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From: Incest Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.hetero,alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: "Grown-up Girls" Chapter 6
Date: Mon, 06 Feb 2006 13:14:31 -0800
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===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/gug.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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