Uncle Bob Ch. 07

My cock gave a little twitch, as if nodding in agreement.

I reached out and slid my hand down into the crotch of her panties. The fabric was tight, not just molding to the contours of her pussy but, as I said, pressed into her slit. The finger I finally managed to insinuate between her panties and her flesh was in danger of dissolving in the pool of hot liquid it found there. I moved in close to kiss her, and felt those warm, soft lips on my mouth and those ultra-firm tits and pointy nipples drilling into my chest. My other hand snaked behind her, dipped into her cleft from behind, and probed a little deeper. The entrance to her cunt was wet and surprisingly tight. I probed it a little, eliciting a small moan from her throat, swirled my finger around in her juices, then rimmed her asshole with my finger.

"Oh! Naughty boy! That's not the hole I need you to focus on. You know what you need to do. So do it now, Robert!" That last phrase almost hissed at me, her eyes wide and demanding.

So I tugged out sharply with both hands, and my wrists snapped the flimsy panties, which then hung briefly, trapped in her pussy slit, until I flipped the ruined garment onto the floor at her feet. I straightened up, swung my arms around her and swept her off her feet, lifting her – she was surprisingly heavy – and starting to move toward the bed.

"No! In front of the mirror. There!" she commanded.

I set her down again on her sexy black heels, and she took up position, her arms on the frame of a full-length mirror on the wall, her legs spread, back arched, presenting her pussy and ass to me. Dolores' ass, by the way, is something of a bubble-butt. Not big, you understand, but more rounded than, say, Barbie's smooth peach and much more than Stacey's skinny little half-handful buttocks. My cock twitched again at the thought – can cocks think? – of forcing its way into the tight cleft and up Dolores' ass. It seemed appropriate that a woman who had caused me so much anguish in the past should be forced to take it up the ass from me. But not yet, I thought. At least, not if I still wanted to have a cock I could stick into Stacey at some time in the future.

"Don't you want me to lick your pussy, Dolores?"

"Robert," she said with a faint note of annoyance in her voice, "what part of 'fuck my pussy good and hard for as long as I can stand it' do you not understand?"

"You're the boss, Dolores," I said, shuffling up behind her and taking position. I could see her watching in the mirror, her horny-looking reflection goading me. She was braced for impact, legs spread, dark triangular landing strip functioning as an arrow, pointing towards where she wanted me.

So I gave it to her. I placed my hands on her hips, my cock-head at her entrance, and then shoved. This was not like entering Stacey for the first time, or even exploring Barbie with my dick. She had said 'good and hard', so I gave it to her hard. I just hoped she thought it was good.

She let out a loud cry as my cock went straight in and deep. She was definitely tighter than I'd anticipated. I've fucked a few mothers in my time, though I don't think that makes me a motherfucker. Anyway, women who have given birth are generally not as tight as those who haven't, which is probably why black guys are so popular with older women. Dolores either had Stacey by caesarian section or she'd spent a lot of time on her Kegels. It wasn't quite like my Stacey's ass, but the fit was definitely what I might call 'snug'.

So then I started a medium-paced thrusting action, getting deeper each time until she had my full length at every stroke. My hands moved from her hips; one to her clit, the other to a firm, long-nippled breast, and I started nibbling and kissing her neck and shoulders. I like a standing position like this, as it means you're mostly using your thigh and butt muscles to thrust, rather than your abs. This means I can go on much longer without fatigue – assuming the woman is reasonably tall and has heels on. (If her pussy is too low down, it means I have to spread my legs too wide, and my back starts to ache after about ten minutes.)

Dolores was just the right height for this kind of fucking. And from the noises she was making, I guessed I had the angle about right and the finger work good. Being a musician and singer teaches you independence of hands, fingers and mouth, which is particularly useful when you use these – plus your cock –on a woman. It means you can simultaneously stimulate several sensitive areas. The concentration involved also helps take your mind off the powerful signals coming up from your cock, and enables you to continue for longer. Dolores seemed to appreciate this.

"How am I doing, Dolores, baby?" I asked. Normally I wouldn't dare to call her 'baby', but I felt I could get more familiar as she had my dick buried deep in her cunt and my fingers on her tit and in her pussy.

"Oh! Oh yes!" she gasped. "Fucking – fucking amazing. Amazing – fucking. Keep – oh yes! – keep fucking me – oh! Oh YES! Right there right there right THERE!"

I made a mental note to try fucking Stacey in this position, to see if the increased pressure on the sensitive front wall of her vagina could be enough to take her to orgasm. (That's if I could persuade her to let me put it in her cunt occasionally, instead of her ass.)

Ask most women what their favorite position is and they'll probably say 'doggy'. Like a lot of guys, I prefer missionary, because of the sight and feel of the open pussy, the tits on your chest, the face in rapture, the kissing – all that shit. Standing doggy, like this, in front of a mirror, is a good compromise. The girl gets the g-spot contact, the guy can reach the clit without fracturing his wrist, and both parties get a good view of the tits bouncing, the cock pounding in and out of the cunt, and everything that the girl is feeling, registering on her face.

And watching Dolores' face in the mirror was a show in itself. Her mouth was open, her eyes fluttered, now closed in rapture, now wide open in surprise as I hit another interesting spot or maybe squeezed a little hard on a sensitive nipple. As for me, I had to actively prevent myself from watching the scene in case I came too soon.

I transferred my attention to her neck, nuzzling through the thick, dark, exotically scented locks (so different from her daughter's golden gossamer strands) and licking and nibbling around the top of her spine and those sensitive areas below and behind her ears and where her neck meets her shoulders. Several times I nearly had my skull fractured as she threw her head back in reaction to some new, intense sensation, but her thick hair helped cushion the blow.

When I judged I'd given her good measure and good length – that is, I'd probably fucked her for around fifteen minutes, and my legs were telling me it was getting time to stop – I focused on the final trip wire. Dolores had not been as vocal as either Stacey or Barbie. Sure, there had been plenty of moans and gasps that told me I'd been doing the right thing, and if the whole exercise hadn't required so much effort and concentration, that and the sight of our coupling might have taken me over. Certainly the sensations from my cock were pretty sensational, as she'd remained pretty tight, hot, silky and very wet throughout. But now I was ready to shoot my load, and having come so far, I needed Dolores to come even farther before I could come, if you see what I mean.

"How are – how are you – enjoying it – now?" I asked, my breathing ragged from the exertion. Both our bodies were now slick with perspiration, and I could see that even her big, mega-firm tits were heaving up and down as her breathing was becoming more labored. I actually find the sight of big, firm tits on a skinny ribcage rather erotic – the expression 'skinny, with melons' comes to mind. Dolores wasn't exactly skinny, but in this position, with her arms up and braced against the wall and her back arched, her ribs were quite prominent – as was her impressive six-pack - and that was the overall effect.

"Oh! Oh! Yes! Fuck me, Robert! Harder! Hard – hard! Deeper! Right in – right in – my pussy! Oh yes!"

Good. "You like it – like this – fucked – fucked hard – up against – the wall – huh?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh! Stick it in hard. Harder. Harder!"

Fuck, I was going like a steam hammer as it was. If I shoved it up her any harder, I felt I'd probably burst through her vagina and tangle my cock in her colon! But I tried to increase the speed and ferocity of my thrusts, while focusing on the hand that cupped her mound. I switched to what I call my 'vibrato rub', rapid light strokes over the clitoral shaft, maybe three or four times a second, halfway between normal fingerwork and a vibrator. Hard to co-ordinate, especially when you're fucking hard at the same time, but worth the effort. (It helps if you've played guitar, or preferably bass, to perfect this technique).

The shrillness of her noises increased.

"Look at yourself!" I gasped. "Fucked hard – up against – the wall – like a – dirty – little bitch – getting her – pussy pounded – by a nice thick – cock."

"Ah! Ah! Ah! OH YES! OH YES! FUCK ME! FUCK ME HARD – HARDER – HA – HA – AAAAAAAH!"

The first jolt of her orgasm came as a massive relief, as I was able to relinquish control. I looked at her in the mirror, and was pleased to see that even Dolores' rather fierce-looking face could become softly and deliciously erotic in orgasm. Like I said before, a woman is at her most beautiful when she's coming, and Dolores looked radiant and deeply horny. As I felt her pussy throb again and again, I let my mind wander. I no longer focused on the hand that was beginning to ache with the effort of flipping rapidly back and forth in her slit. I shut out the dull ache in the muscles of my thighs, butt and back. Instead, I relished the sensations that were welling up from my over-used cock-head, pressed hard against Dolores' front vaginal wall, and the feeling of her pulsing, super-wet cunt, fucking itself on my cock as she thrust back hard to meet me.

In short, I let myself cum. I shoved my cock in hard, one final time, gripping her mound tightly and pulling her cunt as tightly onto me as it would go. As I felt her ripples, I hoped she could feel my spurts. They were certainly strong enough and numerous enough to have painted a trail up the mirror if Dolores hadn't been there to receive them.

At last, both of us panting like dogs, she turned her head and we kissed. It was a deeply carnal type of kiss, a kiss of taking, not giving, for both of us. This whole episode had been about a mutual desire – strongest on her side – for sexual release, not about affection. It was sheer animal need between two sexually-attracted relative strangers, even though I'd known Dolores for around twenty years.

This was totally different from what Stacey and I did. No matter how nasty and dirty our role-play became, or how perverted or brutal our actions – ranging through verbal abuse, bondage, spanking, throat-fucking and deep and energetic sodomy - might appear, underneath it all was a decade-old bond of trust and love as deep as the ocean. Stacey always knew that whatever I called her during our wild sexual encounters, whatever I did to her, however she behaved – innocent or deeply slutty, submissive or fiercely dominant – she was still my princess and I adored her with every fabric of my being. Because she was safe in that knowledge, she felt free to explore wherever she wanted to go, and I was ecstatically happy to be her fellow traveler.

With Dolores, a lot of our twenty-year relationship had been tainted by my brother. At first, we'd all been friends. When their relationship started to show strain, I was seen by her to be in the enemy camp. When I saw what they were both doing to Stacey, probably without either of them realizing it, I took on the role of human shield between my angel and the pit of venom that had opened between her parents. Dolores just saw me as her husband's brother, rather than as her daughter's protector, so our relationship had become pretty frosty.

Now, oddly, it had thawed. Maybe it was our discussion a few weeks ago, or more likely my angel was interceding for me. This new direction was exciting (and dangerous), but I doubted that Dolores and I could ever be lovers. Fuck-buddies, yes. Frankly, the old Bob, pre the Stacey-fucking phase, would have begged to do what Dolores had just seduced me into doing. But I could never see me feeling for Dolores what I felt for her daughter. There was too much baggage on both sides for that.

"Bob," Dolores said when her breathing had quietened, "I wouldn't want you to get complacent, but that was the best fuck I've had in years. I just thought you'd like to know that, so you'll be encouraged to do it again. When do you think you'll be ready?"

"Fuck, Dolores, give a guy a break! As delicious as that was – and I have to say you have a particularly silky-feeling pussy and a very sexy manner – I had to work hard to meet your demands. I may be fit, but I need some time to recuperate."

I was still plugged into the aforementioned silky-feeling pussy, looking at the reflection of the horny bitch I'd just fucked, when she turned her head, opened her mouth and didn't so much kiss me as eat my mouth. Half way though, my cock slipped out of her and a dribble of cum ran onto the marble floor. When we finally broke, she smiled and said "I'll just go and clean up, and then I'll get us another drink, if you like. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling thirsty and if I'm a little drunk it helps me stay horny. Oh, and by the way, never call me a bitch again, understood?"

"Sorry, Dolores. It's just that a lot of women like to have me talk dirty to them when they're about to come." Especially your daughter, I thought – but of course, didn't say.

"That's OK. I normally like some dirty talk. You can call me a slut if you like – even a whore or a cunt. Just not a bitch. I heard that too often from your brother, and it's a turn off. Understood?"

"Understood, Dolores." OK. It seemed like it was a case of 'I'm not A bitch, I'm THE bitch and it's MISS Bitch to you!' Still, I had a plentiful vocabulary of dirty words that I could use. I'd avoided calling her a slut this time, as a lot of girls don't like that. Maybe I could use that next time, and see how she reacted.

She wiped her pussy with a tissue and headed for the en-suite, and I stuck another tissue over the end of my cock to catch any seepage and knelt down to clean up the small slick on the marble. Then, domestic god that I am, I collected up our discarded clothes and hung them up in the closet – except for the ruined and, I noticed, very wet panties, which were consigned to the trash.

As I hung up her dress, I discovered that Dolores had a fantastic range of outfits in her closet. Some of them looked pretty raunchy. I tried not to linger too long there, in case she thought I was either prying or a cross-dresser. I simply hung my own clothes over a hanger so they wouldn't look like I'd slept in them when I put them back on in the morning, and waited for Dolores to reappear

When she emerged from the bathroom, she was in a short, white-silk robe. The garter belt and stockings (and the shoes) were gone, most probably into the laundry basket.

"What can I get you?" she asked, recovering the key from the shelf.

"A Mojito, if you have one, please. Not too strong, plenty of soda."

She left the door slightly ajar as she headed downstairs to the kitchen, and I soon heard the sound of ice being crushed. Then the door swung open, and there stood Stacey in her usual little happi-coat – except it wasn't fastened, and as it swung open I had a perfect view of her sweet pink pussy.

She looked at me, dressed in nothing apart from the tissue that was stuck to my cock, and giggled.

"Way to go, Uncle Bob!" she said in a stage-whisper. "I could hear mom moaning and screaming from right down the hall. Is she an awesome fuck or what?"

"Hey, Stacey, I don't think I can tell you about my sex with your mom, any more than I can tell her about us."

"Why not? You fucking my mom isn't illegal. It so sounded like fun. Did she, like, take it up the ass?"

"Stacey, for fuck's sake!" What normal daughter would ask that about her own mother?

"Oh, I guess not. Not, like, on the first date. Like, she may be a little reluctant to let you fuck her there. I think dad, like, tried it and she yelled at him for weeks. I'd stick with the pussy, if I were you, but so make up for it with my ass as soon as you get the chance." She giggled. "Like, I'd better get back to my room. We wouldn't want mom to see us like this, would we?"

Then she reached out, peeled the tissue off my dick, and encouraged by the noises of Dolores pounding the mint for the cocktails in the kitchen, calmly dropped to her knees and swallowed my dick. I gasped, but after a few moments of exquisite sucking, she stood up and wiped her mouth.

"Mmm, so that's what my mom tastes like. Kinda cool, don't you think?"

I was speechless. She just giggled again, and kissed me on the lips. "Please keep going, Uncle Bob. Creepy Alvin couldn't get it up, which is why mom ditched him. You gotta show her why you're the number one fuck-buddy in the Southern States. I hope you don't have to be up early tomorrow, 'cuz you like, need to be up my mom all night!" She giggled again saucily and skipped off down the hall to her room.

I closed the door again, then took a few minutes to shower the sweat, pussy juices and cum off my skin, splashing on a little expensive cologne I found in the bathroom. (I guessed this was left over from when Alvin was visiting regularly). A quick peek into the drawers near the bed revealed some lube, massage oil and vibrators. Excellent. I climbed onto the enormous bed and waited.

By the bedside was a picture of Dolores and Stacey. I picked it up to examine it more closely. In some ways they were so alike – the turned-up nose, the long, slender neck, the wide, generous mouth (very generous in Stacey's case) – but in other ways very unalike. Stacey's fine pale hair was so different from her mom's rich, dark mane. Stacey's eyes were baby blue, which I guessed she got from Michael, as Dolores had dark, soulful brown eyes. And perhaps, as Stacey got older, her tits would grow bigger and her butt would round out like her mom's. I hoped not, as her skinniness was one of her most attractive features as far as I was concerned. But if she did, there were worse people to look like than Dolores.

Dolores returned, handed me the cocktail and climbed onto the bed beside me. It wasn't the best Mojito I'd ever had – a little sweet for my tastes – but still it was pretty good. Dolores looked at the picture I was holding.

"Very pretty, don't you think?"

"Which one?" I quipped. She gave me a look, unsure of whether I was being facetious or complimentary. "Dolores, I think you are two of the most beautiful women I've ever met. Really. Stacey is so angelic, so lovely. But then as you know, I'm totally biased where that little girl is concerned. And her mom is hot, hot, hot – as she's just proven to me. And if I'm lucky, she might prove it again!"

"Bob, I never know when to take you seriously. To be honest, I used to think you were an asshole, just like your brother. But every time I said something uncomplimentary about you, Stacey would leap to your defense. It seems my daughter idolizes you, and though I don't always agree with her, she's a pretty shrewd judge of who the good guys and the bad guys are. So I got to thinking that maybe you couldn't be such an asshole after all."

"Gee, thanks Dolores. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Bob, can you be serious for once? What I'm trying to say – and I don't say this very often – is that I was wrong about you. Very wrong. Every time Stacey and I get to talk, your name comes up. It's always 'Oh, me and Uncle Bob did this, and it was so cool', or 'Oh Uncle Bob took me here, or gave me that, or showed me this, and it was, like, awesome'." We both chuckled at her impression of her daughter's mode of speech.