Randy Anna

Author's note: This is my Valentine's day 2016 story. I hope you like it. Many thanks to Kethandra and lovecraft68. At the very last, I asked for help and both provided me with insights and encouragement. I am very grateful.

*

Anna lay in the narrow bed at Aunt Ro's Florida house, resisting the urge to touch herself. A large crucifix hung on the wall at the foot of the bed. The room was lit with the half-light of dawn and her body still reeled from the time difference. The house smelled like sweat, moist leather, and sawdust.

It reeked of men.

The flight from Poland had been long and arduous and Anna had slept poorly, unable to settle herself with the moon pouring through the window, the smells of men all around her. Rolling onto her tummy, she stuffed one of her aunt's pillows between her legs and hugged another to her chest. Anna imagined herself in the arms of the lead singer in a boy band she liked, her thighs clamped tightly around his leg. She moved her hips, making a delicious pressure on her clit. Her swollen nipples rubbed against the fabric of her night shirt. She brought herself to the very crest of an orgasm and then froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eighteen-year-old body was most susceptible to going over the top at the very start, an accidental orgasm.

The time spent waiting for her passion to subside was hardest. It shamed her deeply to wait for the calm. She ticked off the ways she fell short of the high standards set by her family. She vowed to rise from the bed as soon as she was able to move her hips again. She thought of Jesus on the wall and this bolstered her resolve. She listened to the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Soon her mind drifted to the lead singer's tight pants, and the way the waistband hung so low on his hips. She thought about the trail of soft brown hair that appeared just above his belt buckle and then snaked its way up to his bellybutton. Clutching the pillow between her legs, Anna imagined herself on her knees, her head immobilized in the performer's strong hands. She kissed the pillow at her chest, imagining it was his sweaty crotch.

There was a new smell in the room, a raw earthy scent.

She pulled the pillow from between her legs and brought it to her face. It was warm and maybe even a little damp, smelling strongly of this new aroma. Rolling onto her side, she opened her legs. Her panties clung to her swollen lips, her own dark crease evident in the pink cotton of her panty. Her mouth was dry. She looked up at the cross and swallowed. Jesus's face hung between his shoulders, His head turned slightly from her, as if He couldn't bear to look at her. Her mind went to the boy she'd met in Finland. His big pink cock. She looked away from Jesus.

She resolved to rise, to shower.

Taking the pillow in her hand, she stuffed it back between her legs and rolled onto her tummy. She bore down on the pillow, keeping her mind purposefully blank. She made a soft grunt deep in her throat. She humped that pillow, moving her hips slowly, methodically. Soon her grunts turned to tender sobs. On and on it went like this for almost an hour. The gentle squeak of the bedsprings followed by her wet, pitiful sobs.

Anna did not allow herself release, but soon there were no longer any hills left for her to climb. Her swollen pussy tingled with urgency.

Taking a deep breath, she roused herself from the bed. Her panties hung heavy and wet from her slim hips. She didn't feel proud. Padding into the bathroom, she stripped out of her underwear and lurched into the shower stall.

She adjusted the knobs to allow only cold.

The razor spray bounced off her small breasts. She needed to scrub her dirty whore pussy, but she dared not put the soapy washcloth between her legs just yet. Soon the icy water made her skin blue and her lips quiver. She scrubbed her cunt until it was raw, red.

She got out of the shower and dried with a fluffy towel. Her cunt ached, but otherwise she felt oddly refreshed. Clear headed. Calm.

She put on a salmon colored t-shirt, a frilly white skirt and some flats.

In one of her aunt's closets, Anna found a thick yellow belt. It was made of a hard vinyl with brass clasps in the front. It was like some sort of costume, like something a female superhero might wear. An Amazon warrior. She tossed it back into the closet.

Anna assessed herself in the mirror. She put her hand under her hair, and held the back of her neck. She tilted her head.

Blue eyes. Square chin. Small upturned nose.

She didn't look like a whore. It was an awareness that should have pleased her, but instead it made her feel phony. She raised her t-shirt and flashed her small breasts in the mirror. The boy in Finland had looked at her breasts with such hunger in his eyes.

Her pussy throbbed and she quickly lowered her shirt.

Anna retrieved the belt and snapped it around her waist. It rested on her hips and rose above her navel like a shield, like body armor. Protecting her from what? She couldn't imagine. Anna let her fingers slide down the slippery material of the belt to her hips. She would not have worn it in Poland, but it felt right for Florida. It was like she was a completely different person.

A superhero.

Anna grinned at the thought of a costume that offered her superpower.

She made her way downstairs. The house was quiet. A lone piece of toast sat on a plate on the kitchen table.

Anna picked up the toast and nibbled it.

She spread butter on it and squinted at the interesting pattern burned into its face.

"Buenos días!" A voice boomed from behind her.

It was Uncle Hector. His hair was slicked-back, with little black curls, and he wore a big smile on his rugged face. He wore slacks and a loud button-down shirt. He was handsome and dashing and the newest addition to her family. He was twenty years younger than Aunt Ro, who had met him through a church sponsored prisoner correspondence program.

"Good morning," Anna squeaked in Polish.

Hector grinned and crossed his arms.

He tilted his head.

His large brown eyes made her feel warm and tingly. One of the boys in the band she liked was dark-eyed and dark skinned, and he always wore a day's worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Anna's friends didn't seem to respond to the dark one as much as the other boys, but Anna harbored a secret crush for him. She wondered if the hair between his legs grew as thick and dark as it did on his cheeks. She wondered about the color of his cock. In her mind, she pictured the big pink one the boy from Finland had showed her.

Hector raised his brows in a questioning look.

His look interrupted her train of thought. He wanted something from her, but her mind had been thinking about cocks. Dark hair. Men.

Her hands went to her belt.

"Good morning," she repeated in haltering English, lowering her head. She swallowed the lump of toast in her mouth. English wasn't her best language, but she knew it better than Spanish.

"Are you hungry?" Hector asked. He spoke in English this time, lowering his gaze and looking at his young niece appreciatively.

Anna blushed furiously.

Hector was different from other men she knew. He seemed dangerous and unpredictable, even when he talked about his faith, or the conversion he'd had in prison. Aunt Ro had traded letters with him for two years, and when he got out of prison last month, they married. Anna's family had come to Florida to mark their union.

"Let's fill you up," Hector said, slipping around behind her.

Anna's eyes grew wide. Fill her?

Her uncle pulled eggs, milk and butter from the refrigerator and then carried them to the counter. He took a skillet from the cupboards and turned on the stove.

Anna scolded herself for what she'd been thinking. She popped the last of the toast into her mouth. Watching her uncle, she spied a small homemade tattoo of a peace sign on his left hand. Her father had been outraged that his sister had married a Latino, a prisoner. Anna let her eyes wander down to the pleats in the front of Hector's pants. Papa had said his sister had married Hector for what laid behind those neatly creased pleats. Anna felt a great warmth surge through her body.

Mother and Aunt Ro came into the kitchen.

"The holy toast!" Aunt Ro shrieked. "The holy toast is gone!"

Anna narrowed her eyes.

Aunt Ro threw herself into mother's arms and wailed. She and mother stared at the empty plate on the kitchen table. Aunt Ro clutched the neck of her robe and twisted her face.

While Anna had been in bed masturbating, the rest of the family had been praying. After prayers, they'd all come to the kitchen to make a snack of toasted cinnamon bread. One piece of toast had come out of the toaster oven with what Aunt Ro had believed to be the image of Jesus's face burnt into the bread.

Aunt Ro had declared it a sign from God.

An omen!

She called it a divine blessing on her union with Hector.

And now . . . it was gone.

Anna touched her throat. The taste of the burnt toast still lingered in her mouth.

Looking away from her mother and aunt, Anna didn't know where to put her eyes. Aunt Ro made a low keening noise. Anna found herself staring again at the pleats in her uncle's slacks. She wasn't thinking about what laid behind the fabric this time, but dreading the confession she knew she had to make. Raising her eyes, Anna found Uncle Hector looking at her.

Their eyes met. He had an amused look on his face.

"I ate the toast," Hector barked.

He laughed and poured egg mixture into the hot pan. It sizzled and popped.

Aunt Ro twisted her face. "Oh, Poppy!" she whined. "It was a sign from God!"

"Yes," Uncle Hector snorted. "It was tasty!" he said. He looked over his shoulder at Aunt Ro and grinned, but he kept working at the stove.

Aunt Ro sobbed and mother whisked the empty plate away.

Uncle Hector looked at Anna and winked.

Anna bit her lip. It was a lie of omission to remain quiet, to let her uncle take the blame. She looked at her uncle, his soulful eyes and long lashes. He stood at the stove and cooed soft words of comfort to his wife.

Anna took a deep breath.

She would take responsibility. She would say she'd eaten the holy toast in Polish and her mother and Aunt Ro would know the truth, but her uncle would not know that she'd betrayed him. He would save face, she would avoid her sin.

Her heart raced.

She opened her mouth to speak.

"Anna," Mother said in Polish. "Don't just stand there like a ninny. Comfort your aunt."

Anna closed her mouth.

Uncle Hector watched her carefully.

She went to her aunt and stroked her head.

Soon Uncle Hector served Anna eggs and potatoes. He placed his hand lightly on her back as he laid the plate in front of her. His touch sent an electric ripple down her body, straight to her pussy. Anna lowered her head, the better to keep Aunt Ro from seeing the hunger in her eyes. Uncle Hector took a seat across from Anna with his own plate.

The other adults made polite conversation.

Aunt Ro sat sniffing.

Uncle Hector kept his arm curled around his plate, as if he were defending it. He held his fork as if it were a weapon. Suddenly it occurred to Anna that he knew she'd intended to tell the others the truth about the holy toast. She didn't know how she knew it, but she felt certain it was true. He also knew that she hadn't followed through. She was naked before him. The edges of her belt dug into her ribs, but it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. It was more reminder that she was different from the others in her family. She was the dirty little whore. She took God's gifts and ate them for breakfast. While her family prayed, she diddled herself. Hector's eyes rose from his plate and caught her staring. He grinned and licked his teeth.

She looked away.

When she finally dared to look back, his eyes were on his plate.

Her cunt throbbed.

***

Hector and Anna squatted near a large flowering bush. Hector spoke English rapidly with a thick Spanish accent. Anna narrowed her eyes and listened carefully.

"The petals from this flower can make a man strong," Hector said.

Anna took the flower from his hand. She wasn't sure what he was telling her. The bush he'd plucked the flower from had dozens more blossoms just like it. She turned it over in her hand.

Hector grinned. "Strong," he said.

Hector made a fist and held it out, tensing his forearm.

Anna grinned at her uncle. He was dark and swarthy and gazing into his big brown eyes in the heat of the afternoon intensified her feeling of being an outsider in a strange land. She was the little whore with a taste for forbidden fruit.

She made her own fist and held it out. "Strong," she said in Polish.

Uncle Hector laughed.

Anna was happy to amuse him. He dropped the plant into the grass and stood, dusting the front of his slacks. His pleats were at eye level and Anna stared. His pants were so loose fitting, so different from the tight pants all the performers in the boy bands wore. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help thinking about what lay beneath those pleats. Her thoughts made her feel guilty, ashamed. He was old, at least in his thirties.

He was dark and dangerous, a former prisoner.

He was her uncle.

She complained about the heat. He tucked her under his arm and led her into a small deserted guest house at the back of Aunt Ro's property. It was much cooler inside.

"I'm a felon," he said. "A predicate felon."

She knew felon but wasn't sure about predicate. She understood he was making a confession. She felt proud that he would tell her his secrets. Trust her.

"I'm a whore," she said in English.

He looked at her sharply but kept his face neutral. Anna wondered if she had used the right word. Her confession made her pulse race. None of the others in her family would accept such a bald admission.

Uncle Hector peered out the window. He went to the door. He returned and put his arm around her shoulders.

"A whore?" he whispered.

Anna nodded, casting her eyes to the floor.

Uncle Hector tucked her close to his chest, his hand on the small of her back. He had a gentle, concerned look on his face. His hand went to her thigh, on the frilly material of her skirt.

A rush of heat throbbed in her chest. She could smell his cologne, a light, sweet, citrus smell. He slipped his hand lower, then reversed his direction and his hand was under her skirt, on her bare upper thigh. Anna gasped, sucking in her breath.

He made a soft rumbling sound in his throat.

He took a step back, away from her, and the skin where his hand had been seemed to pulse and tingle. She felt a wave of relief, but also a little frustration. Was he finished? No, he wasn't done. He lifted the front of her skirt and tilted his head to look between her legs.

"A whore," he mumbled, an amused look on his face.

He didn't look up.

Anna felt her cheeks go hot. She had used the wrong word. She'd only wanted to express that she was different then the others. She agonized over her mistake, how to set things right, but her cunt pulsed with a delicious excitement and made it difficult to concentrate.

He nudged her tummy with the hand that was holding her skirt.

She looked at his hand, then met his eyes.

What did he want?

He nudged her tummy again. He wanted her to hold the skirt up for him.

It was too dirty, too terrible.

Anna resolved to leave. To race back to the main house. To her family.

She took the skirt from his hand.

He returned his attention to her crotch. He still had the amused look on his face, but now there was a hungry look in his eyes.

She looked away from him.

He hooked his finger into the waist of her panties and tugged it down. The waistband sank into her flesh at her hips, her ass cheeks.

She had to look. It was certainly humiliating to have her uncle inspect between her legs.

He wet his fingers with his mouth and then placed them on her clitoris.

"Oh," Anna gasped. It felt delicious to have someone else touch her pussy. Pressing her skirt to her tummy, she felt the belt around her waist. She squeezed her butt cheeks together, making a little rocking motion with her hips.

He laughed softly to himself. He slid her panties down to her ankles and looked up at her.

Why didn't he just rip the panties from her hips? She made her mind go blank and raised her foot. He slipped her panty past her ankle. She raised her other foot, and then the panties were gone. Anna stood before her uncle, naked from the waist down.

He brought the panties to his face, inhaling deeply. He crossed the room, hung them on the door knob, and then looked at her smugly.

Anna didn't know why he hung the panties on the door, but it made her feel bad. What could she do? She stared dumbly with her skirt pressed to her tummy. She was a pig for it.

"You are a little whore," he grinned.

He unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was long and dark and Anna felt a surge of shame and desire, all mixed together.

Uncle Hector put his arm around Anna, pulling her close.

"Aunt Ro," Anna squeaked.

"We won't go all the way," he assured her.

Her heart soared with his pledge. Her eyes shone.

"Promise?" Anna asked.

Hector's big cock bobbed between them and she wanted to touch it.

He slipped his hand under her bottom and mashed the head of his cock onto her pussy. He held her ass in his palm, his fingers slipping over the folds of her meaty cunt.

Anna was close to the edge already.

"Please," she begged. "Oh, please."

She struggled to extricate herself from her uncle's grasp, but he held her fast, his big hand exploring her bottom, his prick rubbing her clit.

To prevent herself from coming, she threw herself to her knees. His cock bobbed in her face. She put his dick right into her mouth. He tasted salty and warm.

He held her head and fucked her face. He shoved it in roughly, grunting like a bull. It occurred to her that he must have satisfied himself in prison this way, using the mouth of another inmate.

He pulled it out of her mouth and held the wet shaft, exposing his big sack. He wanted her to lick his balls. His hairy sack frightened her, they way it hung so thick and dark below his shaft.

"Oh, Uncle Hector," she whined.

"My little puta," he laughed. "Don't be afraid." He jammed her face onto his balls.

She filled her mouth with his sack. The weight of his cock hung on her cheek. She maneuvered herself to get more of his flesh into her mouth. Once she got her mouth down there, it wasn't so bad. His soft sighs drove her forward.

Suddenly he hauled her to her feet, spun her around, and shoved her against the wall.

She looked over her shoulder, grinning. This was how she wanted it.

He rubbed his cock head against her pussy.

"Aunt Ro," Anna reminded him. By this she just meant that she didn't want an orgasm. She wanted to climb the heights, but avoid the delicious release that would lock in the sin and stain her eternal soul.

He slipped his cock inside her. It felt hard and long and full.

"I was away for five years," Uncle Hector said. "I'm backed up."

Anna put her weight on her hands, her cheek against the wall. His hard cock made a wet noise as it slid into her gooey hole.

"I just need a few whores to get even," he whispered.

Anna's whole body tingled. She was a whore. His whore.

He pulled his cock from between her legs and removed his pants.

She took off her shirt.

He sat on a couch and had her kneel at his feet. His cock glistened with juice from her pussy.

"Clean it up," he said.

She wasn't sure about this. She looked at the wet prick. She looked at him.