With the MasterBettor app open, I heard her hot squeals in surround sound.
When Rocco finally let my wife up for air, Uncle Anthony took her hand in his grabber tool, helped her to her feet and spun her around, so he could get a good look. I loved the way her dress twirled around her trim waist as she spun. It was clear that she was taller than the old man. In his wheelchair, the difference in height was only exacerbated, but it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, I think it turned him on to know he would be using my pretty young wife like a toy. He bent her over at the waist and yanked her dress up above those sexy hips.
“That’s a great ass, too. Does your husband ever fuck you up the poop chute, sweetie?”
I glanced at my phone in time to see the betting line on that one. I had to take another handful of dirt and grass to steady myself.
“No.”
“Looks like you’re going to learn a little something tonight.”
With that, Uncle Anthony pulled down the pants to his velour tracksuit, rocking violently side to side in his wheelchair until the pants were around his knees — which is about where his flaccid cock reached. Rocco wasn’t kidding. Uncle Anthony is even more endowed than he is. The man has a third leg. If he stuck a claw on the end of it, he would have two of those fucking grabber tools.
My wife’s eyes went wide.
“I love your big cock,” she serenaded him through heavy breaths.
Uncle Anthony adjusted his frail old frame again in his wheelchair and silently gestured for Cindy to come near. “Do it,” Rocco said, as if she needed his permission.
I watched on legs of stone as my wife, still bent over at the waist, began taking her first long licks of this septuagenarian’s prodigious dick. She ran her entire tongue from base to tip then along each side before returning to the base in a repeating pattern that made his cock swell and caused him to exhale sharply. On my phone, the MasterBettor app was streaming the scene from Rocco’s point of view behind my wife, where he could see her French braid slapping against her bare back as she moved rhythmically around Uncle Anthony’s imposing cock.
Her hand looked tiny wrapped around his raging erection as she placed the huge tip of his head on her tongue. I could see the tan lines on her finger in the shape of her missing engagement ring and wedding band as she gently slapped his cock on her tongue, forcing a long groan from Uncle Anthony.
“Hungry?” he asked her. Starved was more like it.
“How does it taste?”
Cindy stopped nursing Uncle Anthony’s dark, bulbous glans long enough to answer him, but she acted impatient to get it back in her mouth. “It tastes really good, much better than other guys.”
It took me a moment, but when I finally realized that they were referring to his pre-cum, I shuddered from a mix of disgust and arousal — particularly at that “other guys” comment. My cock was almost painfully hard in my pants while I watched the love of my life savor this disgusting old man’s seed like it was nectar of the gods.
“There’s more where that came from, puttana,” he crowed.
My wife nodded her head and redoubled her efforts. I heard wet, sloshing noises as Uncle Anthony gripped the base of her French braid and pushed her head back down on his cock. She captured as much as she could in her mouth and he immediately began moving her up and down his shaft with a tight hold on her hair. His grin revealed rotten dentures.
While this wheelchair-ridden codger forced my wife’s head down on his humongous hard on, Rocco flipped her dress onto her back like a waiter laying down a tablecloth. With a swipe of his sausage-sized fingers, he yanked her panties down. In real time, MasterBettor had odds on whether he would pocket them.
He did, pausing to push forward off the fence, forcing Cindy out of the shadows and into the light as she moved closer to Uncle Anthony’s wheelchair. The bright light revealed her disheveled appearance: French braid loose and askew, lipstick smudged, cheeks shiny, eyes glazed over and teary, tits out and underwear missing.
Cindy couldn’t see it, but behind her, Rocco stroked a long, thick slab of cock, shiny from her saliva. He looked like a winger about to shoot on an empty net.
Uncle Anthony started to buck his hips back and forth while he held my wife’s head in place. His thrusts were deep and deliberate. Cindy began to make strange gurgling noises as she got well and truly skull fucked.
“Yeah, choke on that dick, bitch!” he spat as my wife swallowed his shaft. Tears began to stream down her face as she gagged on his enormous girth, hands white-knuckling the armrests on his wheelchair like a gymnast on the pommel horse.
“Take it you bimbo-titted bitch!” Uncle Anthony snarled, pinching and slapping Cindy’s breasts with one hand while the other remained wrapped around the base of her French braid, setting the pace for her as he fucked her throat.
I knew just by listening the exact moment when Rocco assaulted the entrance to my wife’s steaming little snatch. Cindy choked out an unholy set of sounds, like a death rattle, warbling and whining around Uncle Anthony’s cock as Rocco speared her from behind. He put his haunches into each push, slamming my wife full of his fat salami. The look of depraved lust on my angel’s face as she got spit roasted by Rocco and Uncle Anthony transported me to near-blackout levels of pleasure. My dick was twitching without even being touched.
How long they fucked like that, hammering at my wife from both ends, banging her back and forth between them like a hobby horse while she moaned uncontrollably, I don’t know. The lust I had unleashed within me was so strong that it had me seeing spots as my vision went in and out of focus.
Eventually, Uncle Anthony pulled his gnarled old rod out of my young wife’s gaping mouth, strings of spit keeping them connected. But nothing more. Uncle Anthony wasn’t the sentimental type. For the fresh faced young beauty who had been obediently worshipping his penis, he apparently had nothing but contempt. “Turn around, cunt,” the old man said with brutal directness.
Cindy did as she was told, spinning around to present her adorable little peach to the randy old relic in the electic wheelchair. Uncle Anthony sported a freakishly sized boner that seemed far too large to stuff into my wife’s tight sphincter.
But the evil glint in his eyes told me he intended to do exactly that. I saw him reach into a fanny pack attached to his wheelchair and come out with two wrinkly fingers covered in a viscous lubricant, which he spread over the fat head and down the shaft, all the while giving Cindy’s puckered little hole a predatory stare.
While Uncle Anthony prepared to assault my wife’s virgin ass, she was face to face with Rocco. “My woman,” he said simply before smashing his lips into hers, possessing her mouth. Rocco kissed “his” woman — my wife — long and deep for several minutes, all the while playing roughly with her wondrous, teardrop-shaped tits. I could see submission in her eyes.
Uncle Anthony let Cindy take her time settling her ass down on his dick. He didn’t assist her in any way; he just sat back in the wheelchair while she tried to slowly sit on his lubed-up shit-packer. She made several attempts, only to dismount charily each time. His size was difficult to accommodate.