Rhine Maiden Ch 06 Beyond The Pale

All Sexual Encounters In This Story Occur Between Persons 18+ Years Old

In her blind between the curtains and the window sheers, Trang Nguyen Pique watched through shifting shadows while the eiderdown duvet lifted, then lowered, over her forty-six-year-old uncle Philippe Pique's covered body. She did not know what he was doing, but she knew he was not asleep and that she was still trapped. Silently chastising herself, not only for her ill-considered exhibitionism earlier in the afternoon, but also for her later immature inebriation and for her brazen behavior when Philippe had come to her room only to insure that she was alright, she furiously questioned, "What was I thinking to sneak into Popo's bedroom when he came home from taking Daggy to her hôtel? Why did I feel funny in my tummy and not look away when I saw him completely undressed? And why won't he go to sleep so that I may leave without being caught?"

A light reasonable voice Trang did not recognize answered from deep within her, "Because you are eighteen years old and no longer a child. You have important things to learn. Popo kissed you all over; waking you in a ways you never knew. What else can he teach? Do you really want to go away? Maybe he is even restless because he remembers that you liked his kisses."

"Non," argued Trang wordlessly. "He is a man, and I showed him that I am a woman now, but he also is my uncle and guardian. I was wrong and made a mistake. He could not help himself, but I must act like the loving niece I have always been before now. I will wait as long as it takes and then return to my bed. In the morning it will all be as if nothing improper happened."

The voice said nothing, but the fluttering wings in Trang's chest did not stop beating. Nor did the itchy bees quit buzzing in their mad flight from her belly to their lower hive. Her face flushed and her petite chatte squished as she involuntarily wiggled her thighs. Clutching the curtains closed, she shut her eyes and considered how long she might need to wait before making her escape.

Philippe let go his grip on his rigid prick and rolled onto his left side. Though he faced his window, he did not know the object of his fantasized lust stood trembling behind the damask dark olive-and-gold drapes less than three meters from his nose. While The Devil's voice in his head was mercifully silent, his fat recharging balls gave him no peace. He shoved his right fist forcefully under his bent left arm beneath his wadded up pillow and desperately tried counting sheep.

Trang had no true sense of how long she stood with her front side half-wrapped in the heavy velvet curtains. The closed door from the master bedroom to the third floor hall prevented her hearing the grandfather clock's hourly chimes. She did, however, have a sense of how little protection her thin silk sleep-slip and the window's silk sheers gave her backside against the cold mullioned panes. A chill crept up from her ice-cube toes to her mid-back, then seeped beneath her shoulder blades and seized her with frozen fingers.

Parting the drapes, Trang risked discovery to check on her uncle. He lay motionless before her and his slow steady deep breaths made her believe he was asleep at last. Stealthily, she slipped from her hiding place, then sidled to the great mahogany sleigh bed's foot and pointed herself at the bedroom door. As she slid her slipperless left foot on the thick Persian carpet to begin her getaway, her small inner voice piped up, "Attendez une seconde!"

Trang paused in mid-stride as the voice continued, "Don't be twice foolish! Feel how cold your bottom is. You could catch pneumonia after standing so long next to that freezing window. Your uncle is certainly sleeping, and his blankets will warm you more quickly than your own far away bed."

Trang shivered even as she argued with herself, "But, as I said, I must go away and act like the niece I have always been."

"Pooh!" Exclaimed the provocateur. "You have hugged Popo many times over the years, just because you wanted to be close to him and show him he was loved. Now you have an added sensible reason to cuddle him; for a short while; until your feet are no longer numb. There can be nothing bad about that, can there?"

Just then, Trang's hams cramped and she lurched painfully off-balance. As she caught herself on the footboard, she surrendered to her circumstance and felt her way around the great frame to the bed's far side. Gingerly, she lifted the covers and climbed onto the tall mattress, keeping a wary eye on Philippe at all times. The voice had been right: Under the duvet, in the middle of the bed and right next to her uncle, was a toasty warm pocket which was just her size.

By the time the final Roux de Valais lamb cleared the pasture fence and escaped Philippe's shepherd's crook, he had lost count. Fast asleep, his clouded dreams were kaleidoscopes of raven hair, small ivory tits, plump round asses, honeyed cunts, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and luscious lips dripping jizz. Soft hands and sweet breath brushed over him while school girls merrily danced around a Maypole festooned with Lycee Internationale maroon-navy-and-white ribbons. He groaned and rotated in place from his left side to his right.

Trang nestled against her uncle's hard body. Spooning around his buttocks she matched the angle of her quads with his ruggedly developed hams and pressed her chest to his muscular back. Her softness slid easily within her nightgown against his own silk pajama set. She hooked her right arm over his torso and burrowed her small hand beneath his open shirt.

Quickly Trang felt her chill melt away as Philippe's heat transferred to her. She soughed happily and unconsciously toyed with the curly hair matted over the flat pec under her palm. His nipple hardened as she lightly scratched a nail around its base and half-whispered, half-thought, "Bon nuit, Popo..."

Blocked as he tried to roll over, Philippe came full awake and discovered his niece. His sudden movement, as he turned and was forced to stretch out his limbs to accommodate her unexpected body, abruptly erased Trang's drowsy languor. Alarmed that he might be angry, she backed off and explained in a rush, "Oh! Popo! I didn't mean to wake you up! I was cold and thought if I could just snuggle in the blankets with you it would be alright."

"It is quite alright, ma cherie," Philippe answered. He thought his voice sounded strangely husky. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I am only surprised, is all. Are you still cold? You're welcome to stay." He reached out an inviting arm and added, "Come back. I'll hold you close and keep you warm through the night."

"If you really don't mind, Popo," Trang replied hesitantly while at the same time she edged back to her original position.

"Of course, I don't mind," Philippe smoothly assured his ward. Dropping his left arm over her, he scooped her even nearer as he said, "Give me a goodnight kiss, now."

Trang was confused. Philippe's odd tone made his request sound almost like a command. She wondered, "why should he order me to kiss him?" But, there were his lips only millimeters away from hers and she loved him, so she puckered up and leaned in.

The kiss was no goodnight kiss that Trang had ever given or received. Philippe curled his right hand behind her neck while he spread his left fingers wide across the bare flesh between her nightgown's deep V-back. Holding her firmly, he lingered long and lovingly as his lips brushed, then crushed, her own. She felt hungry but did not know what she could eat that would satisfy.

Trang opened her mouth against her uncle's and captured his top lip. Instinctively, she teased and softly chewed his pliant vermillion. He breathed deeply through his nose and stabbed his tongue variously about. Suddenly her breasts began aching and she moaned low in her throat.

Philippe broke the kiss and took Trang's right hand in his left. Pulling it down between their bodies to the iron-stiff erection poking through his pantaloons' open fly, he hissed tersely, "Feel that." As she closed her slim fingers as much as possible around his cock's girth, he declared urgently, "You made it hard. Now you must make it soft again. I'll show you how."

Philippe rolled again to his right then straddled Trang as she lay on her back, still holding his bone and feeling indescribable pent up excitement. As she watched him push her sleep-slip high above her hips, clear up to her quaking tiny tits, she guessed he would feast between her legs, like he did earlier that evening in her bedroom. That had felt so good that she could hardly wait for him to begin again. Instead, however, he pushed her knees wide apart and pulled her by her hips until his heavy balls bumped her bottom.

"Tu tiens mon verge, ma cherie," Philippe growled. "Now, rub my spade at the top of your private cleft."

Trang obediently pulled Philippe's petrified prick down to her thickly thatched brunette mons and then touched its broad bulbous head tentatively to her nearly lipless cunny's apex. Instantly, she gasped a gulp of air as her clit fired an electric bolt through her gut. Her primed libido demanded an encore. Boldly, she pushed the velvet knob harder against her little man's bald head and snorted short sharp breaths with each pulsing sensation that she triggered.

Philippe grinned while he watched Trang react to his dick's friction. "Très bien, poupée," he praised. "You are getting the knack of it. And do you feel how your chatte is getting wetter? Now it is time to slide mon verge down that slippery slice to its very bottom."

Trang pressed the staff south while Philippe helpfully widened her hips even further. Her pussy's petals opened a lubricated pink furrow for his plow to deepen. She sucked air and whooshed it out again as thrills raced from her vagina to her larynx. When she reached the protected os at her crease's nadir, she returned upward without instruction and, of her own accord, bounced the fat head on her clitoris again before repeating the cycle a second time.

Philippe watched Trang's china doll face contort in her pleasure while he listened to her unmistakable moans as her inner fires built. Each trip down and back within her pussy's folds heightened her responses. She rubbed herself harder and faster with her organic dildo. Her little hills shook beneath the swollen burnt umber areolae surmounting them.

Then, without further warning, Trang shrieked, "OH! POPO!" A small clear jet squirted up from her cunt and added more juice to Philippe's already slicked dick. She quit moving and lay staring at the bedroom ceiling as if she had been struck by lightning.

Philippe could not help himself. He clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Bravo! Now you are ready to be brought to full womanhood." Moving her hand away from his cock, he lined himself up with her glistening target and stretched its guarding membrane with his glans.

Trang's blue almond eyes rounded into saucers as she felt her uncle's prick pressure her pussy's portal. Suddenly she was frightened. She knew from her bathing that her little hole was very little indeed and clearly his rod was huge, not only in comparison with her vagina, but in its own right. The long absent small voice in her head reassured her, "Popo is teaching. He won't do anything that cannot be done. Trust him."

Philippe had his own needs. With a mighty lunge, he burst the hampering hymen asunder. At the same time, he harshly pinched Trang's hip points and pulled her pelvis tight to his groin as he slammed his full length into her virgin twat. She cried out unintelligibly as stinging pain rose from three points through her belly to her breasts.

Curiously, and remarkable to Trang, the hurt died away almost instantly to be replaced by a suffuse radiant warmth. Part of her - most of her - floated away as if it did not exist, but what remained focused with utter clarity on the new intimate filling presence she felt. She swallowed hard, closed her eyes and concentrated on the thing within her. And then, like a thick piston in a valve sleeve, it moved.

Philippe pulled back, then pushed forward in Trang's tunnel by small increments at first and then with longer stronger strokes. He smiled as he felt her inexperienced Kegels automatically contract and release while he pumped. Leaning forward over her chest, he lightly kissed her open mouth and whispered, "Listen to your body. It will tell you what to do."

Trang whimpered as each thrust edged her closer to a cliff she longed to jump from. She wanted Philippe to hurry, but she also wanted him never to stop. Reaching up, she found his strong arms then slid her hands from his wrists to his biceps and back again. Her light delicate rubs paired with his thorough scrubbing and accelerated or slowed with matched intensity.

Philippe patiently rocked in Trang's cradle until he brought her to her crisis once more. Screeching his pet name repeatedly, she bounced her thighs against his hips and shook her heels in mid-air. He flexed his cock and scraped her G-spot while he pounded in her well to her furthest wall. Again, she watered his sheets as she came squirting.

It was all too much. Philippe's point of no return was upon him. He plunged a final time and squashed his spitting mushroom hard against Trang's cervix with no thought for safety or regrets for consequence. She clawed into his triceps and froze rigidly catatonic while he stayed lodged until her rippling cunt muscles had extracted every millilitre of semen that had regenerated since he fucked Dagmar Bjerke.

At the same time that Trang was behind Philippe's curtains contemplating if and how she could evacuate his bedroom, her Parisian school chums, Nanine and Nadine Corbin faced a different dilemma. The eighteen-year-old twins stood half-naked in a Family Salon compartment of the Rhine-Seine Express' newest sleeper car while the train raced headlong at eighty-five kilometers per hour toward their possible doom. The girls now had less than two hours to convince the gruff and portly old conductor that they were not trying to scam a free ride from Basel to Gare de L'Est in Paris, but had actually purchased and then lost their tickets. They did not know that he knew this was true because the lost tickets had been turned in to him and he had them in his vest pocket.

Horst Reiner was fifty-six years old and had worked the trains for thirty years. He knew his power and did not mind wielding it to his advantage. He expected to fuck these teenagers if they were even half-willing and, if they were not, he was prepared to follow through his threat to kick them off the train at Chaumont and report them as thieves to the National Gendarmerie barracks there. So far, the youngsters had fearfully cooperated.

Standing behind the twins, as they faced the view windows over the main room's standard double bed and looked at the utility poles flashing by in the winter night, Horst thoughtfully studied their tight hourglass figures. Their bare backs tapered behind snowy white cotton brassiere bands to nicely narrow waists above apple-shaped buttocks which were, at this moment, concavely contracted behind thin bright white rayon panties. White opaque cotton knee socks encased their fit firm calves and slender ankles while they stood in their black patent leather Mary Janes amid the piled pleated navy wool uniform skirts they had just stripped off at his command. He guessed their measurements to be in the neighborhood of 86-61-86.

Licking his lips, Reiner made plans to enjoy every curvaceous centimeter on Nadine's and Nanine's playgrounds. Silently, he wondered, "Are they virgins?" Then he answered himself, "Does it matter?" Aloud, to his victims, he opined sarcastically, "I don't know what your parents taught you, but I'm quite sure that Madame Housant would not tolerate girls leaving clothes all jumbled on the floor. Pick up those skirts! Fold them neatly and put them on the table top under your glasses. Quickly!"

The barked rebuke upset the twins, but they did not want to ruin any chances to avoid being handed over to the police. Innocence aside, they would be far from home without money. It would be impossible to keep the ordeal secret from either their family or the school. Snuffling slightly as they tried to control their tears and fears, they each stepped outside their dropped skirts.

Horst kept a close eye on the teens as they obeyed his instruction. Bent in profile, they showed off even more that their delightful forms were nowhere too large or too small, but only just right everywhere. As they carefully placed their gold-rimmed spectacles on the folded skirts, he said less brusquely, "That's very good. Thank you. Your cooperation is showing me just what I need to know. Now, please sit and remove your shoes and stockings."

Nanine gulped and looked askance at her sister. Nadine pursed her lips grimly and nodded. Thus resolved, they sat on the dinette's benches, parked their flats beneath the table, then swiveled to extend their legs into the room. As they leaned forward and peeled down their knee socks, their handsome décolletages swept tantalizingly across their bare buttermilk thighs.

Reiner stepped forward and took the hosiery from the twins while saying, "Excellent." Indicating the bed to his right, he added, "Move back over there and stand for me." As they moved into place, he continued his instruction, "Don't slouch. Keep you hands at your sides and pull your shoulders back. If you want me to believe you are truthful girls, then you must proudly show you have nothing to hide."

The Corbins' grew increasingly uncomfortable, yet knew they really had no choice but to accept whatever humiliation was in store for them. Erect, with their chests thrust out and hearts pounding louder than any drums they had ever heard, they waited for their next order. In their nervous condition, the colorful satin bows between their bra cups fluttered and their naked tummies rippled provocatively. The conductor, relishing the suspense, minutely examined them from a meter away while he waited patiently for one or another of them to break.

Suddenly, Nanine looked down with shamefaced horror. Betrayed by her bladder, she watched a blotch darken her fresh panties. In no time, urine seepage bubbled through the porous rayon, formed into a thin rivulet and dribbled down her right inside thigh. Her mouth trembled and her shoulders shook as tears rolled across her cheeks.

Nadine wanted to hug her twin and mother her, but more than that, she wanted not to give the trainman any more reason to be angry. Immediately pulling off her own briefs, she pressed them into Nanine's hands saying, "Here, Neenee, dry your leg. It's okay to be scared, but we'll be alright."

Horst had been impressed by the efficient compassion that Nadine showed. He was also impressed by her untrimmed teak-brown pubic muff which pointed like a directional arrow to her young holy-of-holies. His ignoble, but unignorable, erection fought its way through his boxers' vent and pressed itchily against his wool suit pants. As he intently watched the clean-up, he casually draped the white knee socks he held to hide his swollen crotch.

While Nanine blotted up her leaked pee, and unabashedly removed her spoiled underpants, she heard Le Conducteur, using her nickname as naturally as any of her school chums might, say, "Yes, Neenee, your sister is right. It is okay that you're scared." Her spirits lifted as he continued, "I am sure that things will be alright. I believe now that you are telling me the truth about losing your tickets." Nadine also perked up at the news.

The Corbins' high optimism did not last long as they heard Reiner immediately follow-up, "However, we still have the unacceptable fact that you are travelling gratis. The Eastern Railways Company is not a charity. The billets must be paid for, one way or another. You mentioned your father might do this at the end of the line, but that could be problematic for you. Didn't you say he would also punish you for your irresponsibility?"