The combined efforts of my two aunts – Aunty Jackie licking at my pussy, her sister-in-law Rachel sitting on my face – soon erupted into an orgasm for three people. Myself, thanks to Aunt Jackie's clever little mouth, Aunt Rachel, thanks to my clever little mouth, and Uncle Rick, thanks to his randy voyeurism and his stroking hand!
As soon as I had come, quickly followed by Rachel's explosion on my mouth, Uncle Rick let out a grunted "Oh, whatta fuckin' sight!" and his handiwork on Mr Spanky brought the inevitable, sticky outcome for his belly, as his seven-inch prick spurted a couple of wads of semen upwards.
Later, outside by the pool as we savoured his beautifully cooked steaks, washed down by the inevitable bottle or two of Grange Hermitage – a taste I thought I had, by now, acquired – Uncle Rick told his wife and sister-in-law: "Well, as you'll have gathered, I'm no longer persona fuckin' grata with little Miss Carly's sensational pussy.
"But judging by the way I couldn't control myself as you two worked her over upstairs this arvo, I'm not really much use at wanking and watching, so I'll bow out of the picture."
Aunty Jackie laughed. "That's Rickspeak for 'I've found a new woman', Carly, don't let him fool you," she told me.
"Who is it this time? Don't tell me Raewyn has finally relented and let you fuck her? Now she's an executive producer in TV land she's changed the habits of a lifetime?"
Uncle Rick muttered something about "opportunity being a fine chance" but I wasn't really listening, I was thinking of her. Raewyn – the very word evoked wonderful memories of my previous visit, 10 years before. But before we get to her, let me take you back to that year – 1995 – when I was enjoying a month's holiday in Sydney, far from the snow and sleet of an English winter on the Sussex coast.
After a couple of weeks, alternating between Aunty Jackie's bed at nights and my own, when Uncle Rick would bed me, I was happily enjoying sexual favours from both of them. But a fortnight into my holiday things changed. That night, Uncle Rick was enjoying his turn between my thighs – and it was quite a night.
Uncle Rick, for all his loudmouth ways, was, in fact, an incredibly gentle lover. We had spent the day lying by the pool, stark naked, and as usual I had been lavished with attention from my aunt and her 50-year-old Aussie author-husband.
That night, he carried me up to my bedroom, laid me gently on the cool silk sheet and covered my body with kisses. His seven-inch cock was a proud piece of equipment, but there was none of the macho posturing in his lovemaking.
He took me in the missionary position, then doggy style, then gave me a tit fuck and after a passionate hour or more of fucking and sucking, collapsed fast asleep in my arms. Quite how he could perform that well after at least three-quarters of a bottle of what he described as "a ball-tearer of an Aussie red" was beyond me.
That morning he woke me gently by the simple expedient of placing his practised tongue along my sex trench until I stirred and accepted his eager, stiffness in my vagina. Half-way through our "dawn breaker", as he crudely referred to it, the phone rang. Seconds later there was a knock on the door and my aunt opened it and announced: "Channel 9 on the phone for you Rick, it's the show's executive producer, he says it's urgent."
With a sigh, uncle rolled off me, his erection leaving a trail of sex juice across my thigh and I took the opportunity to jump into the shower and get dressed – if you can call the bikinis I was in the habit of wearing in the hot Sydney sun being "dressed".
Uncle Rick was also dressed and showered by the time I got downstairs.
"Channel 9 has a midday show I've got to appear on," he told me. "I'm apparently being talked about a lot in some fuckin' High Court case in Pongolia – it's all about some sheila who's claiming her work's been plagiarised by some other Pommy author and the defence team want to call me to give evidence for him.
"Wanna come down to the studios while I appear for my '15 minutes of fame' as Andy Warhol put it, Carly?"
"Yes, please," I said, buttering a slice of toast and marmalade. "When do you have to given evidence back home?"
"Apparently Qantas is holding a first class return ticket for me at Mascot. I fly tonight," said Uncle Rick.
And that was how I met Raewyn!
Uncle misjudged the traffic, which can be bloody awful in the centre of Sydney, and we were running late when he wheeled the big red Holden into the studio car park. He rushed me inside, we got visitors' tags and a cold-looking woman took us to the hospitality suite.
There we were greeted by a lovely blonde vision, who shook me by the hand – she obviously already knew Uncle Rick - and announced: "I'm Raewyn, and you Rick are late. Get down to makeup, you've 20 minutes before you're on air."
Uncle handed me over to her. "This is my niece Carly, and you look after her Raewyn, only don't get her pissed," he said, in his typically blunt Aussie manner and was then gone.
They say "gentlemen prefer blondes", but it's not just gentlemen, it's women, too. Oh, well, let's admit it – it's me. But then again, I prefer blondes, brunettes, redheads. You get the drift.
Anyway, with Raewyn there a lot to prefer. In her late 20s, she was wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt with "Everlast" stamped across her breasts, which were large, around the size of my 36ers, I'd guess. Her eyes were flashing green, her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was pretty, with a little snub nose, great teeth and a warm, pleasant smile. I knew from the instant I saw her I was going to like her.
But wait, as they say on those awful TV ads, there's more! She was wearing a pair of red leather jeans and her arse was the most magnificent pair of muscular mounds I'd ever laid my lascivious eyes on. She caught me looking.
"Sorry," I said, quickly, knowing I'd been caught leching on her bum.
"Oh, that's OK, Carly," she said, "I get a lot of that, but it's mostly from old politicians or blokes like your uncle, who'd just love to spank me."
"I can see that," I said, indicating I'd have a gin and tonic while we waited for Uncle Rick's appearance on the show.
"A mother's ruin and Schweppes coming up, Carly," said Raewyn, in her broad Aussie twang. "And tell me, is he really your uncle, and has he spanked you?"
I sipped on the monster drink she'd poured me. "He's married to my aunty," I said, "so he's an uncle by marriage and yes, he's spanked me."
Quite why I told her, to this day I have no idea, but just as there are some people you instantly take a shine to, so there are some people you instantly trust, as well. Raewyn was both of these things.
And then I added my clincher. "But I got him back," I said, sipping the g and t to check that it was as strong as I feared – it was.
"You got him back?" said Raewyn, her eyebrows arching.
"Yes, I whipped his arse while he was being fellated by my Aunty Jackie," I said, knowing I shouldn't have been saying this, but feeling so at home and at ease with the young blonde.
Then I blushed. "And I had help from uncle's sister, Rachel, a former lingerie model. We whipped him together, while aunty brought him off." I just couldn't shut up!
Raewyn gave a start, but it wasn't my talk of whipping or fellatio. It was my mention of the name Rachel.
"Rachel?" she asked. "Not Rachel Riccadonna –
the
Rachel Riccadonna?"
