'Good enough, my girl, why don't you show me again just how well you do it?'
'All right then,' she agreed and kissed the tip of his tool and drawing back the foreskin to uncover his smooth round knob. But despite taking it into her mouth and licking it all over, my uncle's prick obstinately refused to swell up even when Sarah took the limp shaft between her lips and nibbled away with her white little teeth.
She took the soft tube of flesh out of her mouth and said: 'Oh dear, oh dear, Lord Gordon, I really thought you wanted to fuck me.'
'I do, my dear, of course I do. I just can't raise a cockstand just now,' he replied, gloomily.
Her face brightened. 'Don't worry, darling, I'll stick some hot mustard up your arse. That's the cure for a drooping prick we use round these parts.' Not surprisingly, my uncle blanched at even the mention of this famous old Sussex remedy. 'That's very kind of you, Sarah,' said my uncle, faintly, 'but I think I know an easier way for you to make my poor old prick rise up again.'
'What do I have to do?' she asked.
'Smack my arse with your slipper,' he instructed. 'A good whacking rarely fails to give me a hard-on.'
Sarah shrugged and picked up her slipper as my uncle turned over onto his tummy and stuck out his dimpled bum cheeks, opening his legs slightly so that both Sarah and I had a god view of his hanging ballsack. Sarah passed her hand lightly along his bare bottom and then lifted her arm. Thwack, thwack, thwack! She laid into him with a will and I could see his posterior change its hue to a warm, pinky tint. Watching her chastise his wriggling backside made me tingle with arousal. An awakening interest crept into my loins and I closed my eyes for a moment to allow a blissful familiar feeling radiate out from my dampening pussey to my titties and then all over my entire body.
At this point Sarah dropped the slipper and began slapping Uncle Gordon's arse with the palm of her hand. This obviously excited him for he gasped: 'Yes, yes, crack away, Sarah! A-h-r-e! How invigorating! Cut away, my girl!' Obediently she struck a few more blows with quite a considerable force. Then she passed her arm around his waist to see whether her hard work had achieved the desired result. He moved across the bed and lo and behold, what a difference Sarah's spanking had made to his previously flaccid penis! It was now standing up stiffly to attention in a rampant state of erection. He drew back his foreskin himself making its purple helmet swell and bound in his hand.
Sarah looked lasciviously at his gigantic stiffstander and murmured, 'Go on, Gordon, stuff that big donger in my juicy cunney.' He needed no second bidding as she lay on her back, her legs slightly apart-in a trice he was on top of her, his hands roving over those lovely alabaster-white breasts, moving his hands over the large pink aureoles and raised red nipples. He gently squeezed these succulent little cherries up to perfection as Sarah's body arched like a sleek cat as my uncle kissed her knees, her calves and her inner thighs, his hands all the while massaging those divinely full breasts.
She now parted her legs further, exposing her luxuriant-crisp bush and for a moment I could see her protruding cunney lips before his head buried itself between her legs and I could hear (though not actually see) him licking and lapping around her open crack.
My own cunt cried out with unfulfilled desire as Uncle Gordon continued to suck and play with Sarah's slit and my mound was on fire as he now lifted himself over the trembling girl and mounted her, guiding his enormous ramrod inside her squelchy cunt. Directing every last inch of his shaft snugly inside her cunney, Sarah now closed her thighs so that his cock was well and truly trapped in her nookie. Uncle Gordon could hardly pump in and out because Sarah's strong cunney muscles were gripping him so tightly, but he had no complaint as she started to grind her hips round, which massaged his prick quite exquisitely. I could imagine his hard pulsating penis throbbing powerfully inside her love channel and when he clutched Sarah's plump bum cheeks and smack his lips over one of her engorged stalky nipples, my pussey became wetter and wetter as I wriggled my hand between my legs and rubbed my pussey as hard as possible.
Now Sarah shifted her thighs and as the pressure around his pole eased, he began to drive wildly in and out of her delicious slit, fucking at such speed that I marvelled at his athleticism. 'Oooh, Gordon, you fat-cocked fucker, you've made me spend already-Oooh! I'm going off again!-Oooh! Oooh! Oooh! AAAH! What a glorious spend! Come on, darling, fill my cunney with spunk!' she panted as she writhed in ecstasies of delight-for the lucky Sarah was being brought off time and again and she worked herself off to a huge orgasm as the fierce momentum of my uncle's fucking sent her cunt into new paroxysms of pleasure.
For the grand finale, she brought her legs up against the small of his back, humping the lower half of her body upwards to meet the violent strokes of his raging member which shafted in and out, in rhythm with the ever-quickening jerks of her hips. The contraction of her sopping pussey now sent Uncle Gordon to the brink and with one final thrust he melted into her as he reached his climax, spilling spasm after spasm of love juice into her vitals as she herself shuddered into an explosive spend and even my own now saturated pussey sent out delicious waves of pleasure crackling throughout my entire body.
Sarah and Uncle Gordon were equally happy with the result of their exertions. 'What a splendid old cock you have there, my lord,' said Sarah, her bosoms rising and falling as she lay gasping for breath. 'My God, you filled me up completely which is more than most young chaps can do, that's for sure, with that big old cock. It's as they say, the old fiddles play the best tunes.'
'Thank you very much, m'dear, but I always say that it's not the age of the ship that counts, it's the way the captain steers his ship,' he replied modestly, 'and let me add that you have an absolutely divine love channel, Sarah. It must be the prettiest little cunt I have ever fucked. I just love the way my cock slides against its wet, velvety walls. Truly it must have been a cunt such as yours that the Scots poet David Taylor had in mind when he wrote:
How oft I've sworn to my true love
The world no sight can show,
To match her locks, her lips divine,
Her bosoms hills of snow.
But yet I find myself forsworn,
Two lips I have beheld;
Still lovelier on this happy morn,
A mount that hose excelled!
Her bosom boasts no swell so fair
No tints that these eclipse;
Her head had no such jet black hair,
Nor such enchanting lips!
'Thank you, Gordon, that's really lovely. Would you write that down for me please?' said Sarah, snuggling up beside him. 'Now, I suppose that another little fuck is out of the question?'
''Fraid so, my love, my old soldier won't stand up again for another couple of hours at least, not even if you tried out your peculiar idea about shoving mustard up my arse, which in any case sounds jolly uncomfortable, if you don't mind my saying so. Look, you can stay here all night, can't you?'
'Yes, of course I can, only we won't be able to have a lie-in. I must be up early to begin my work. If I'm not downstairs by half past six, Mrs. Callaghan the housekeeper will come into my room and see that I've spent the night elsewhere,' she warned.
'Gad, that would never do. But don't worry, I'll set the alarm on my bedside clock for six a.m. I don't mind waking up so early, especially because my prick will be standing up nice and stiff again by the morning.'
'Then you had better set the alarm for half past five,' said Sarah, with an infectious giggle which set Uncle Gordon laughing and at this juncture I leaned back from the peephole. This erotic encounter had been most pleasurable to watch but I positively ached for a stiff prick of mine to slide into my cunney. Then suddenly I had a brainwave- whilst it would take too long for a letter to reach my boyfriend Jimmy Horobin in London, and in any case I would be terrified of my billet-doux being seen by someone else, I could always contact him first thing in the morning, for last year Papa had a telephone installed. Hurrah for Mr. Alexander Graham Bell! I rejoiced as I settled down in my bed to dream of what sensual joys Jimmy Horobin could offer me.