Young Cunts Act 04

"Children..." Eddie muttered the word distractedly. "Oh God!" His face crumpled, and tears, which he had so far managed to bottle up, began to leak from his eyes. He turned away, muttering an embarrassed "I'm so sorry". Ambrose did not understand what had so suddenly overcome his old acquaintance, but did not pry.

"Eddie, I'm late," Olive had intoned solemnly, as she crept quietly into his room, one midnight in December.

Eddie stood up from his desk, beaming with delight at his beloved's arrival. "That's all right, love: no such thing as too late for me!" He embraced her tightly, feeling her breasts squash against his chest, revelling in the fragrance of her skin and breath. His penis took seconds to rise in response, and he pressed his crotch against hers.

"No, no, Eddie," remonstrated Olive, pushing him away and holding him at arm's length so she could look directly into his eyes. "I mean... I'm late. Late."

It took Eddie a few seconds to realise what she meant. "Oh!" he intoned blankly. His heart leapt, partly with joy and partly with dread, and for a few seconds, his mind swirled back and forth between these two poles. But the storm calmed rapidly, and then everything seemed so clear. "Are you sure? Have you tested?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Olive paused again, before nodding in the affirmative.

"You mean?"

"I got a baby."

"And so do I then, no?" Eddie smiled.

"Yeah, it's prob'ly yours. Yeah, I fink so..." Olive looked away, so as not to see his reaction.

Eddie was not deterred. "Oh, Olive, come, this is a sign, isn't it? You, me, and a baby. That's a family -- that's us. Even if I'm not the father, who else is going to look after you and the child? I'll do it, love. Even King David made good on his mistakes, and took Bathsheba as his wife, didn't he? I'll love you as your husband, and the child as my own -- our own. Come with me, my love, come. We could go to where I've got relatives in Africa, and start again, start afresh. There I'll still be able to follow my vocation without all this Enlightenment nonsense ruining it all. Don't you see? This was meant to be!"

Olive folded her arms. "Eddie," she spoke cautiously, but firmly, "I'm not leavin' this country. This 'Enlightenment nonsense', as you call it, is what I want. I've been the scum of society all my life, Eddie. Now they're saying sex work is not just going to be legalised, it's going to be promoted. 'Filthy fuckin' whores' like me are goin' to recognised as professionals. That woman Cuntslicker is setting up a Royal Academy of Fucking. Imagine! People like me will be able to get qualifications in fuckin', be respected for what they are, for what they do! With the stigma removed, sex will be part and parcel of society -- like it always shoulda been. Eddie, this is excitin': I'm not gonna turn my back on this!"

"But have you heard what they're saying, these Enlightenment people, Olive?" Eddie's face contorted in pain. "This 'Cuntslicker' woman -- she says, 'The only solution is to completely separate the pleasure of sex from responsibility for family.' How irresponsible can you get? And she says, 'Love, like the state, must wither away!' They're talking about 'refashioning the human being' -- and those who don't want to be refashioned, thank you very much, are going to be expelled anyway! This isn't sexual freedom, this is totalitarianism masquerading as liberalism. It's so dangerous!"

"Oh Eddie, Eddie, they don't really mean all that! OK, they say a lot of daft things -- but they're politicians. Politicians are always talking bullshit!"

"Yes, they are, darling -- and that's fine when, as is the case with most politicians, they're total hypocrites in the first place. But these people, these 'Fuckers', they have convictions. People said before Hitler that he wouldn't be so bad: if they had read Mein Kampf, they would have seen what was coming. I'm listening to what these 'Fuckers' are saying, and I think they mean it -- and that will spell the end, not just of me and my life, but of civilisation as we know it!"

"Eddie. I'm not leaving. If you want me, then stay with me."

"Olive. I can't stay. If youwant me, then please, I beg of you, come with me..."

"No," she intoned blankly.

Eddie stood, jaw trembling, heart pounding, desperate, bereft.

"Will you keep the baby?" he muttered.

Olive paused, before replying quietly but firmly, "Yes. She's mine."

Eddie turned back to Ambrose and the Daniels family, wiping his eyes. "Sorry, Ambrose, it's all just a bit much for me..."

"I know. I know, Eddie," Ambrose sighed.

"Would you do me a favour, Ambrose?" asked Eddie, taking his envelope, heavy with its contents, out of his coat pocket, and handing it to the priest. "Could you deliver this by hand for me?"

Ambrose studied the name and address on the envelope. He raised his eyebrows with curiosity, but asked no questions. "Yes, certainly, Eddie."

WOULD THE FINAL THREE PASSENGERS FOR TODAY'S EXPULSION FLIGHT MAKE THEIR WAY IMMEDIATELY TO THE GATE!!!

"Come, Rosie," said John. "Time's up. Here, Robbie, hold Father Ambrose's hand. Rosie, now we have to let Father take Eva."

Howling, Rosie handed over the bundle in her arms.

"Bye bye, Mummy. Bye bye, Daddy," said Robbie.

"See you soon, darling," Rosie blubbed.

"God bless you, John... Rosie... Eddie," muttered Father Ambrose hoarsely. He turned and, with his two new charges, walked briskly out of the terminal building.

On the way, he glanced at Eddie's envelope. On the front was a name in block capitals:

and an address. He absent-mindedly turned it over, and saw that on the back was written:

Ambrose studied it. The "y" appeared to have been added later: unlike the rest of the letters, it had been scrawled more roughly -- squeezed in, almost as an afterthought.

"How was Rosie today?" asked Alison, as she lay on her front on the bed.

Rob answered, but Alison couldn't quite make out what he was saying, as his face was buried deep in the crack between her buttocks, nuzzling affectionately against her anus.

"Sorry?" she replied. "Take your tongue out of my asshole and say that again," she giggled.

"My tongue is notin your asshole," remonstrated Rob as he sat up, "well, not yet anyway. It's justthinking about it, planning its attack, closing in," he grinned. "And yeah, Mum was fine: not so lonely now Eva's back living with her -- but having to deal with allher angst at having broken up with Chad." Rob leant forward again to resume sniffing the heavenly rich scent which wafted from Alison's bottom.

"So sad, that, after all they've been through together," said Alison.

"Mmm..." replied Rob in indistinct agreement. He did not try to say more, as he knew Alison wouldn't understand him anyway, since his tongue was now beginning to delve into her ass-crack, probing up and down, gradually homing in on the beauteous puckered paradise which was its goal. Rob used both his hands to gently prise apart his wife's buttocks, all the better to enable his tongue to finally make blessed contact with her tight brown hole. He began to lap gently, and Alison moaned with approval.

"I c'd do vis fowever!" exclaimed Rob in muffled intergluteal ecstasy -- but sadly that was not to be, for at that moment the bedroom doorhandle rattled violently. "Muuuum, Billy won't let me sleep!" came a voice. The door was locked, however, so the interloper had to make do with banging on it in frustration.

"Shit," whispered Alison under her breath, rolling her eyes, partly in frustration at the interruption, and partly in ecstasy -- for now the fingers of Rob's right hand were stroking gently up and down her back as he slurped, and the middle finger of his left was beginning to probe between her pussy-lips. "What's he doing?" Alison called out loud. Rob giggled, his nose jiggling between Alison's ass-crack.

"He keeps chucking things at me!" came the whining voice through the door.

"Well, tell him if he doesn't stop, Dad will come and take away... er, whatever he's chucking at you," Alison called back, before muttering another dual-purpose "shit" under her breath, as Rob's nectar-soaked middle finger began caressing her clit and his spit-moistened thumb slid deftly between her cunt-lips.

"BILLYYY!" The voice was loud, though retreating along with its caller's footsteps down the corridor. "Mum says stop it, or Dad'll come and take away your tool kit!"

"Fuck," whispered Alison, as she raised her buttocks so she could kneel on the bed and Rob could begin to tease her now dripping cunt-lips with the head of his stiff black cock. "Oh, that feels so good!" she continued in her well-practised fucked-mum-whisper. "Go on, love, fuck me with that monster!"

Rob did, sliding his thick shaft deep into her depths, glorying in the exquisite pleasure of her slimy flesh caressing and squeezing him all the way in. "Oh fuck," squeaked Alison surreptitiously into her pillow, "that's so fucking good! Fuckfuckfuckfuckf--"

"MUUUUM!" A new voice shouted through the bedroom door. "Janey's lying. I wasn't throwing my tools at her, only some of the nuts and bolts!"

Rob paused his fucking, his big black cock half-in and half-out, the shaft glistening in the half-light. "Shit..." groaned Alison into her pillow, before calling out, "All right, Billy. Just stop it now and go to sleep -- or you'll wake the others! It's late, and you've got sch--"

"Yeah, but now Janey's throwing everything back at me! She's --"

"BILLY AND JANEY, BED NOW!" bellowed Rob, in his frustration withdrawing his cock completely and making his way towards the locked bedroom door, cock glistening and waggling before him as he reached for his dressing-gown. There was the sound of two pairs of feet scurrying away down the corridor, followed by a door slamming, then silence.

"Fuck," muttered Rob, before joining in with Alison's giggling.

"Aw, your cock's gone all soft," chuckled Alison in her best whisper. "Here, I know what'll make you feel better," she added, turning herself onto her back, lifting her buttocks and spreading them so that her asshole could wink invitingly at her husband.

"Ooh, to what do I owe this rare privilege?" Rob's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Well, piles not too bad this week, maybe?" smirked Alison. "And besides, you've slobbered all over them really nicely, it would seem a shame not to take advantage of the natural lubricant!" added Alison, probing the squelchy folds of her external haemorrhoids invitingly with one slender finger. Rob gazed at her body with undimmed delight, as his cock regained its full stiffness. Her asshole was indeed puffier and flappier than it had been ten years prior, and her pussy was slacker and less symmetrical than when they had first met, even sporting a barely-noticeable scar from a near-decade-old perineal tear -- and, of course, she had not had stretch marks then. But now her body was richly curved, her breasts larger and fuller than ever, gleaming and flowing with experience and purpose.

"Say no more!" Rob skipped gleefully back to the bed and knelt in front of Alison's buttocks, poising his hard cockhead just in front of Alison's winking rosebud.

"You don't mean that, do you?" replied his wife. "Surely you want me to say alot more?"

"Oh Jesus, of course I do, baby. Go on, give me some of that good ol' Bates Butts fuck-talk!"

"Like on the train?" She winked her asshole again, three times in succession and with perfect control: little, medium and wide -- demonstrating that the past ten years had not diminished her superlative anal technique.

"Oh fuck," moaned Rob in admiration and desire, "yes, just like on the train!" He leant in to kiss his wife full on the lips, pushing his glans gently against Alison's puffy brown hole, which parted welcomingly with the same ease it always had.

"Fuck," moaned Alison, before whispering: "OK, fuck-talk perv, come on, put that fucking black dick right where I shit! What are you waiting for?"

Rob laughed -- and Alison laughed with him: a pair of happy loving fucking spouses who knew each other's history and foibles so well that everything was a joy. Rob felt Alison's asshole smooching and squelching against his dickhead as he leant into it, his cock sliding slow but deep into her hot rectum. Alison's genetically modified anus was still slick as cunt, clean and lubed as ever, and a groan of ecstasy escaped from Rob as his balls slapped against Alison's buttocks. Alison continued her signature fuck-talk, giggling into his shoulder: "Oh yeah, Mister Daniels, you wanna assfuck your white MILF with that huge black dick of yours? You --"

But there was another knock at the door. "Mummy," came a quiet squeaky voice. "Why are you making so much noise?"

Husband and wife froze, Rob's cock buried to the hilt in Alison's ass, before Alison called out: "Sorry, darling, Mummy and Daddy love each other very much; we'll try to be quieter now. Go back to bed, Claire darling..." They listened as another pair of small feet shuffled back along the corridor, and another bedroom door creaked shut in the distance.

"Fuck," muttered Rob. "Three down, one to go."

"Yeah, and it's about time forhim to start mithering soon: we'd better get on with it!"

"Well, what can you do to persuade me?" whispered Rob, as he began again to slide his cock in and out of Alison's squelchy ass.

"Do I need to persuade you?" giggled Alison, before whispering in the quietest mum-voice she could muster, "I thought Mister Daniels liked pile-driving my fucking shithole? Don't you wanna clean out my fuck-stables with that horse-cock of yours, Mister fucking Daniels?"

"Oh fuck," whispered Rob, as he revelled, not only in Alison's verbal overload, but also in the glorious sensation of his cock pounding in and out of his beloved's rectal depths. He fucked his wife's asshole with more joyous desire than ever. He fucked it because it was hot and slimy as a cunt on heat. He fucked it because he adored its owner, adored her curvy body, adored her tits squidging against his chest, adored her wet cunt smooching and flaring against his crotch. And he adored her for all that she had given him: ten years, and counting, of love, and life, and purpose, and hope. He gazed in wonder at her pretty face, those keen brown eyes, those soft pink lips -- now mischievously whispering a torrent of barely-audible verbal filth into his ear: "You like fucking your anal-slut wife, Mister Daniels? Here, let me come on top where I belong; I wanna ride that fucking cock till you come in my shit-chute, baby!"

Deftly -- without detaching cock from asshole -- they switched positions, Alison now squatting upright facing her husband, one hand propping herself up so she could bounce her gape up and down on Rob's huge black prong, her other hand frantically rubbing her pussy, squelching five happy fingers into and around her slack cunt-folds. The rhythmic sound of anal cock-squelch, and the slap of buttocks against balls, now joined Alison's carefully whispered fuck-talk: "You gonna squirt your cum in my shitcunt, Mister Daniels? Swill out my asshole with that dick-slime of yours? Fill my brown hole with all your fucking cock-cream? You come and bust up my fucking chifforobe, boy, and I'll give you a fucking... oh no... oh s h i t!"

The last "oh shit" was not part of Alison's script. It was whispered sharply, in frustration at the new sound she heard, coming from the room next door. Rob did not hear it at first, of course: his mind was on his cock, throbbing and twitching at his impending orgasm, and on the smooth lubricated anal tunnel pounding up and down on it. But Alison, after years of training, instinctively knew the significance of that little squeak. She froze. "Oh fuck, here he goes, Rob; do we interrupt, or go for it?"

But Rob was past the interrupting stage. His cum was already rising through his shaft, his glans growing stiffer and harder in anticipation of the ecstatic release already on its way. "Can't stop now oh oh oh," he moaned, fucking his cock desperately upwards into Alison's ass, "sorry is that all... all r-- oh God... I'm f--"

Alison knew what his incoherent ramblings meant. She resumed and accelerated her ass-pounding, felt Rob's cock scrape harder and faster against her rectal walls, felt her clit grow and throb, felt her own orgasm approaching. But then there was another high-pitched squeak from the next room and, a few seconds later, another, and she began to feel -- "oh shit" -- that tell-tale tingling in her breasts, as milk began to drip from her nipples. It was too late to stop now, and impossible to control, so Alison went for the sprint, her hand a blur on her desperate clit, her asshole pounding harder and faster onto Rob's now-exploding cock.

As Rob's cum flooded joyously into her rectum, she felt her cunt spasm, felt her breasts squirt, releasing little hissing fountains down onto her husband's face. Rob was past caring, pulling his beloved wife closer so he could slobber all over her nipples, tasting the sweetness, glorying in the wet, milky, sweaty goodness all over his face, feeling his cock continue to twitch and jerk deep in Alison's cream-filled rectum. Alison wanted to scream, wanted to shout "OH YEAH FUUUUUUUCK!" to the world like the true Enlightenment slut she was, but, still mother-mindful of the need to be silent, she bit her lip, imprisoning her orgasmic screech within as her cunt and ass continued to spasm and she felt her husband's shaft probe and swash within her cum-filled rectum.

Under her breath Alison squealed a silent series of "fuck fuck fuck"s as she came down from her peak. But by now the intermittent squeaking from next door had become a full-throated wail, and milk was dripping insistently down Alison's chest. "Shit," she giggled. "Back soon!" She lifted her asshole off Rob's cock and unceremoniously farted her assful of man-cum onto his cock and balls, before dancing to the bedroom door, throwing a sarong around her waist, unlocking the door and letting herself out. A trickle of cum ran down her thigh, leaving little spots of semen on the tiled floor in her wake.

Insistent wailing filled the house for some ten seconds, before being dampened by the presentation of a full breast; then silence fell again.