French Niece??Chapter 5: New York City, 2004/2005 free porn video

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Amelie's flight was late, delayed for two hours on the tarmac at Orly by a freak storm, and so she only landed at ten o'clock on New Years Eve. When she finally appeared through the doors from immigration and saw me, she ran shrieking toward me and I had to catch her as she leapt the final eight feet, landing smiling against my chest as her legs locked around my waist, her tongue stretching to find mine.

"Oh Oncle Pierre, je t'aime [I love you], she yelled between long kisses, "Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime," she continued, laughing and hugging me as a bemused public swirled gawking past us.

"Are you drunk?" I asked grinning, easily tasting the champagne on her flicking tongue.

"No! I just had a glass or two my beautiful uncle. They wanted to reward us for being so patient during the delay," she explained as she continued to kiss me. "Did we miss Times Square? I want to see the big ball Uncle"

"No sweetie, if we rush we still have time to get there, c'mon, lets go," I answered as I lowered her to her feet. I had to hold her arm as we ran, Amelie's two glasses must have been very large, I thought, as she teetered unsteadily beside me.

Can you love someone too much I wondered, as Amelie stood nestled against me among the throngs near 42nd Street, everyone's eyes riveted on the big silver ball that was slowly descending. Our lips were locked together when 2005 arrived, and I could feel her body shivering under my hands as I lifted her off her feet, holding her as tightly as I dared.

"Promise you'll never let me go Uncle," Amelie pled, a new desperate edge in her voice.

"Jamias ma petite, [never my little one]," I promised, suddenly aware of how empty my life would be without her, of how easily she could destroy my life.

I had to carry her from the taxi at five that morning, as we had caroused from bar to bar throughout the night, and deposited her giggling form in the middle of my King size bed.

"Are we home Uncle?"

"Yes my love, you're home now."

"Will you sleep with me tonight Uncle Peter?" were her last words before she fell unconscious, a sweet smile spread across her face.

I finally woke early the next afternoon, roused by a tickling sensation on my nose, and opening my eyes saw a long white feather dancing over my skin. "Hi honey," I said as I saw Amelie's bright eyes following every movement she made with the plume.

"Finally, sleepy head wakes up," she pouted. "A beautiful angel in his bed and my handsome Uncle passes out, incapable of anything."

"Ha, ha honey," I growled as I rolled over and on top of her, letting her experience what it would be like under my powerful body. "Actually Amelie, I ravished you while you slept, penetrating your little cunny with my magnificent organ."

"You lie," she protested, but then added coyly, "Maybe you did and I didn't even notice it."

Hardening, I let her feel all of me against her stomach. Then I rubbed my full body aggressively against her, grinding as I forced her knees apart with my legs, holding her arms effortlessly over her head in one hand while the other caressed, kneaded and stretched her straining nipples.

"Uhhhhnnnnn," she gasped as I filled her, and then wrapped her legs around my waist as I started to thrust into her. We both needed a physical fuck that day and neither of us gave an inch as we fought to satisfy ourselves.

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I realize that my fetish is highly unusual and not shared by most, maybe a couple of people on this site. Most people can't even relate to it. This is my second story. I am sexually attracted to newspapers. I become aroused by looking at them, see women reading them, the smell, the texture. I like to wrap them around me head, body, and genitals. I sleep with them. I have sex with them. I always had this fetish. It has not changed over time. I love broadsheet papers, particularly the New York...

The Prince of New York

When you wake up, the morning sun is peaking through your bedroom curtains. The smell of breakfast seeps through the air vents and you can hear your family going about their morning ritual of yelling about the news, laughing uncontrollably, and altogether being as Italian as possible. For a moment, you question why Mother didn't wake you up at seven as she always does, but then you remember: today is your birthday. You crawl out of bed and slip on a pair of underwear. Normally, you'd go ahead...

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