kept looking at him. He knew that look. Another white chick with black cock fantasies. Okay, he thought, maybe not tonight, sweet thing, but some time and he filed Jan Brady away for future reference.
John watched his niece, Marcia, walk across the room to them. He noted her lovely tits, the way her light dress swished with the sway of her hips and he found himself wondering how she would look naked. Hell, he thought, she wasn’t a girl any longer, she was a woman. Even little Cindy had a sexuality about her that triggered lecherous images in his mind. He smiled at his own horniness.
“The purpose of a party is to have the guests mingle,” Marcia said, “not hide out in corners. Why don’t you guys entertain Aunt Mary and Marcy while we kidnap Uncle John and Leroy. Wouldn’t you like to see the house, Leroy,” she said innocently. Her tit was leaning on his arm, and Leroy could feel the heat through his sleeve. “Er . . . sure, why not?”
“I’ve seen the house.”
“Don’t be a party pooper, Uncle John,” Cindy said, taking her uncle’s arm. “You’ve never had me as a tour guide.” Her smile was wide and inviting. John shrugged at his wife as he was led off by his young niece. Marcia and Leroy led the way. Jan Brady followed. Her smile was wide and inviting, too; it was also very knowing.
Greg and Peter sat on either side of Marcy Lincoln and their Aunt. Greg, next to his aunt, had his arm draped on the back of the large sofa. Bobby stayed behind the bar, a silly smile on his face.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying, Marcy, that you’re a lovely lady,” Peter said. “In fact you look like a movie star.”
“Oh, listen to that blarney,” Mary said.
Marcy Lincoln laughed. “You hush up, Mary. This boy has good taste,” she said, patting Peter’s knee. “You just keep it up, honeychile, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I hope so,” he said and moved closer to the lovely black woman.
“I second what Peter said. Both of you ladies should be in pictures,” Greg said. His arm went around his aunt’s shoulders. With his free hand he traced a soft line from her neck, down her thrusting breast to its tip.
Her eyes flew open. “Greg! What are you doing?”
Marcy felt the pressure of Peter’s leg against her and their eyes met in a knowing stare. Her hand rested on his upper thigh.
“I think,” Marcy said in a low voice, “these boys have something on their minds besides conversation.”
Mary tried, with difficulty, to control her breathing. Her nephew’s touch had sent a jolt of electric excitement through her body. She could feel the warm juice begin to flow in her cunt. This was her young nephew she told herself, her sister’s child. However, what she saw before her was full adult male; a lean hard body hiding beneath his clothes. And he had a hard-on! For her!
His arm tightened around her. “Yes,” he said, “you should definitely be in pictures. X-rated pictures. Like the ones you make with Mom and Dad.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. She looked from Greg to Peter, who were smiling, and back to Marcy, who was laughing. She looked at Bobby. He still wore the silly grin, only now he held a camcorder in his hands.
“You bastard!” she said, but the tension had been broken, replaced immediately by forbidden desire.
“Think you’re big enough, white boy?” Marcy asked, pressing her body to Peter.
“Try me!” he said, and pulled her to him.
Greg and Mary watched them entwine, hands searching. Her nephew cupped her full tits and squeeze the nipples sending a shivering tremor up her spine and a hot excitment erupted throughout her body. “The girls?” she said, suddenly remembering where she was.
“What do you think?”
“Oh, you bastard!” she said grabbing his hard-on. Her last words before his mouth and tongue found hers were: “Fuck me!”
***
“This is the bedroom,” Cindy proclaimed, “And this is the bed. It’s a big one!”
“Dad always believed in large rooms,” Jan said. She had taken Marcia’s place on Leroy’s arm and was standing very close to the large, black man, who was trying valiantly to keep his erection in check. He wasn’t having much luck since Jan’s lush body constantly rubbed against his. He wished he could just throw this honky chick on the bed and fuck her brains out. She was really getting to him.
At six foot four, 230 pounds, and with rugged good looks, Leroy had little trouble enticing women, black or white, to his bed. This little minx was the first chick, in a long time, he’d go out of his way to fuck. Her full tits, and sweet round ass were even better than her mothers’. Christ, he thought, imagine fucking both mother and daughter; that would really be a kick!
Like Leroy, John was aroused; only the object of his attentions was his niece, Cindy. Following her up the stairs, he had watched her heart-shaped ass bob in front of his eyes. He had actually licked his lips in desire. Now she stood with her arm in his, her body pressed tight against his, and the heat of her almost naked tits burning his arm.
Marcia stood in the doorway of her mother’s dressing area, her arms on either side of the frame, her eyes unusually bright.
“This is where Mom undresses,” she said. Her throaty voice seem to caress the last word. “This is where she takes off her clothes. Ever wondered how she does it, Uncle John? Maybe she starts like this,” she said then reached under her arm and pulled the zipper of her dress down. The top fell away. Naked from the waist up, the nipples of her firm tits thrust out stiff, enlarged with desire. Leroy and John lost their fight with their erections. The black man took a tentative step in Marcia’s direction.
“No,” Jan said sharply, “You stay here with me!” She placed his hand on the zipper of her dress. “Pull!” she ordered.
John’s mouth had flopped open like a dead fish when he saw Marcia’s bare her body. His cock got achingly hard and he felt a tight pressure surround his balls. His mouth opened even wider when he realized that Cindy - sweet, little Cindy - was squeezing his nuts. From the corner of his eye he saw Leroy pull Jan’s zipper all the way down. The dress puddled at her feet. She wore flimsy black lace panties, dove gray hose, and high heels. Nothing else. She’s beautiful, he thought. Stacked! God, what a set! What a body! Cindy squeezed harder. “Ouch,” he yelped.
“Pay attention, Uncle John, your turn will come; but not before I’m through with you.” Then she slid the zipper of her dress down revealing her lovely young body to him. In every direction John looked, semi-naked women filled his vision. His nieces! His brother’s stepdaughters!
Marcia knew his mind was awhirl, and it excited and thrilled her to have him watch as she slid the silk panties down her legs. Smiling, she knew he could see the silky blonde thatch between her legs and the puffy cuntlips. Turning her head she saw Jan kneeling in front of Leroy, her hands cradling his big black dick, stroking it like something alive; her lips pursed in front of the huge dark purple head. Slowly it disappear in her mouth.
Pussyjuice dribbled down Marcia’s thigh as she saw Cindy starting to suck on Uncle John’s cock; the glistening shaft disappearing all the way down her throat, then slowly reappearing an inch at a time. The deep suction made her uncle’s eyes glaze over and he wasn’t unaware of her removing his clothes. Kissing him, she tongued him deep; her active hands kneading his bare buttocks. He tried to say something to her, but his voice was strangled and he could only make incoherent noises.
Her hand found the secret spot in her pussy and her index finger began to move over it, slowly and deliberately. She knew her uncle’s eyes were following her, watching her finger play in her pussy. It heightened her pleasure. She wanted him to watch. She wanted him to want her . . . to want them all, and to have them.
Jan refused to concede defeat to Leroy’s cock. It was immensely thick and long; heavily ridged with bulging veins. The pungent, musky aroma filled her nostrils and excited her to a fever pitch, but despite his encouragements, the constant thrust of his hips, she could only get his cockhead in her mouth. She gripped his shaft, tightly, with both hands; holding on in desperation. Her lips were stretched to the tearing point but her tongue kept licking his cockhead and the tender underside of his dick. She strained to get another centimeter of his ebony prick in her willing mouth but she couldn’t.
Just the thought of fucking, sucking this huge black man had filled her with lust - lust! That was the right word! Peter was love, this was lust; the near fulfillment of all her wanton fantasies. Her lips strained, her body glowed with the flush of desire.
Marcia knelt beside her sister and began to lave Leroy’s meaty shaft with her delicate tongue, her breath ragged with anticipation. She could see herself speared by this huge, black engine; Uncle John in her ass. Her mind reeled with erotic fantasies that she knew could - would - come true.
“Oh, yesss,” Leroy sighed, “Oh, suck my cock, girl. Lick it good!” He grabbed each woman by their blonde hair, his black hands in shocking contrast to their fair color. He pulled tight, desperate to have them close. “Johnny, boy,” he yelled at his friend, “You have some fine pussy in your family! . . . eat my cock, both of you!”
Marcia and Jan fought a tongue dual over his cockhead, with neither losing. Leroy released their hair but quickly substituted a firm tit from each sister, kneading and squeezing their soft flesh, sending new, more exciting, waves of pleasure down to their sopping pussies. Their very busy fingers frigged pulsating clits; keeping desire at a fever pitch.
John Cummings knew that something had been said to him, but he didn’t hear what it was, nor did he care. Cindy’s warm, moist, yielding mouth occupied his entire mind and all his concentration. He held her head firm, pumping his dick in and out of her sweet mouth. Her hands dug into his asscheeks; demanding, pulling his cock further into her oval-sucking machine. He felt like his prick was going to be sucked right out of his body.
“Do it, baby . . . oh, suck your uncle’s cock! Sweet Cindy,” he cooed, unaware of his own words. “I’m fucking you in the mouth! Oh, yesss . . . that’s it . . .that’s it!”
“Don’t cum yet, Uncle John,” Cindy said breathlessly. “I want you to cum in my cunt! Here!” She leaned back on the floor and spread her legs obscenely wide; pulling her cuntlips apart. “Here!” she repeated. John fell between his lovely niece’s wide open legs. His cock stretched her cunt opening, then slid easily into her sopping pussy.
“Aaaaahhh,” he sighed, and slowly he began to fuck sweet Cindy. In a moment, they were locked together, moving in sexual unison; her body moving up on his shaft to meet his powerful forward thrust. “Oh, yesss, Uncle John,” she moaned, “Stick it in deep. Fuck me good. Ohhhhhh, that’s so gooood.”
Cindy’s words floated across the room to Marcia and Jan, and Leroy. They turned and saw Uncle John’s cock pumping up and down in Cindy’s juicy cunt. It was too much for Leroy. His cum boiled up from his ballsac; he felt it coming. Two, sure, swift strokes of his large fist and he erupted over the girls pretty faces. He came in powerful spurts. “Agggggh,” he cried, panting, as the tremors crashed through him, turning his legs to jelly, and causing his body to shake uncontrollably.
Fortunately, Jan turned her face, mouth open, just as the first glob of cum exploded from Leroy’s wildly pulsing prick. She caught it on her tongue, the tangy alkaline flavor burning into her flesh. The next splashed on the bridge of her nose and began to dribble downward.
She lunged at the cockhead and successfully captured it as it began erupting in furious spurts. Jan gulped, swallowing a mouthful of cum. The slimy wads slid down her gullet like hot oysters. Marcia pulled Leroy’s cock from her sister’s mouth roughly. He winced but couldn’t stop shooting his wad. He was cumming by the cupful.
A spraying droplet splashed on her cheek before she could get his cock in her mouth, then she began to swallow. Jan caught the cum that had leaked down her nose and chin and shoved it back in her mouth with her fingers, savoring the spunky flavor.
Together, the sisters rubbed the still-dribbling cockhead over their faces; sucking its huge knob, milking the last vestiges of jism from the pisshole, sliding their lips and tongues up and down up and down until Leroy’s black cock was clean and shiny. As they did, it began to twitch again; began to grow from half limp to steely hard. Jan got up and laid on the bed, her face shiny with a sheen of cum-juice.
“Fuck me, Leroy! Put your big black cock in me! Stretch me wide! Com’on, fuck me.”
Marcia licked his cockshaft, feeling it respond to her touch. “Do it,” she said, looking up at the sweating, panting black man. Gently, she pulled him by his dick to where her sister lay, and guided his huge black fuckpole into Jan’s blonde pussy.
“Awwww, oh, God. It’s so big!” Jan said as her cuntlips were stretched as her mouth had been. How had her mother, her tiny mother, taken this cock? It was a beautiful fucking, killing machine. He paused.
“NO!” she screamed. “DON’T STOP! FUCK ME! DO IT!”
Leroy’s chest heaved as he felt Marcia behind him, running her hands over his body, caressing his heavy balls.
“Yeah, sweet-thing, open up your pussy for my black cock. Here it comes, baby! Take it! Just like your Momma!”
Jan forced her hips upward, impaling herself on his rigid rod. She came immediately! Her eyes rolled, and her toes curled, clutching at the bedsheets. She pumped upward, fucking herself on his steel-like cock, while Leroy held himself up on his arms and watched the beautiful white girl do all the work. “Yesss,” she yelled. “Fuck me like you did my mother. Oh, yesss, that’s it . . . do it . . . hard! Please, please fuck me! I’m on fire.”
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