I heard Aunt Cheryl calling my name, and I opened my eyes, wiping the sleep away with my fists. She was standing by the bed in her whites, ready for a day at the women's clinic in town. Her hair was pinned back and bunned, and, she still wasn't wearing makeup. She had a radiant glow in her cheeks and eyes which seemed almost immoral on a woman pushing thirty.
"What time is it?" I asked, partly enmeshed in a weird dream about Daddy and Uncle Bill double-teaming me. I was sorry when the dream began to fade and the light of day flooded into my eyes.
"Eight o'clock," she said. "Would you like to have breakfast with us, or would you rather sleep a little longer? I think Kim will be over about ten, though." She smiled. "We get up with the chickens and go to bed with the cows here in the country."
Seemed like a bestial combo to me, but I suppressed the urge to giggle. I threw back the covers and lay stretching on the bed, wearing only my panties. My body slid over the sheets I'd warmed with my natural head during the night.
Aunt Cheryl looked down at me. I drew back my fists, yawning, and my tits just seemed to arch forward of their own will. The nipples were stiff. They usually are when I've awakened from a night of sweet sexy dreams.
"Oh," I said, "the morning air smells so crisp and clear and good! Back home I'd be coughing out the exhaust fumes and the fragrance of Lake Erie. God! I never knew air could taste so good!" I sat up, slid my legs over the edge of the bed. Aunt Cheryl was maybe two feet from me, and I saw her fingers curl, as if she were trying not to make a fist but couldn't quite hold back the urge. God, I thought suddenly, does she know what happened last night? Did Uncle Bill get some kind of confessional urge this morning and tell her all the dirty details? No. That couldn't be it. She didn't seem angry. It was just the way she looked at me.
I stood up. "Better get dressed," I said. "Unless you go in for naked breakfasts." It was a funny idea, and I laughed. Aunt Cheryl's face got red. Her eyes narrowed. I saw her lips flutter, too, and then the tip of her tongue, showing between her soft pink lips, tongue moving slowly from side to side. "Would you grab some clean panties?" I asked her. "They're in my suitcase. I didn't bother putting my stuff in the drawers last night. Doesn't matter which ones. Pink is fine," and by that time I'd stepped out of my last night's panties and I stood naked by the bed. Aunt Cheryl came toward me, holding out the pink bikinis, and I took them with a smile, but she wasn't looking at my eyes, her gaze was turned downward. I followed her direction and realized she was looking at my puff of golden-haired beaver fuzz. Hadn't she ever seen a natural blonde before?
Suddenly her eyes lifted and I was looking at her. She looked away, her cheeks flushing. "I, uh, I'd better get down and see about the coffee," she said. "I don't want it to boil over." And with the click of heels she was out the door. It sounded as if she were running down the stairs. Jesus, I thought, what's with her? It was like she was afraid to be here in the room with me! Am I that scary? Have I turned into Frankenstein overnight? There was a full moon. Christ, what if I'm Larry Talbot's younger sister and never knew it? I turned, saw myself in the mirror, and the only hair on my face was a wisp of gold that had fallen across my forehead. I brushed it back and tilted my head to one side. Nope, I thought, same old Elizabeth Jo Ashcraft, golden, glowing, bright as a new penny and prettier than a hundred dollar bill. I swept my hair back, let it fall onto my shoulders, down across the coral-red ends of my tits. It tickled, touching my nipples, and I felt that old familiar oozy tingle between my legs. I wished I had time to stretch out on the floor in the morning sunlight and give myself a handjob. There are a couple of better ways to begin a day but neither of them was available to me at the moment.
No, I thought, putting on the pink panties. I'd better just get dressed and eat a nice breakfast with Uncle Bill and Aunt Cheryl, and wave goodbye as she heads off for her job in town. Did anyone want to make book that fifteen minutes later I would not have Uncle Bill's prick in my hot, wet mouth? I smiled at the Elizabeth in the minor, slipped into a shirt, and found a pair of gaucho pants that went well with the shirt. That girl was supposed to come by with the horses this morning, and gauchos seemed appropriate for riding.
I went down to breakfast barefooted; my shirt was only buttoned up about half way. Anyone who wanted could take a peek into my cleavage, and if I moved this way or that, they might get a cheap thrill. I sat down at the table, across from Uncle Bill, and he looked away.
"Good morning," I said lightly. "Isn't this a lovely day? I don't believe I've ever awakened feeling so good." And as I spoke, I lifted my foot under the table and planted my bare wiggling toes directly in his crotch. He didn't look away when I did that. His head snapped around and he glared at me, but I just smiled. My toes pressed into his crotch, tracing the outline of his prick inside his pants. He stirred in his chair, tried to reach under the table and pussy my foot away, but I shoved harder and he gulped. His dick began to harden where I was touching it. I gave him that winning smile again, and Aunt Cheryl was just bringing coffee, ham, and eggs to the table. Uncle Bill made a coughing sound. He didn't look up at her when she put the plate down in front of him.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
I nodded, stirring sugar into my coffee. Everything was just dandy. Uncle Bill was almost stiff in his pants, and my toes danced across the bulging lump of his cock.
Aunt Cheryl sat down, but all she had was coffee and some toast with jelly. She ate fast, and when she was done, she stood up, saying, "I'm running late." First she came around, the table to me and kissed me lightly on the forehead, leaving the memory of her soft wet lips, warm and moist, on my skin. Then, she gave Uncle Bill the same kind of kiss, quick, perfunctory. Yes, I thought, maybe he was telling me the truth last night.
"I've gotta run," she added, going to the door. "See you all later. Be good, both of you." And she smiled, but the smile was directly at me.
My foot slid out of Uncle Bill's crotch and I went to the back door, waving as Aunt Cheryl climbed into her Cherokee and started the engine. The morning sun turned the pine-covered mountainside from green to a breathtaking shade of gold.
Smiling, I turned to Uncle Bill and said, "Well, she's gone. Want to take up where we left off last night?" and I jerked up my shirt, giving him one quick flash of my 36-C tit and its stiff, eager red nipple. I dropped my shirt into place and started toward him, but he was moving off his chair, around the table, walking in a crouch. His crotch was full of hard-on, the hard-on I'd tickled into life with my wiggly toes. Try as he could, he couldn't hide that bulge. I went around the table, headed him off, just oozed all over him, wrapping arms and a leg around his body, rubbing myself hard against him.
"Let's do it," I said. "Right here on the table. We'll just throw the dishes onto the floor and get it on. What do you say?" He didn't answer. I made my tits slide up and down, and the nipples were both erect now, as erect as his prick, punching out the clingy fabric of my shirt. He was dead from the neck down if he didn't feel my nips tickling his body.
"I'm a bitch if I don't get it first thing in the morning," I added, licking his neck and chin. I had one hand in his hair, massaging his scalp, the other stroking his cheek and eyelids. "Just a nasty little bitch the whole day. It's funny but…"
"It's not a Goddamned bit funny, Elizabeth!" he said, pushing me off him. He stood there, drawn back, defensive. He was panting hard as if he'd really been fucking me, not just getting the come-on. He'd panted that way last night, ramming his dick up my snatch. I tilted my head and started to rub my crotch suggestively. He coughed and brushed past me so fucking fast it almost turned me around. Then, he was gone, out the door. I followed, to the doorstep, saw him going into the small outbuilding where he kept his printing equipment. Well, I thought, it's a sad day when the pursuit of the almighty dollar takes precedence over a sweet, tight juicy piece of cunt!
I had another cup of coffee, listened to the radio. Some bubblegum rock music. The signal wasn't too clear and I turned it off, thinking instead of the sang I'd heard Uncle Bill playing on his guitar last night, the words I'd heard him singing. All about leaving a woman who'd grown cold and distant. "Sooner stand in Mother Nature's anger than sleep another lonely night with you." And the feeling he'd put into it. You don't fake that kind of emotion.
He'd let down his guard last night, taken me into the deeper realms of his consciousness. I'd done my best to comfort him, and I do a good job of comforting, but now he wanted to pretend that the whole thing had never happened. Why? I'd told him about me and Daddy, given him to understand that I was not only available, I was more than willing. But still he kept pushing me away.
"Men!" I said aloud. "Who can ever hope to understand the critters?"
He hadn't locked the door of his print shop. I turned the handle and the door opened. He didn't even hear me, for he was engrossed in some copy. I stood in the doorway, watching. Then, I pushed the door shut. He looked up and his eyes had a funny expression. He put down the papers he was holding and he started to say something, but by then I'd already unbuttoned my shirt and dropped it to the floor. I was unhooking my pants as I walked. They slid down my legs and I stepped out of them. All I had on were my pink panties and a beaming smile.
There was a long table, cluttered with sheets of proofs of whatever you call them, and a couple of stacks of paperbacked booklets, tied up with string. I leaned against the table and stared at him without saying a word. He sighed, moved around the printing press, and he came to me.
"Elizabeth," he said.
I just smiled again, and I dropped to my knees before him. One touch of my fingers and his pants were full of hard-on. "See?" I said. "It has sense, even if the rest of you doesn't."
I unzipped him and fought his prick out into the open. My fist closed around it, and he felt so big and firm and manly I couldn't help sighing. I felt the pulsation of his blood, flowing into that man-sized dong, making it stand up big and hard and lusty in my hand. I knew I had to taste it again. I leaned toward him and started licking, all round the knob of Uncle Bill's prick, tasting the sweet morning flavor of his flesh.
"Mmm," I said, "it tastes so Goddamned good!" and with that I fed him into my mouth and started sucking.
He grabbed my head as I started to work on him, and he wasn't fighting now. No, sir! He shoved it to me, pushing hard, filling me with his cock, and if I'd ever met a man who needed a blowjob, well, it was my Uncle Bill. His cock was rampant and savage in my mouth, just the way I like a cock to be. I sucked it avidly, taking it deeply, all the way into my throat. He sighed aloud when I did that and I made my mouth a snug wet fist clutching his manhood. As I worked on him with my mouth, I had my hands in action too, undoing the top of his pants, dragging them down. He had no shorts under his jeans, and immediately I was in my glory, swooping down his rod until my lips grazed his bag of nuts and the tip of him quivered deep inside my throat. He had a big, fat, suckable cock. It wasn't as big or as sweet as Daddy's, but Daddy was thousands of miles away and Uncle Bill's was a delicious substitute. I ate him with gusto, sliding up and down his rigid, quivering length until his knees began to shake.
Then I slid him out of my mouth and licked and kissed and tongued up and down the outer shell of his pecker, nuzzling him, even nipping now and then wit my teeth just for fun.
"You're no amateur," he said, in a thin, hoarse voice as he guided my head. "You know what you're doing, don't you, Elizabeth?"
"I told you I did. And I'm a very truthful girl. Not to mention a great piece of ass. Remember?" And I looked up at him with glittering eyes, while my hands worshiped the stiff phallic bone of his rigid cock. He was jelly in my hands, but the hardest, most responsive jelly. I knew as I looked into his eyes that I could make him do anything I wanted. Anything.
So I stood up then, tits wobbling prettily, the nipples stuck out in vivid, red, kissable tips. I cupped my boobs, bent my head forward and licked at the upper curves. I can suck my own nipples. Did I tell you that? It takes a little strain on the neck muscles, but it feels so narcissistically cunty to have your own nipple all hot and tingly inside your lips. Daddy used to love to watch me do it.
I just teased with my tongue this time, licking toward my nip, straining, not quite reaching it. My fingers squeezed the base of the nipple, made it stick out further, redder, more inviting. I looked up at Uncle Bill. Was he getting the message? He was! He grabbed my tits, fed one into his mouth and started using his lips and tongue and teeth on it, sucking like a starving baby. I giggled and wrapped my arms around his head. He squeezed my tits together so he could lick from one nip to the other in the shortest possible time, and he sucked me and sometimes he'd raise his face and our lips would meet, and it was interesting indeed, the way he kissed. Still a hint of reserve when our lips met, but I worked at him with my tongue and gradually he began to melt a little, and then it was more like kissing. And you know how that is.
His hand slid down my belly, into my panties. His fingers moved almost nervously across my skin but I was soft and yielding and his fingers pushed past the waistband onto the puff of my cunt. My blonde beaver was full of his fingers, and he was finding my slit, stroking it, testing the smooth pink crack with his fingertip. I leaned back against the edge of the table, legs spreading as he got into the caress part of it. His finger slid over my clit and I whined, and the same finger, I think, parted my tight labes and entered me in a quick fleeting penetration. My pussy snapped at the intruder and my head eased back even more.
"I want you to eat me now," I said. "Get down there and suck my pussy. Please?"
His finger seemed to hesitate where it was in me, and then it popped out of my hole. I thought for a moment I'd been too direct, maybe, that I'd scared him, but instead, my frown turned to a smile. Uncle Bill grabbed at my waistband and slid the panties halfway down my thighs. I hopped up onto the edge of the table. It was cool against my bare ass, and there were papers and magazines and all kinds of shit blocking my way. I just shoved, and I saw a bound-up stack of paper-covered booklets go scudding over the edge of the table. They hit the floor with a thud. The cord loosened and the booklets went flying across the floor. I hoped he wouldn't have to print them all over again, but I didn't care if they were damaged, because he was already on his knees, leaning into my cunt, spreading my thighs with his firm, strong hands. His nose touched my pubic fur and then his tongue brushed my slit and I said, "Whooooohhhhh!!!" It felt good.
His fingers slid up my thighs, onto my pubic bun, and he opened me wide, so wide it made my labes tingle with a kind of hurting. His tongue slipped inside and he started licking me from clit to hole and back again. It felt good, not as good as when Daddy did it to me, but Daddy was older than Uncle Bill, and Daddy had had a lot of practice. He knew how to turn me on, no two ways about it. Uncle Bill would have time to learn. I'd be here fill next spring. Mmm, I thought, feeling his tongue play around the slick tight mouth of my twat. This will brighten those cold Colorado winters, a roaring fire and my legs wrapped around his head, or a bearskin rug spread out in front of the fireplace and both of us going to town.
What about Aunt Cheryl? Well, if she was half as cold as Uncle Bill described her probably she wouldn't mind at all. Funny, though. She didn't seem cold. I mean, she seemed like a friendly, open person. Maybe I just didn't know much about frigid women. Maybe that warm smile masked a glacier-like interior. What the hell did I care? Uncle Bill was nuzzling in my pussy, and he was giving me a man-sized eating, the way he'd given me a man sized cock to suck on. He even chewed on my pussy lips, a little too hard, the way I liked it, the way Daddy used to eat me, and I wondered, giggling, if they'd learned their art practicing on the same cunt. No, not likely. Daddy was so much older. Well, Uncle Bill and Daddy did have one cunt in common – besides the one they'd both entered the world from, I mean. They had mine too, now. I closed my legs around his neck and squeezed his neck while he sucked the juices from my hole. His tongue kept going into me, deeper and deeper, pulling out now and then as if he were exhausted from his efforts and had to catch a breath. Mmm, I wanted to kiss him, wanted to rub my mouth all over his and eat the sweet juicy fragrance of my snatch from his lips! That was one of my favorite parts of it, with Daddy – oh, shit, everything was my favorite with Daddy! And I'd thought I might have to spend almost a year without that kind of supercharged, man-sized loving! No way, baby! No fucking way! I'd come here yesterday, I'd swallowed his cum in my mouth last night, and this morning Uncle Bill was feasting on my gash. It could only get better and better.
I could feel a come boiling in my guts, a hot sweet come, and I saw no reason to hold it back. Uncle Bill wormed hungrily into my pussy and I started to smear his face with my orgasmic juices. My cunt was bumping him again and again, thrusting itself sluttishly toward the wiggle of his tongue, and I said, "Ooohhh, make me cream, make me, make me commmmmmmmme!!!" But he was already doing that, and if he couldn't feel it, couldn't taste it, he'd been without a woman way, way too long!
My body rocked six or seven times and I had to hang onto his head. I knocked some more things off the table as I thrashed around. "Eat me," I told Uncle Bill in a hot, tense voice. "Eat me up!"
It subsided, the way orgasms have to do. You can't come forever. Though, God knows, there are times when you'd like to. This wasn't one of the spectacular climaxes of my life, I have to admit, but like someone used to say, "Cheap thrills are better than no thrills at all." Mostly I was just proving to myself that I could do it, that I could make Uncle Bill come down off his high horse and get to the fun part of life. There was no reason we shouldn't, and his reluctance was the only thing in our way. As his tongue made its last swirl over the cleft of my cunt, though, I knew that he'd be hard-pressed to come up with a viable no the next time I put some action on him. Or maybe I wouldn't have to initiate it. Maybe the next time, he'd come sniffing up to me. Mmm. I might play hard to get, in that case, start him panting and begging, then smother him in snatch!
"Come up here," I told him, wiping my moist lips. "I want to lick your mouth and then I want to lick your cock."
We kissed, and I tasted me all over him. I have a nice-tasting pussy. At least, the juices it leaves on other people's faces taste nice. Maybe I'm too self-centered, but it's a fun way to be, especially if you get your own way as often as I do. And I'd gotten my own way this morning, gotten it in a big way. Uncle Bill slid closer, and I was licking all around his mouth, and my hand just made automatically for the bone of his rigid prick. It slithered into my fist, thrusting where I held him, and our tongues dueled a few moments longer, back and forth from mouth to mouth. Then he stood up tall and flushed, holding his shirttail out of the way while I used my hands on his rampant cock.
"It looks good enough to eat," I said, staring down at the fat swollen head of him, red and bubbling out one tiny little ooze of creamy white cum. I squeezed, the bubble grew bigger, and I scooped it up with my finger. As he watched, I brought it to my mouth, licked it like a gourmet testing the 1959 Chablis at some swank restaurant.
"It is good enough to eat," I told him. "And I think I'm going to – oh, shit!"
From where I sat, I could see out the window, down toward the county road. And there, at the foot of Uncle Bill's driveway, coming up the dirt track, was a girl on a slow-walking horse. Behind her trailed another horse, saddled; she guided it with the bridle. I couldn't see her dearly, for the window was a little dirty, but I knew it was the neighbor Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Bill had asked to befriend me. Of all the fucking times for her to show up!
Uncle Bill turned around too, and he made a groaning sound as he said, "It's Kim," but by then I'd eased off the table and was on my knees before him. I fed his cock into my mouth, and I sucked that Goddamned thing, sucked it like a wolf gobbling up fresh-killed venison. No one, but no one, makes Elizabeth Jo stop when she's in the mood and, God, was I in the mood! I ate his pecker, ate it fast and eager as he told me, "Hurry, Elizabeth! Hurry!"
The distance from house to county road was at least five hundred yards, uphill. How fast could a horse walk uphill? Two horses? I had to have time. I'd make time. I sucked up and down Uncle Bill, and I grabbed his nuts, gave them a wringing squeeze that made him wail in a high, crooning voice. He came, his jism flooding into my mouth in a torrent, and I sucked it up, ate it all, swallowed and gulped and felt the sticky cum oozing from my lips even though I was doing the best I could. I sucked until his cock went soft in my mouth. I let him go then. A sticky trail of cum connected him to me as his cock left my mouth. I broke the spidery web with my fingers, licked them dry, and eased back.
"Well, it gets better," I said, reaching for my shirt and gauchos. Uncle Bill pulled up his pants and buttoned and zipped, and I was busy getting dressed too.
Just as I finished buttoning my shirt I heard a voice outside calling, "Anyone home?"
We went out the door, me and Uncle Bill. The girl was sitting on her horse. "Hello," she said, smiling. "You must be Elizabeth."
"Uh," Uncle Bill said, a little hoarse, "Elizabeth, this is Kim Barton. I see you brought Duke for Elizabeth to ride. That's a good idea. He's a gentle horse," he added, to me, his hand on my shoulder. "Good for a beginner."
"Hi, there, Duke. And hi, Kim."
She was beautiful. I mean, when did you ever see an ugly Oriental girl, for one thing? Her hair was long and dark; her skin was the color of faded ivory and her eyes were black and almond-shaped. She had a small nose and a small chin. It was hard to tell her size, but she looked about five feet tall or a little more, maybe ninety-five pounds or so. She was wearing a shirt that clung nicely around her very small but very round tits, and a pair of jeans that molded the slim curves of her hips and legs. There was an air of fragility to her, as if she were some delicate piece of porcelain, but at the same time she looked healthy and fresh and interesting. I'd never met a Vietnamese person before. My only hope was that she didn't want to talk about the war. Like everyone else, I'm sick of the war and talking about it.
"I'd better get my boots." I said, pointing down at my bare toes. "And for your information, Uncle Bill, I'm not quite a beginner. I've done a lot of riding in my time. And my time hasn't passed yet." I winked, quickly, privately, and left him and Kim gossiping about neighborhood matters while I ran inside to get my boots and give myself a quick scrub with a washcloth.
Uncle Bill came around to help me up into the saddle, he said, but I knew that his real intention was to grab a quick, cheap feel. "I don't need any help," I said, swinging into the stirrup and up. "See you later, Uncle Bill," I added, taking the bridle. I squeezed my legs on Duke's sides and a little thrill passed through me. My pussy was taut against the saddle. Polyester gauchos and nylon panties did little to muffle me against the feelings. And there really is a sexy kick to being astride a horse. You don't know that, maybe, but if you have a teenaged daughter, ask her. She might tell you. Or she might not. We young ladies have to keep a few secrets, after all.
"Let's go riding," I told Kim.
"Well, okay," she said. "From up there…" she pointed to the pine-covered mountainside, "…you can see for miles. Think you're up to the trip?"
"I'm up to anything," I answered with a smile that was mostly directed at Uncle Bill. "Hang in there," I told him, "and print all kinds of good stuff while we're gone. Come on, Duke. It feels good to be on a horse again, Kim. I hope we don't turn out to not like each other, because this is fun already. Let's go."
And Uncle Bill stood in the backyard watching as Kim and I guided our horses up the rising slope of the land, making for the edge of the pines, a half mile or more ahead of us. Duke moved slowly, a little too slowly for my taste, but the feel of him between my legs was enriching and I found myself squatting tighter onto the saddle, rubbing myself around on the smooth leather.
"Show me the way," I told Kim. "I'm a stranger here and I don't know the lay of the land."
"You'll probably learn it," she said, looking over her shoulder at me. "You might even become it."
I blinked. She was giving me a bright, white-toothed smile, and there was a glittering in her dark Oriental eyes.
Nmmm, I thought, something tells me Kim and I may share a few wave-lengths.