Uncle Bob Ch. 15

I think the plan had been that I fuck their asses alternately, as I had with their pussies, but I soon realized that this probably wouldn't work. Stacey was the uncrowned but undisputed Queen of Sodomy (probably one of the places that Trump would brand a 'shithole country') and could take -- and enjoy -- the sensation of my cock being withdrawn and then energetically thrust back into her ass. However, Hannah had had anal sex only once before, and her tight little asshole was not yet adequately accustomed to such robust treatment. So I stuck with her, gently exploring and expanding that well-lubed and very sensitive bore-hole while Stacey kept a vibrator gainfully employed on Hannah's clit. The good-old Uncle Bob patent anal-fucking technique came to the fore, with a lot of back-stroke tugging on Hannah's sensitive ring, regular lube top-ups and a lot of filthy talk to the sweet little teen impaled increasingly-deeply on my heavily-stimulated dick. And fortunately, the excitement and unfamiliarity of the experience, together with the clit stimulation, got her off pretty quickly, and I was able to withdraw, very carefully, from her pulsing lust-tunnel (the other orifice being her 'love tunnel') to invade my slut-angel in a more energetic manner.

And it wasn't long before Stacey was moaning and thrashing around, driving her own tight and well-lubed ass back onto my cock as I was thrusting in. Fuck, if I'd won the lottery and could pay the greatest AI minds in the world to design me the horniest and most insatiable sex robot, I doubt it would have the stamina and sheer fucking raunchiness of my slut-princess. Sure, she'd fucked other guys, but she always came back -- and I do mean came -- to her dear uncle, offered her tight slutty ass to me and no-one else, demanded (and received) a high level of varied and inventive sexual encounters and got off every time, doing things that drove me crazy with lust -- and infinite amounts of love.

Every time her ass cheeks smacked into my hipbones; every time she squeezed her ass even tighter as she pulled the other way; every time she gasped "oh my fucking God, your fucking cock is so HUGE in my slutty little whore ass"; every time I felt that lovely, tight, muscular tube throb around my dick as she came -- all I could think about was how much I loved this little girl. And when I lay, exhausted, between two beautiful, cute teens, my slut-princess turned to me with my cum leaking from her expanded asshole, snuggled her pretty face into my neck, then looked up at me with those gorgeous baby blues and said "I love you, Uncle Bob. I love you so much!"

Nearly two weeks after we'd exposed her ongoing relationship with Josh, Dolores called Stacey. It had taken her long enough, and I really began to wonder about her relationship with her daughter if fucking Josh was that important to her.

"OK, sweetie, I know I've been a lying bitch. I don't like the word, but that's what I've been. And I'm really, really, sorry."

"Yes, Mom, you have. And a slut who fucks a guy young enough to be your son. So why are you calling me?" I could sense that Stacey wasn't in a forgiving mood.

"Look, Stacey, I really just wanted to apologize, and to offer an olive branch."

"So you've dumped Josh?"

"Well, no. In fact, part of what I wanted to say was that I felt it was time to be honest. Yes, I like Josh. He's getting to be very good in bed. I enjoy the sex we have together. And although I'm older, that doesn't mean I don't have strong sexual needs -- very much as you were insistent on telling me you do."

"Are you enjoying it as much as when you were fucking Uncle Bob?" Stacey winked at me.

"Sure, Bob was good, I admit. But I need a little variety."

"Mom, I liked it when Uncle Bob was fucking you. We were so a family back then. Uncle Bob loves me. He shows me that every time we're together." Actually, I was hoping that she didn't mention how I showed her, and in what ways we got together -- sometimes extremely closely together. "I'm not sure I could handle being with you if Josh was there too."

"I understand, honey. But I'd really like us to be friends again -- you and me. I miss you so much. So I thought we might go on a little trip together to see if we can make it up."

"A trip? Where?"

"I have a business meeting in Chicago next week. I need to be there to present a proposal, and then go back a week later for a follow up and contract negotiation. I thought that maybe we could fly up there together. I could have my meetings, but instead of flying home, we could spend the week together. Maybe I could hire a car and drive out to the Lakes. We could see the sights and spend some quality time. Or we could just go shopping; it's about time I treated my daughter to something nice. Maybe I could buy you some things for college? What do you say?"

Stacey thought for a moment, which surprised me. The thought of shopping normally gained her full attention. "Can Hannah come too? Like, she knows Chicago and she could show us around."

Dolores paused, clearly thinking. "Honey, I just wanted it to be you and me; you know, mom and daughter spending some quality time together."

"We can do that with Hannah there. She can maybe go and see some of her folks who're still living out at Ann Arbor, while we have a few days on our own. Only she's my best friend, and I'd like you to get to know her as well."

"Well, OK. She can come too."

"Wonderful. And when you book rooms, could you please book one for you and one for me and Hannah. Only, like, we're very close."

The silence at the other end was very noticeable.

"O -- OK. If -- if that's what you want. So you and Hannah... you're..."

"Yes, Mom, we're lovers. We so have hot sex together. We're not, like, full-on lesbians, but we do love each other."

There were times when I'd wondered how to shut Dolores up when she was being particularly unpleasant, but telling her that her daughter was having a sexual relationship with another young woman wasn't one I'd thought of. It was, however, definitely better than informing her that the same daughter was having a very sexual relationship with Dolores's brother-in-law. That might have been received a little differently.

"I -- I -- er, OK. I'll -- I'll make the arrangements. My meeting is on Thursday. Will you -- will you both be able to come to my house -- to come home -- around 1pm on Wednesday so I can drive us all to the airport?"

So on Wednesday lunchtime, I gave my two cuties a very passionate farewell. Actually, a lot of the passion had already happened, as we'd spent a couple of hours in bed together that morning. Both girls were aware that they were about to spend, as Hannah surprisingly put it, 'a week without cock'. "Me and Stacey are so gonna miss getting fucked. It's lovely to eat pussy and get licked, but since New York, I kinda need a hard cock now and then. Specifically, Uncle Bob, your hard cock. Those boys in Europe didn't really do for me what you do, and even when Stacey's using a vibrator or a dildo in me, it's not the same as having you between my legs."

"Yeah, Hannah's right, Uncle Bob. We're just two horny sluts that need a lot of fucking, and you, like, do that the best. So I guess we have time for one each. Do you want our pussies or our asses?"

It took maybe an hour to eat and fuck two deliciously-wet pussies, in a range of different positions, and to get both girls to come. This time I decided, contrary to my normal instincts, to give the girls a joint facial. When I see porn movies, and a guy pulls out of a girl's pussy, ass or throat and then jerks off over her face -- and, as you can tell, I've seen a few of these -- I always think 'what a fucking waste'. Sure, it's nice to see a pretty girl's face covered in cum, but if it were me, I would always, always rather deliver my seed inside a hot, wet woman-hole. Fuck, I can jerk off -- and have, repeatedly -- any time I want, but if I have a horny babe (or in this case, two horny babes) in front of me, that means I have six -- count them -- wet holes to choose from, as well as a smooth channel between Hannah's full tits. When my dick starts to throb, it always feel better if it's engulfed within some area of woman-flesh. Fuck, I mean even a tit job or hand-job, executed by a sexy woman, is better than jerking yourself off. So why do so many porn movies end in this way?

On this particular morning, I told them that I wanted to come on their faces, and they seemed pleased -- even eager -- to indulge me. But I wasn't going to jerk myself off when I had two insanely-hot sluts to get me there. Alternate deep sucks on my cock, some licking of my balls, all interspersed with some very skillful hand-job work from both cuties and I was almost there. Then Stacey took hold of my dick, and the two of them took turns to suck just the head of my cock, passing it back and forth like it was an ice-cream. When I finally groaned that I was cumming, Stacey just held my dick up and jerked me off as I sprayed cum over two upturned, smiling teen faces, tongues out and heads tipped back. When I'd finally pumped my last, and could take no more, I looked down and saw two sweet little girls -- girls that I had utterly perverted -- exchanging my sperm. I felt depraved -- and very, very happy. (They insisted that I take a picture of them together like that).

And then they cleaned up, dressed, and I loaded two suitcases into the trunk of Stacey's car before, following some more passionate kisses and hugs -- they were gone.

So what were my options now? Well, the latest app needed a few extra features. That might take me two or three days. I could hit the dojo and the gym, maybe head for Rocky's and try to sit in with the band -- and see if I could get laid again. Oh, and I could edit the 'Bob and Stacey and Hannah Too' porn videos, which would've been difficult to do earlier with both girls hanging around the house -- given that I still hadn't told either of them that I was recording our sessions.

I naturally prioritized -- and spent the rest of Wednesday doing the editing. I had to jerk off twice. Fuck, those movies were so hot it was a surprise the cameras hadn't melted. By the time I'd finished, I had about three hours of mega-hot porn featuring myself and two teen sluts -- and it was nearly midnight.

On Thursday and Friday, I applied a little discipline, made the updates to the app and ran the test suite. I'd actually already anticipated most of the features the customer wanted, and I'd developed quite a lot of the core functionality before I'd sold the app, but with the features switched off. (Always good to keep some features in reserve). All it really needed was some attention to the UI -- a few more menu options -- one extra minor feature implementing and then running on the Apple and Android test rigs I'd built, and we were largely there. I had a Windows PC version that needed some more work, as the UI was so different, but that could wait a day or two.

So on Saturday, I hit the gym first thing and spent nearly two hours with my body reminding me of the exercises I really should have been doing a lot more frequently. Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending on how you look at it -- the exercises I had been doing mostly involved my abs and glutes, as they worked hard, thrusting my dick repeatedly into a selection of wet female orifices. (Unfortunately, there was no equipment at the gym to simulate this, or even to develop my tongue muscles). So after working up a real sweat, I showered and headed to the Starbucks behind the mall for a coffee.

I was waiting in line to get served when a voice from behind me said "Hey, Bob. How are you?"

It was Barbie. I was really pleased to see her. I mean, who wouldn't be pleased to see a babe like Barbie?

"Hey, I'm good -- really good. You?"

"Yeah, good thanks." She gave me one of her smiles that always stiffened my dick.

"Hey, can I get you a coffee? They're just serving the guy two in front of me."

"Sure. A Cappuccino? Tall, skinny, please." Tall and skinny wasn't how I'd describe Barbie -- medium and deliciously curved I thought -- but if that was how she took her coffee, that was fine by me.

"Cool. Do you have time to stop for a few minutes?"

"Yeah. I need to be back at work in maybe a half hour, but it'd be good to catch up."

"OK. Find us a table outside and I'll bring the coffee out to you."

I got served, added some half-and-half to my own 'venti' Americano, and I was heading out into the sunshine when I heard some shouting. As I stepped outside, I saw a very big guy glaring at Barbie and yelling.

"Bitch! Whore! How long have you been fucking him, you slut! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

I guessed immediately that this was Dean. He looked like a troll out of some Peter Jackson movie. He was standing by a heavy table, his back to me. Barbie was on the other side, I guess you could say 'cowering' and looking worried.

"Look, Dean, calm down. I told you it was over between us weeks ago. It was you, cheating on me, remember?"

People were staring. One or two had started to video what was happening.

Then, suddenly, Dean grabbed a chair and threw it at Barbie. The crowd gasped, but no-one moved to help. Barbie held up her arms to ward off the large and dangerous missile, but one of the legs hit her in the face and she staggered backwards. I could see blood. Dean started to move around the table.

"When I've finished with you, you filthy slut, no-one's gonna want to fuck you ever again!"

Looking around, I couldn't see anyone else moving. Most of them had backed away, not wanting to get involved, so I had to act quickly. I moved closer, then yelled "Hey, asshole!"

Dean turned toward me -- obviously recognizing his real name. His upper arm was bigger than most guys' thighs. He had close-cropped hair and a very nasty expression on his brutish face. I couldn't see what Barbie had ever found attractive about him.

He was looking straight at me when I flipped the plastic lid and threw the contents of the cappuccino cup. It hit him straight in the face. Starbucks make their coffees hot, but this was only about half liquid and half foam, so it wouldn't have burned as much as the venti Americano that struck his right arm a second later. He screamed in pain. In turning toward me, he'd left himself off-balance, so when I side-kicked his knee as hard as I could, his leg went out from under him and he crashed down -- on top of the scalded arm. As he reached out a hand to try to push himself back up, I stomped on his fingers. I guess I may have broken one or two. He let out another howl of pain and rolled onto his back, clutching his face.

There was a bottle of water on a nearby table, abandoned by its owner as she'd jumped away to avoid the impending violence. I grabbed it and poured it liberally over his face and arm. I didn't want to see even Dean permanently scarred. He was ugly enough already.

"Yay! Way to go, man!" someone yelled.

"Call 911," I yelled back. "Paramedics and cops. This lady needs attention, and so will the asshole who attacked her."

I hurried over to Barbie, who was clutching her head. There was blood everywhere. I could see cuts on her arms and a nasty gash on her cheekbone. The chair-leg had narrowly missed her eye.

"Hey, gimme that water," I said to a kid at a nearby table with a bottle in front of him.

"Get your own," he replied, with a sulky tone.

"I don't ask twice. Unless you want to be like him," I nodded to Dean, still groaning on the ground, "gimme the fucking water!"

With a sneer, he threw the water bottle toward me. I grabbed a handful of napkins and started washing the blood off Barbie's face and arm.

"Thanks, Bob," she said, shakily. "Dean's really nasty when he's angry. Hey, watch out, I think he's getting up."

I stepped back, and almost absently stamped hard on Dean's foot, which was sideways to the ground. He howled again. I hoped that I'd broken some more bones. If not -- shit -- sooner or later he was gonna get to his feet, and I guessed that even with one working hand he could still smash a chair over my skull. I glanced up. We were just twenty yards from the sex-shop where Barbie worked. I guessed I could barricade Barbie and me inside until the cops came. Or...

"Hey, Barbie, hold this on your face for a moment. I have to do something, urgently." I left her with the bundle of wet napkins, trying to stop the bleeding, and ran as fast as I could to the sex shop. I ignored the girl behind the desk, headed straight for the BDSM section I'd seen when last in there with Stacey, and grabbed a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs off the rack. I pulled a twenty from my back pocket and threw it in the direction of the cashier, who looked pretty shocked, then charged back to the scene. Carefully circling a still-moaning Dean, who was clutching his damaged hand to his scalded face, I dropped down quickly to the foot I'd stamped on. The handcuffs only just clicked closed around his ankle, but before he could figure what was happening, the other cuff was fastened around the leg of the heavy table. I guessed that, mean as he was, even Dean would struggle to attack me while dragging furniture behind him.

Several people in the crowd applauded, but I ignored them. A closer look at Barbie's wounds showed that one or two were quite nasty. Head wounds always look rather spectacular; the face bleeds a lot more than most people realize, but I was concerned about the cut to her cheek. I was carefully trying to peel away the layers of wet napkin from around the wound when the first paramedic arrived. As he rushed up to treat her -- and guys, who wouldn't rush to help a babe like Barbie? -- she said "Craig! Please tell Craig what's happened."

"Er, where's your phone?"

"In -- in my bag. He's on speed-dial. The security code's 696969." Of course it was.

"Hello?"

"Hey Craig. I'm Bob -- a friend of Barbie's. She's just been attacked by Dean outside her shop today and she's been hurt."

"What? I'll bust his ass..."

"Listen, Craig, this is important. The paramedics are with her and she'll be OK. Just a moment..."

I turned to the medic. "I guess you'll be taking her in for treatment? Those cuts look like they'll need suturing or stitching."

"Yeah. What did the son-of-a-bitch do to her?"

"Threw a chair, and threatened to do worse."

I returned to the phone call with Craig. "OK, so she has some bad cuts, and they're taking her to the hospital. Why don't you head on down there now and be with her. She's a little shaken but she'll call you again when she's on her way."

"Thanks, man," Craig said, and rang off.

I returned my attention to Barbie and the medic. "How's it going?"

The medic had worked quickly, taping a dressing over the cut on Barbie's face, and applying another to the ones on her arm. "Sure, I've nearly finished with this lady. She's being very brave." He was clearly trying to impress her.

"Good, because your co-worker may need some help. The son-of-a-bitch who attacked her is in a bad way. He'll have major scalding on his face and arm, possibly some broken fingers and maybe injuries to his knee and foot. But he's not the most co-operative of guys."

"Sure, I'll go take a look. Did you do that to him?" I nodded. "You don't fuck about, do you? Shit, most guys would've run a mile from a big, mean asshole like that. Respect, man!"

"Thanks, buddy. I had the element of surprise and two very hot coffees to help. And I can't stand to see a guy hurt a girl."

He turned to Barbie. "Will you be OK for a moment while I see what state the ass... er, your assailant is in?"

"Sure," Barbie said, a little unsteadily. The medic headed over to where Dean still lay groaning on the ground.