Ultimate Power

Mrs. Olson used the oil to lubricate her pussy once again, giving everyone in the room a good look as she worked her slippery digits all around the inside of her vagina. The pubic hair around her snatch lay all greased down, nice as you please. Sula had thoughtfully laid a bath towel on the seat of the chair to avoid staining the expensive fabric. Mrs. Olson assumed a kneeling position on the towel.

"Excellent!" Damon exclaimed, shucking out of his shoes, pants and underwear. His cock was already hard as a hammer and ready to go. He let Sula have first honors.

"Thank you, darling. I love to suck your penis," she said.

She held his cock daintily between her fingertips and kissed and licked the head for a bit, lolling her tongue round and round, then running the tip of her tongue in and out of the hole in its crown.

Damon then approached Mrs. Olson from the rear as she laid her head down across her folded arms atop the backrest of the chair. He very slowly introduced the engorged, purplish head of his cock into her freshly lubed cunny. Everyone gathered around to watch as he began to slowly pump her.

"Oh, Mr. Olson," Damon moaned, pressing all the way into her, "your wife has a highly fuckable pussy."

"Well, thank you, Damon," the old gent said, beaming with pride. "I've certainly always thought so."

"And her bottom is awfully nice, too," Damon said. "Big and bawdy!" And with that, he delivered a smart slap on her butt.

"Oooo!" Mrs. Olson exclaimed, as everyone good-naturedly chuckled.

Damon laid his chest now across her back and reached around for her great, pendulous tits, while he gave her a non-stop, righteous hard cunt fucking.

"Can you see?" he asked. "She's stretched out nicely now. I'm getting into her all the way up to my balls."

Everyone delightedly confirmed they could, indeed, see that he was getting into her all the way up to his balls.

After a solid half hour of exuberant fucking and grinding, Mrs. Olson entered a sublime state of sexual agitation, as manifested by her shoving back faster and harder onto Damon's thrusting cock, accompanied by a steady crescendoing of flesh slapping, cries and whimpering.

"Reverend," Damon now directed over his shoulder like a surgeon to a nurse, "I think she's going to cum very soon. Would you mind giving me a little assistance, please, with her clitoris? My hands are rather full right now," he said, clutching the luscious cheeks of her sweaty ass and pressing the fleshy part of his thumb up against her asshole.

"Not at all," the Reverend chirped, and, being the Good Samaritan that he was, began robustly rubbing her clit with his hymnal page-flipping fingertips.

"Oh God," Mrs. Olson moaned somewhat less than entirely spiritually. "Oh God ..."

"You're doing a very good job, Reverend, keep it up," Damon encouraged while his balls slapped repeatedly against her cushy bum.

"Oh God, I'm going to do it! I'm going to –OH-OH-OHHHHH!" Mrs. Olson cried, her voice warbling in a high register as she climaxed.

Damon was meanwhile grunting and groaning as he plowed the lovely old woman while pulling at her tits. As he felt his cum start to roil through his cock like hot magma, he grabbed hold of Mrs. Olson's shoulders and shoved into her, his penis going all flip-flop and herky-jerky, like an out-of-control high-pressure water hose, spewing semen all over the interior of her twittering cunny. He cried out as his body bucked spasmodically with each seismic expulsion of sperm: "UNNH! FUCK! YOU BITCH! AHH! CUM! CUNT! WHORE!"

After what seemed an interminable orgasm for them both, Damon lay limply across her back, licking her sweaty neck and sucking her earlobe as he kept up a gentle thrusting into her. Mrs. Olson half-turned her head toward him and their lips met in a long, hot, tonguing, slobbery kiss as he obscenely manhandled her tits.

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Olson with a clap of his hands. "Anyone hungry? I've dinner reservations at a most charming restaurant."

"But I'm not through yet," Damon demurred as he withdrew his cock from Mrs. Olson's cum-oozing cooze. He turned to Reverend Chatterton and asked, "I hope you won't mind, Reverend, if I Violet your wife's mouth with my cock?"

The Reverend Chatterton looked stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter. "An excellent pun, Damon! Excellent! But of course you may."

Damon took a seat on the sofa with regal bearing and spread his knees.

Violet leapt to her feet like an excited teenager just proclaimed Prom Queen. She took her husband's face in her hands and kissed him gratefully for the bounty she was about to receive. Then, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder to steady herself, she nudged the Mary Jane ballet flats off her feet.

Violet turned toward Damon and slowly, seductively hoisted her suit skirt above her slender waist and rolled down her panty hose. After stepping free of the clinging garment, her fingers trembled with excitement as she unbuttoned her suit jacket and shrugged it off, revealing a frilly bra, which she removed and tossed into her husband's lap.

Violet smoothed her skirt back down over her hips, and, with breasts wantonly bared, she undulated slowly, one foot in front of the other, toward her ebony god.

Damon, meanwhile, had been stroking his cock throughout Violet's ecdysiastical performance. As the church lady vixen approached, he looked at her with keen appreciation. He liked that she was slender without being skinny. Liked the way her prominent collarbones arced gracefully toward her shoulders. Liked the way the scarf around her neck complemented her lovely, pendular breasts adorned by her smallish nipples and areolae. Liked seeing the lower margins of her rib cage, her flat, surprisingly well-muscled abdomen, the sensuous hipbones rising just above the top of her skirt, and the sexy oval of her inny belly button, a surrogate for the slit between her legs. All of this mature deliciousness moving ineluctably toward him, like a semi-nude runway model walking down the center aisle of a cathedral toward the altar, made the head of his cock throb in anticipation.

Violet put a hand on each of his knees and leaned forward, brushing her lips softly across his. Using just the tip of her tongue, she traced the perimeter of his mouth and his full Negroid lips. She then kissed him, truly, deeply, her tongue entering his mouth like a welcome guest bearing gifts.

Damon considerately tossed a pillow on the floor between his legs and she obediently knelt upon it. Violet looked worshipfully at the monumental instrument of his generative power, from the stout base nested in black, wooly hair to the great shiny knob towering above her head. She slipped her slender and heretofore virtuous Episcopalian palm beneath his massive hairy, black balls, and used her long, tapering fingers to caress them seductively. She then lay his member along the length of her palm and forearm to try to get a better measure of its size. So immense was it that it reached nearly to the bend in her elbow. The girth of its base was such that her two hands could not have encompassed it. And the heart-shaped, blood-congested glans atop the shaft was easily half the size of her fist.

As Violet moved her face closer to his cock as if examining a holy relic, Damon could feel her feathery breath fall upon his exquisitely sensitive organ. Supporting the massive knob with just the tips of her fingers, Violet parted her soft, sweet lips and pressed them against the head with its high sheen and the hole in its center, as if kissing the mouth of her lover. Again and again, as if performing acts of veneration, her lips caressed the massive head, top, bottom, and all around. At times, the tip of her tongue emerged from between her lips to lend another form of caress.

Then, ever so gently, Violet began to suck him -- just the tip at first, no more than a few millimeters. At a snail's pace, she kissed, sucked and licked her way all around his tender, throbbing glans, her lips, mouth and tongue performing little miracles of pleasure.

His knob, already large, engorged almost painfully as her lips kissed their way with aching slowness, up and down the sensitive underbelly of his cock, pausing for a full half minute to obscenely suck upon his scrotum and lick his heavy balls. She then wetly smooched her way all the way back up to the tip where she discovered a pure, clear bubble of pre-cum oozing from his meatus. Her lips approached the dewdrop with great reverence, as if it were a bead of sweat on the brow of the Savior. As she sipped the precious liquid between her lips, it fell upon her tongue, and her eyes rolled upward in delight, as if she had tasted Heaven.

Violet now placed her hands behind her back, as if handcuffed, and engulfed him in her saucy mouth, bobbing her head slowly up and down. "Gock, gock, gock, gock ..." Damon hooked his thumbs in the corners of her mouth and watched the saliva flow over her lips.

At this time, Damon noticed Reverend Chatterton standing close by, observing every detail of his wife's pornographic performance. He appeared horny and a bit agitated as he stood there, wringing his hands. Taking pity on the vicar, Damon said, "Reverend Chatterton, if Mrs. Olson is amenable, and if you don't mind fucking in my leavings, you may have her."

"Oh, may I?" Reverend Chatterton asked Mrs. Olson like a little puppy dog.

"Oh now, Richard, you know better than to have to ask," Mrs. Olson responded hospitably. "How many years have we known each other?" And with that, she wiped some of the excess cum from her pussy lips and lay down on the carpet.

Faster than you could say Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, Reverend Chatterton stripped out of his clothing – all save his shirt and clerical collar -- and joined Mrs. Olson on the floor. The moment she spread her legs, he hopped aboard and got right to it, like a shepherd with a whole flock of sheep to fuck by noon.

Damon had Violet stand up and turn around, then ease herself down onto his cock. Taking his stiff maypole in one hand, she parted her pussy lips with the other and guided him into her holy of holies. Her breath came in snatches as she began posting up and down on him, impaling herself repeatedly on his Brobdingnagian cock. Once she got her rhythm established, she reached down to caress his balls while he reached forward to cup her breasts and stimulate her perky nipples.

"Oh God," Violet said, building toward the first of what was to be a great many orgasms, "Oh Gaw-hawd!"

Damon glanced up in time to see Sula lead her father by the hand into the hallway. With a contented smile on his lips, Damon wrapped his arms hard around Violet's waist and started prodding her toward heaven with his cock.

Sula opened the first door off the hall on the left and guided her father into her old bedroom. She turned on the overhead light revealing a riot in pink, a teenaged girl's perfect fantasy: wallpaper, seat and window cushions, and -- yes, the bed, with the bright white posts, covered by a great pink canopy. Sula seated Mr. Olson at the foot of the bed amidst her dolls and stuffed animals. Mr. Olson looked on a bit perplexed as his daughter walked now to the center of the room with her back to him. She crossed her arms in front of her and began to slowly hoist up her silk camisole. The silk material rose curtain-like, incrementally revealing an exquisitely shaped back with a sexy swale down the middle. As the camisole cleared her shoulders, Sula twisted a bit, providing Mr. Olson with a provocative glimpse of the most perfectly shaped breast. She looked at him over her shoulder in a decidedly sultry manner as she let the camisole drop to the floor, then unzipped her skirt, letting it slither down her long, perfect legs, revealing a thin black thong that disappeared within the crack of the most perfectly shaped buttocks imaginable. Mr. Olson suddenly realized he was experiencing the stiffest hard-on of his life. But this was his daughter, for God's sake, his daughter!

Sula walked up to her father, drew him to his feet, and took hold of the zipper of his leisure suit. She drew the zipper down his chest and abdomen toward his crotch, all the while looking him in the eye, with her perfect lips nearly touching his. Somehow – he never could remember how afterwards -- he found himself standing before her in his undershorts. Sula took a small step back, hooked her thumbs in both sides of her thong, and pulled it off. She approached her father again, put one hand behind his head and softly placed her perfect lips against his. He became lightheaded as their mouths opened and their tongues joined in a luscious lingual embrace. He nearly swooned as her long, tapering fingers insinuated themselves between the elastic of his underpants and his belly, descending to encompass his swollen cock.

The next thing either of them knew, Sula was on the bed, on her back, with her father kneeling between her thighs. Mr. Olson lodged the head of his cock between Sula's perfectly formed rose petal labia and slowly sank into her. Her pussy yielded to him like room temperature butter. His penis found itself immersed in a heavenly chamber of pleasure, the warm, moist folds of her pussy already in full flutter. Mr. Olson leaned back and firmly grasped his daughter's ankles and spread her gorgeous legs far apart. From a kneeling position, he pumped her slowly at first, then faster and faster, until he was fucking her with complete abandon, his balls slapping a hectic tattoo on her perfect ass.

"Oh God, Daddy!" she cried. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"

Her father leaned down and stared intently at her beautiful face, unable to get over his good fortune in getting to have such a gorgeous creature. He ran his fingers through her silky blond hair, palmed her perfect head, and mashed his lips into hers, thrusting his cock into her harder. With surging passion, he pushed himself upright, straddling her with outstretched arms, and swiveled his hips round and round, spinning his cock inside her like a whirling dervish.

Sula looked up at her father as he knelt, thrusting madly between her legs, broad chest densely matted with wet white hair, the muscles of his belly paunch straining, sweat pouring. He was almost unrecognizable as "Daddy", what with his spittle-flecked lips, hair sticking out in all directions, and bright cherry red face demonically contorted by his copulatory frenzy. There, with his long, thick cock madly plunging in and out of her perfect body, Sula's father looked for all the world like a berserk Greek god Priapus, a rampaging bull gone mad on Viagra.

Far from feeling fear, Sula was seized by the dizzying, delirious need to be fucked in every orifice at the same time. Her head was filled with obscenely depraved thoughts and images of pussies and mouths and assholes filled to overflowing by a thousand spurting cocks. Her pussy's nerve endings had never experienced anything so potent, so powerful, so rampant.

Yet, through her fog of lust, she pleaded with her father, "Daddy, don't cum in me. I'm ovulating. I took myself off the pill. I didn't tell Damon. I wanted him to get me pregnant so he'd marry me. Don't cum inside me. You'll give me a baby."

"I won't, Princess, I won't," Mr. Olson assured her, humping away furiously, releasing her legs to grab handfuls of her perfect breasts. He fell heavily upon her taut belly, mauling her tits and nipples with his ravenous mouth.

"Don't cum," she moaned in a manner that only served to further stiffen him. "Don't cum inside me, Daddy. Don't get me pregnant, please," she said, frenetically kissing his neck and sticking her tongue in his ear. "Oh, go deeper ... harder, oh yes, oh yesss!" she said, wrapping her long legs tightly around his waist as he continued churning her. "Ohhh ... Daddy... Don't cum inside me," she moaned, reaching down to grip and massage his balls. "Don't cum in me ... please."

"Oh, Princess, no, I won't, ungh," he groaned, grabbing the glorious globes of her perfect ass and drawing her up to him as he burrowed in deep, burying himself in her up to his roots.

"Don't cum," she moaned into his ear, "don't cum in me, please ... oh Daddy ... oh don't cum... oh cum-m-m ... cum-m-m... cum-m-m-m-m-m ..."

"Oh, Princess!" he groaned loudly, smothering her mouth with his lips, as they slathered each other's tongues. At that instant, all his inhibitions collapsed. "UNGH!" he shouted as he blew his stack.

The instant she felt her father go off inside her, Sula's gorgeous blue eyes rolled up in her head so that only the white of her eyes were showing as she dug her fingernails into his back.

"OHHH! FUCK!" she and her father cried in unison as the wild spurting proceeded unabated. Wave after deliriously delicious wave, Mr. Olson spewed his hot paternal cum into Sula's receptive pussy, straight into her fertile womb. The three perfect ova lying within were swamped in a hot tsunami of his ravening seed -- taken by brute force, as it were, like the sacking of Rome.

The deed was done. But just to be sure of matters, Damon had Mr. Olson keep his cock up his daughter for another thirty minutes. And then, to absolutely seal the deal, he had Mr. Olson inseminate his daughter one more time.

Soon after the Right Reverend Chatterton and Mrs. Olson had fucked each other to a mutually satisfying and boisterous denouement, the cleric felt himself called by the Holy Spirit to throw on his clothes and scurry home to compose a sermon for the forthcoming Sunday service. It would be a supremely motivational and inspiring sermon about sharing -- a well-mined topic, to be sure, but one that the good Reverend intended to imbue his congregation with a startlingly newer, broader, more libidinous slant.

Taking stock of the situation, Damon decided that his relationship with Sula had come to a suitable conclusion. He invited his two lovely, aging companions to go home with him for the weekend for an extended worship service of an entirely different sort.

Naturally, what with all the incessant buzzing in their charming heads, neither Mrs. Olson nor Violet could have conceivably refused.