Kitty Tales: Uncle Johnny Ch. 02

As my Uncle escorted the boys to the door, I sat back in the chair that I had just cleaned with my tongue, dropped my face to my hands and cried. I couldn't help myself. I just had to have a good cry. I wasn't really that upset. I just wanted to get it out.

My uncle Johnny returned and placed his hand on my shoulders. He stroked my hair and tried to comfort me. He sat down next to me, waited for my tears to subside, and asked me why I was crying.

Between my sobs I tried to explain myself, but I did a poor job, because I really didn't know why I was crying. In one day I had seduced my Uncle, allowed his golf buddies to abuse me sexually, and offered myself as a prostitute. That's a lot to accomplish in 24 hours.

For the life of me I could not understand why I allowed all of this to happen. Heck, I didn't just allow it; I fucking encouraged much of it. I know that I deeply cared for my Uncle and loved him in a way that most would never understand. Few would have approved of my behavior toward my Uncle, but I did what was in my heart regardless of what's acceptable or unacceptable to others.

I knew that I had a daddy complex. I loved sex with older men. Maybe my daddy needs were what drove me to agree to fuck these men. I could rationalize my behavior toward them by focusing on how I was protecting my Uncle, but I wasn't sure that the protection of my Uncle was my primary motivation for agreeing to fuck them.

I know that I liked sex a little on the rough side, and I loved to be treated as a whore, in bed anyway. But it could easily have gotten out of hand had my Uncle not stepped in to stop it. Manny would have raped my ass with that spatula handle had my Uncle not been there to protect me.

This raised some additional questions for me: Why do I like to be treated as a slut, whore or prostitute? Why do I get so excited when a man wants to degrade and humiliate me? How willing am I to place myself in danger and why am I willing to do so?

Finally, was the idea of pulling a train a motivation for my behavior? I had been gangbanged once in Tampa when I was in my early 20's. My boyfriend had taken me to a sleazy strip/sex club. After we had a few laps dances and a lot of drinks, he took me upstairs to the sex club. They had rooms where others could watch you fuck on some dirty, cum-stained cot.

Not only did my boyfriend fuck me in front of these strangers, he allowed a number of them to fuck me while he watched. In fact, he charged each of them fifty bucks to fuck me. Was this experience acting on my unconscious so that I wanted to relive it with the boys? Did I want to be gangbanged again? (Sort of a geriatric gangbang)

I was exhausted and not making any sense. Someday, I may understand what motivates my sexual behavior, but for now it was unknown. However, I knew that I had to keep exploring, and to find someone to explore it with me.

All I wanted to do now was to clean up, slip into the sheets and cuddle with my Uncle. I knew that my pussy and ass were going to receive some substantial punishment the next day. Tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day, but I would have $3000 to show for it. But that is what a whore deserves.