Uncle Bob Ch. 07

"Well look, you guys," Stacey interjected into the rather awkward silence, "it's getting late and I have school in the morning. Uncle Bob, if you help me clear these dishes, I'll get off to bed."

"And I suppose I'd better be getting along..." I began.

"I don't think so, Bob. You've had far too much wine to drive." I glanced at the empty bottle on the table and realized that she was right. She'd had one glass – I'd sunk the rest. "Look, we have the guest room made up, so why don't I just pour you a Jack Daniels – I recall you like that – and maybe we can relax and continue our little chat? I want to talk some more about this wedding."

"I – sure..." I muttered lamely. "But first I'll help Stacey clear the dishes."

In the kitchen, Stacey gave me a big hug and a kiss – mostly in the style of the old 'I love you Uncle Bob' genre I'd known for years, and with only a little of the 'and I'd like your fat cock in my ass, please' twist that had developed lately.

"Now look, Uncle Bob, don't go getting yourself upset over Daddy and Chelsea. Mom and me have talked about it and we're putting it all behind us. You should do the same. And remember what I said earlier. We have to be realistic. You and me'll still have each other, like, forever and ever. But I've gotta, like, date other boys or Mom'll get suspicious. And you and Mom should learn to be friends. Stick around, play nicely." She gave one of her endearing little giggles. "Or nastily, if you want to!" She leaned close and whispered in my ear. "It'd be so cool if you guys got to fuck tonight. Please try – for me?"

She kissed me again, gave me another of her heartbreaking, groin-aching smiles, and skipped out of the room to say goodnight to Dolores. I stacked the dishes in the machine, then poured myself another coffee while I tried to get my head straight. Tonight had been another little puddle of weirdness in the great sea of weird that had flooded in during recent weeks. As I summarized it all in my brain, it all seemed like some alternate reality. My sweet 18 year old niece, who I was regularly fucking, sodomizing and generally debauching, was trying to get me to fuck her mom. I gathered that this was so that she would then feel able to go out and fuck other boys and maybe return our relationship into something a little closer to what might pass, from the outside, as normal; that is, only fucking me occasionally, possibly in her mom's house while her mom and I were more regular fuck-buddies. With maybe some of Barbie on the side. I was in this way, way over my head, and my cock wasn't exactly pointing me towards the way out.

On the contrary. When I went through into the lounge, Dolores was sat on the sofa looking particularly horny. Her long legs were crossed, and the rather short, floaty skirt of her tightly-tailored dress had ridden even further up her smooth thighs, showing a little bit of stocking top – so not pantyhose after all! She'd poured me a large JD, which she held out to me. The act of raising her arm lifted her quite spectacular breasts, and I stood, perhaps rather obviously staring down her cleavage. Like I said, she wasn't wearing – didn't need - a bra, so her nipples were pointing invitingly toward me through the black fabric. The air was charged, and my dick was feeling like it might soon be a lightning rod. I took the proffered whisky and sat down beside her on the sofa.

Her smile had taken on a slightly more devious look – one that I recognized from the past and was always wary of. "I've been thinking about Michael's wedding, and I have an interesting idea. How would you like to see Stacey looking lovely as a bridesmaid?"

Being the sort of guy I am, my mind instantly filled with the kind of image that should never be seen outside of porn flicks. Stacey in virginal white, sweet little tiara in her cutely-styled hair, smiling at me as she held her cheeky little skirt up around her waist, bending over so I could fuck her up the ass. The fact that it happened to be by the altar rail in a church full of people surprised me a little. I shook my head to clear this deranged picture and tried to focus.

"Robert?" Dolores was looking at me in some concern. "You have a strange expression on your face. Are you OK?"

I rapidly recovered my composure. "Sure, Dolores. I'm sure that Stacey will be gorgeous. I was just thinking about something else for a moment."

She smirked a little. "Maybe we're sharing the same thought. I try to be nice to Michael for Stacey's sake, but from what you said earlier, neither of us exactly seem to wish him well. This Chelsea is better than that odious Taylor that he left me for, and better than the half-dozen or so that he's been trailing around since her. But she's still an airhead whose main appeal seems to be enormous tits, a big mouth and a pair of legs that won't close. And frankly, it would be poetic justice if, straight after the wedding, his dick shriveled up and dropped off, so he was just stuck with a brainless gold-digger whose body he could never use. Am I sounding vituperative, Robert?"

I wasn't really sure what 'vituperative' meant, but I guessed it was something like 'pissed'. "Not without cause, Dolores. But you're going to the wedding?"

"It's for Stacey's sake, really. As you know, Michael has been inviting Stacey up to his place more often lately. He says it's because he wants her and Chelsea to be friends, now that they're planning to get married. Anyway, around two weeks ago, Chelsea asked Stacey to be her bridesmaid. Stacey came back with an invitation to the wedding for me and a partner. I guess it was Michael's way of trying to bury the hatchet. Frankly, I'd prefer to bury it in his crotch!"

"And you're going – for Stacey's sake?"

"Partly. But here's the twist." She smiled that lawyer's shark-smile and leaned closer. I could smell her perfume. I could feel her body heat. I could look straight down her cleavage – and I had to fight not to. "The invitation is for me and a partner. Now like I said, I don't have anyone in particular at the moment. So I wondered if you'd like to accompany me."

I must have grinned from ear to ear. "Dolores, you're a genius. That way we get to see Stacey looking beautiful and really spoil my bro's big day! If he sees you and me together, like, as a couple, that'll really piss him off. Inspired!"

Spontaneously, I put my glass down, placed my hands on Dolores' upper arms and kissed her. It was meant to be a gesture of delight with a fellow conspirator, but when we broke the clinch, Dolores looked at me in an odd way, and said "Interesting. Could we try that again, but just a little more like this?"

Her arms went around me, and this time her lips were soft and sensuous against mine. Her tongue teased its way into my mouth, and her firm tits pressed hard into my chest. They were bigger than Barbie's and rather firmer than real ones, but it was still a very sexy experience.

I responded – well, it would have been impolite to do otherwise. My arms embraced her, and I became lost in the heat and wetness of her kiss. She tugged my tie off, then slipped her hands up over my shoulders and down my back, down as far as my ass. For my part, I could feel the taut outlines of her well-honed and expensively-shaped body as my own hands traced the outlines of her less-dangerous curves. At this stage, I felt that tits and ass should be left until some ground-rules had been established.

"Mmm, some nice muscles you have there, Bob," she said when we both came up for air. Are you that strong everywhere? Here, for instance?"

Her palm rubbed across my crotch. Oooh, yes. It was at that point that I think those ground-rules were clearly spelled out, and I finally decided to take Stacey's advice. The decision was made well below the neck, but it was a very firm decision, as Dolores' hand was finding out.

"Oooh, yes, that feels nice. I think I'd like to find out more about what's happening there. Why don't we head upstairs, and maybe we can get to know each other properly, after all these years?"

We stood up, and she kissed me again. My hands rode down her back to her nicely-rounded ass, which felt tight and, it seemed, pantie-less. She pulled back and looked into my face. Her smile had a hungry, predatory look to it, but I wasn't about to complain. The way I felt at that moment, I would have been happy for her to eat me all up.

As she led me upstairs, I could see part-way up her skirt. She was definitely wearing stockings, but I couldn't see what else. She closed the door of her very large and luxuriously-furnished bedroom, and then locked it. "We don't want Stacey walking in on us, do we? It wouldn't do for her to see her Uncle Bob naked? Especially if he was between her mom's legs at the time. Don't you think?" She removed the key from the lock, holding it suggestively in front of her and smiling wickedly.

Shit, this was another dose of weird. I could tell her that Stacey had indeed seen her dear old Uncle Bob naked on numerous occasions, including between her own legs and in other, very intimate, places besides, but that didn't seem a good idea right then – or ever. Equally, there was absolutely no doubt that Dolores was determined to fuck me before the morning. She had locked the door so I couldn't get away. Like I wanted to....

"No escape for you, Bob. You're locked in. Looks like you'll have to tunnel out. I hope you've brought the right tool for that sort of work." Again, that predatory smile.

She turned around. "The zipper is at the back. Could you please help me?"

I unzipped the dress and she peeled it down, stepped out of it and turned to face me. As I'd guessed, the underwear was minimal; no bra, but the tiniest thong panties I've ever seen, with a very flimsy strap around the hips – barely a single thread - dipping to a sheer panel that pressed between, rather than covered, her pussy lips, increasing the camel-toe effect. Plus a skinny little silk garter belt with black seamed stockings, and of course, the black heels. Yowza!

Unlike Stacey, she wasn't completely smooth, but had a small dark triangular 'landing strip', pointing straight to the promised land. The way the panties exposed, rather than covered, her pussy lips was extremely horny. Anyway, I find myself drawn to a pussy that's framed nicely by stocking tops and a garter belt. Fuck it; I find myself drawn to a pussy, period!

But I was at least momentarily distracted by the tits. They were – well, spectacular is probably the best word for them. I'm sure that Michael had paid for them, so it was ironic that I should now be getting the benefit. My first reaction was how similar in shape they were to Barbie's. The aureoles were larger, but then the size was bigger too. An intelligent guess would put Dolores' breasts at around a D-cup, maybe bigger, whereas Barbie's were a perfectly-formed C. The thing is, on Dolores' well-toned frame, they looked big but right. Just unfeasibly high and firm for a woman of her age.

My fuck-wit brother seemed to become increasingly fixated with large breasts. When he married Dolores, she was moderately endowed, but having Stacey really fucked with her body. Afterwards I was aware that she'd had some work done, but I had no idea how classy that work was. When Michael left Dolores for Taylor, I guessed it was because the dumb blonde's tits must have been at least two sizes bigger than his wife's. I think Michael confuses himself with Russ Meyer.

Now I'm not really a tit man. I like them in all sizes, as long as they don't sag too much, but I tend to focus more on asses, legs and especially pussies. I'm a sucker for a pretty-looking pussy; well, a licker at least. Dolores' pussy looked enticing; nice plump outer lips and quite a long slit. Perhaps I'm biased, but Stacey's is perhaps the most beautiful I've ever seen, with small, discreet inner lips that are hidden until she spreads for me – ooh! - and a lovely long slit that points up into her mound and provides a perfect 'vertical smile'. But from what I could see from where I was standing, her mom's was in pretty good shape too.

"Like what you see, Robert?" Oh, so we were getting formal again. Did that mean some control was going to be exercised, that someone was gonna get their ass smacked? Knowing Dolores' nature, I couldn't imagine that that would be her. And she was still playing with the door key, as if reminding me that I was her captive. Mmmm.

"Outstanding, Dolores. You have an incredible body."

Standing – or rather, posing - in her black lingerie, she reminded me a little of Joan Collins in those risible old soft-porn movies from the seventies, except in rather better shape. I knew that Dolores worked out, though I'd always assumed that her favorite exercise was breaking balls. However, she looked more athletic than I had imagined, almost muscular. Perhaps the sort of gal that Barbie's Dean would meet at one of his conventions. I wondered if Dolores' inner muscles were as well developed as those I could see. Shit, if that were so, my cock could get severely mauled.

"Thank you, Robert. But now, fair play. I've shown you mine – time to show me yours!"

There is an art to male undressing. I've never had an ambition to be a male stripper – though having seen some of the videos on the web, I could tell that it could be an interesting career move. You just wouldn't have to mind getting blown and fucked in a room-full of screaming women, and maybe wearing a stupid mask at the time. But for normal, everyday bedroom duty, the sequence has to be right. Never take your pants off before your shirt – that looks so fucking ridiculous. And for fuck's sake, don't leave your socks until last. A girl being fucked wearing cute ankle socks, or knee-highs, is sexy. A guy fucking her, wearing black ankle socks, just looks stupid and about as erotic as a gimp mask.

So off came my shirt, then my shoes and socks, then my pants. I was wearing a pair of black jersey trunks, so that Dolores could see the outline of my imprisoned and seriously swollen cock, and the little wet patch of pre-cum wasn't too obvious. (In white jockeys, it can look like you've pissed yourself).

"Oh, yes. When I saw you in your swim shorts at your place, I have to say I was surprised at how good a body you have. Even Stacey remarked on how fit you looked." Even Stacey? The girl who had probably smeared every inch of this body with pussy juices and saliva – especially seven very specific inches – but obviously couldn't tell her mom that?

"Thanks. I like to keep in shape. Want to see more?"

"Definitely. But let me help you."

She set the room key down on a nearby shelf – I noted its position in case I had to run for my life – and sort of shimmered over to me. That was a hell of a walk. I watched the pussy lips rubbing together and the swing and sway of her firm, stockinged thighs. However, the titties seemed bolted to the front of her body. Unlike Barbie's there was not much natural bounce, but the nipples were erect and quite long, like her daughter's, and pointed straight at me. I felt she could probably take someone's eye out with those.

Then she did what she had to do, and what most guys crave; she stopped around two feet in front of me and went down onto her knees. Her thumbs hooked the waistband of my shorts, and in a well-practiced move, she peeled them down over my hips, holding the elastic out far enough for my cock to spring free without being painfully snagged.

"Oh yes! That looks like it's more than capable of the task I have in mind for it," she said in slightly husky tones. She continued to slide my shorts down my legs and allowed me to step out of them, to my relief. Sometimes, Leanne would peel them halfway down and then blow me, leaving me looking ridiculous with my legs trapped and with me at severe risk of falling on top of her when I came. Dolores clearly had other ideas, as I discovered when she had flung the garment across the room.

From her position, kneeling in front of me, she looked up and puckered a kiss, which she then applied directly to the tip of my cock, cradling the shaft in both hands. Then her slippery, lipsticked lips slowly opened and engulfed the bulging head, rather like a snake consumes its prey, and her tongue swirled around.

It felt very strange to be watching my cock filling the face of a woman who, until recently, I'd felt was someone to be rather afraid of. I half expected her to bite down and then spit out the top half of my dick. Instead, what she was doing felt really good, truly erotic. Stacey's throat jobs are amazingly hot but unsubtle. She mostly lets me – and, unfortunately, it would seem, other guys – use her mouth as a cunt with a tongue inside. Dolores has some real skill with her lips and tongue that means she doesn't need to take you all in to make your knees start to tremble. I thought absently it would be interesting to put mom and daughter side by side and compare technique. But that way lies madness – and probably castration!

When, after around a minute, she released me, the head of my cock shone with a high gloss, and she'd spread a lot of saliva down my shaft. Then she started to get up, and I supposed that her initial approach was to warm me up for a prolonged period of pussy licking. Not a problem really. I'd been given a taste of my reward if I did a good job.

"Robert," she said, looking me straight in the eye. "I need you to be totally honest with me now. When was the last time you had unprotected sex, and with whom?"

Fuck! How would it sound if I said "last Sunday, with your daughter, in all three holes", huh? But then I realized what she was asking.

"Dolores, I'm very particular about sexual hygiene. I've had only protected sex with anyone whose entire sexual history I didn't know." With Stacey, I pretty-well was her entire sexual history. "Cheryl and me had STI tests when we started living together, and I believe we were faithful to each other until we split up. I had another check after she'd gone, just to make sure she hadn't gifted me with something out of spite. Since then, the brief relationships with strangers have all been carried out with condoms."

But I thought 'unlike the frantic developing relationship with your daughter, that has allowed me to inject sperm into every available orifice and decorate her skin with it as well.' Except I couldn't say that.

Apparently satisfied with my answer, Dolores smiled. "Good. I can't stand rubber, and I can't get pregnant, so I think we'll both enjoy this more the way God intended it. The thing I most need right now, Robert, is a good, old fashioned, extended, hard fucking. I haven't had a decent-sized cock inside me for more than five minutes at a time in the last six months. Plastic is no substitute for the real thing. I hope you won't be insulted if I say that I particularly wanted you because I felt you had the physique and the experience – and possibly the need – to do that for me. Am I right?"

"If you want a good fucking, Dolores, I'm your man." Shit, this was getting weirder by the minute.

"Alvin was fucking useless – or should that be a useless fuck? He bought me nice presents and treated me like a lady, but he was hopeless in my pussy. I think I'd rather have been treated less like a lady and more like a slut, and to have had fewer diamonds and more orgasms. I really hope you don't disappoint, Robert."

I glanced over to where the key lay on the shelf. I wondered what my chances might be of successfully collecting my scattered clothes, grabbing the key and driving off into the night before Dolores cut my balls off with a blunt knife. Not good. So I seriously needed to perform here.

"Tell me what you need, Dolores, and I'll do my best to deliver."

"Good. I need you to check my pussy for wetness. Assuming I'm good and ready – and I'm pretty sure I am – then I'd like you to shove that nicely-proportioned cock inside me and keep going until I scream the place down. Oh, and my panties are so flimsy that I put them on under my suspenders, so you may have to rip them off for speed. Do you think you can do that?"