Ambridge Affairs Ch. 8

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"Jenny and Pat went into the kitchen to make coffee," continued Brian. "Jenny had had a few gins at the party and, she tells me, as they waited for the coffee to percolate, she told your mother she wanted to give her a 'welcome to the family' kiss – which she did. Jenny says it was Pat who started the tongue action, but, she, of course, co-operated and they went back into the sitting-room, coffee forgotten."

"Now, in those days, Jenny's breasts were quite magnificent and, by the time I returned from checking Adam and Debbie, Pat and Jenny were on the settee and Pat had stripped Jenny to the waist and had her lips all over Jenny's tits and nipples ......"

Brian stopped talking. His fingers were alternately caressing Helen's breasts and teasing her clitoris. Her breathing was coming in excited, shallow gasps.

"Do you want me to carry on, Helen?" he asked.

She nodded, but he insisted.

"Do you?"

"Yes!" she hissed.

"What do you want to hear about?" he went on, remorselessly.

"All of it," replied the girl.

"But particularly?"

Helen took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Tell me – tell me – about fucking her," she groaned. "Tell me how you fucked my mother!"

Brian sighed with pleasure.

"Well, when I came back downstairs," he continued "your mother was all over Jenny, playing with her tits, and pushing her hand down inside her panties. I came up behind Pat, and lifted her dress – from the back. She didn't know I had come back, and she squealed a bit, but I held her dress up and Jenny leant forward and – well, she slid your mum's panties off. Then they both stood up, and Jenny told me to sit down. I sat on the settee and Jenny made Pat face me, with Jenny behind her, then Jenny began to strip her."

"Well, of course, as your mother's clothes came off, I got harder and harder and, when Jenny exposed her cute little tits, I couldn't take any more, I shucked my trousers, etc, off and – you know, I'll never forget the expression on Pat's face ......"

"When she saw your cock?" breathed Helen.

"Yes," Brian replied. "Of course, I knew I was bigger than Tony – Jenny had told me that."

Helen's mind reeled – how well did Jenny know her little brother? But that could wait ......

"What happened, then?" Helen asked, and Brian grinned.

"Stand up for a second, and I'll show you," he said. Helen moved off his lap and Brian quickly dragged his trousers and undershorts off. Once again, his cock was massively erect, reaching up out of its nest of wiry pubic hair. He moved to the edge of the chair, keeping his thighs together, and reached his hands to Helen.

"I discovered your Mum is very fond of sitting on a big, hard cock, feeling it thrust up into her, and having her tits felt. Do you like that, too, Helen?"

Helen opened her legs wordlessly and moved forward, feeling Brian's thighs brushing against the insides of hers as she advanced towards him.

He reached up and took hold of her breasts.

"Reach down and put it in," he ordered, and Helen obeyed, her heart racing as her fingers closed as far round the thick shaft as she could. She slid the tip along her moist cuntlips, torturing herself with the almost unbearable sensitivity, and then, unable to delay any longer, pushed down and once again felt her channel being stretched and filled like never before ......

Since that terrible day, she had never been able to refuse him. No matter that the original threat had lost its bite – even when Greg had killed himself, and Helen had gone into a complete nervous decline, Brian would turn up and she would find herself, eventually, impaled on his insatiable cock and, invariably, gasping her way to a shattering orgasm.

And even when she had found the moral courage to protest, and try to refuse him, it had been fruitless. Early on, Brian had secretly filmed them together and he now had a series of stills and carefully edited videos, showing Helen naked, and clearly climaxing with a stiff cock ploughing her cunt, and sometimes her mouth, and he only had to remind her of the effect of leaving one or two of those round the village green, to persuade her to strip off, again.

Recently, he had been coming round less frequently, though, and she had wondered ......

She looked across the counter at him, apprehensively. As usual, his eyes were raking her body up and down.

"I do like your overall, my dear," Brian chuckled. "Tell me – what are you wearing under it?"

"Just – just my underthings," Helen replied, quietly, unable to stop the blush spreading to her cheeks. It was ridiculous, considering what she had done with her uncle over the years, but he still had that ability to make her feel like a little girl, caught out in some naughtiness ......

"I see," he breathed, his eyes settling on Helen's bust, again. "Just ......?" he waited for the answer to his unspoken question.

"Bra," Helen breathed, eventually. His eyebrows rose. " .... And panties," she added, her face now flaming.

"How lovely!" Brian exclaimed.

The shop door opened, and Helen started, an automatic smile of welcome springing to her lips.

Oliver Sterling strode in.

"Morning, Brian!" he boomed. "Morning, Helen! Well, afternoon, really, I suppose. Good lord!" he went on, looking at his watch, "it's almost one o'clock."

"And it's Wednesday," Brian took up the theme. "Early closing. You'll be shutting up shop, soon, my dear, won't you?"

"Yes," she responded, trying to sound confident – normal. "Yes – once I've attended to you – and Oliver."

Brian grinned at her, then turned and went over to the front door. Flipping over the sign to read 'Closed', he dropped the lock, and turned back to face Helen and Oliver.

Helen looked at him, not understanding – then at Oliver Sterling. Sterling's eyes were bright – looking at her in a way she recognised only too well.

"Oh, no," Helen breathed. "No, Uncle Brian – you can't. Please – not this."

"Let's go into the back, my dear," Brian insisted, coming towards her, followed by Oliver.

Tears pricking her eyelids, Helen retreated, still protesting. "No – please, Uncle Brian," she implored, "it's not fair – please, Oliver – don't make me ......"

Her eyes met Sterling's, but there was no sympathy there. As Brian bundled her through the door into the back shop, it was only too clear to Helen that Oliver was cut from the same cloth as Brian, and even at this, of all times, the thought flashed across her mind that Caroline Sterling, now married to Oliver, but ex-mistress of Brian, among several others, must be a very different woman in the bedroom from the cut-glass, confident socialite she appeared to be, in upper-class village society.

The back shop would be more accurately described as a store shed. It was a lean-to wooden building on the back of the produce shop, with no windows, an earth floor and a single bare light bulb, which Brian flicked on as Oliver Sterling closed the door behind them. Crates of organic vegetables were stacked all around the wooden walls, each with its individual aroma, the combined effect of which was quite overpowering – but the smell was the last thing on the minds of the three people present.

Helen stood, facing the two men, her arms folded across her chest, trembling and apprehensive.

"So, Helen," said Brian, coolly. "Just – bra and panties, I think you said. Time to let the dog see the rabbit, don't you think?"

She stared at him, hopelessly. The thought of exposing herself to Oliver Sterling was absolute anathema to her. His position as Master of the Hunt made it even worse – it was like some little medieval village girl having to give herself to the local squire for a few minute's amusement before he consented to her marrying the honest man of her choice.

His supercilious drawl made her hackles rise.

"Yes, young lady – what delights does that beautiful designer overall conceal? Time for a show, I think!"

And he stepped forward, hands raised to start unbuttoning the garment. Reflexively, Helen lifted her own hands to prevent him, but then Brian gave a warning cough and caught her eye. He didn't have to say anything – with a heart like lead, Helen let her hands drop to her sides and allowed Sterling to undo her top button ......

It hardly took a minute to open her overall all the way down, and Sterling lost no time, once it was fully open, in pushing it back over Helen's shapely shoulders, from where it puddled down to the rough earth floor, leaving the helpless girl standing in only virginal white, albeit scanty, bra and panties.

Sterling stood back and gave a little whistle.

"Excellent trim, Brian – as you said," he remarked, as his right hand slipped between Helen's thighs, cupping her pubic mound, his middle finger sliding along her slit, from which sufficient moisture had leaked through her panties to wet his finger. He raised it to his mouth, and licked it, tentatively.

"Thought so!" he crowed. "This one's ready for siring, and no mistake!"

The tears had spilled over Helen's eyelids the moment Oliver Sterling's hand had cupped her vagina, but he was completely oblivious to the girl's distress. His hand was now working between her legs, rubbing her clitoris, and teasing the lubricating inner lips of her pussy. Briefly, he removed it, to allow him to employ both hands to roll her panties over her hips and down her legs.

He knelt down to pull them off her feet, then, from his kneeling position, looked up at her. Despite herself,

Helen covered her pussy with both hands, and he laughed and stood up and then looked down at her.

"You can do the bra, my girl – come on – show willing!"

He laughed again, turning towards Brian – at the same time beginning to unzip the front of his corduroy trousers.

"Come on, old boy – let's spit roast the filly, eh?" he whooped. "You take the front end – I'll take the back!"

Helen's blood ran cold, even as she automatically obeyed Sterling's orders and reached up to unclip her bra. She had never had it – done to her – there! Oh, God, would she be able to? It was bound to be so sore!

And then Sterling's hands were on her breasts, for the first time. She hadn't even noticed her bra fluttering to the floor. His hands were surprisingly gentle on her tits, squeezing gently, lazily flicking her nipples to erection. Then his mouth dropped to take her left breast, and his tongue did an even better job of arousing her very sensitive nipple.

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. She was aware of his hand between her legs, again, teasing and stroking her clitoris, and then he was moving behind her, exerting gentle pressure on her shoulders, bending her forward at the waist.

Helen opened her eyes again. As she bent over, the familiar impressive dimensions of Brian's erect cock rose towards her, and she realised that she had not actually looked at Oliver's penis, although she had been aware of it pressing against her thigh as he had massaged her nipple and clit.

But, now, she could feel it nuzzling between the tops of her parted thighs, seeking her opening. For a second or two, her heart grew cold again, then she felt its tip pushing against her spread cuntlips and, such was her relief that her rape was not to be anal, that she pushed her hips back and – as always happened – experienced such a wonderful sensation at the moment of her penetration by a hard male appendage that she grunted with pleasure, and contracted the walls of her vagina, to increase the pleasure for both him and her.

As she heard Oliver's appreciative groan, she raised her head and, slipping her right hand round it, guided Brian's waiting cock into her mouth, closing her lips round it and laving the sensitive tip with her tongue ......

Oliver's pace increased and his hands reached underneath Helen and grasped her breasts, firmly, but gently. She felt the familiar arousing sensations – no doubt, the regrets and self-recrimination would come later, but, just at this moment, she was very happy to be experiencing her first "spit-roast".

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1 Comments
coolgardie2008coolgardie2008over 15 years ago
Great!

Excellent, keep them coming!

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