Chapter 1

My Alice was always a bit odd.

When my dear departed spouse Hyacinth first remarked on her strange ways, I took it all a bit tongue-in-cheek, thinking it was just some sporadic quirkiness on Alice’s part. The poor thing never did fully fit into our conventional household and the entire neighborhood was on her shit list from the very first day of our fostering her into womanhood. Her teenage years were filled with one escapade after another and my wife was the first to admit that she was a difficult row to hoe and still manage to keep a straight line.

It was Hyacinth that had picked the tiny little darling out from a listless line-up at the orphanage. I was somewhat noncommittal about the entire affair, not particularly desirous of adding another member to our family like going to the store and looking for a bargain. Of course, it was only later that we both came to the realization that this was a transaction that had no guarantees and that returns were not good form no matter how justified.

My attention was caught by the fact that the headmistress seemed relieved that we had taken Alice off her hands and that a number of the other boys and girls were smiling almost as much as she, when she walked out the front door with her little suitcase in her hand. Since it was truly a dismal environment, I could identify with the fact that anybody in their right mind would be ecstatic to be shut of the place and welcome any change of scenery as an improvement to their situation.

Right from the first, Alice showed her skills in manipulating both of us into doing her bidding and guiding us into a relationship that played one of us against the other giving her all the cards to get what she wanted. At that early age, it was perceived as cute and endearing, but after she passed her sixteenth birthday, both Hyacinth and I construed it as a form of reverse abuse and were unable to break the cycle of following Alice’s whims like puppets on a string.

At the time of my wife’s passing, I was in my mid-fifties and was beginning to show my acceptance of a mature lifestyle that certainly didn’t include either romance or passion. My wife and I had been married for almost thirty years at that time and I had been contented with her dutiful nocturnal submission taking comfort in the convenient availability of female flesh to pound at my leisure whenever the urge arose in the privacy of our own bedroom.

The last ten years our love-making was curtailed somewhat because of the proximity of little Alice’s bedroom and we did not want to expose her to the weaknesses of the flesh before it was time for her to take part in normal sexual relations with a partner of the opposite sex. Now, of course, these days, the gender mix of the relationship is far more varied and open and it was as if we were suddenly creatures from another planet used to relating only to heterosexual relationships as the only normal route to culmination of tingling release.

It was with some surprise that I walked into little Alice’s bedroom on the day of Hyacinth’s funeral and saw her face down in the pillows with her pretty backside up in the air and being licked by none other than my Aunt Rose. The sight of Aunt Rose still wearing her eyeglasses and with her tongue flicking my Alice’s cunny with serious intent shocked me. Of course, it also aroused me to the point that I found my hand wandering down to my crotch to test the awakening hardness of my instant erection.

Aunt Rose was licking with determined dexterity, her tongue buried repeatedly in Alice’s pretty vagina. At that time, Alice was still allowing her cunt to remain untouched by a razor and her wild bush was all over Rose’s still attractive face like a damp brush that must have tickled her senses.

I should mention here that the aforementioned Aunt Rose was not really my aunt, but actually the live-in companion of my actual Aunt Louise. Aunt Louise was right on the verge of turning seventy and she still kept up the pretense of friendship with the younger Aunt Rose who was about my same age and almost twenty years younger than her doting mentor. They had started lining together about the same time I was married and we were both in our twenties at the time. I remembered that I had quite the crush on Aunt Rose and often pictured it was her underneath me on my honeymoon instead of my obedient wife.

Drawing near to Aunt Rose’s rear end, I saw my little Alice patting Aunt Rose on the top of her perfectly arranged hair and telling her,

“A little deeper, dear, I like it when it is nice and juicy with your saliva.”

Alice groaned sensually when Aunt Rose followed her instructions to the letter.

She looked up at me standing right behind Aunt Rose and with my hand obviously around my rock hard cock.

I saw the smile cross her face and I knew she was into one of her never-ending games to manipulate people into following her demands

“Don’t turn around, dear, my Papa is behind you and I think he wants to fit his cock into your wet cunt. Just spread your cheeks with your hands when he pulls down your drawers and takes aim on your pretty vagina just waiting for a nice tumble whilst you continue to lick me into a state of complete orgasm.”

I decided to play along because it was an opportunity that I had been waiting for a long time.

It was easy to get Aunt Rose’s bloomers down and I knew the deal was sealed when she reached back with both hands and pulled apart her cheeks so I could get a clear shot at her nicely trimmed pussy from behind.

My little darling Alice kept the mature woman’s face buried in her cunt and Rose was unable to look behind her to see me slowly begin to rub my impatient dick on her pretty camel-toe target peeking out at me from under her delicious heart-shaped ass. I have to be perfectly honest and tell you that sliding into that mysterious depth of the mature woman’s female wetness was one of the most satisfying moments of my sexual journey.

Suddenly, I was bouncing off of Aunt Rose’s Yoga firmed cheeks with an energy I hadn’t felt for quite some time. My Alice leaned forward and kissed me full on my lips with her teenaged tongue as she pushed poor Aunt Rose’s captured head deeper into her womanhood. The three of us were like a single animal joined at sensitive points taking and giving pleasure in a circle of lust that consumed us like the hottest fires of hell.

At nineteen years of age, Alice was a ripe and tempting thing with absolutely no scruples about doing the most outrageous acts of deviant behavior just to spin her web about some poor male or female with an obsession for some seldom seen fetish scorned by most of the hard-fucking public.