The Cottage Ch. 02

"You're fucking right kid! I don't know who you are but I do know what I'm doing!" he panted.

Michele screamed as she felt Steve's penis flop from his open flies and press against her thigh; it felt hot and hard through her pantyhose and she felt a dribble of pre-seminal fluid soak into the nylon.

"Oh god please don't!" she begged.

Michele struggled and wriggled but Steve followed her movements and kept his lips locked on hers; his tongue invaded her mouth. His cock began to throb as it slithered along Michele's nylon-encased thighs. He was extremely excited by the feel young woman's legs; her satin blouse pressed against him, the smell of her perfume and the taste of her lipstick was tremendously arousing. The more she struggled; the more his penis pressed into the V of her soft warm nyloned thighs and slid and slithered against her sheer hose.

Steve began to vigorously hump Michele's thighs and the more she fought back the better it was for him. He could feel his orgasm approaching as he violently kissed the girl and humped at her silky-smooth legs. Michele was horrified at what was happening to her; she realised that she had allowed the Steve to go too far and now the situation was totally out of control. She was terrified that he might put a hand under her skirt or inside her blouse and find out the truth; that she was in fact a man not a woman.

She decided to let the Steve kiss her and take his pleasure against her legs rather than risk the situation getting any further out of hand or being discovered. Michele stopped struggling and lay down on the couch with Steve straddling her and she relaxed and parted her lips allowed him to kiss her. She could feel his cock throbbing between her thighs and she clamped them shut around his penis so he could dry hump her pantyhosed legs.

Steve sensed her compliance and fucked and humped at her legs; his penis locked in the silken embrace of her soft creamy thighs which remained clamped around his rigid member. He drove his tongue deep in her mouth as he orgasmed. Michele felt repulsed as she felt the hot slippery semen flooding between her thighs and soaking into her pantyhose. Steve humped frantically at Michele's prone body; his ejaculate splattered her thighs and ran down her legs.

As the Steve's orgasm subsided his kisses and humping became less frantic. Michele lay immobile underneath him as he emptied the last of his seed on her. When he had finished he lifted himself up off her and returned to the overstuffed lounge chair. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his member clean and stuffed his slowly deflating penis inside his pants and zipped them up.

"There! That wasn't so bad was it? It's not like we fucked or anything! Just a bit of slap and tickle," Steve said apologetically, suddenly realising his impropriety and the ordeal he had afflicted on the young woman.

Michele just lay back on the couch totally bewildered by what had just happened; she was speechless and felt totally violated and disgusted. A single tear ran down her cheek leaving a trail of black mascara.

"No harm done love. Just give yourself a wipe down and fix your makeup and Mike need never know we had a bit of fun before he got here," Steve was starting to feel a little guilt and remorse.

He reached for his beer and drank the remaining suds and then got up and went to the kitchen to get another drink. The reason he went to the kitchen had more to do with the fact that he felt guilty and didn't want to be near the girl he had violated rather the needed for a drink. Michele sat up on the couch; her thighs were sticky with cooling semen and she didn't want to get any on her skirt so she held it up away from her legs.

Steve watched her walk to the bedroom and he felt sorry for her, but he also felt his lust returning as he watched the young girl walk slowly back to the bedroom holding up her skirt; her red satin panty-clad arse on display for him to see.

Michele closed the door to her bedroom, she was quietly sobbing but she knew she had to regain her composure or things would only get worse. She wiped away Steve's issue with a towel and pulled down her panties and hose. She wiped her legs with a damp cloth and dried herself. She sat on the bed kicked off her heels and opened another packet of pantyhose; this time smoky-grey. She couldn't transform back into Mike yet so she had to maintain her ruse.

Sliding into the new pantyhose was still a thrill despite the fact that she had just been molested; they still felt wonderful on her shaved legs. She rescued the red satin panties she had been wearing, fortunately they had remained semen-free and she slid them back on and pulled them tight. She slipped back into her high-heels and sat on the bed bewildered as to what to do next.

She looked at her semen-stained pantyhose on the floor; they seemed to reflect her own sense of guilt and shame, all wrinkled and discarded. After a few minutes of just staring at the garment she reached down and picked them up. They were still warm and smelt of her perfume. She lifted them to her nostrils. The pungent musky smell of semen assaulted her sense of smell. Then she did something totally by reflex and instinct; she bought them to her mouth and she tentatively touched the wet nylon with the tip of her tongue.

Her uncle's semen tasted salty and musty; not unpleasant, just different. Her little cock thickened and became mildly uncomfortable in its gaff. She awoke from her daydream and realised what she had just done and threw the tainted garment into the corner of the room with disgust. She went to the little sink where she had wet the cloth she used to wipe her uncle's semen off her legs, and brushed her teeth. She spent a few minutes fixing her makeup and gave herself another couple of sprays of perfume.

What to do now? Her position was nearly untenable. She had to maintain her cover; she couldn't possibly reveal that she was really Mike but neither could she continue with the pretence of waiting for Mike to turn up and rescue her. She opened the wardrobe door and looked longingly at Mike's clothes hanging there. It would be so easy to wash off her makeup and dress in her male attire but how would she be able to explain Mike's miraculous arrival and Michele's disappearance? She looked out the window. The snow was at least three feet deep and still falling.

Michele came out of her bedroom to see Steve sitting in his overstuffed lounge chair sipping a glass of scotch, once again thumbing his way through his small collection of Polaroids.

"You are an awful man Steven Harris. When Mike gets here I'm going to tell him what you did!" she spat.

"Look out the window luv. Mike isn't getting here through that lot and to be honest I really don't think you're going to tell him anything," Mike sneered.

He sipped his scotch.

"Have a drink if you want; we ain't going anywhere for a while so you might as well make yourself at home."

Michele made her way cautiously to the kitchen and poured herself a large whisky. She gulped it down and then poured another and made her way back to the couch, carefully smoothing out her skirt as she sat down.

"So how did you two meet?" Steve looked up from the pictures.

"I just can't imagine my wimpy nephew meeting a girl like you and I certainly can't imagine him being able to impress you enough that you would be prepared to wait for him in this isolated cottage in the middle of nowhere,"

Michele ignored him and sipped her scotch.

"So do you two fuck or is it one of those romantic platonic relationships that seem to be all the rage nowadays?" he sneered.

"Fuck off you creep! Mike is a wonderful person! He's kind, gentle, and would never force himself on a lady like you just did! You disgust me!" Michele replied, the disdain heavy in her voice.

Steve just laughed.

"So we might as well get comfortable and get to know each other a little better," he chuckled.

Michele sipped at her whisky. She was getting a lot more worried now that it was getting dark. The snow was piling up outside the cottage and showed no signs of letting up and it was obvious her ruse of claiming to wait for Mike would no longer work. She decided to change tack and to also lead the subject away from their sexual encounter.

"Mike probably won't be able to get here through this snow so I think I'll just stay the night and leave tomorrow," she said.

"There's no fucking chance love; not in this, and not now its nearly night. I'll bet our Mike is safely at home, snuggled up and warm," Steve speech was slightly slurred; he'd been drinking constantly since he arrived.

"Well I think I'll toddle off to bed myself. I'll leave tomorrow and if you behave yourself there's probably no need for Mike to know what you did to me," Michele tried being diplomatic.

"I don't care what you tell the little wimp to be quite honest. As for behaving myself I think you've got tickets on yourself love; I'd rather have a wank," Steve laughed, but his lecherous gaze gave away the lie.

He was till staring at Michele's long legs and her tight slim body and making Michele very uncomfortable. She feigned a yawn.

"Well that's me; off to Bedfordshire," she stood up and stretched faking another yawn.

Her stretching caused her skirt to rise to the very tops of her thighs and provide Steve with a quick panty-peek. His cock began to thicken again. He kept his eyes glued to her tight arse as she click-clacked to her bedroom on her high-heels, right up until she glanced back at him before closing and locking the door. He could see the fear in her eyes in that glance and for some reason it aroused him further. He was not normally a violent man towards women but being trapped in close proximity to this young coquette, alone, and out here in woods was maddeningly exciting.

Michele saw the look of lust on Steve's face when she glanced back at him before she had closed the door and she slammed it behind her and locked it. She briefly considered wiping off her makeup and changing into her male clothes and climbing out of the window and running down the road to the highway but she knew it would be suicide in the deep snow and the dark. At least the cottage was warm. The generator was still working and she turned on a bed lamp and sat at her vanity. She did look pretty; no wonder Steve was hot for her. Her cock gave a little spasm trapped in its gaff and she shook her head and cleared her mind of such thoughts. She was thinking about what to wear to bed when she heard the ominous sound of Steve knocking on her door.

Steve stared at Michele's fantastic arse until it disappeared through the door then he snatched up his polaroids and looked at the pictures he had taken of her; he was almost salivating with lust and he rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. He thought about all of the things that he could probably do to her while they were alone in this cottage. There would be consequences of course; but lust and alcohol were beginning to overcome reason and probity.

He finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. He threw the pictures on the table and stood up and strode over to Michele's bedroom door.

"Fuck it! In for a penny; in for a pound!" he sighed and began to bang on her door.

Michele jumped up and leapt on the bed; the piece of furniture farthest from the door. The door was rattling and Michele could see that the bolt was small and really only designed for privacy not security. It would soon give.

"Go away Steve! Behave yourself! Think of your nephew!" she begged.

She was on her knees, supplicant on the bed; a look of terror on her face.

"Fuck Mike and fuck you!" Steve bellowed through the door.

"In fact I think I will fuck you!" he began kicking door.

Michele was terrified. She knew Steve wouldn't fuck her; not when he found out she was a boy. But what would he do then? Beat her up? What about when he found she was really his nephew?

"Oh my god! The embarrassment! The humiliation! Jesus; what the fuck am I going to do?" Michele sobbed.

Just then the door gave way and Steve burst into the room.

Michele tried to leap off the bed and make for the window; the only avenue of escape but Steve was too fast and crossed the room in a couple of steps and fell on her.

Steve straddled Michele's waist, his knees on the bed either side of her; he pinned her hands behind her head. Michele could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Are you going to behave Michele?" he smiled down at her.

Michele nodded her compliance, she hoped that he was only going to dry-hump her legs again; she could live with that. She would encourage him to do so, so that he didn't try to touch her non-existent breasts or vagina. Steve looked down at the heavily made-up young woman lying prone beneath him. She was very attractive and her perfume excited him; he could feel her breasts through her satin blouse; her tits seemed oddly firm. They would require investigating he thought as he pressed his body against the pretty young girl.

Michele's head was spinning; she realised the gravity of the situation. If Steve found out that she was really Mike she didn't know what would happen but nothing good would come of it. She had already endured him mauling her and coming over her legs; she might as well let him do it again if that's what he wanted. Anything to keep her secret. She figured he probably had one orgasm left in him before the booze made him too sleepy so she might as well let him get it over with and she could hopefully sneak away from the cottage early tomorrow when it was light and the weather was better.

"I'll behave; just please don't hurt me," Michele begged.

"Good girl!" Steve smiled.

Steve placed his free hand on her breasts and squeezed them through the material of her blouse and brassiere the silk and satin sliding against each other deliciously under his fingers. Michele gasped and began to wriggle. She couldn't let him find out that her tits were really fake.

"Keep still honey, you promised remember?" Steve smiled and leaned down and kissed her.

Michele could not afford to let Steve put his hands inside her bra and discover that her tits were actually rice filled stockings. She stopped struggling and responded to his kiss, entwining her tongue with his. Steve groaned and moved his hands away from her breasts and stroked her face as the kiss intensified.

"So pretty," Steve sighed, momentarily breaking the kiss, then pressing his lips back to hers.

She felt Steve adjust his position on top of her as he lifted his knees from a straddling position and forced them between her legs. She kept control of herself and allowed Steve to lie on top of her kissing her passionately as she reluctantly responded. She could feel Steve's penis harden and elongate against her body.

"Mmmmmm! I knew you'd like it eventually Michele," Steve sighed and slid his hand under her skirt and began pulling at her panties.

Michele froze. 'Oh my god; I can't let him there!' she thought.

She lifted her face up to his and initiated a long passionate kiss and slowly moved a hand between their bodies and stroked his thickening organ through the material of his jeans.

"Mmmmmm; that's a good girl," Steve groaned.

It was the first time Michele had touched a penis other than her own. She had felt Steve's cock on her legs when he had humped her but this different; she was squeezing his member with her fingers. It felt hot, turgid and pulsing through the denim; surprisingly it was not exactly an unpleasant experience.

The fervour of the kiss intensified as their lips mashed together and their tongues entwined and she ran her fingers around the thickening bulge in his jeans and her tactic seemed to be working. He'd stopped yanking at her panties and was content to stroke her pantyhosed thighs and occasionally run his finger across the front panel of her of her satin panties. She was worried that Steve might try to find her non-existent vagina when a more immediate threat ensued.

"Take it out!" he hissed.

"Whaaat?" Michele replied.

"Take out my cock!" he ordered and took Michele's hand and placed it back on his crotch.

Michele had no choice; if she didn't take control of the situation Steve might start putting his hands where she didn't want them. She figured that a little masturbation was worth the price of keeping her secret. She fumbled with his zip and eventually pulled it down and her fingers disappeared inside his jeans. His cock was thick and warm and slowly throbbed. The smell of stale semen assaulted her nostrils; he hadn't washed his penis since he came on her that afternoon. She manipulated his erection with difficulty but eventually it sprang free of his underwear and popped out his jeans.

Steve reached down and hiked up her skirt and for the second time that day he straddled Michele and began to dry fuck her. Steve rubbed his cock all over her nylon-clad thighs and the front of her panties.

"Fuck that feels so good!" he moaned and then lay down on top of her humping at her like dog in heat.

He lowered his face back to hers and kissed her, driving his tongue deep into her mouth as he writhed on top of her. Michele responded and allowed Steve to hump away at her, she could feel his hot snake-like penis prod and slither against her thighs and the front of her panty crotch. She let him grind against her hoping he would soon be sated. She prepared herself to once again become a sponge for her uncle's semen. She waited for the hot gush of his seed on her legs and groin. She was surprised to find that she was anticipating it and was subconsciously humping him back.

Then Steve suddenly moved putting his hand under the gusset of her panties and Michele squealed and wriggled, trying to free herself from under him.

"Please don't Steve! Don't touch me there! You can come on me again if you want to. I'll even help you this time," she begged and reached for his cock to stroke it.

"I think I want a little more than a pantyhose-poke this time Michele," Steve grinned and suddenly rose back on his haunches.

He dismounted her and pulled her off the bed and onto her feet. He kissed her again and his hand slid under her skirt and massaged her buttocks through the layers of hose and panty; he squeezed and rubbed her cheeks and Michele lifted the front of her skirt and rubbed her satin-clad groin against his throbbing cock. She rubbed and humped against him, encouraging him, wanting him to come on her, to finish soon.

Steve was really enjoying the feeling of his cock nestled against her mound; the cool satin felt delicious against his aching member. But he wasn't going to make to do with a dry-hump this time. He broke the kiss and pushed down on Michele's shoulders until she was forced to her knees.

Michele felt the cold floorboards on her knees and she looked up at Steve; her heavy eyeliner and mascara smudged as tears ran down her rouged cheek.

"Please don't," she implored him.

Steve looked down at her pretty face; her beautiful hazel eyes enhanced by eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner, her rosy rouged cheeks, her plum-red lips. He watched the tears run down her cheek and then pulled her face into his groin.

"Kiss it!" he demanded.

Michele realised that she was in terrible trouble. She could either acquiesce to his demands or try to fight him off. If Steve won the fight the consequences were grave; she would be exposed and he still might force her to give him oral sex.

Steve grabbed her head in both hands and pulled her face towards his cock. She felt his penis rubbing against her lips then he forced it into her mouth.

Michele felt the firm mass of Steve's cock slide between her lips and into her moist warm mouth. It tasted musky but not unpleasant. The skin of his shaft was sleek and she could feel the bulging veins pulsing against her lips. The head felt sleek and spongy. She closed her lips over the shaft almost as a reflex action. The cock was not of itself unpleasant, she didn't feel the need to gag. She just didn't want to have to fellate her uncle; the idea was repulsive. She made to spit out the invading member but Steve held her face firmly in his groin. She felt degraded and abused but knew that there was nothing she could really do. Well there was one thing!