Uncle Bob Ch. 24

And then I was aware of Stacey, moaning the English equivalent of Monique's words.

"Oh my GOD! OH FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! Oh SHIT that's so fucking DEEP! Oh GOD, my pussy! My poor little PUSSSSSEEEE!"

I looked at Stacey's poor little pussy, and it was certainly very full of a very big cock. There was a lot of liquid in evidence, and yes, Stacey's legs were shaking. And Yves moaned loudly and started a series of what I can only describe as quite brutal, deep thrusts into my baby's cunt. She screamed, he moaned, she was kicking in every direction and he was holding her hips as they both let out some other-worldly noises.

I looked down at Monique, covered in perspiration, collapsed on the bed and panting. Stacey threw her head back and moaned "Oh fuck that was good!" Yves was grinning. I felt it had been a very successful evening. And I hadn't even drunk my Armagnac.

*****

As our plane soared over the South Pacific late the next afternoon, and we were enjoying our first Champagne of the flight, Stacey leaned over and took my arm.

"Uncle Bob, that was the best - the absolute best of all bests!"

"Er, to what are you referring, baby? The wedding, the honeymoon, the Champagne we're drinking, getting fucked by Yves last night?"

"All of it, Uncle Bob. It was freaky and kinky and weird and fun and exciting and - and I love you so much!" She leaned closer and kissed me.

"Talking of freaky and kinky, it really is time you stopped calling me 'Uncle Bob'. People are gonna find it a little strange. Especially if you say it when we're having our passports checked."

"OK, but it's kinda hard. Like, I've had nineteen years of calling you Uncle Bob and, like, a week trying to get used to calling you Bob. Or, maybe, Daddy?" She gave me a look that instantly stiffened my dick - but then Stacey seems to be able to do that so easily.

"Please, Stacey, baby, have mercy! We're just starting a long flight back to LA. I can't sit here with a boner for eight hours."

"I can jerk you off if you like," she replied with her wicked smile. "Or when they dim the lights, maybe give you a blowjob?"

When I was a freshman at college, one of the guys got hold of DVD - remember them? - of an old French soft-porn movie called 'Emmanuelle'. It starred this really hot girl called Sylvia Kristel. In one of the early scenes she gets fucked a couple times on an airplane. Sure, there was probably harder stuff available on the Web, but it was great jerk-off fodder. Maybe Air France in the 1970s was more permissive than Air Tahiti Nui is now, but I couldn't imagine how my wife and I could have sex in flight.

But Stacey could. Sometime after they dimmed the lights, she managed to lie down across my lap, cover herself with a blanket and suck my dick until my eyes popped. I was gritting my teeth, feeling the way her tight throat gripped my dick, the way she worked my cock-head through her gullet, and I - I - I came, giving her an early protein breakfast.

Airplane bathrooms are cramped and, frankly, squalid, even in business class, so the best I could offer Stacey in return was a prolonged finger-fuck and clit rub. And yes, she came, with a finger up her ass and another on her clit, biting my shoulder to stifle her moans. (It took around 24 hours for the teeth-marks to subside). So we didn't exactly become members of the Mile-High Club, but we at least filled in the application forms.

Back in LA, life resumed - well, not exactly as before. Somehow, being married caused a slight shift in my relationship with Hannah and Amy-Beth. Yes, pussy and ass were still on offer, but I found that I craved it a little less, and spent a lot more time with my wife than with the other girls. Work became more intense - the gravy train of my earlier apps started to dry up, and Luis and I had to work pretty hard, together with Brad and his team in Florida, to create some new revenue streams. We were fine, financially, but I couldn't just sit back and let the money roll in as I'd hoped.

So sometimes, I'd be too busy to take care of Stacey's needs, and more than once she asked me if she could go have a threesome with Hannah and Martin, or sometimes a girl-on-girl session with Amy-Beth, when I was stuck working late with Luis. And also, once or twice, I had a hot brown girl or a cute goth interrupt my workday with a spontaneous blowjob or an invitation to explore other cavities - which, more often than not, I accepted. But the wild, hedonistic orgies we used to have tended to become less frequent as all three couples living in our house began to realize that love meant staying more faithful to your partner.

And for Stacey and me, that's cool. Sure, when we go back to Florida, we'll hook up with Barbie and Craig, and we'll both get our brains fucked out. And we'll spend some time with Dolores and Josh, and - who knows - we may have a foursome. But, see, I'm happy with just Stacey; totally happy with, like, my awesome wife, as she might say. We've had a year of insane sexual adventures, with each other and with other people, and now - now, most of the time, I just want to love my wife, emotionally and physically. I've been privileged to enjoy the delights of some seriously hot babes in this past year, but Stacey's still the one who can simultaneously make my dick stiff and my heart melt.

And isn't that what being in love is about?