Oranges

The voice was deep, almost booming, it was a stentorian shock coming from such a slightly built woman. "Aunt Matilda... I..."

"It ain't going to happen Mart'n. Pitterpeetee Grove and everything else I have will go to Joseph when I die."

The blood rose in Marty's face. He felt a rush of rage and swallowed it like bile. The arrogant old woman! Enticing him to come here to her wretched house with undefined promises when he was on a low - and now ditching him like a loose wheel. He realised the tightness in his gut had changed from heated awareness to disappointment. No - disappointment didn't come near to describing the acid gnawing he could feel.

He drained his wine glass and wished he'd swallowed something harsh like tequila to match his mood. It had all been too good to be true. He grasped the glass as if it were a grenade, his knuckles white. For a moment there was a danger it would shatter in his hand, but then he loosened his grip.

Struggling to control an urge to stamp, shout and demand fair play, he dumped his elbows on the table and tried to think what to say next. Hell! He'd allowed his imagination to float off into a fairy tale and he shouldn't have been such a chump in the first place. He was only a distant relation, and of course she'd want her nearest kin to inherit. But there was still a 'why' to get an answer for. "Why did you invite me here in the first place?"

The old woman sipped her coffee. "I've a use for a man like you. I've had to pull Joseph outta college - he's growin' and he's a mite promiscuous, so he gets into trouble in them fancy places. But he ain't finished his education, so I want you to take on tutorin' him."

"Tutor him! I ain't a teacher."

"I only need you to keep up his grades so they won't disappoint when he goes back to college. You qualified in accountancy, so you can't be completely dumb."

"It's not exactly what I planned."

"What did you plan? I've had a private detective investigating you for the past month, so I know everything about you. I know you're out of a job and can't go back to Chicago, and I know your only reference is one of being a liability. Take up my offer Mart'n. You'll live here free and gratis for a while, and I'll give you a reasonable salary on top. If Joseph settles in easy when I find him the right place you'll be in for a fat bonus at the end."

She placed her coffee cup delicately in the centre of her saucer. "There's also Joseph himself of course. You'll know by now he likes being with guys. He likes guys a lot. It's an instinct with him. That's why he's not in college at the moment. The last place I tried was a Dotheboys Hall of a place. An improvement on Dickens, but not much. Have you read any Dickens? I paid big fees, but it was no place for Joseph with all them male teachers slobbering over him.

The old woman looked at her hands, which rested on the tabletop. They were pale, shiny, the joints a little deformed, perhaps by arthritis, large pale age spots on the backs. "There's no accountin' for taste, an' all that matters is what pleases him, but his instinct must be controlled, an' if there's indiscretions I'd like to keep 'em private among the family, if you know what I mean. That's why you'll be allowed all the latitude you need in pleasing him."

Marty leaned back in his chair. The old girl was cranky and maybe a little deranged, but she held all the cards on this occasion. Before he could commit himself one way or the other the old woman pushed herself stiffly up from her chair. "I've something to show you, but I'll need the help of your arm going up the stairs."

They went into the hall and together they ascended the stairs one step at a time, and on the landing Aunt Matilda directed him towards the master- bedroom. What the hell was he getting into?

Marty paused as they entered, astounded by the sight that awaited him. It was flooded with moonlight, the swaying branches of a large poinsettia tree outside throwing a restless pattern of shadows across the polished floor, while a soft breeze sweetened with the perfume of oranges wafted through a partly open window.

Beneath the barrel-canopy of the big four-poster bed Jojo was being fucked by Abraham. He was naked on top of the bedcovers, face down, knees folded under him and with his feet and beautiful bare ass jutting over the edge of the mattress. Unbelievably his hands were reaching back and spreading his cheeks to assist what was happening, and he was uttering explosive little sounds of delight with each of the black man's inward thrusts. Abraham had moved right up close to hold him by the hips as he humped him, his coal-black body glistening in its own lean nakedness.

Neither grandson or servant paused to show any alarm when they walked in, nor did they look up to make an acknowledgement, which made it clear they were used to being observed in such intimacy, and what they were doing was a routine that was practised often.

"It ain't a surprise surely," Aunt Matilda murmured coolly to Marty. "Y'already know the kid likes being dicked in the ass. It ain't something I altogether approve of, but if it makes him happy I'll go along with it. Gay is a word used to describe butt-bangers these days, but when I was young it meant happy."

Marty swallowed hard. "Yeah sure, but Aunt Matilda, you're Jojo's kin. Shouldn't you..."

"Sure I'm his kin." snapped the woman, "Joseph's my dearest kin and I think the world of him. That's why he gets everything he wants. Abraham provides it most of the time, but the old fella's getting on in years and needs some help now and then. I figure from what I know of you, you'll be ideal for that."

Marty stared in astonishment and wonder, unable to take his eyes away from Abraham's great oiled black stalk sliding in and out between Jojo's delicate lily-white cheeks. Every movement was making him utter tiny squealing noises.

The old woman eased herself carefully into the rocking-chair, and as she began to tip back and forth Marty realised she was doing something she'd practised countless times in the past. It was a ritual. The old master- bedroom was a shrine where she witnessed men fornicating with her grandson. "Come outta there Abraham," she said after a moment, "Step back and let Mart'n give it a try. You stay where you are Joseph. You're gettin' an extra meat-treat tonight."

As the old retainer dragged his thick ebony coloured cock out from Jojo's backside Marty's face drained. "Aunt Matilda, are you expecting me to - do you want me to...?"

The old lady glared at him. "Sure. Are you gonna to do something, or are you just going to stand there with that moronic look on your face? What's a matter with you? Joseph's bare-assed, hot, an' willin' - he's every shirt-lifter's dream come true. Yer not gonna let him down, are yer?"

Marty felt embarrassed. He rolled his tense shoulders, ran his tongue around his mouth and cursed the scarcity of something to drink. Shoving his dick into Jojo when they were alone and in the mood was one thing, but laying on a command performance in front of an old lady was entirely something else.

Slowly he pulled off his fine linen shirt and silk tie and dropped them on the floor, all the time feeling the old woman's eyes studying his torso, scrutinising his pectorals and the set of his ribs whilst waiting for him to get rid of his other clothes.

The scent of oranges continued to funnel in through the window on the humid air, filling the entire room with its sickly sweetness, and he silently swore he'd never touch that kind of fruit again. Right then he needed time to control his impulses and formulate a strategy, one that took everything into account, but he wasn't being given the chance. Whoa! he told his impatient body. But his body wasn't listening. He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his trousers, and as they went down his cock sprang up, big, erect and solid.

"There yer go!" remarked Matilda, "Yer into the spirit o' things a'ready."

A small dew of perspiration gathered on Marty's upper lip and two unfortunate patches formed under his arms as he nuzzled forward. Jojo's impeccable young buttocks, so recently buggered by the black servant, now mooned patiently in front of himself. He gripped his penis in his hand and guided it, rubbing and chaffing against the silk-like skin until he felt the sensation of the young man's nakedness. It was warm and both pliant and demanding.

His face twitched with a nervous smile. He was willing enough - but with Aunt Matilda - with her watching? It was sick. It was indecent and perverse and just plain wrong. Then he thought, okay! He'd never had any problem being indecent and perverse in the past. There was Jojo, opened up for him, buck naked, splayed and available, and perversely, just to remind him of what he was doing, he had a view of his balls, hanging heavy like a pair of fat plums in a bag between his legs.

Gently he separated the small white globes of Jojo's anus, spreading them open as he carefully inched it up between his neat snug cheeks. Rocked his thighs carefully he teasingly touching himself onto him, then drawing back, touched again before at last forcing himself into the hot, yielding elastic opening spreading to take him in.

As he started prodding forward he glanced over his shoulder at his aunt who remained stony-faced watching the tender ring expand around the girth of his penis and observing its concave indentation has he pushed forward. As it went in Jojo turned his head and gave him a huge smile. "Oh yeah! I'm glad you're here Marty. Plough me like you did earlier. Do me good huh!"

Taking a firm grip on his hips Marty lunged forward while pulling Jojo back towards him, slamming slowly into the hot, throbbing tunnel and skewering him like an apple on a stick.

"Yah, oooh, ooow!" Jojo squirmed as he pushed at him and felt the sheath in his delicate rear end clench on his flesh as it engulfed it. Marty was soon going in and out with easy strokes, determined to give that beautiful asshole the fuck it needed no matter who else was in the room. Jojo's gasps had become a brisk panting and he smacked his hands down on the mattress, but unaccountably he also raised his rear end up as if he were a dog on heat and pushed back to assist in his own impaling.

Trembling and moaning, body heaving, he swung his bottom left and right as Marty rode him, letting his sex-mates wriggles draw his cock deeper and deeper.

Abraham had already opened him very nicely, but not so much as to illuminate the delicious hot clamping of his anal tube. He was a beautiful fuck. Jojo's anus was cloying and moist and the insides seemed to ripple and squeeze him, but once the bulbous tip of his gland was established the rest of the shaft glided into the snug hole easily, all the way up, until it was buried inside the squirming rectum. As he shagged the tight ass he was acutely aware of Aunt Matilda slowly rocking in her chair observing every move he made.

Those movements soon quickened in response to wave on wave of drenching tension. There was no way he could stop now. Animal desire consumed him. He had to ram her grandson, fuck him hard. He arched over him and rutted passionately, heavy hips rising and falling, big balls slapping on his submissive ass. Jojo whinnied and groaned with each enormous thrust as Marty's randy cock fucked him into bliss, but he never said stop.

"Hold on there!" Aunt Matilda suddenly called out, "Don't go finishing right now. Extract yerself Mart'n, there's another act to play yet."

Confused, Marty pulled out, allowing Jojo to swing round and sit on the edge of the bed.

The woman stopped rocking as she surveyed a trio of pricks, Jojo's own sticking up from his pale thighs, rampant and formidable enough. Each side of him stood the two men, one black and one white, each with a long, thick muscular looking prong slavering at the tip.

"You've got a choice tonight Joseph. Which one do you wanna please?"

Jojo glanced sideways at Abraham's ebony coloured meat standing out from his thighs like a thick length of knotted wood, uncut and with a massive purple head. The old guy may have been old, but he was still well hung and capable. Then his face swung the other way and he studied Marty's dick, just as big and just as full of promise. "I like 'em both gran'ma. Can I please both of 'em?"

The old woman shook her head in dismay. "Ach! Yer little whore. Go ahead. You know you allus gets your own way wi' me."

At once, holding one straining gland in each delicate hand her grandson began slicking the foreskins back and forth, back and forth in an amazing synchronised fashion, while licking each molten bulbous tip in turn and poking his tongue at the meatus.

His mouth flirted with each of them briefly, but then he stayed with the black man and began sucking in earnest. Abraham gazed down and stroked Jojo's head, uttering regular little sighs as the younger guy opened wide and squeezed the entire fat tip the old negro's thick, veiny prong deep into his shiny mouth. Mouth moving, hand jerking. There was no doubt he was after a result.

Abraham's sighing became a drawn out groan and his body trembled. Shunting his hips he submerged a good portion of his dick into Jojo's face so that he could savour every ridge, bump and vein of his tool. "You're enjoying it Abraham. He's got some talent, huh?" Aunt Matilda remarked dispassionately from her chair.

The old man rolled his eyes like an old-time minstrel. "He surely has Missy Matilda. Joseph allus gives good head." All the time Jojo's mouth was occupied with the servant his right hand continued acting independently, clutching Marty's pulsing length in its fist and hammering it with firm, long strokes. That came to an end when Abraham began to squirm his hips.

"Ggggnnnn!" The black man clenched his teeth but still let out a fevered squawk as he shuddering thighs churned and his juices pumped. Jojo uttered a little "Uph!" but his lips stayed locked on as his mouth wrestled with the bucking, stiff flesh. His slender neck undulated as he swallowed, but he refused to draw away until the black man's noise faded and he was sure he'd got everything,

He swallowed hard but could hardly have had time to get rid of everything before he pulled back, and swung around, flushed, steaming with unashamed excitement to swirl his tongue on the corona of his uncle's knob and slurp the helmet-shaped head. "Ummmm!"

He kissed the tip and licked it, then gazed up with big, round eyes. "Now you, Marty. It's your turn. I never had the chance earlier, but now I'm gunna suck every drop o' hot sarsaparilla outta your faggot-lovin' balls. I know you've got a lot to give, so don't be scared of lettin' it go."

Then he opened his mouth and took in several inches of the Marty's thick dick. One hand gripped the shaft of the man's gland while the other started stroking the underside of his testicles. Lips began moving his foreskin to and fro, up and down, while a mouth sucked gently, not too hard, encouraging, coaxing, inevitably drawing forward great volumes of his juice.

To Marty right and wrong didn't matter any longer. Everything felt too good. Soft lips were sliding up and down his aching shaft while a smooth tongue made brief excursions to slither around its spongy tip. And all the while fingers, slender and compelling, ringed his flesh and pushed and pulled his foreskin.

Jojo's head bobbed faster on his tool while the hand cupped under Marty's testicles started squeezing gently to milk his sperm-bloated balls. "Ugh, ooooh!" Marty felt the head of his cock expand in the young man's sucking mouth and felt his shaft throb and pulse as a familiar all-over hot tingle rolled through every molecule of his flesh. He could take no more - he had to shoot now! And he did. He lost all control of his body and his knees began to buckle, and a moment later his glands gave up their treasure and unloaded powerfully into Jojo's obliging mouth.

"Ughhh, ffmmm, aaaah!" As he'd done with Abraham, Jojo hung on tight, and when he eventually slumped back there was not a smear of semen anywhere. Aunt Matilda smiled indulgently at her grandson. "C'm here yer shameless cock-lover. Come an' sit on yer grandma's lap."

Jojo clambered up from the bed and was soon astride her lap facing outwards so it was plain enough to see how she was handling him. Pulling him back she was peered at the fingers of one hand stroking under his pink ball-bag while those of the other, a slightly mottled arrangement of skin and bones, pumped busily on his stiff shaft, jockeying it slow and easy and showing all the dexterity of a practised expert.

"Randy as hell to finish yerself now, ain't yer? Yes, an' I reckon there's a quart o' stuff to pull out of yer tonight." Her eyes flashed at Marty and Abraham in turn. "Get down here you two. Let him feel some tongue on his balls." Marty and the negro didn't consult each other, didn't even exchange glances. Wordlessly capitulating to events as they were dictated they both slumped down, pushed their faces forward and began to lap Jojo's balls.

The old woman nodded her approval. "That's the way! Joseph enjoys plenty of attention on evenings such as this." Putting her mouth close to her grandsons ear she whispered, "Who's it gonna be, honey? Which one gets a mouthful of my tramps jungle-juice tonight?"

Joseph panted softly. "Uncle Martin, gran'ma. Feed it to Marty this time."

Aunt Matilda peered down at Marty. "Yes, I reckon I agree. The new man in your life should get a proper taste of you. Open your mouth and lift up a bit Mart'n. You need to be in close when I jerk him off down your gullet."

Marty complied without a quibble. Kneeling on the floor, slumping forward, mouth open like a gagging carp, he waited for Aunt Matilda to work up some speed yanking her grandson's foreskin and feed him some semen. Was this it? he thought Was he about to commit himself for the foreseeable future just to screwing a young mans ass and gulping down his cum? Then he became philosophical. Well, he reasoned, there were worse ways to earn a living.