Uncle Alan Comes Callingbyquinn rogan©
(But first -- a health warning! If you're one of the appreciative, but limited number of, readers who have been following my 'Ambridge' series in the 'Celebrities' section -- read no further. You'll find the plot somewhat familiar. I just thought, with the amount of effort that goes into these stories, I'd try for a wider audience ......)
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Helen's heart sank as the livery shop door swung open and her Uncle Alan strolled in, smiling confidently. He hadn't been around for several weeks, now, and she had dared to hope, maybe, that ......
But his opening words dashed her optimism.
"Hello, my darling niece," he leered. "And how are you today?"
Helen's flesh crept as she felt her uncle's eyes examine the substantial swell of her breasts under the thick sweater she was wearing -- but, paradoxically, she could feel a moistness forming between her thighs as she contemplated the inevitable outcome of Alan's visit.
How many years had it been since that first, awful, time when Alan Clark had coerced her into letting him have her? Five, or even six?
She and her husband, Hugh Turner, hadn't been married for long -- about eight months. They had met shortly after Hugh had been appointed head gamekeeper on her Uncle Alan's large country estate, and the attraction had been immediate, and mutual. At 33, Hugh had been much older than Helen -- 13 years older -- and he had been married before, with two daughters, who now lived abroad, with their mother.
At first, everything had gone very well, but the job on the estate had become more and more stressful, and, increasing the pressure on Hugh, his daughters had encountered many problems in their new school in France.
The strain had been telling for some time, then, one day, when there had been a really big shooting party on the estate, there had been some sort of accident -- Helen still didn't know the details -- and someone had been seriously injured. Hugh, who was responsible for safety on the shoot, had been missing for twenty minutes, taking, it turned out, a private telephone call. By the time he had been tracked down, Alan Clark had been livid with rage and there had been a huge row between the two men, ending only when Hugh told Alan he could stuff his job!
Hugh had explained all this, very briefly, to Helen when he arrived home, but he had only come to throw a few clothes in a suitcase before he set off for France, to attend to the emergency, concerning one of his daughters, which had been the subject of the phone call.
He had only been gone an hour or two when Helen heard the knock on the door. She had recognized her Uncle Alan, and her spirits had lifted. He must have come, she thought, to see if Helen could persuade Hugh to change his mind about resigning -- and Helen was sure she'd be able to do that, once Hugh was back, and she could sit him down and talk to him. So she had hurried to the door, and flung it wide open -- but the expression on Alan s face had told a different story.
Clearly, her uncle was in no mood to forgive and forget, and, no matter how hard Helen had pled with him to disregard what Hugh had said to him, and to give him a chance to withdraw his resignation when he returned from France, Alan remained grim-faced and adamant.
"Look, Helen," he insisted. "You didn't hear what he said to me. He wouldn't tell me what the 'emergency' was and then, eventually, he -- well, frankly, Helen, he insulted me, personally, in a way which will be very hard to forgive."
"Oh, Uncle Alan -- I'm so sorry. Please give him another chance," Helen pled. "His daughters mean so much to him, and Sonja is at such a very difficult age ...... It was something to do with her, and he just had to take that call."
Helen's voice trailed off, and her eyes filled with tears as she stared at her uncle's angry, stern face. Returning her stare, Alan s face gradually relaxed, and took on a more reflective, thoughtful expression. He leaned back in his armchair, and Helen felt a glimmer of hope.
"Would you like a cup of coffee, Uncle Alan?" she offered, and he smiled at her.
"Yes, thank you, Helen -- that would be nice."
Helen hurried through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Somewhat to her surprise, she realised that Alan had followed her through. He leaned against the door frame.
"You know, Helen," he said "a lot of people wonder just what it is you see in Hugh Turner."
"I know," Helen smiled ruefully. "I see a side of his nature that he doesn't show to many people, I think."
"I wondered," Alan went on, in a measured, quiet tone of voice "if it was just that he has a big dick."
Helen, scarcely believing her ears, whirled round and looked at her uncle, incredulously. He had straightened up and was standing in the door opening, looking at her.
But, she realised, looking at her in a way she couldn't recall him ever doing before. His dark eyes were lazily taking in the contours of her body - her firm breasts in the angora sweater, and her strong thighs and bottom stretching the tight material of her blue jeans.
Helen's heart began to race, and her face flamed in embarrassment, and anger, but she couldn't think what to say.
"Well?" Alan grinned. "Is that it? Has he got a long thick one that really stretches you? I sneaked a look at it, once, when I was standing beside him in the loo at the Bull - and I was quite impressed by it."
Hating herself for losing her 'cool', Helen managed to stutter - "I - I think you'd better - better - leave, now, Uncle Alan. Get - get - out of my house!"
Alan laughed, mirthlessly. "Well - my house, actually," he said. "If Hugh leaves my employ, I'll need it for the new head keeper."
"Well, that hasn't happened yet," snapped Helen, "and, until it does, I want you to leave!"
The smile faded from her uncle's face, and his brow darkened.
"Oh, you do, do you?" he sneered. "Well, I don't think so. I think I'd like to stick around here for a while -- get to know my niece better -- a lot better!"
As realization began to dawn on her, and her temper started to rise, Helen opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a peremptory hand.
"It's not just the job, or the house, is it, Helen?" he said, quietly. "It's a question of whether or not Lord Stackswell takes any action about that 'accident' on the shoot. If he decides to sue, it would ruin your precious Hugh. There's no doubt that it was his fault, after all - and I can tell you that the only reason His Lordship hasn't been on to his lawyers is me. I've persuaded him, so far, not to take action, but all I have to do is withdraw my support - and it'll be curtains for your husband ......"
Helen stared at her uncle, a cold feeling of helplessness stealing over her. She couldn't think straight -- she had been worried enough about her husband, and now -- this! It was unthinkable -- she had never dreamed that her uncle would think of her in 'that' way, but there was no doubt what was in his mind.
Deep down, the extremely distressed girl knew that refusal would definitely cost Hugh his job, and their house -- and the probable effect on his mental state didn't bear thinking about. She wasn't even aware that her shoulders had slumped as she realised that she couldn't resist Alan Clark's demands -- but he was watching for the signs, and his testicles tightened as her body language confirmed he would have his way ......
He eased away from the door frame and walked towards her. Her eyes widened in fear and, instinctively, she began to move backwards. Her hips bumped against the sink, and she stopped. As he approached, Helen raised her hands, in a futile gesture of resistance.
Clark stopped, in front of her. Brushing Helen's hands aside, he reached up and took hold of her breasts. Helen's heart was as cold as ice as she felt his hands close round them, and squeeze. All her instincts told her to push him away, or wriggle free, but, if she did ...... Hugh was very fragile, right now, and the consequences, if he were sued over the shoot accident, were almost incalculable.
Helen involuntarily closed her eyes as she felt her breasts being explored and fondled. With massive self-control, she made her hands grasp the edge of the sink. Opening her eyes, she dropped them to watch Clark's hands on her sweater. She saw his tongue slowly dampen his lips. He squeezed her breasts, firmly, and she gasped, a little.
"Very nice," he breathed. "Very nice tits. I knew they would be."
Expertly, he located her nipples through the sweater, and her bra, and rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers. Helen felt a little quiver of excitement as her nipples reacted to the pressure of his fingers. Somewhat irrelevantly, the sudden thought came into her mind that he was probably quite good at arousing a woman's body -- he had had enough practice, if all the stories were true ......
But, suddenly, she -- no! - she couldn't just let him ...... She grabbed the backs of his hands, trying to pull them away.
"No! No!" she gasped. "You mustn't - please, Uncle Alan. Please! No!"
It was then that she realised he had moved in on her completely - and that his lower body was pressing hard against hers - and, she could feel the hard solid length of his erection against her belly ......
Clark hadn't been so far off the mark when he had suggested that it was the size of Hugh's penis which attracted her. Helen had always been a keen student of the male appendage, and had lost no opportunity, when growing up, to snatch a look at her father's -- and her brother's.
She had even watched, unobserved, several times, when her parents had spent the occasional Saturday afternoon in bed, and had listened, fascinated and highly aroused, to the fantasies they wove around their lovemaking. She had not had a very good view, but she had seen her father's erection two or three times, and had been dry-mouthed with excitement at the thought of taking something like that between her legs
But it was her brother, John who had interested her most. When she first saw him, naked, the thickness and length of his penis had taken her breath away. She wished, now, that she had had the courage to creep into his room and let him play with her tits and pussy while she caressed the thickening length of hard flesh between his legs.
She had tried, several times, later, to actually see him fucking that stupid girlfriend of his, Hayley, but she had never managed to watch, and had had to satisfy herself - literally! - with her fingers up her own soaking pussy, while only being able to listen to Hayley squealing with pleasure as her big brother's huge prick split the silly tart in two ......
Informed opinion in the village had always suggested that her Uncle Alan was fairly well-endowed, and, Helen thought, the length of the piece of taut flesh pressing against her belly was, as far as she could tell, well up to expectations.
Clark's hands were now squeezing Helen's breasts hard, and he was dry-humping her, his hard cock pushing against her, then receding. She realised that her protests had ebbed away - and that the area between her legs was moistening, rapidly. The thing was - with all his worries, Hugh had been no bloody use in bed for about six weeks, and ......
Helen's resolve was weakening. She was a girl who had always enjoyed being penetrated, and six weeks was a long time. Helen couldn't help herself. Her hand slid between their two bodies, and her fingers traced the shape and size of Alan's thrusting cock. Her palm closed over it, and Alan groaned in a mixture of pleasure and triumph, and his mouth closed on hers. Helen opened her own mouth and admitted his questing tongue ......
Waves of desire were now sweeping through her, mingled with acute sensations of shame and self-disgust.
She tore her mouth away from Alan's and buried her head in his shoulder. "You dirty bastard," she mouthed, with feeling - "How can you do this? You're my uncle, for God's sake!"
Alan chuckled arrogantly. "Well, only technically," he laughed. "I'm only married to your father's sister -- but even if I was your real uncle, I'd be wanting to play with these magnificent specimens!"
He thrust his right hand up under Helen's sweater. She felt it close around her left bra-cup, the heat of his fingers on the naked flesh of the upper slope of her breast. He located her thick, distended nipple and rolled it, again, between his finger and thumb. He chuckled again as her body betrayed her, and she moaned involuntarily and her hand convulsed round Alan's throbbing cock.
This time, it was Alan's turn to groan.
"Oh, Christ," he muttered, hoarsely. "I want you naked ......" and he pulled desperately at the girl's sweater, lifting it up over her head. Before he had managed to pull it clear, Helen, surrendering completely to the passion of the moment, had raised her hands behind her back and deftly unclipped her brassiere. As Alan threw her sweater aside, Helen pulled her bra down her arms and displayed her taut firm breasts to her uncle's hungry gaze.
"Jesus!" Alan breathed, and his hands took hold of them while his eyes devoured them. Helen reached down again to the bulge in his trousers and, as if by automatic reaction, Alan released her breasts and his hands began to fumble with the top of her jeans.
"Here," Helen breathed. "Let me."
She had long since given up any moral qualms she might have had - the longing between her legs was irresistible - and her fingers flew as she popped the catch at the top of her tight jeans and pulled the zip down. She pulled the stretched denim down over her bottom and thighs and, as she kicked her jeans away from her feet, she bent over to pull her trainers off. A pair of hands grasped her dangling naked breasts and squeezed them - hard - and, at the same time, Alan moved up close behind her and she felt the strength and weight of his unfettered penis prodding against her panty-covered bottom.
She couldn't restrain her curiosity, and whirled round to look at it. Alan had dropped his trousers and undershorts to his ankles, and his cock, thick, engorged and erect, was pointing straight at Helen out of a bush of brown curly hair - hair which also covered a heavy, hanging pair of testicles. His cock was certainly bigger, and thicker, than Hugh's, which meant that she had never had one so huge inside her vagina before.
Her mouth dried with excitement at the prospect and she couldn't resist putting her hand out and feeling it.
"Do you like it?" Alan smiled, and Helen nodded, not meeting his eye.
"Do you want it?" he persisted, and she nodded again.
"Tell me what you want me to do," he insisted, and she looked up at him -- at his arrogant self-confident smile.
"Oh, fuck you, you bastard!" Helen gritted, hating herself. "I want you to fuck me with it!"
Alan grinned and his hand reached out lazily, and explored between his niece's thighs. He felt the dampness on her panties and pushed two fingers against the material, pushing it up inside her. Helen gasped, ecstatically, and threw her head back. Alan reached up and grasped the waistband of her tiny panties, and pulled the final remaining garment down her shapely legs, revealing the shiny black curls of her pubic mound.
"Oh," he grunted. "I do love a hairy cunt ......"
Then he bent down and pulled Helen's left ankle aside, forcing her legs apart. She leaned back against the sink for support, then, before she had a chance to even think about it, she felt the thick rigidity of his penis entering her, then filling her up -- further up her than anyone had gone before.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Christ, Uncle Alan!"
"You love it, don't you?" he grunted, withdrawing, then pushing into her again and again. His hands were squeezing her tits as he pistoned into her. "I knew you'd love it -- just like your mother."
Helen knew she should be outraged at the reference to her mother, but something told her this was no empty boast on Alan's part and the mental image it created was the final stimulus, pushing her over the edge into a shuddering orgasm, and Alan, immediately sensing the pressure of her contracting vagina around his ultra-sensitive glans, released his own brakes and felt his semen pump deep into the gasping girl, as she flung her arms round him and clung to him as she shook to a monumental climax ......
But, she hadn't clung to him for long. Once the passion had worn off, Helen had pushed herself away, grabbed her discarded clothes, and rushed into the bedroom to dress, crying with shame and self-disgust at having allowed herself to be taken so easily. When she was clothed again, she listened, but there was no sound from the rest of the cottage, and she slowly opened the bedroom door.
Clark, fully dressed, himself, was sitting in an armchair, relaxed, and smiling at her.
"Hello, Helen," he greeted her. "Come and sit down!"
"Please leave my house," Helen said, icily. "You got what you came for -- now go!"
"I don't think so!" he said. "It wasn't a bad first instalment -- in fact, it was really pretty good -- but that's all it was -- an instalment. Nothing's changed -- I can still ruin your precious Hugh with one word to Lord Stackswell, so, for the next little while, at any rate, you, my darling niece, are going to have to play ball."
His words hung in the air. Helen's heart was like lead. She knew he was right -- and she cursed herself that, even as she loathed the air her uncle breathed, she knew that the thought of his long, thick penis penetrating her again was causing her innermost depths to liquefy.
But she could think of nothing to say, and it was, eventually, Alan who broke the silence.
"So," he went on, quietly, "I think I would appreciate a more -- considered -- appraisal of your -- very fine -- assets, my dear."
Helen looked at him, uncomprehendingly, and he grinned.
"I'm telling you to strip -- again!" he commanded.
Helen felt dead inside, but she knew resistance was pointless. He held all the cards, and, now she had allowed him to have her once, how could she say 'no', now? Robot-like, her hands grasped the bottom of her sweater and pulled it up over her head. The rest of her clothes followed and, within a minute, she was entirely naked.
"Come over here," Alan ordered, watching her, carefully, as she crossed the floor. She stopped in front of him and stood over him, as his eyes raked the front of her naked body. She tried, but failed, to ignore the frank appreciation in his facial expression as he took in the firm shapeliness of her breasts, her tidy waistline, the dark inverted V between her strong thighs.
Helen cursed herself, and her own weakness, as she realised that she was becoming aroused, again, by having to parade her nakedness in front of his very appreciative gaze. Wordlessly, Alan twirled a finger, and Helen did a half-turn. She knew her bottom was one of her best features, and wasn't surprised that her uncle took his time, studying it.
"You're very lovely," he said, at length, and Helen took that as her cue to turn back, to face him.
He motioned to her to sit on his lap, and she complied, wordlessly.
Alan draped his left arm round Helen's shoulder and let the fingers of his right hand trail along her thigh.
"You don't look much like your mother," he commented, idly. "Naked, I mean," he added, with a very small chuckle.
Despite herself, Helen felt a further minor response. Into her mind's eye came a picture of her mother, Pat, remembered from those Saturday afternoon spying sessions. Pat had favoured, very much, sitting on her husband Tony's cock, looking down at him, on his back, while he reached up and alternately fondled and squeezed her dangling breasts, and grasped the cheeks of her slim bottom, pulling her down on to his upwards-thrusting prick.
As she now visualised, instead, her Uncle Alan underneath her mother, pushing his -- much thicker than her father's -- cock up Pat's lubricated vagina; reaching his hands up to squeeze Pat's tits, as he had squeezed Helen's, Helen sensed her cunt moistening, then, with a shock, felt Alan roll her left nipple between his finger and thumb. Her nipple, she realised, was almost painfully erect and, at the same time, she became aware that Alan's penis was hardening, underneath her.