Uncle Bob Ch. 18

"Fuck our butts! Fuck our butts!" they started chanting. Shit, there's only so much a guy can take. I grabbed the lube and went in for the kill.

Well, that is, I pulled Stacey's plug out - she squealed and wriggled - and slid my heavily-lubed cock into the open hole. She squirmed and hollered and let out a stream of obscenities that were also probably illegal in Louisiana as I drilled deeper and deeper. I was fucking merciless. And Stacey was loving it.

"Girls, play with each other's pussies," I gasped as I plunged in deep for maybe the tenth time.

"Uncle Bob, my turn, pleeeease!" Hannah pleaded.

So I pulled out - Stacey squealed 'Oh fuck!' - then I pulled out Hannah's plug and slid into her deliciously tight hole. And the next ten minutes involved me making maybe a dozen thrusts inside one of two asses, then switching to the other. And I held a buzzing butt-plug in one hand to stimulate the ass I wasn't currently fucking.

I finally came when I felt Hannah's ass pulsing around my cock. Stacey had, I believed, already come at least once, so I felt perfectly entitled to fill her brown friend's brown hole with my jizz. Hannah seemed delighted about it. Stacey, however, insisted that I lick and finger her to another orgasm before she would allow us to collapse into a post-orgasmic sleep.

We got up late, showered, breakfasted and set off mid-morning. We'd stopped only briefly for coffee around 11:30, and I'd had the girls make some sandwiches for lunch. I ate at the wheel, cruise control engaged and my mind freewheeling, still remembering the previous night's fun. Around 2pm, I heard them singing and playing music in the back, and it sounded good. Maybe forty-five minutes later, the music stopped. Soon after, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of two girls making out. It was quite a distraction, hearing moans and squeals and obscenities wafting through the air as my two cute teens pleasured each other.

And then, maybe a half hour later, Hannah appeared behind me. She was naked and covered in a sheen of perspiration. I would've begged for her to go down on me as I drove, but she said "Hey Uncle Bob, Stacey and me made out in back, and now Stacey says she needs your cock. Could you, like, pull over? And if she's getting some, could you please make sure there's some left over for me afterwards?"

I found a place to pull off the road, and as soon as I'd killed the engine, I jumped up and headed to the rear of the RV. Stacey saw me, and she had a kind of pleading look in her eyes as she lay back and spread her legs.

"Please, Uncle Bob. I need you now," she said in a voice that reminded me of the sweet kid I'd looked after for so many years.

My shorts and t-shirt were on the floor before I even knew it, and a moment later, I was between Stacey's long, skinny legs and then, gloriously, balls-deep in her sweet, ultra-wet pussy. She let out a long, high moan and threw her head back. Moments later, I was moving inside her, and she'd wrapped her legs around me, and her arms were on my shoulders, and we were gazing into each other's eyes.

This wasn't the hard, frantic fucking we'd experienced lately. It was completely different than the dirty ass-fuck we'd enjoyed the night before. My movements were slow, measured, intended to maximize pleasure but keep us both just short of orgasm.

"I love you, Uncle Bob. I - I just needed you inside me. I'm gonna miss this so much."

I almost choked on the emotion. Like Stacey, I was suddenly consumed with love, wanting nothing more than to give exquisite pleasure to my beautiful princess. I slid in and out of her oh-so-wet pussy, rising and falling in that silky saddle so I could carefully make as much contact as I could with her g-spot and her clit. When her head went back and she let out a beautiful, long musical note of pure pleasure, and I could feel the tight tube I was enjoying give a little shudder of orgasm, I felt like a king. I kissed her, hugged her tightly and prepared for my own release.

But my baby was crying.

"Hey, what's wrong, sweetie?"

"Oh, Uncle Bob. How's it gonna be good at college if you're not there?"

"Baby, you'll be OK. You have Hannah, and you'll find it'll all be new and exciting."

"But Uncle Bob, I've, like, never been without you. I always knew you were there to catch me if I fell. But now you'll be so far away."

"Sweetie, you went around Europe, just you and Hannah, and I was even farther away."

"Sure, but that was, like, three weeks. Now you'll be thousands of miles away for, like, ever! I'm kinda excited about college, but being without you totally sucks."

"Baby, I feel so proud that you're saying that. I'm going to miss you so much, too. I'm dreading going home and finding you not there. But do like you did in school. Call or WhatsApp me every day. We can do Skype calls if you'd like. Even ones like we did when we first started making out. And Hannah's going to be there. She'll keep you warm at night."

"Uncle Bob, could you, like, keep me warm right now?" I turned my head and there was Hannah, naked, beautiful, sitting opposite the bed, legs wide open, playing with her pussy.

I dragged my eyes away from that horny sight and looked into my angel's face. She smiled and nodded. I felt that, as we'd just made romantic love, I needed to ask her permission before fucking her best friend. She instinctively knew what I was asking. So I slowly slid out of her, and Hannah joined us on the bed. We kissed - all three of us - hugged and caressed. Hannah lay back and Stacey moved her lips from Hannah's warm and, as I'd previously experienced, very welcoming mouth to her prominent dark-brown nipples.

Hannah looked at me with her big, soulful brown eyes. "Please?" she said in a soft, plaintive voice. And she spread her legs wide. I ran my fingers along that open and very wet slit, and watched her eyelids flutter. She let out a long sigh. Then she whispered "Please, Uncle Bob. Now?"

I lifted her legs so her knees were beside her breasts. Stacey moved back and watched as I settled between Hannah's long, shapely legs and slowly slid in. My sweet brown friend let out a long "Aaaaaah!" as I filled her. And then Stacey, knowing instinctively what to do, slid her hand between us and began rubbing her friend's clit, then lay alongside us, kissing both of us in turn.

Hannah's tight little pussy felt even tighter as she lay, spread and helpless beneath me, and I came, pretty explosively, as her smooth thighs rippled and her body twitched, just a few minutes later. The three of us just collapsed in a warm, loving huddle on the bed.

"I love you, Uncle Bob," Hannah breathed.

"And so do I," Stacey added.

"Babies, I love you both, to the Moon and back. And that was delightful. But now we need to get back on the road. Why don't you two have some more fun while I drive?"

I finally got up, quickly cleaned myself of residual semen and lots of pussy-juice, pulled on my shorts and got back behind the wheel. I felt very loved-up but also a little anxious.

I was worried about the next stage of our journey. Florida has a lot of "Guns 'n' Ammo" shops, but the intensity of Texas gun culture scares me shitless. Knowing that almost everyone I saw probably had a concealed weapon was worrying. To be there with two rather vulnerable cuties, one of whom wasn't white, added to my unease. I was trying to get them through what I saw as "AR-15 Alley" before some asshole decided that maybe Hannah was the wrong color or Stacey looked too cute not to rape.

See, I don't like guns. Guns have only one purpose - killing. You can see what guns have done to our wildlife; buffalo, passenger pigeons, trumpeter swans, wolves, bars, California condors - they've all suffered in one way or another. But the number of people - including children - killed every year in the USA is appalling. There were more gun deaths in Texas the previous year than in El Salvador, one of the most violent countries in the World, and I didn't want any of us to be another fucking statistic, so although it was probably paranoia on my part, I drove as far and as fast as I could.

But Texas is big, and by the evening we'd only reached San Antonio, so I decided to stay the night in or near the city if I could. We - of course - visited the Alamo, but I've always been a little cynical about that little episode of our glorious history. If you look behind the legend you find that Bowie, Crockett, Travers and co were initially all out for personal gain and to annex a bunch of land that at the time belonged to Mexico and continue to benefit from the slavery that Mexico had made illegal. Still, I guess it's a nice, inspiring story to tell kids; as long as they're not then sacrificing the kids' lives to the guns that some fuckwits like to carry around them to convince themselves they're the natural descendants of those alleged patriots.

We found a busy Tex-Mex place, enjoyed the fresh guacamole and some nice tacos, and returned to our RV without incident. There then ensued a face-sitting competition, in which Stacey and Hannah took turns to see which one could come quickest from being eaten out and finger-fucked by good ol' Uncle Bob. There was also some encouragement for me; whoever wasn't being eaten at the time took the opportunity to eat me, and Stacey eventually got the sperm supper, after each of them had taken the face-ride at least three times.

The next day, I started us early to beat the traffic and we were well into New Mexico by late afternoon. I was all for ordering take-out and eating Chinese in the RV, but the girls were getting pissed at having had no chance to get out all day, so I reluctantly stopped outside a diner at a little town on the highway, only to find it was closed for some family event. Rather than drive, we walked a few blocks and found a place that was open and looked OK. The girls were drinking shakes and I was enjoying a beer as we waited for our food when four young men came in and sat in the booth opposite us. One of them had a hunting knife strapped to his leg, and what appeared to be a gun holster on his belt at the back. I didn't know whether 'open carry' was allowed in New Mexico, but this looked threatening enough.

At first, they just starred in our direction. Then our food arrived, and as we were eating, they started to make a few comments.

"Do you like hot dogs, baby? Would you like a taste of mine?"

"Ignore them," I said.

Stacey sucked on the straw of her milkshake.

"Hey baby, how 'bout I give you a protein shake?"

I turned to the assholes. "While you're waiting for your food, would you like to try swallowing your teeth? Leave the girls alone."

"Hey, old man, don't go threatening us. We're just having some fun."

I was about to reply when Stacey turned to them and said "Look, will whichever of you has control of the brain cell today please lead the other three out of this restaurant and let us finish our meal in peace?" And she smiled, sweetly.

I was waiting to see how they'd react when the owner came over. He was a big guy, with tattoos up both arms. And holding a meat-cleaver. He moved between our table and the assholes. "OK, I've told you boys before to leave my customers alone. You've had your chance. Get out."

"It's OK, Frank, we're just having some fun," one of them whined.

"And spoiling the fun of everyone else. Out! Now!"

They got up, and as one of them went past, he shoved hard into Frank's none too trim belly. And instantly regretted it, as he found his arm pulled up tight behind his back and the blade of the cleaver against his neck.

"Don't fuck with me, sonny. I killed harder - and better - men than you in Iraq. Now fuck off outta here. I don't ever want to see your sorry asses again. If I do, it'll force me to decide between the cleaver and my AR, and I don't like making hard decisions."

When they'd left, Frank turned to me. "Sorry folks. Those sumbitches are always causing trouble. Now, can I maybe get some ice creams for the ladies - on the house?"

So we relaxed, the girls had ice creams and I had a coffee, we paid the check, thanked Frank, and headed back to the RV. We'd gone just 2 blocks when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I leaned back and put my arm up to block the blow. The baseball bat hit my forearm and was deflected up. It hurt like fuck, but not as much as if it had hit me in the face. Reflexes from years at the dojo got me launching a roundhouse kick, that caught Batboy in the side, just below his kidney, and took him out of the fight for a while.

But meanwhile, the boy from the diner had stepped out from around the corner, wielding the big hunting knife. I turned to the girls, who were just behind me, and was about to tell them to run in the opposite direction when I saw the other two assholes from the diner approaching from behind us. Knife boy - let's call him Slash - and Batboy, who looked a little pissed after receiving my kick, blocked the sidewalk ahead of us. Shit. One against four. And they were armed.

I looked around for a weapon. I'd hoped that Batboy would've dropped the bat after my kick, but he still held it. At the end of the block, beside where I was standing, there was a parking lot where they'd been waiting for us, with some low picket fence along the sidewalk. Clearly some lazy fucker who was too fat to walk around had broken the section nearest the wall of the building beside us, and it had been stood up against the wall. Aha! A shield!

I picked up the section of fence and held it in front of me. It was about four feet long by about two feet high, and one of uprights had been broken off and lay on the ground. Just a piece of wood with some rusty nails sticking out. I grabbed it. I now had a weapon.

But it was still one against four. I could tell the girls to call the cops, but I'd probably be dead before they arrived. We were too far up the street to get help from Frank and his AR-15, so I had to deal with these assholes myself, and fast.

Batboy took another swing at me, but I blocked with my makeshift shield while swinging my impromptu club underneath and upwards. The two rusty nails protruding from the end hit him in the crotch. Now he really had something to be pissed about. As he folded, I pulled my club back and slammed him in the face with the section of fence. The bat dropped to the ground, and I quickly kicked it behind me, hoping the girls would pick it up. Normally, I'd have been keeping an eye on them, but I had Slash to deal with, and I was worried that he may have a gun as well as the knife.

He went into the classic knife-fighter pose, crouched forward, knife at the ready. I feigned a swing with my piece of wood, and with him distracted, rammed the fence section into his face. He went down and I was able to stamp on his balls before kicking the knife away. He rolled over and I saw that what I'd taken as a holster was just a mobile phone case. Good. I stamped on it, pushing him down into the dirt and giving him even more to be pissed about.

I turned, and saw that each of the other two had one of the girls pressed up against the wall. I was about to wade in with my nailed club when the nearest one let out a scream. Stacey had poked him in both eyes with her fingers, and then brought her knee up between his legs. As he crumpled forward, I dropped the fence section and hit him in the thigh with the rusty nails. He screamed again.

Number four backed off, with his arm around Hannah's neck. "Don't come near me, or I'll - AARGH!"

Hannah had sunk her teeth into his forearm, and as she pulled free, I jumped forward and punched him hard in the face.

I looked around. All four of our assailants were moaning and nursing their wounds, but I guessed they'd come back for us soon, and be really pissed. I saw Slash's knife in the road, so I threw my impromptu club and shield away and picked it up, together with the bat. Better I had the weapons than they did. "Girls, run!" I said, and all three of us ran as fast as we could the couple of blocks to where the RV was parked. Within moments I was driving off, taking several unnecessary turns to try to make sure we weren't seen.

My arm hurt like crazy. Stacey had a look and said it seemed to be badly bruised but didn't seem to be broken. How she could have known, I have no idea but I guess I trusted her.

"Uncle Bob, that was scary," Stacey said. "You were amazing!" as she rubbed some cream on the bruise.

"Hey girls, you did well," I replied, trying to ignore the pain. "That was a good trick you used there Stacey."

"Well, you taught me, Uncle Bob." And yes, when she was being bullied at school, in the early days of the divorce, I'd taught Stacey about the finger-in-the-eye trick. She'd used it once, and no-one ever bothered her again. As for the knee-in-the-nuts move, I think she'd worked that out for herself.

And then Hannah was suddenly sobbing. I wanted to hold her, but I was driving, so fortunately Stacey did it for me. "Uncle Bob, I was so scared. They really wanted to hurt us. Shouldn't we - shouldn't we call the cops?"

"Perhaps, but I don't want us to be delayed giving statements, especially if I find out that the officer who arrives is the father of one of those assholes. You never know around here. I'd rather put as much distance between us and them as possible. You never know - it could be us being pulled over for assaulting them."

So I drove, for over three hours, until we'd crossed the State line, all the while watching in the mirror for flashing lights. My arm still hurt, but I reasoned that it could've been worse; much worse. I'd gotten Stacey to make me some coffee, but she'd spent most of the time hugging Hannah, who was clearly traumatized by the whole thing. It was after one before I could pull up for the night, somewhere about thirty miles inside Arizona. I finally crashed on the big bed alongside my two cuties. The adrenaline and caffeine had subsided enough to allow me to sleep.

I awoke the next morning with a huge bruise on my forearm and two cute teens, still asleep but snuggling up to me from either side. It was only around 7:30, but I felt we needed to be on the road. So I carefully got up, started the coffee machine, pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and drove off. Maybe fifteen minutes later, a very sleepy (and very naked) Stacey appeared next to me with a mug of coffee.

"Morning Uncle Bob," she said, after kissing me on the cheek. "Hannah and me'll fix us some juice and cereal. We'll call you when we're ready."

She didn't seem to think to ask why we were on the road so early. I guess that the previous night had scared us all enough to know that we needed to get on with the journey. And I didn't ask why she was naked. I just appreciated it.

We stopped at Winslow, and posed in front of the statues of Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey. (The girls were dressed by then, in case you were wondering). Yeah, it was a cliché, but hey, we all loved the song and it's good that they'd immortalized both the guy who had the idea and the guy who wrote the lyric. And we made a point of having brunch in the nearby diner. The good citizens of Winslow had created the statues to attract custom to somewhere that really had little to commend it, but it seems that most tourists just get a selfie with Jackson and Glenn and then drive off again. We at least provided them with a modest amount of revenue.

And then on, through Flagstaff, to the Grand Canyon. I'd first visited when I was eighteen, but the girls had never seen the place, so I drove to one of the parking lots near the rim but behind a stand of trees, and we walked to the edge. I watched their expressions as the vista came into view.

"Oh. My. God! Awe...Some!" Stacey gasped.

"Totally, totally amazing!" Hannah added.

So it seemed that even one of the most stunning natural spectacles in our great country couldn't improve their vocabulary. Still, I was glad that they were impressed.