 |
By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
|
Molly seemed all la-de-dah the first time we talked. Like she'd a stick up her arse. It didn't take long before I changed my mind about her. She had plenty of money. No doubt about that. But no amount of money changes what's underneath.
Molly lives next door to my uncle George. We had to put him into a home a few weeks back when he was taken poorly all of a sudden and a neighbour called him an ambulance. I've got two months to sort a few odds and ends round his place before we sell it for him. I am taking a fortnight off and it needs to be ready for the valuer coming around by the end of it.
Monday morning. Nine o'clock sharp I am parked on old uncle George's drive humping gear out the boot. And there she is. Molly. Bent over in her garden pruning away at her roses with her headphones in, oblivious to the postman getting an eyeful of her arse on his way past or me, checking her tits in that blouse.
But this isn't one of those naughty neighbour stories about the sex starved housewife fucking about, having it off with the randy builder next door while the hubby's at work.
Oh no.
It's darker than that. Much darker...
See, the thing is, I didn't know the half of what my uncle was into, what made him tick, how he got his kicks.
I was about to find out and I wasn't going to be alone when I did.
Molly looks up and catches me staring at her in the garden. Fuck!!! I am so caught up in those big tits I haven't noticed her looking at me.
She looks down at her tits like she can't guess what I'm staring at and pulls her blouse closed over her vest.
I stick my head back in the boot and pretend to look for something.
"Are you family?" I hear someone ask.
I look up. It's her. It's Molly.
"Erm, George is my uncle. I'm his nephew" like she couldn't have figured that last bit out for herself!
She holds her hand out. We shake hands and she smiles. She's got nice full lips. Like Angelina except her hair's red with tight curls like Nicole Kidmans.
It's a struggle but I manage to keep looking up and not at her tits.
"Haven't seen him in a week or two. Please tell me he's okay. Nothing's happened?"
I tell her about the home he's gone to and what I am doing here today.
"So we might never see him again?" she asks, all concerned.
"Why? Didn't owe you money did he..."
I'm joking but she comes over all like she's deep in thought, like she's trying to figure out how to ask something.
"How might you be clearing the place... I mean, removing his furniture and other personal affects?"
"We'll get the valuers in, the estate agent and when they've gone we'll probably grab some stuff ourselves. You know, valuables, family stuff and then a mate is going to clear it for me. He's got his own..."
"So there will be strangers going through his things?" she asks cutting in.
I look at her. Im a bit puzzled.
Why the fuck does it matter to her?
"Yeah. Suppose so. Why not. Just be a load of old man shit... I mean old man stuff!"
Molly looks worried. Like there's something in there she doesn't want strangers to see. Like there's something in uncle George's house she *cannot* afford to let a bunch of strangers see.
"Mind if I come in with you? Take a look around? For erm... See if I can give you a rough guide on maybe... erm the market value... yes... market value. I used to work in an estate agents you know..."
She's half way up the steps to the front door and it's not even fucking open yet.
I've got the key in my pocket.
She wants a look around. Fair enough. Doesn't bother me. Whatever she lost or loaned old uncle George, it's got to be somewhere in the place. She'll find it, I'll turn a blind eye, she'll sneak it out and that'll be that.
Anyway, I've got stuff to sort. She can do what the fuck she wants.
Half past ten and I'm ready for a cuppa. I'm heading through to the kitchen and I pass the stairs. Except, one of the panels on the side is open. Or is it a door? Its a door. I open it a bit further. There's noises behind it. I look inside. There's stairs. Leading down. I scratch my head. Never knew he had a cellar!
"Is that you down there, Molly?"
She answers back. I flick the light on at the top of the stairs and go down.
"What you doing down here in the dark?"
"Just, erm... getting a feel for the space. You know... the atmosphere. It all affects the value..."
It's not very bright from that single bulb at the top of the stairs but I can just about make out she's holding something.
A tin. Like a Christmas biscuits tin.
"Find what you were looking for?" I ask pointing at the tin.
"You could say that. I've got to go now. Is... is it okay if I come back again tomorrow? "
"Sure. See you about nine again?"
Molly smiles and hesitates for a second as though she wants me to go up first. Anyway, she dissappears up the stairs still holding the tin. I hear the front door close and I begin to wonder what she was looking for. What would my uncle borrow from Molly?
My eyes are accustomed to the light now and I can see a bulb hanging from a socket in the middle of the cellar. Where there's a socket... you guessed it, I find the switch and am amazed at what's in my uncles cellar.
Did I say cellar? Maybe I should have said... dungeon!
There's a cage in the corner. That's right. A fucking cage! A set of stocks isn't far from the cage.
Just around from those, fastened to an arch supporting the whole place, a sex swing.
And that's not even the freaky bit? None of it's dusty either. Some of the shit in the opposite corner is, but not the kinky stuff. There's even a rack with all different whips and shit.
This, folks, as it turns out, is my uncle George's kinky ass, fucking sex dungeon. I am *trying* to take it all in when it dawns on me...
What the fuck was Molly doing down here?
How come she knew this was even here when I didn't even know. I mean, we used to spend whole afternoons over here as kids. It was a treat during the holidays, an afternoon at uncle Georges house. Lemonade on the garden swing, football in the local park and riding our bikes down the back terrace. No memory at all of a door under the stairs.
Wait. Is that a pinboard over there? There's photos on it. Fastened with drawing pins. All different sizes. There's polaroids, small photos, weird shaped ones where he's cut someone out of the picture and then...
Is that... it is! I pull a picture off the wall and take a closer look. It's Molly. The dirty cow.
The dirty, horny, sexy... my cock is getting harder, I can feel it growing thicker by the second. I look up for more pictures. But I see something else. A rack. Like a clothes rack you'd see in a shop. I pull the thin vinyl sheet off. Underwear on hangers for fucks sake. Properly hung up. Stockings over the rail and basques and knickers and thongs and leather bras, bras with hardly any front, masks, the lot.
It's funny in a way. I wonder if they're what old uncle George would wear or what he got his women to wear for him. Randy old git.
One pair of knickers look like the ones in the photo. Are those the ones Molly wore? They're the same colour. Red, shiny satin material with loads of lace round the bum. And fuck me if they only hadn't been washed! The cotton in the gusset is all stained. Can't all be hers. Looks like dried spunk. And loads of it.
Now dirty knickers are like my kryptonite. Superman had his kryptonite and that made him weak and completely fucking gaga. That's what I'm like with dirty knickers. My wife leaves them for me if she ever has to go away for a few days. Nice and crusty, all piss stained. Gets my dick hard quicker than... well, not as quick as it takes to whip my dick out and have those knicks wrapped right around it.
"Was hoping you wouldn't see those!"
I open my eyes and Molly is making her way back down the stairs.
"I was going to hide and wait until you left so I could get rid of all this before you came back in the morning. But now you know."
I just look at her. Pointless trying to hide what I am doing. Besides. She's the one with the most explaining to do.
I hold the picture up and compare her to the Molly in the photo.
More make up in the picture, less clothes and definitely a different look about her but still, it is the same Molly standing right here in the cellar with me. The Molly in the picture is also completely covered in what looks like spunk.
"What's all this?" I ask, trying to tuck my dick back in my pants. It won't go.
Molly comes over and takes my cock in her hand.
"It's the last Monday of the month and do you know what that means?" she asks. She's lost her dazed look. Now she's smirking. A dirty look in her eye.
"No idea. What does it mean?"
She points to a curtain over by the wall. It looks heavy and old.
"On the last Monday of the month, your unce George would let me in and he'd take up position behind that curtain." She sees my puzzled look. "He likes to watch me with other men. Why don't you go behind the curtain and you'll see."
It looks heavy but there's a whole bit in the middle you can see through and there's a chair behind. Dirty of fucker must have sat behind here wanking, watching her doing shit with other blokes? But who? Her husband? That would be way too fucked up for him.
Theres a knock from the top of the stairs and Molly pushes me behind the curtain and puts her finger to her lips for me to stay quiet.
"Just a minute..." she calls towards the staircase. She's got her blouse off and I can just about make out those lovely big tits when she turns to face me and pulls her leggings down. That's right. Wet look leggings for gardening! Eh? Wtf. Never mind.
I'm pulling on my shaft with one hand and squeezing the whole tip of my dick with the other. It's doing that thing where it could spunk any minute, it's so hard. I'm rubbing the precum all over the tip to get it good and ready for the beating I'm about to give it.
"Ready!" Molly says and a complete stranger I've never seen before appears in front of her. He's in everyday clothes and she doesn't waste any time getting his dick out of his pants. She's squatting in nothing more than heels, a thong and the bra she had already been wearing. It's too dark to make out her cunt but I'm polishing more precum round my tip waiting for her to turn around so I can get a good view of her arse in that thong.
She spits on his cock. Slaps it a few times and smirks when it keeps bouncing back. She pulls the foreskin right back and looks up. He looks like he's in pain. But he's not trying to stop her. She pulls right down on his balls and his fists clench. She's being pretty fucking viscious with him for a bloke she's just met. He still looks in pain when she starts to wank him off. This goes on for about a minute and he starts to shake. His legs are starting to go. She stops and lowers her hand and pulls her thong to one side to get her finger into her cunt. She brings the finger back up and smears her cunt juice over the tip of his cock and then starts to work his shaft again, shorter strokes this time, but much more intense. He grunts and Molly takes the biggest load of spunk across her face I have ever seen. In her hair, across her mouth, down the side of her cheek, his spunk's everywhere. And just when I think he's done his lot, he shoots another faceful over her. Where is he getting it all from!
Having to pinch my own cock, it's getting too close. Last thing I want is me making a noise when I spunk and him realising I'm there.
He's gone now but Molly is still there. She's kneeling on an old cushion. The spunk is starting to drip down over her tits. It's running between them and making shiny tracks all over. Has to be one of the sexiest fucking things I have ever seen in my life.
But I don't know what to do. Why is she just sitting there? Do I leave it another minute and go out and see if I could get a fuck out of this? Surely she'd be up for that.
Then a different guy appears in front of her. How many of these fuckers are there? Are they all the way up the stairs?
Well, she got this one off in pretty much the same way but not as hard. End result was the same though. Way more spunk over her face than I could imagine any normal bloke being able to do. She's covered. Her hair has spunk dripping from bits of it now.
He goes and another one takes his place. Then another and another. I lose count. She gets some of them to fuck her hard from behind but always makes sure they pull out in plenty time to spunk over her face, just like the rest. After an hour of this, my cock is acheing and I mean acheing to spunk. She sees the last one off with a sharp spank across his arse cheeks and gets up.
I figure it's finally safe to come out from behind the curtain...
===
|
