Children of the Revolution

The Marquise de Montalban had not been able to sleep without the sleeping pill for many years. She had foolishly only taken half of the powder, which happened very rare, and she slowly woke up before midnight. She heard familiar noises next to her in the large double bed, where she had slept for years with her two children Irène and Pierre. For the past year she has only slept with Pierre, as Irène had married a rich surgeon. She lit the wick and looked around sleepily. The recognition struck her like a bolt of lightning.

Below, Irène lay, completely covered in sweat, panting and gasping for breath. Pierre lay on top of her, sweat dripping from his body, he stuck motionless in Irène's pussy. The Marquise immediately recognized that he was about to ejaculate into Irène's pussy hole. He looked confusedly into Mama's eyes, then began to ejaculate rhythmically. The Marquise saw her two children fuck for the first time. She was excited, perhaps a little horrified. Irène was already married and she had never seen Pierre fuck before. She sat up, let the two of them catch their breath and demanded an explanation.

Irène was the first to answer. "Mama, I have been married for half a year and only found out the truth a few weeks ago. Jean-Claude is a wonderful husband, I couldn't imagine anyone better, but unfortunately he is infertile. I would never have a child with him. We hugged and held each other, for me it would be the end. He was quite understanding and wonderful. I have his permission to let someone else mate with me. I immediately chose Pierre, he was the first and only person I fucked before marriage. He should, he had to be the father of my children, him and no one else!" The Marquise was silent for a long time and tried to think, but the powder was still clouding her brain too much. She looked at him, she looked at her. The two of them smiled at her kindly. She stammered, "How long, how long, you two?" Pierre said, "I took Irène's virginity since she was 14. So about 5 years, a little less than 5 years." Irène nodded, yes, something like that.

The Marquise asked Irène, "Does he know? Does your husband know?" Irène shook her head. "He never asked who I had slept with before the wedding, and he doesn't want to know who the father is going to be, I would have told him both openly and honestly. He swore to treat my child, my children, as his own. I believe him, he is a thoroughly honest and good person. He only went for a medical examination after I failed to get pregnant."

The Marquise's head was spinning. She had never noticed that her children had been fucking next to her for five years. The sleeping powder! She noticed that Irène was impatiently playing with Pierre's cock. "Go on, children, I'll take half another powder." She stood up and went to the table and mixed water and powder. She only now realized that she was completely naked. She had mostly avoided it, she was not a libertine who led a dissolute life, she had only discussed the bare essentials about sex with the children, she had not let the children know that she masturbated every night before going to sleep.

She was gradually falling asleep, watching the two of them fucking and sighing as Pierre squirted inside and soon continued fucking Irène again. She fell asleep with the thought that the two of them would fuck for as long and as often as they wanted until Irène was pregnant. She fell asleep with a smile, Pierre fucked and fucked until he was completely drained.

In the morning Irène was no longer there. She let Pierre sleep for a long time and woke him up with a hearty breakfast that Veronique had prepared. She waited at the table, her youth slipping past before her eyes. She had been deflowered by her father when she was almost 14, when her mother was on a cruise in the Mediterranean with her loverboy. The parents had not fucked each other for a long time, she had always watched as a child. It meant nothing to her then that they fucked less and less and that her father went to the coffee house when her mother went into the bedroom with a strange man. She was childishly insulted because she was not allowed to watch them fucking. She listened at the bedroom door, it was clearly fucking.

Her father fucked her every night when her mother was away or when she went to a ball. She soon realised that her dad wasn't very good at fucking, but she was always happy when he called her into the bedroom. She loved him to bits and pieces and let him fuck her as often as he wanted. When she was 17, her dad married her off to the rich Montalban, with whom she had two children in quick succession. After Pierre's birth, she never had her period again; she had become infertile. After Pierre's birth, her husband got lost on a hunting expedition in Canada, and she was a rich widow at 21. Suitors fought over her and, above all, over her fortune. For a year, she let every fortune hunter fuck her and was very disappointed. There must have been over 400, but she didn't remember a single one. After a year, she closed her thighs and only opened them to masturbate in secret. She didn't need a gold digger or fortune hunter as a husband.

She always slept naked with her two children in the large marital bed, which no man ever slept in again. She never found out whether Irène had a lover or whether the girl even masturbated. Pierre was completely different, he masturbated shamelessly openly from a young age, sometimes he squirted on his mother's ass cheeks, sometimes directly and specifically on Irène's pussy. He had this penchant for squirting and never stopped doing it, for years.

Pierre came out of the bedroom, a loose towel half-covering his morning wood. He ate ravenously, his morning wood exposed. Veronique brought another towel and covered his morning wood. "Your morning wood, young sir!" said the 38-year-old maid, blushing. He didn't care that his morning wood was still sticking out. The Marquise said he must have sex, her son. Veronique, who was circling around him, nodded in agreement. "He must have, Madame, but Mademoiselle Irène doesn't come until late at night, when you are already asleep, Madame!" Nothing, absolutely nothing, escaped Veronique.

A gleam appeared on the Marquise's face. "Well, how about you, Veronique?" Veronique stood stock still. "Do you think I'll do it with my hand?" Veronique had never touched his cock, she had a quiet, withdrawn sex life, she didn't masturbate very often. Both the mistress and the young master shook their heads in denial. "With your hand, ugh! Veronique!" he exclaimed.

The mistress picked up the thread. "You said yourself that the boy had to fuck!" Veronique turned pale. "No, Madame, absolutely not, please don't! I've only fucked my uncle since I was 14, I didn't really like it. The masters fucked me a little, but only when they had to. Your husband, God rest his soul, was an exception. I was still very young and fresh and he fucked me every morning with his morning wood when I had to wake him up. But it was over 15 years ago, Madame, I've been living a completely chaste life since then! Please, please, don't force me, Madame!" But the mistress was determined and ordered Veronique to bend over with her face to the wall and her hands leaning on a small box. Veronique lowered her head, resigned full of shame. Pierre had stepped behind her, he had lifted up her skirt and was spreading her white ass cheeks. The Marquise stared at the large, hairy pussy hole. Pierre felt Veronique's clit. "You're not ready yet," he murmured and rubbed the clit. Veronique groaned and moaned for a while, "now I'm ready, Master Pierre!" she groaned, because if he continued for just a moment, her orgasm would break out. Pierre pulled back his foreskin completely and slowly penetrated Veronique's hole from behind. Veronique sighed deeply, she was now ready to be fucked. Madame watched excitedly as her son fucked the chaste maid from behind. All that could be heard was the soft smacking of Veronique's pussy. She had reached orgasm very quickly, and it lasted throughout the entire fucking. Pierre squirted with a pleasant moan and let Veronique go.

"Thank you, Mom," he said after he had sat down again. "She doesn't fuck very well, our Veronique," he murmured, "but my morning erection is gone now!" His mother looked at him over the rim of the teacup. "Since when!?" she asked. Neither Irène nor Pierre had ever lied to her. Pierre answered immediately. "For 4 days, Mom, Irène only comes on her fertile days. We just want to have a child, Mom, not cheat on her husband!" Mom had it explained to her in detail.

"And you've been fucking for four or five years?" Mom picked up the thread again. Pierre nodded. "Irène taught me to fuck when you were sleeping soundly." Mom looked up. "Irène showed me how deeply you slept. She masturbated you every night in your sleep, Mom." Mom looked up. "She masturbated me to orgasm, Irène?" Pierre shifted restlessly, could he betray Irène? "Yes, but only 10 or 14 times, then she taught me how to fuck."

Pierre shrugged his shoulders as Mama continued to press him. "Yes, of course we knew that you only wanted to masturbate in secret, but we always watched you in secret too, Mama." She turned pale. "You watched?" Pierre nodded unhappily. "Most of the time we could clearly see the finger between your butt cheeks, rubbing your clit. Most of the time, at least, otherwise we only saw your bottom wiggling." Mama was stunned. "I'm ashamed of it now, for me masturbating was always a private thing, I've only ever done it in secret since I was a child. And now you're saying..." Mama couldn't finish the sentence. She asked again. Yes, they could see her finger very clearly as it slowly rubbed her clit until it was stiff. Her pussy hole widened a little and he usually looked very deep inside. It always took a long time for her thighs to tremble and shiver, Pierre said. The children had watched her every night... It was as if she had been struck by lightning, but she pulled herself together again.

"You took her virginity then, didn't you?" asked Mom, suspecting something bad. "Not right away, Mom, not right away, she had to teach me how to fuck first." Mom was as white as a sheet and told him to tell everything. Pierre hesitated, now came the hardest part. "Irène pulled your ass cheeks apart, Mom, and I could see your hairy hole up close for the first time. Irène grinned because my cock was stiff as a rock." Pierre shuddered, he was also very pale. "Irène pointed to your hole, which she had spread with her fingers. Irène grinned, 'you have to put your cock in there really deep and fuck her until it squirts. Feel free to squirt everything inside, she is infertile and she won't wake up for sure.' That's the whole truth." Mom was as pale as a sheet. "But of course you didn't do it, did you?" she finally managed to say. Pierre looked at the floor, he couldn't look her in the eye, he had been dreading this conversation for years. "Irène was a year older, she was my role model and she never gave me a bad advice." The air was thick and they were both silent for a long time.

"But you didn't do it, did you?" Mom clung to the last straw. Pierre wanted to sink into the ground, he had never lied to Mom. "Yes, Mom, yes!" She clutched her heart. "How many times did you do it, once, twice?" Pierre winced. "A thousand times, Mom, I'm sorry." She opened her eyes wide. "A thousand times?" Pierre nodded, the ground did not swallow him up. "Yes, a thousand times. Every night, Mom, every goddamn night, even when Irène got married and I slept alone with you." The color gradually returned to Mom's face. "You fucked me every night, really fucked me?" Pierre was no longer so afraid. "Yes, Mom, Irène showed me your hole and explained exactly how I had to fuck in your hole and make your pussyhole smack." "Smacking!" Pierre squirmed. "Like it was smacking with Veronique!" Mom nodded, she understood. She had never noticed it herself. "And you came inside every time, you bad guy, did you?" Pierre said, "At the beginning, always, I had to fuck two or three times until I had emptied everything. Not later, of course, I had to leave something for Irène." Mom looked gloomy. "Thank God I am infertile, as you surely know." Pierre took a stand. "You're right, Irène and I have known for a long time that you are infertile, long before that."

Mom questioned him skillfully. He had to describe exactly how he had fucked her in her sleep. She usually lay on her side, sometimes on her belly. Irène and he always looked for her pussy hole, Irène spread it with her fingers at the beginning so that he could penetrate her well. The two of them found the fucking itself funny because Mom's pussy hole was smacking so loudly. Irène had taught him to hold back the squirting until Mom's thighs were twitching and shaking. They assumed that Mom was having an orgasm.

"That's over now! As far as I'm concerned, you can fuck Veronique as often as you want. But fucking me in my deep sleep is over now!" Pierre nodded as if he accepted it. But he would not stop unless he exhausted himself trying to have children with Irène.

Mum changed the subject. What did he think about having a child with his own sister? Pierre thought about it. "It is her express wish, Mum. She discussed it with her husband, he agreed because she really wants children. I'm fine with it, we do it like we always do. The only thing is that we are sweating profusely because we are not just fucking for fun, we are fucking until the last drop so that she gets pregnant." Mum nodded, she knew the desire to have children that pushed everything aside and that only her infertility and widowhood put an end to it.

Irène had a daughter, Amélie, and then a Philippe. She worked tirelessly with Pierre on their third child, but she just couldn't get pregnant. Then the revolution broke out, the starving population of Paris attacked the powerful. Pierre saw it coming with a clear eye, he had quickly bought a little house in Vaubanville, the famous city plan of the great architect. From a military tactical point of view, the city was completely insignificant, it had a good militia for defense, but it was not deployed during the entire revolution. Pierre had chosen it with foresight, Irène and the children were safe there. He rode the 65 kilometers with them in one day, and left as quickly as he could. He had promised Mama that he would be back with her in three days. Where was she supposed to flee to? Irène's husband wanted to stay too, as a surgeon his place was at the front. He had no idea how far the revolutionaries would go. They didn't care that he was needed as a surgeon. He was a nobleman, his head rolled under the guillotine.

On his way back, Pierre reached the southern suburbs of Paris when he fell into the hands of a horde of lice-ridden rebels. The one-eyed bandit captain interrogated him in detail, but Pierre had enough presence of mind to convincingly pretend to be a revolutionary. He had already been fighting with the troop for three weeks when the one-eyed man gave him 30 men and the task of clearing the country estates and castles east of the capital of nobles. Pierre only briefly considered leaving the 30 people to their fate and fighting his way to Mama. That would be suicide, quite clearly. So he led his troop from country estate to country estate, from castle to castle. He left the noblemen to his men, who led them in long columns to the capital. He reserved the right to retreat to the bedroom with the noble wife and daughters. He fucked them all, the slutty ones and the chaste ones alike. He fucked all the daughters over 10 years old, and he sent the children out after they had watched the fucking.

He fucked them all. Whether they were noble whores or shy, chaste wives, shy virgins or whore-like girls, he fucked them all without exception. He cried with the chaste, honest wives who only cheated on their husbands now and then. After the heart-rending tears, he consoled her, his hand slipped under her skirt and played with the pure and good woman's clit. She was still sniffling, but his caresses were gradually arousing her. She thought it wasn't so bad to let herself be fucked, maybe just a little. He realized he had won, and now he fucked her. He didn't care about the revolution at all, he was just an ordinary robber captain who was only interested in lots of fucking. His men were allowed to take everything of value for themselves, he wasn't interested. But he was very strict and didn't let them murder innocents. Everyone had a father and mother, brother and sister, fiancée or wife, whose misfortune he didn't want to sin against.

Months later he found out that his mother was dead. She had poisoned herself when the mob raged in her courtyard. The body was only discovered a week later; it had obviously been abused several times after her death. Pierre cried, swore and got drunk senseless. He continued to fuck the noblewomen, but he no longer hurt them unnecessarily. He only had Irène, Amélie and Philippe, his children, who he knew were safe. He had an overview of the situation; Vaubanville was never threatened. Otherwise he would have left immediately. Occasionally he secretly had a letter smuggled to Irène so that she knew that he was still alive, but unfortunately could not come to her.

One day his luck ran out. He met a noblewoman who steadfastly refused him. He knew that she would give up her resistance like everyone else. He was wrong. The noblewoman came from faraway Corsica, where women did not allow themselves to be raped without defense. He ripped her clothes off her body; she was a feast for the eyes. She had small, virginal breasts and her mons pubis swelled violently with desire and lust. He looked at it, she was eager to be fucked. And so it was, he fucked her for hours until he collapsed exhausted. He saw her eyes glitter, but it was too late. The small blade missed its target and pierced his shoulder above his collarbone. The predator awoke in him, his punch made her faint. Nevertheless, he pounced on her and fucked her mercilessly, his fingers closed around her throat and strangled her in the middle of her orgasm. He staggered to the door and fell into the arms of the guards. "She's dead, the Baroness is dead," then everything went black before his eyes. The surgeon, a medical student, patched him up.

He only stayed in bed for a few days. He had been fantasizing while he was feverish, grinned the student. The gold was under the parquet, laughed the student. Pierre was shocked and silent. Mama had hidden a fortune in gold bars under the parquet, only he and Irène knew about it. A treasure that he would find after the revolution. He laughed with the stupidly grinning student. "Psst! Don't tell anyone," he joked.

As soon as he had recovered, Pierre started to attack the noblewomen whose husbands his men had taken away. He fucked the women with greater pleasure, they had velvety soft skin and very well-groomed pussies. He fucked them in the presence of the daughters, of course, those under 10 years old stood next to the pussies, sucking their thumbs and marveling at the fucking, hardly any of them had seen it before. The older daughters were already very experienced, hardly any of them were still virgins. The breaking of her hymen was nothing special to him, only to the virgin girls. One thing they all learned: resistance is futile.

Every war ends at some point, and the French Revolution was no different. There was no one to make peace with. Napoleon seized power, quite simply. The nobles crawled out of hiding, and soon a new king was proclaimed. Things more or less returned to the old ways. This is a very simplified view of a much more complicated situation, but that's how it seemed to Pierre. No one cared for a little nobody like him, no one ever asked him which side he had fought on. He was not a Jacobin, who fared very badly. But no one was ever a Jacobin, so what was the point?

He rode as fast as he could to Irène and her children in Vaubanville. She had led a chaste, reserved life here, she did not stand out in the community and everyone knew how chaste and well-behaved she was. She let anyone who knocked on her door fuck her in secret. Of course she had fucked every two-legged person in the town, but no one told anyone. Yes, Irène really was a pure, virtuous woman! Pierre stayed in Vaubanville for a few days, but Irène was pressing. Her husband's house and fortune had been spared by the criminals, the revolutionaries, and Irène was drawn home with all her might. They lived there like husband and wife, the children grew up splendidly. They only fucked for pleasure, Irène had not had her period for a long time, so they no longer had to sweat and tinker with their third child. Pierre went to his mother's empty palace every evening. He returned home before sunrise, heavily laden, until he had recovered all the gold bars from under the parquet floor.

The time spent with the robbers and thieves had corrupted Pierre's character. He habitually spied on the noble houses, the guillotine had made many respectable ladies into widows. They were Pierre's target group. They flinched and ducked when he entered their bedroom. But he hardly had to force one of them. Trembling and shaking, the young and old widows undressed themselves, piece of clothing after piece of clothing fell to the floor until she was completely naked and exposed. Trembling and shaking, the widows stood naked before him. They waited impatiently until his cock stiffened.

He looked into their souls and at their clits. He saw the unspeakable sadness in the souls of the pure, chaste and virginal wives. The blackness and darkness in the souls of the whores, the impure and the unchaste ones. Both of their clits were sore, plagued by passion, desperation, lust and desire. He fucked them all. The slutty and impure ones hard and brutally, they were no better than ordinary dockside whores. But he fucked the pure and chaste ones gently and sensitively, they deserved it. He had fucked hundreds of nobles in his time as a robber captain, but back then he was not able to fuck gently and sensitively.

He continued to fuck the widows of the revolution for decades, he had grown older and so had she.

When Amélie turned 14, he deflowered her on Irène's naked lap. Philippe had been in Irène's bed for a long time, she let him masturbate and squirt as often as he wanted and gradually let him fuck her, she upheld the custom and was a very good teacher. Philippe and Amélie grew into beautiful, wonderful teenagers and young adults.

Pierre often lay in Irène's arms and they shared the joy of their beautiful children. Sometimes Pierre was very sad when he thought of Mama. He had told Irène the whole truth honestly and without embellishment, and they cried together that Mama's body had been sexually violated several times even after death.

Pierre and Irène lived together as a loving couple until the end.

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