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From: Incest Man <familyincestfamilyincest@yahoo.com>
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Subject: story: "GROWN-UP GIRLS" Chapter 6: Things That Go Bonk In The Night
Date: Mon, 08 Jan 2007 13:08:25 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/gug06.html
GROWN-UP GIRLS
Chapter 6: Things That Go Bonk In The Night
"Where is she", Davie muttered. The clock read
nine-thirty-five. In the darkened room, the red numerals
blinked at him. She wasn't coming back, she'd been winding
him up. He ought to have known. She wasn't interested in
a kid of fourteen, not a great big grown-up woman like
Clarrie. His erection died of disappointment, and was
replaced by a lump in his throat. Finally, he turned over
and lay on his side in the dusk.
"Move over, shithead, you can't have the whole bed to
yourself!"
He must have dropped off to sleep. She was here. Clarrie!
Her big cold body squeezed against his in the dark, her
chilly thigh forcing itself into the warmth of his bed.
"Lie still, darling, don't move. I'll soon warm up. I
nearly got spotted on the way here. Your Mum!"
Davie sat up like a Jack-in-the-box, disturbing the bed
covers. "She never saw you ...?"
"Don't be daft, boy! I know how to hide myself around this
house of a night-time. Right, lie down again, I want a
cuddle first, before we do anything else!"
How was it, Davie thought, that even the most ordinary
things that Clarrie said sounded so sexy!
She crept closer, pressing herself against him, rolling him
away from her so she was pressing against his back. Their
bodies fitted together like spoons. She was wearing a
nightie, but it wasn't a very long one, he could feel the
coarse, springy mat of her hair pressing against his naked
bottom. Her plump arms twined around him, one above, one
snaking beneath his body until her little fingers clutched
at his bare chest and squashed him against her enormous
titties. Now he could feel them, they seemed to cover his
entire back. He tried to turn over, but she was far too
strong for him.
"Lie still", she ordered. Her upper hand, the one not
trapped beneath his body, began to feel its way down his
chest, his stomach, to the fuzz at the root of his cock.
Then it made its way back up again. He felt her
fingernails as she gripped his little boy-tits, and
squeezed. Her tongue washed the back of his neck, then
sought his ear. It went inside, like an exploring worm.
Cold, wet and noisy.
Meanwhile, her hand had strayed downwards again. Then her
other hand was on the move, despite his weight. It cupped
his buttock, briefly, then wandered on, between his butt
cheeks, and down to cup his balls from behind. She nipped
his earlobe, tongued his ear again. He was nearly
screaming when, with surprising strength, she gripped his
shoulder and flipped him on to his back, and in the same
movement, straddled him.
For the second time that day, her hair dangled across his
face and chest. This time, though, Clarrie was naked, and
her immense breasts dangled down, too, the nipples rubbing
maddeningly in patterns on his soft skin. He reached out
for them, and this time she made no effort to stop him, but
sighed deeply as his hand found her left breast.
It was far too big to capture in one hand. Even with both,
he could hardly control the thing, and it wobbled around
like a family sized jelly released from a mould. She
leaned slightly forward and directed the massive breast
toward his mouth.
"Oh, Clarrie! Clarrie!" he sighed, and his lips found the
enormous nipple.
"Ooooh, Dav-eee! You cheeky baby! Is baby thirsty, then?"
and she gave him the other nipple as well. Talk about tit
heaven. Davie suddenly had more breast pressed against his
face than could have been provided by any four of the girls
in his class at school.
Slowly, she lowered her bottom on to his stomach. He could
feel her concentrating hard as she wiggled her fat rump
around on him, he felt her practised little hand reach
round and guide his erect boyhood for a second or so, then
she squatted firmly down on him. He was ready to scream in
pain as the girl squashed his willie, but it never
happened. By a miracle, it had gone inside her. And it
was warm and wet. Things were happening in there, too.
All sorts of muscles were gripping him. It felt weird, and
marvellous. Clarrie laughed her musical little ripple, and
began a slow up and down movement on him. At each stroke,
she seemed to go higher, so that he was afraid he would
slip out of her altogether and she would break it as she
sat down again, but somehow, she seemed to know just how
far to go each time. Faster, now, and he began to buck
against her, raising his hips to meet Clarrie on her way
down, then faster still, until - nearly there - she stopped
and his hips were off the bed, reaching up to her for what
seemed like minutes until he CAME, and she sobbed in joy
and delight with him and lowered herself tenderly on to his
stomach as he endlessly pumped the last of his sperm into
her lovely hole.
"Fucking Hell, Davie, where in fuck's name did you learn to
screw like that?" she breathed into his ear.
"Oh, Carrie, darling!" and they both dissolved into
giggles, laughing in each other's mouths as they lay
together, then kissing endlessly for hours and hours, until
he caught sight of the clock. Twenty past ten, it said.
"Is that all the time is?" he asked, "or has that clock
stopped?"
"What's the fuckin' time matter?" she moaned, looking over
her shoulder. "No, that's right, what's up?"
"Nothing, I thought we'd been doing it for hours."
"Oh, no, lover. We've got another SEVEN hours before I
have to get up! You just lie still for a bit and get your
strength back. This next one's on Auntie Clarrie.
Darkness descended as Clarrie's dripping hairy snatch
covered his face. This time, he felt no trace of panic,
only warmth and security. And the most wonderful scent in
the world. Gallons of it. Hot and cold running Clarrie.
**********
They did it in an amazing number of different ways, with
the one proviso that Clarrie was always on top. At five
thirty, as daylight crept in through the drawn curtains,
Clarrie kissed him and slipped away to the chicken runs.
Davie lay in a puddle of their combined juices, utterly
exhausted. All through the long summer night, the buxom
teenager had given him a sex lesson more comprehensive and
wide-reaching than most males get in their first five
sexually active years. And she had skipped out of the
bedroom as frisky as a puppy. He had heard her whistling
as she trotted across the yard. Twenty minutes later, she
came back for a quickie, tearing off her clothes, her hair
damp with the morning dew. She had to arouse him again so
that she could impale her frothing cooze on his
battle-weary stalk.
"Come on, lover. Fourteen years old, and having trouble
keeping it up already. If you weren't such a stud, I'd be
turning you in for a newer model."
So it was that when Maisie came into her son's room at
seven o'clock, she found the boy out stone cold. The
window was wide open, Clarrie had done that before she had
left, but the atmosphere in the little room was still quite
noticeably sexy. "You can come out today", Maisie told her
son, "but you've got to behave. Those little girls are
young and innocent, and they don't want to be dealing with
young tearaways like you, right?"
She gave another sniff as she left the room. If her Davie
had been five years older, she thought, she'd have
suspected that the slut Clarrie had been in his bed.
But young Clarrie had been up for hours, bright as a new
pin, washed and showered, and totally ready for whatever
the day might bring. And, with any luck at all, the next
night.
**********
Breakfast was served on the patio, where the morning
sunshine had already burned off the last traces of mist.
It was going to be another perfect day. Amy had decided to
have a few days off work, and had phoned to invite our Mum
to her flat for a break away from the kids. "Go for it,
Mum", I'd told her, "We'll be all right here keeping Gran
company. We'll see you at the weekend."
I poured orange juice into the girls' glasses and they
glugged away happily.
"There was a ghost last night", said Pansy, suddenly
feeling brave enough to mention the fact.
Suzanne spluttered into her drink. "Silly! It's not a
ghost. Mummy. It's not a ghost, Clarrie told us. She
said it's the plumbing."
Clarrie had appeared at that very moment, with a big silver
dish of bacon and eggs. She nearly dropped the lot.
"I never heard anything, did you, Tanya?" I looked at my
sister.
"Nothing, but I slept like a log. What sort of noise was
it, Suze?"
"Like a banging. It started slow, and got faster and
faster."
"Then it would stop. And it would listen. And then it
would start up again after a little while. It kept waiting
until we were nearly asleep then it would start again!"
Clarrie put the dish down on the table with a bang. I
couldn't see her face, as her back was towards me, but her
hand seemed to be shaking as she served bacon and eggs to
the three girls.
"Where did the noise come from, girls?" I asked.
"Straight up above our heads, like on the roof", said
Pansy, excited at the reaction she was getting.
Grandma Trudy had just come out on to the patio and had
heard the last few words. "What's the matter, Pansy", she
asked, "you been hearing noises in the night?"
"Ghosts on the roof!" insisted Pansy, proudly.
"Well, not on the roof, honey, there are another bunch of
rooms above yours. Did you hear it, Victoria?"
"Not a thing", said Victoria scornfully. "But if there
were any ghosts around, those two would hear them."
"Well, it's Davie's room above yours, kids. Why don't we
ask him if he heard anything?"
Clarrie whisked away the dish, still half full. With
trembling hands she started back in the direction of the
kitchen. "Gettin' cold, I'll fetch some more ...!" she
cried as she fled.
"Who's Davie", I asked Grandma Trudy.
"Maisie's boy. He's fourteen. You won't have seen him
yet, he's been confined to his room for letting down the
tyres on the policeman's bike."
Fourteen, I thought. Probably having a wank. But not all
night, surely. The girls always did exaggerate everything.
If I've told them once, I've told them a million times.
"Where's that Clarrie got to?" Grandma Trudy sounded
exasperated. "You haven't had your eggs and bacon yet ..."
"She rushed off in a bit of a hurry", I said. "She's a
country girl, is she scared of ghosts?"
"She's scared of something", Grandma Trudy said, rather
ominously. "I think Maisie ought to have a word or two
with her." She thought for a moment. "Or maybe *I* ought
to!"
That was something else about these country girls, I
thought. If Clarrie was going to wear such a short skirt,
I would have expected her to have been wearing panties.
**********
Davie was going down the back stairs when he met Clarrie
going the other way. "Oh, hello!" he said awkwardly.
The girl gave him a scared little glance. "Don't say
anything about last night. Not to nobody, okay?"
Davie reddened. "*I* wasn't going to tell anyone."
"No, you'd better not neither. I reckon they heard us.
The kids are talking about being kept awake by ghosts."
"Ghosts?" Davie went pale. "Is this place haunted, then?"
"Course not, prat-face! That was us they could hear,
banging away. Christ, if your Mum hears, I'll be right in
the shit ...!"
"YOU'LL be in the shit?"
"We both will. But she can't sack you, you're her flesh
and blood. I could be out of a job, and it's all your
fault!" And Clarrie flounced away up the stairs.
"My fau ...?" Davie watched her disappear, then turned and
trudged down to the kitchen. How can it be my fault, he
thought, *she* was fucking *me*!
And she's forgotten to put her knickers on again.
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