Uncle Bevan--Mmf
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Subject: Uncle Bevan--Mmf
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A Young Fox story. My archive is at MrDouble
http://www.mrdouble.com/htm/authors/youngfox.htm
Uncle Bevan and Nephew James." A worldly man introduces his nephew to the
female, offering his maid. James fucks the girl but is overcome with anger and
guilt when he cums, disgusted that the girl has forced him to loose his seed at
her tempo rather than his. He wants to kill her. Uncle learnedly
shush-shushes his nephew's rage and successfully encourages him to give girls a
chance.
***
"I'll tell you a little story, James, my boy," Bevan Raleigh said, tamping his
pipe with his special blend.
"Is it about sex?" James asked hopefully.
Lately his Uncle's stories had been about his escapades around the globe with a
seemingly endless number of females of all races and ages. The ribaldry of his
tales kept pace with James' increasing obsession with self-abuse.
"James, everything is about sex," Bevan said earnestly, leaning forward,
pointing the mouth of his pipe at the boy. "For instance, every weekend for
the last six months, don't you spend most of the time playing with yourself?"
James grinned. "But Uncle Bevan," he protested disingenuously, "You mean
this?" He tugged his erection in Bevel's direction. Bevan nodded.
"Yes, boy, all the time you masturbate, which is fine. But haven't you any
desire to be with a girl? When I was your age I'd already bedded several!"
James nodded his head vigorously, his hand tightening on his prick. A towel
lay on the end table next to him, stained with globs of drying yellowish white
semen from a couple of ejaculations already suffered this afternoon. Not for
James playing with trains and reading Stevenson all day, no! Much better for
him was the endless delight of making himself cum. Bevan encouraged his nephew
to jerk off and made comments about his technique and results, and offered him
advice on how to increase his discharges. Sometimes Bevan even masturbated
with him, or let him watch while he fucked the maid or a girl.
"I'd like to do it with Patricia," James declared. "She's pretty and she's got
nice titties."
Patricia was the maid, a lovely thing, precious little older than James
himself.
"Well, capital!" Bevan agreed. "Why don't I arrange for her to pair with you
this evening, after supper?"
"Yes! Please. That would be wonderful Uncle Bevan," James agreed excitedly,
"But first.....ah!....oh my......"
Quickly grabbing the towel James barely avoided staining his pants when his
emission overtook him. It was a particularly intense one too. The semen was
thick and almost perfectly white this time. Usually his first couple cums were
watery and yellowish from urine, but the third on were more and more manly.
Even in the last month he'd developed more hormones and his testes were
exceptionally plentiful.
The room filled with the sweet aroma of Bevel's pipe and the older man (just 30
years old actually) began his tale.
"Shortly after your mother married, a friend and I flew to Tangiers and made
our way thence into Libya. Oh, I know you've heard of Khadaffi, but for a
wealthy young tourist there is no need to be fearful. Jack and I were looking
for girls. We wanted to sample something darker, and not black--black girls
are so readily available in Soho--and preferably girls much younger than us.
"In addition, we'd been reading the pamphlets of a fellow called Moses David,
that were handed out on street corners in London particularly in University
areas. According to Moses David, Muomar Khadaffi was the new prophet, and he
required women to walk around bare breasted. That was good news for Jack and
me, because at that young age we were both somewhat smitten with breasts, as
I'm sure you are, James."
James interrupted. "Uncle, is fucking the same thing as love?"
Bevan looked at his nephew with a certain saturnine amusement. "Well, I
suppose so, in a way. But not really. I love your mother, for example, though
I've not fucked her."
James said, "But when I spend, you know the way you sometimes tell me to, then
you always tell me how much you love me."
"I do! Oh, James, how could I not love my own flesh and blood?" Bevan assured
him, patting the boy's knee. Bevan thought of how sweet the boy's semen
tasted. "But listen, fucking is something else again. You can fuck a total
stranger and experience a rapture that would make God himself jealous. That is
what Jack and I set out to do.
"Jack was always the boastful one. 'I'm going to fuck the youngest girls I
can,' Jack told me on the train, and I sensed the challenge he was making. He
spoke this rather too loudly, I thought, but luckily the natives didn't seem to
understand English, praise be. I assured Jack that I intended to fuck younger
still and we carried on a friendly argument about that until we got off at a
provincial capital called Ure. Remote but not a backwater. There were taxis
and a fair number of Englishmen and Frenchmen, mainly in one quarter. We
obtained rooms and had a good meal. Surpassingly, they had excellent fish at
the hotel restaurant. Then we repaired to a bordello recommended by a cab
driver.
"It was even better than we had dared hope. Many of the girls were of the age
we customarily fucked, but after a generous tip to the Madam and much fumbling
with hand signs and gestures to convey our meaning, we were taken to a wing
that offered younger fare."
James interrupted again, "Uncle Bevan, have you ever fucked a boy up the butt?"
Bevan smiled and said, "But of course, James. I'm no troglodyte. Now, let me
continue."
"The butt is tighter than a cunt, isn't it?" James persisted, now frigging his
prick with one hand and pressing a finger into his ass with the other hand.
"Yes, ordinarily. Although, with Egyptian girls, my lad, oh my word!" and
Bevan drifted off in solitary thought. He said nothing for a time then
muttered, "Greasy and hot, slimed like a buttered biscuit, my God. Where was I
boy?"
"Talking about a whore house," James said. He stood up and walked to the
window whilst stroking himself. With his free hand he parted the curtain and
looked out on the meadow and the distant purple fields. "Can I fuck Patricia
soon?"
"What?" Bevan said, "You mean, now?"
"Yes."
"Well," Bevan cleared his throat, thinking.
"I'd like that," the boy said. Then he said, "Uncle, is that a new car?"
"Oh, yes, isn't it spicy? A 1938 Deusenburg. Cost me quite a penny, I assure
you." Bevan was such a jolly man and seemed to delight in acting the old
country squire even though he was still quite young indeed. He spoke with a
studied London pettyfoggery, and more than anything else resembled a thin,
richly handsome young Doctor Watson. But he was at the same time his own
Sherlock Holmes.
"Oh, my boy, I don't know if your tastes will happen to mature to mine, but if
they should, I urge you to go to Ure," Bevan went on. "What I found there has
convinced me that the world is essentially good. For the fortnight in Ure gave
Jack and me the opportunity to sample the sweetest youngest girls, girls so
young it was hard to imagine them orgasming, and yet they did."
James was moderately hard again, and tickled his tip with his little finger, up
and down the slit. "Uncle Bevan, is it better to fuck a girl's ass than her
cunt?"
"It's entirely up to you," Bevan said after thinking it over. "Adult women
seem to prefer anal sex, and I've found many times the ass provides a better
grip and heat than a pussy does." He spat the word pussy. Like a bitter
lozenge.
"Do you fuck the, uh, young ones that way?"
"Oh, from time to time. With them, though, their vaginas are a sufficiently
daunting prospect. Ye Gods!" Bevan shivered at the mere thought of it. His
penis was rampant, bulging his tweeds.
"I believe you wanted Patricia now. Well, I must too," Bevan declared. "And I
should like some port. Wouldst like some?"
"Yes, Bevan," James agreed, licking his lips at the twin prospects of wine and
womb.
He rang the bell for the maid and a few moments later pert pretty Patricia
entered the room.
She smiled and curtsied, taking in the sight of the beautiful boy at the window
with his half-hard penis lolling out, and his doubly, triply handsome Uncle
with his suggestively tented pants. The most gorgeous man in the world, she
thought.
"Attend this, my dear," Bevan said casually, "But first bring us Port."
Patricia went to the parson's table which Bevan used to hold his wines and
liquors, and poured them each a glass. She gave one to her employer and then
went to the window and handed James his. He kissed her lightly. Then
Patricia knelt between her employer's legs and lowered his zipper. His cock
sprang up hard and hot and she rubbed it against her face. She felt faint.
His cock intoxicated her. Always. James drank half his glass in a single
swallow then got behind her and lifted her skirt. As Patricia began to suck
Bevan, the skirt fell back down and James relifted it, higher this time,
leaving it up on her back.
"You've got a beautiful bottom," James told her.
"Mmmmph, mmmph," she said.
"She left it bare again, dear girl," Bevan noted. "Why not play with it,
James? Her bottom flesh can be almost electric to the fingers. Very soft."
"Truth is, Uncle, I'd like to fuck her," James admitted.
"If you play with her she'll get wet," Bevan mentioned. "No need, of course,
some boys like to, is all."
"I'd rather she took care of that herself," James said, a truly charming
weariness to his voice. He liked to imitate his Uncle's air of command. Bevan
never wasted time on preliminaries, unless he was in a mellow, usually drugged,
mood.
"Patricia, stop now," Bevan told the girl. "Ready yourself for my nephew, he
will fuck you."
"Yes, sir," the girl agreed without question. She sat her rump on the carpet,
pulled her knees up, and rubbed her slender fingers over her plump little
folds. Patricia was a good girl, obedient, and therefore religious about
shaving herself. Her clitoris grew easily to the size of the black-painted
nail of her little finger.
"I want you to cum," James told her, standing with his hip cocked, his pants
off, bare from the waist down.
She nodded, very close to the state James had ordered. She looked forward to
his penis. A big thick one, it was. The kind she liked. Not as big as his
Uncle's, of course, but promising.
"You might take off your shirt," Bevan suggested. "She radiates a lot of heat,
when you press your bosom against her back and place your hands on her belly
and breasts, you'll find it more pleasurable, if you are naked." Bevan stood
behind the frigging girl, his erection above her head, and stroked himself,
forcing his member down as he came, coating the pliant girl's hair with his
thick spunk.
"Have you ever killed anyone, Uncle?" James asked while running his fingers
through Patricia's hair.
"We'll talk of that some other time," Bevan said darkly.
The boy sighed. His member was properly hard now. It was an open debate, but
he elected cunt. He forced Patricia to lay down and got twixt her legs and
insinuated his shaft. The feeling was even nicer than he had anticipated.
It felt natural and somehow right, a clinking ringing right, like the correct
combination to a lock, clicking open.
James looked at Patricia's beauteous face, her languid hair, the fine moist
eyes and pink tongue. Her face was transfigured by self-absorption and he
suddenly had an overwhelming urge to strangle her, to kill her upon his dick.
Instead he thrust in her and kissed her again, again, and again.
Bevan's buoyant cock thrumbed against James' nose, and James opened his mouth
to suck it. "No, no," Bevan objected, "I want it to be her, this time."
Reluctantly James let loose his Uncle's penis. But the girl in whom he was
planted more than made up for the loss. What a furnace this young cunt: silky,
soft, velveteen, clammy, muscled. Of a sudden, as he tried to articulate his
objections, James volleyed a load into the maid's pudendum. He was enraged and
yet at the same time overcome with joy. The bitch had forced his cum out, his
fourth cum of the day but one not lightly given, it had bled into her like a
slashed wrist. God Damn, God Damn, ludde sing goddamn! So this was what a
woman did, thus! Drain you, reduce you. No wonder so many men preferred
other men. But still, intoxicated, James had to allow that Patricia was the
most delicious succulent thing he had ever possessed, not even a stuffed pig on
Thanksgiving so sweet and juicy. He leant down and took a shank of her hair
into his mouth and sucked it, salivating like a hunting dog, angry his cock was
soft. He willed it hard, but his will was not enough. Too often spent. A
lume spento, like tapers quenched. He wanted to be hard. He drove himself to
be hard. Over and over he thrust into Patricia's violent cunt, his manhood
soft now, spent, drained, but he was driven by need, by purpose. Soon enough
he felt a limbering of his sodden joint, a recupping of the chalice, his balls
flooded by fresh produce. He held himself still over her, noticing as if for
the first time her breasts. They were so exquisitely small. No finer
breasts, no Lord, nothing finer. She was hardly older than he was.
"I want to kill her!" James bellowed, overarched with masculine power.
Beven put his hand on James' forehead, it was sweaty, feverish. "That's for
another time, boy," he said. "Take your cock out."
James reluctantly withdrew from Patricia's sopping bin. When his prick popped
out he felt whole again, his mind cleared. "Damn!" he whispered, shocked.
"She did that to me?"
"Your first time can be difficult," Bevan told him. "Patricia is quite a
popper, isn't she?"
James looked at the girl, collapsed now on the floor, writhing pitifully, her
right hand three fingers into her cunt, stabbing herself like a suicide,
thrashing about, farting. "My God," he repeated, aghast at the spectacle.
"I could have killed her!" James groaned, biting his knuckles, ashamed.
"I could have killed her Uncle Bevan!" he declared.
"Yes, yes, well calm it down boy!" Bevan told him, his own cock softening as
concern for his nephew overtook him. "Look, this is perfectly natural, I just
didn't expect you'd take to it so quickly. Rest."
"Kill the bitch," James intoned. "She took my cum. It wasn't my cum, it
wasn't my hand, she took my cum she forced it out of me she fucking made me
fuck her she was so hot and soft and no hair, oh Uncle, and she has a sweet ass
and I COULD NOT MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS! She forced me!" James broke into
tears and his Uncle took him in his arms. Patricia looked back and forth
between the two unable to interpret what was going on, but she felt bad, felt
guilty. Bevan's sperm was dying in her hair, his nephew's was fighting like
salmon up a fish ladder to expire in her diaphragmed cunt. She bled wet
farts, stinkless. Her whole body shook.
When she was six, when she'd first sexed, Patricia used to delight at the ease
with which she cajoled Uncles and cousins into taking her youngness. When she
was eight she went into convulsions, and the doctor was befuddled. Her
convulsions always stopped soon as she was stoppered with a cock. At age 10
she met a University doctor, at a party, and he diagnosed her with "Shaking
Child's Syndrome", SCS for short. "A common malady, my dear," the Doctor
explained. "All you require is more fucking."
"But why do I shake so?" she begged the Doctor, sucking his penis purposively
and with a certain lurid lubricity that amused the onlookers.
"It's because you need sperm," he told her.
"Isn't there something you can do?" she pleaded. Her little arms were aching
from the constant convulsions which dissipated her body heat.
The doctor beckoned over a friend who put his penis in her. He himself fed his
cock to her mouth. She revived.
Patricia soon met Bevan, and went into his service. She could count on good
health.
With the men emptied, Patricia's function was done. She gathered her clothes
and left, the two of them eyeing her swaying almost child-like bottom as she
walked out.
"I really, really want to kill her," James said, raising an addled eye to his
Uncle. "I'm sorry, I know that sounds awful, but I hate her for making me cum
so hard."
Bevan said nothing. He found his pants, put them on. He adjusted his necktie.
He fidgeted and went to the parson's table to pour a drink. This time it was
a licquer, green absinthe. Bevan stood a long while, his nostrils wide with
passionate breath. He turned around and presented his nephew with a knife. "I
really don't think you should," he said. "But no woman has the right to drain
you."
"Bitches," James said. He took the knife and ran his thumb over it, then
sucked the bleeding stub into his mouth. Such a rich coppery taste. Only
Patricia's geysering throat would satisfy.
"It would be better if you did men," Bevan suggested.
"But I want to kill her," James protested, angry. His dick was hardening.
"It's not good to kill," Bevan said. "Besides, it makes you have to find
another 'lover', as it were."
"But how can she get away with fucking me?" James demanded. He was really
pissed. He'd cum so hard in Patricia his cock was like a noodle.
"She's a girl!" Bevan said, and he put his hands out up and out in the timeless
gesture of the Jew, expressing total mystification.
James sat back down. He looked at his palsied dick. Fuck the bitch, kill her,
ran through his mind. How dare a girl make him spend so hard?
Bevan knelt down and took his nephews testes in his hand. He bent his neck and
kissed the almost hairless orbs. He licked between them, stimulating his
loin. The little wedge parted. Sniffing and slurping, Bevan told him, "Boy,
do not kill her. She is just a girl. Girl's can help themselves. Besides,
she has shaking child's syndrome."
James felt his semen collect in the cul of his bounty. "Oh, Uncle!" he
murmured, and grasped his mother's brother by the back of his head. "Oh!" he
mewled again. He farted again rhythmically, a salsa of farts, as he spent a
liquesfacent discharge into Bevan's cruelly efficient throat.
"Oh!" James cried. "Oh, shit!!!"
With that the boy was so limperingly wasted he no longer harbored murderous
thoughts.
It was time for Uncle to teach Nephew more lessons.
--
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