tagIncest/TabooDirty Little Secrets

Dirty Little Secrets

byMWG©

The first time I had laid eyes on my uncle, I was ten years old. Even from then, he had a certain appeal that I couldn't get over.

Actually, to be truthful, he was my step-uncle. My mother had gotten remarried; Cliffe was my stepfather's younger brother by about an 8 year age difference. Cliffe was 21 when I was introduced to him at a gathering my mother and stepfather--who was then only her boyfriend--had at Mom's house.

Even though I was ten and wasn't really awakened to my sexuality at that point, I still remember being quite taken with his presence. He was a very large fellow, standing at about 6'4. He had spiky, deep brown hair and eyes to match. He was built very solidly, and I learned why: he'd been a football player in high school, a linebacker. He was broad, tall, and large, but not fat--the kind of guy you could run at and collide with, and you'd find yourself on the ground as if you'd charged a brick wall. My stepfather was his polar opposite; where Cliffe was interested in sports and had physical capability, my father was more into science and things more exercising of the mind than the body. He was also smaller than Cliffe, more narrow in structure, and a little shorter. It was a little hard to believe that they had descended from the same parents, but they had, and once my mother and stepfather married, Cliffe was officially part of the family.

Which should have translated to "off limits".

However, as I grew older and began to explore sex and experience attraction, I found myself attracted to Cliffe. He was every bit the type I had realized I went for: broad, strong, but not overly a "muscle man", with dark features and a mid-pitched voice. I didn't like the male voice too nasally, nor did I like a booming bass...an odd thing to contemplate, but as I first began to notice men, everything was a point of analyzation for me. Everything I had discovered I liked about the opposite sex, I saw in Cliffe...only the conflict of interest in that he was family, even if by law, had me in turmoil.

Cliffe visited from time to time, usually to see his brother. He had a passing sort of affection for me; I was a very precocious girl and often found that most people my own age were a consummate bore in conversation. Normally, I talked to my father or mother, and befriended people a few years my senior, hoping to find more maturity than seemed readily available in my age pool. Conversation with Cliffe was rapid, witty, and intellectual, and I began to look forward to his visits more and more as I grew older and, of course, smarter.

Time passed as briskly as autumn leaves fell from trees. Cliffe had been single and dating for awhile during my teenaged years, but that soon came to an end one day when I was nineteen and in my first semester of college. He met, dated, and soon married a girl named Elaine. When I met her, I liked her; she was smart, funny in a more benign way than the razor sharp wit my uncle often preferred, and educated. She did, however, seem a bit conservative for Cliffe. I've heard of opposites attracting, but something about her just didn't seem to completely fill Cliffe's personality. She seemed like the type to make a model wife, mother, homemaker, and everything else that comes with marriage. Maybe I was wrong, but I always felt Cliffe was the type for a more...risque companion, or at least one that had a little brass to her. Elaine was your typical "nice girl".

Still, I attended the wedding and wished them well. I had dressed in a tight, basic black sheath of a dress, but in my normal unique fashion, I decided to pair it with a pair of old-fashioned fishnet hose, the kind with a very wide grid pattern and seams up the calves. Black, three-inch, patent leather heels topped it off. I had my own way of dressing for an occasion. I got a few puzzled stares from my stepfamily, but most seemed to enjoy my anachronistic mix-and-match fashion. The whole time especially, I felt my newly married uncle's eyes all over me. Even during the ceremony, as they stood before the priest, his eyes fell on me in a strange way. They almost said to me, "This feels like more of an ending than a beginning." Perhaps he had had the same curiosity about me as I about him, but now that he had tied the knot, nothing was possible anymore.

Which, to me, was a matter of opinion.

Defiantly enough, I felt there was something unfinished between us. Marriage or not, if we chose to finish it, I simply felt that my new aunt had stepped in a trifle too soon. Perhaps it was her fault, perhaps not...but I still felt no guilt over keeping an ever-interested eye on Cliffe. > > > > > > > > I continued typing, not really listening much as my mother carried on the other end of the phone, giving me the news of what was going on with my younger brother's grades, my stepfather's job, and others. It was nine o'clock and I was in my dorm room, finishing up an assignment. I sort of wished she'd reach her point and say goodnight.

"By the way," my mother added, "your uncle Cliffe doesn't live that far from your campus. If you're going to attend Jim's dedication next week, maybe you should ride with him. It's a long way out to Adkins, and you mentioned that you didn't know how to get there."

"Well, I want to go," I said, fibbing just a bit, "but we're going to have to head off really early to make it on time. Would Cliffe even be willing to go out of his way before he leaves?"

"You could stay at his house that night. That way, you could just wake up in the morning and go," Mom suggested.

"Sounds good. Does he know about this?"

"I'll call and ask him for you. I'm sure he won't mind."

"You think we'll take Elaine's car or his? He still drives that tiny little foreign thing that I'm not sure how he manages to fit into."

"Elaine's not going. She has to leave town a few days beforehand. Her grandfather just died, I told you earlier," Mom said. "I knew you weren't listening because I still heard you typing."

My face grew red, and my hands fell from the keyboard. "Oh. Sorry. That's too bad about her grandfather. But sure...see if Cliffe would mind if I rode with him that morning. If not, I suppose I won't go. Too far, too early, and I'd be sure to get lost."

"Okay, but don't worry. Why would he object?" Mom paused, and I could hear a sneeze muffled in the background. "In the meantime, I need to get to bed. I've caught something, apparently. I'll talk to you later on, okay, dear?"

"Sure. Love you," I said.

"I love you, too. Goodnight."

I hung up the phone, the widest grin playing across my face. > > > > > > > > > > Mom had made good on her offer, and she called me a few days later to inform me that Cliffe said he'd be more than happy to let me stay over and give me a ride to the dedication the next day. I wasn't particularly thrilled about the dedication ceremony--some school was dedicating a building to my grandfather, I wasn't exactly sure what for--but I'd never spent more than a few hours with Cliffe, and especially never at his house. Cliffe was always pretty busy with work, so when he did visit, it was never for long. I would actually be spending the night at his house. And almost as if fate had smiled on it, Elaine would be out of town then. It would be just the two of us. If nothing happened, then nothing happened. If something did happen, however, then nature could properly take its lustful course. I remembered, however, that the interest for all those years had seemed almost totally on my part. He had given me a rare few sidelong glances, but maybe they were just of a familial admiration. Perhaps he wasn't even interested in me at all, not to mention the fact that he was now married, and might have a strong constitution against infidelity.

Still, the prospect was exciting. Anything could happen, and that didn't mean that I couldn't attempt to nudge the outcome in a favorable direction.

Cliffe had called me, to my surprise, at the dorm the morning of my expected arrival at his house. He told me to come by around four, which was when he normally returned home from work.

"Basically, we'll just park your car in the driveway and the next morning, we'll take my car to Adkins. When we come back, you can drive back to school from there," he explained.

"Well, what are we going to do from four in the afternoon today, onward?" I pressed, curious as to why I was arriving so early.

"I dunno, we'll do...something. You've never really spent any time over here. The last time I saw you was my wedding. I figured we'd get reacquainted...you know, sit around, shoot the breeze, watch movies if you want. I just got a few new DVD's with a lot of awesome stuff on them, if you're interested," he said, his voice giving away the fact that he seemed to be really looking forward to that afternoon.

"Sure, sure. Whatever you want. I'm not hard to entertain," I said pleasantly. "I'll see you at four today, then."

"At four," he repeated. "I...I'll...see you then."

We hung up, and my brow knitted. He'd never been a stutterer. I shrugged, and started to pack a knapsack with a few things I'd need for the night.

I started to reach for my normal pajamas, a pair of comfortable old sweatpants with the legs cut off to make shorts, and a soft, nearly threadbare old tank top...but something stopped me. I walked to my bureau and rummaged through the top drawer, finding a black silk slip of a nightgown, the hem stopping just below the underside of my ass. To match, I included a very skimpy pair of black underwear, the back of which was cut high to reveal nearly half of my ass. The sides were as thin as twine, almost. I threw those two items into my bag, along with a few toiletries, my brush, a cd player and a few cd's, and a book for the trip to Adkins.

I left the knapsack by my bed and headed to class. Four o'clock wasn't that far off, but it seemed like eternity. Especially having to sit through poli sci to get to it. > > > > > > > > At around three thirty, I was behind the wheel of my well-worn, but reliable red car, pulling on a cigarette and heading for my uncle's house. He lived in a neighborhood where all the houses were very nice and well-manicured, but all fairly small and structurally identical to one another. They were painted in different colors, but very subtlely different...there were some white houses, light gray, light blue, and light yellow as well. The architecture of them all was identical. Had I not known his actual street address, I could have easily gotten lost.

However, I found his house without a hitch and parked in the driveway, pleased to see he had beat me home. I pressed the doorbell and he answered, having already changed from his normal slacks and a tie to athletic pants and a T-shirt, his standard casual attire. His hair had been freshly cut, I could tell, and was spiked into its normal style. I stood at about 5'11, very tall for a woman, but still had to reach up to hug his powerful neck. I loved feeling his sturdy arms around me, and even in something as innocent as a greeting hug, a little charge went through me.

"College girl, huh?" Cliffe said, motioning towards my sweatshirt, emblazoned with my alma mater's name and crest.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell anyone. My parents would have a heart attack, with all the talk I used to do about just heading off to California to break into entertainment," I joked. I had actually wanted to be a musician and still did, but I went to college just in case things didn't work out for me in that department.

"Liking it so far?" Cliffe called over his shoulder, heading to the kitchen. I was setting my bag down near a couch in the living room. "Yeah, it's not as scary as I thought it would be," I answered. I plopped down on the couch and just sort of sunk back, taking the first breather since I had woken up that morning. He reemerged from the kitchen and handed me a dark brown bottle of Amber Bock beer, my favorite.

I grinned, impressed. "How'd you know?" I asked, sucking back a healthy swig.

"Your dad told me," he said simply. I had pretty lenient parents, and as long as they knew I wasn't leaving the house or driving especially, they indulged me in a little beer or wine on occasion.

"Dear old dad," I remarked with a smile, taking another sip, relishing the rich, nutty flavor. "So I heard Elaine's grandfather passed on."

Cliffe grimaced. "Yeah. She was pretty upset when she left. She flew out yesterday afternoon. I wasn't sure if she was mad at me for not going with her or what," he explained, shaking his head. "But let's not go into that. I'm sure she'll be alright."

"Yeah. She's a big girl. She'll be fine," I agreed, closing the subject.

"So anyhow, I usually eat dinner a little early. What say we grab a seat somewhere fairly nice and eat?" Cliffe suggested with a smile.

"Perfect," I agreed instantly, famished. I had eaten nothing all day but a cherry Pop-Tart earlier that morning.

"I'm in my sit-around clothes. I'm going upstairs to put on something a bit nicer," Cliffe said. "Be down in a bit."

As he ascended the carpeted steps, I set my beer down on the coffee table in front of me and reached for my garment bag. I had brought a dressy outfit for the next day's outing, and one of my fairly nice evening ensembles. I was already wearing a pair of my good jeans. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head, tossing it next to me on the couch. I pulled my dress shirt, a flowing sort of peasant's shirt with embroidery and belled sleeves, from the garment bag. I slipped it easily over my head, and turned around in time to see Cliffe standing at the bottom of the stares, mouth slightly agape as I pulled the shirt down.

"Oh. Sorry. You left and since I had privacy, I decided to put on something a little nicer, myself. Didn't mean to put on a show," I said casually, even though my ears grew hot at having embarrassed myself.

"It's...you ready?" Cliffe said, seeming to abruptly shut the image from his head. I didn't know whether to take that as a bad sign or not one at all.

"Sure," I said, letting out my breath. Perhaps I didn't know what I was doing. Or maybe I knew just what I was doing.

Things weren't exactly going according to plan yet. > > > > > > > > "I'm just saying, that pass interference rule is stupid. I mean, the point of the defense is to keep the other team from getting to their endzone. It's perfectly sensible that a tackler would go for the receiver, and yet they can't tackle until the ball gets into his hands? That's bullshit," I said, following Cliffe up the steps to his house.

"I know what you're saying, but those are the rules, and that was pass interference. The ref called it fairly," Cliffe laughed. We had spent most of dinner watching and arguing over a game playing on an overhead television at the restaurant.

"It's still a stupid rule," I shot back in mock indignation.

Cliffe threw his keys onto a small table in the foyer and flipped the lights on. I dropped my coat over the arm of a chair.

"So what about those movies, huh? Think a movie night is in order?" I suggested, motioning towards his very large flat screen TV.

"Well, to tell the truth, we've got a pretty early start ahead of us in the morning, and I myself am pretty tired. I was up at five this morning. Say we take a raincheck on that?" Cliffe said politely.

I tried not to make my disappointment too evident. "Yeah...yeah, a raincheck, then," I agreed weakly, reaching for my knapsack.

"I'm going to go ahead and turn in for the night. There are linens in the hall closet, and the couch folds into a bed," Cliffe said, heading for the stairs. "Goodnight."

"'Night," I replied simply. I slumped on the couch dejectedly.

I had been wrong. All these years, it seemed, I had been wrong.

I sighed and picked up my bag, heading to the bathroom to change, and to grab some blankets for the bed. I had brought only the sexy black lingerie to sleep in, so even though I wouldn't be modeling it for anything other than the living room walls, I changed into it. I rummaged in the closet and pulled out some sheets and a quilt, and headed to disassemble the couch into my bed for the night.

After I had arranged the folding bed to my liking, I decided that even if Cliffe was going to be a party pooper, I would stay up and watch a movie before drifting off to sleep. I sorted through the titles in the cabinet of the entertainment center. Nothing looked really interesting to me. I found a few that would do if I didn't find anything I hadn't already seen. I then noticed, towards the back, a separate black nylon DVD holder. I grabbed at the strap and pulled it out, unzipping it to reveal the contents. 'Carnal Coeds', 'The Lust Factory', 'California Fornicating', and so on.

Cliffe had pornos!

I replaced the other movies I had previously set aside, and decided to choose from this lurid little selection. I found one, called, "Valley of the Virgins" starring a cast of well-hung men and pre-teenaged looking women (the box insisted all actors were 18 or older, but from the looks, I had a hard time believing that about the movie's feature heroines).

If I wasn't getting the real thing tonight, at least I could watch some people who were. > > > > > > > > I had settled back on the couch/bed, the remote beside me, and had started the movie. The movie was a collection of disjointed stories, all of older men seducing younger girls, and sometimes vice versa (what an ironic selection for me, given the night's failed agenda). Even though the acting was typical of most porno movies--awful--the sex was actually quite intense. I found myself growing wet after a few minutes of the first scene.

My nipples were hardening and I could see their outlines, straining through my nightie, in the glow of the television. An insistent throb had settled into my netherparts, and I eased one of my well-manicured hands under the thin fabric of my panties and caressed my slit gently, putting a little pressure on my hooded clit. Even without spreading myself open, I could feel a leaking wetness on my outer lips; I realized that most of this frustration wasn't from the movie, but from my botched attempt to be with my uncle Cliffe. Failure can be a pretty potent aphrodisiac, especially when the goal is sex.

I easily slipped a single finger between my outer lips, feeling the moistened, sultry core. I could distinctly feel my own accelerated pulse, the throb that my arousal had sent shuddering through my pussy. I opened my eyes a little to see where the scene had progressed during my fun, and I saw that the actor was behind a very young looking girl, his cock buried deep within what must have been a glove-tight pussy, his balls slapping her smooth, unblemished ass. In my mind, I superimposed my face and my body into that scene, and behind me was none other than Cliffe, his cock the one breaching my vagina like a steel beam wedged into the tiniest of pores.

I was soon masturbating with abandon, not really aware of what noise I was making, the things I was saying, the vulgarity of my position...all I could concentrate on was the burgeoning ache deep down in my pussy. I writhed and moaned, burying my fingers inside my cunt, my skin flushed with sex fever...I was vaguely aware that, in the midst of my groans, I was murmuring, "Cliffe...mmmmm, Cliffe..." My imagination was really on him, so much that between the suggestive action of the movie and the realness of my own fingers touching myself, it almost felt as if he was there, pleasing me the way I so badly wanted.

However, some sense, something that managed to permeate my lust fueled excursion, made my eyes open suddenly. And there, standing above me, was the object of my lust, an imaginary apparition come to life.

Cliffe had seen the whole thing. > > > > > > > > I sat up suddenly, mortified beyond all belief. My mouth flew open, a million excuses flying all at once through my head, my brain trying desperately to pan through and find one that would even come close to explaining why I was masturbating here, in his house, watching a skin flick, and calling his name.

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