Uncle Ed's Lap (4 page)

“Shh. Patience.” He slipped the head of his cock into me and I had to fight not to arch up and make him slide home. I focused on drawing shallow breaths and then he slid a bit farther in. The girth of him stretching me, filling me. The coarse hair on his legs suddenly noticeable. The cinnamon toothpaste one his breath. The sandalwood in his cologne. The fat, thick, perfect length of his hard dick spearing me. I cried. Tears that ran down where the others had already been. I was desperate and a little crazy but I waited. He saw it too. “Good, Fiona. You always were well behaved.”

He thrust into me fast then and my body tensed up with a streak of fear and then an intense rush of warm yellow pleasure. I cried out but he cut it off by yanking the pearls a bit more this time. His body trapping me to the big mattress, his cock pinning me body and soul beneath him. I heard the howl of blood in my ears and the crickets screaming outside. I heard his breath like a freight train and the clock ticking, it sounded like two huge blocks being banged together. I saw colors and the air was thick like mist. My pussy seized up and I sobbed this time. The air almost gone but not quite, his dick almost as deep as I wanted but not quite. My heart not as broken as a few minutes before. All in the hazy blue light of night time.

“Come for me, Fiona,” he said in my ear. He bit my lobe, pulled those pearls and drove into me hard. One hand wedged under me so that he tipped me just enough. I came again. An orgasm that was a long winding ethereal tail of the first. His orgasm nipped close at the heels of mine.

He released my pearl leash, kissed me again. A gentle kiss. A rewarding kiss. Thunder rumbled and I jumped. Lightning cracked the sky, turning the heavens into a periwinkle veined blanket. He curled me to him, his softening cock still inside of me. “You sleep here, sweetheart. I know how you are about storms.”

I didn't argue. Instead I let him unwind the pearls from my neck, tuck me close and then I fell asleep. Faster and sounder than I had in weeks.

Saturday morning's light was dirty. The clear yellow air of late July was hushed by rain. I opened my eyes, confused for a moment. Then realizing I was in uncle's bed, I stretched until I groaned. No sound from the private bath, he had to be downstairs. I smelled rich hints of coffee on the air and something else I couldn't place. It was late, after eleven and I rolled my eyes. Why had he let me sleep so long?

A quick shower and I tied my wet hair, still streaked from beach time before I came to visit, back in a French braid. Cut offs and my Rolling Stones tee seemed perfect for a lazy Saturday. Maybe we could catch a movie or hit the bakery for a coffee and croissant. My body loose and lazy and pleasantly sore, I headed down to the sitting room. Half way down the steps I heard the tinkling laughflirtatious amused female.

I tensed. Then I threw back my shoulders and hustled down the stairs. Uncle Ed was a grown man, he could do what he wanted.

I marched through the front room, blue flowered flip flops smacking out an irate beat as I went. “Good morning, Fiona,” Uncle Ed said as I passed, “You remember”

I didn't let him finish, I kept going. For whatever reason tears had started in my eyes and my throat had apparently shrunk to the diameter of a drinking straw. How could he? How could he be with me and have me sleep there next to him all through the night, his warm breath on my face, his hands on the small of my back, making me feel safe from the storm and then...entertain some common slut in the front room on a Saturday morning. I mean, what kind of man was he?

A man you want.

I slammed the fridge shut, sloshing orange juice into a glass. I slugged it back like a shot of whiskey and almost wished it was. I didn't turn even when I felt him there in the hallway, watching me. “That wasn't very nice, Fiona.”

“Sorry, thirsty,” I said, pouring myself another belt and knocking it back. Where was the tequila? Maybe that would make a refreshing morning beverage.

“Fi.”

“I don't want to meet whoever that is. I don't want her here. I wanted...” But I petered off, not sure of what I wanted, only knowing this wasn't it.

“I've had this appointment for two weeks, sweetheart. I couldn't cancel and I figured you'd just sleep”

“Oh, so you figured I'd never find out!” I turned and orange juice leapt from the lip of the glass over my hand.

“There is nothing to find out. You're being silly.” He came to me then, took my hands. I should've felt comforted, I only felt stupid. I watched his fingers run smoothing circles over my hand, my fingers. “She's here about a scholarship. That's all. Just calm down.”

More tears. And I was powerless to stop them. I willed the floor to open up and swallow me. “I heard that laugh,” I whispered. “That is the flirting laugh,” I said. “I know you boys are stupid, but it is.”

“Stupid?” he laughed then. “You don't think I know that Ruth Mendell is flirting with me? Fiona, she was flirting with me when Carole was still alive.”

“And I'm sure aunt Carole didn't like it either!” I broke free from his grasp. My mind filled with indecent decadent images from the night before. My head buzzed with remembrance of the dizzy high feeling of the pearls cutting off my air, the sinister and sensuous feel of that orgasm as it curled like invisible vines in my cunt and belly.

“Shh. You'll make her uncomfortable. Now grab a coffee and come join us.”

“No.” God help me but I stamped my foot when I said it.

“Yes, Fiona. Do it or you'll be sorry.”

“I won't.” I said, turning my back to him.

“You will,” he said, gripping my arms and turning me by force. His fingers bit into my skin painfully and I winced. He was so much stronger than I was. He stared me in the eye, his denim eyes flashing with anger. “Stop acting like a child and do as I ask.”

“But you wanted to fuck me when I was a child,” I hissed and his hand rocked my head back before my eyes caught the flash of his palm. The slap brought tears to my eyes, I bit my tongue, tasting blood. I heard my own words. “Uncle—”

“Shut up, Fiona. Get your coffee and come out and say hi the way you were taught. Be the young woman I've always been so proud of.” Then he turned and stalked out. His jaw set, tense and angry. His eyes sad and betrayed. I poured my coffee feeling two feet tall and mean to boot. How would I make this up to him? Uncle Ed deserved better.

Ruth Mendell is a stick bug of a woman. Tall and impossibly thin, I swear at time's she's damn near transparent. Her teeth are too big, her eyes are too wide and she laughs like a hyena, in my humble opinion. Despite all of that, she is an attractive package when you fit all of those atrocious bits together.

“Well, look at you, all grown up, Fiona,” she cooed, beaming at my uncle. Was this her version of a screen test? Was she trying out for the starring role as new aunt?

I nodded, sipped my coffee so my mouth had something to do besides spit horrible curses upon her. I sat on the arm of uncle Ed's chair keeping my distance from the dreaded insect. But thinking of her that way made me giggle.

I stopped it with another sip of coffee. Uncle looked up, a smile warring on is face, he patted my leg. mid-way, not high, but still, my body was programmed now and that gentle parental touch still released the water works under my panties, deep between the V of my legs. I squirmed.

“I hear you're going to school very soon?” Ruth said.

Did she have to look so damn happy about it?

I shrugged. “I guess. I was reconsidering the west coast, maybe I'll go to UConn.”

Uncle Ed's hand hesitated on my leg, then patted, then his thumb did an arcing sweep on my inner thigh that Ruth could not see from her angle. “Well, that would be wonderful, wouldn't it Ruth?”

“Well, I...I guess it would.” She gave me a pinched smile and then threw her dangerously sharp shoulder blades back and said. “Let's carry on Edward. I think this is fantastic what you are doing in Carole's memory.”

“What are you doing?” I asked softly.

“A scholarship fund. We had no children of our own and in the event of one us dying, your aunt wanted to fund at least one struggling family to help their son or daughter go to college.”

I felt warm all over. That sounded like my aunt. Always wanting people to be happy. Tears prickled at my eyes and I tried to wipe them away. “Oh, Fiona, you always were the kind to cry at the drop of a hat,” Ruth tsked.

“Why don't you go and get bent?” I asked.

“Fiona,” Uncle Ed said lowly in my ear. It was a warning. I could have stopped there.

“I only meant you're a sensitive type...”

“And what type are you? My guess would be the buggy type.” Then I laughed, so filled with sadness and jealousy and confusion.

Uncle Ed's hand came down with a gentle slap. “That's enough, Fiona, go to your room until I'm done here. “

I stalked off to the wonderful sounds of him placating the irate woman. “I'm sorry. She's really been a bit fragile lately. A lot of confusion, really. School and losing Carole and of course growing up is hard enough, plus I think she has some feelings for someone.”

Someone—yeah, him. I stood on the stairs, eavesdropping. More thunder boomed outside, yet another storm headed our way.

“But you really shouldn't have been so damned condescending, Ruth,” he said and I puffed up with pride. Hell, yeah! Give her what for.

“What? Oh, I didn't mean...”

“Yes, you did, Ruth. You did. We've known each other a long time and I have to tell you up front, I'm not interested. I've got too much in my head and my heart right now to deal with dating. Understood?”

“Well, I—um, yes. Of course, Edward.”

I couldn't help but do a tiny dance on the hardwood steps. My toe caught in the runner and I nearly went down which would have killed me, but it would have been totally worth it to hear him put her in her place like that.

“Let's move on with the plans.” She said and then nothing but the rustling of papers and murmuring.

I tiptoed up to my room and flipped on the TV. I peeked out the window at the darkening sky. The red fox looked up from Mr. John's garden and seemed to grin at me. I waved. It went on about its business, I guess searching for small pests in the vegetable patch. Finally, I saw Ruth trot briskly down the front walk to avoid getting hit by the first spits of rain. She was so fucking skinny I wouldn't have been surprised if she could run between the droplets. “Run, baby, run,” I said to the glass.

My door opened and I jumped. “Oh, hey, I'm so glad she's gone and listen, thanks for”

Then I saw his face and my stomach bottomed out. I felt the familiar buttery flutter of craving in my pussy and I crossed my legs without thinking, like I had to pee. He was pissed. Full-on angry, his face dark and his eyes a surreal storm blue. They had darkened with ire. He sat on the edge of my bed without a word. I was so quiet I heard the bedsprings groan with the sudden weight.

“That was not how you were raised, Fiona.”

“I know but she was just so...” I waved my hands, frustrated. I had no words.

“That's not how a young woman going into a nice college should act. Or one sharing my bed.” The words hung there in the air, it seemed. Refusing to drop through the ether. They hovered between us like invisible but tangible specters.

“I—”

I was scared. My stomach sizzled with nerves, my throat felt small and tight. I worried my fingers together, resisting that urge to clench up my thighs or cross my legs.

“Come over here, young lady,” he said. His voice so soft but full of potential discipline. And worse—disappointment.

“Uncle Ed, I'm so—”

“Now. Take off the shorts. You can leave your panties on. Come on. Do as your told.” He patted his knee and I felt the sinister slide of a tendril of fluid slip from my pussy.

I moaned, fear and craving all mixed together. My body felt trapped by the air, like I was moving through water. I took down my shorts and walked to him with feet that suddenly weighed thousands of pounds each. He took my hand, touched my belly button through my Stones tee. My stomach muscles clamored at his touch. “How many do you think you should get for being so rude and embarrassing me?”

“I...how many what?”

His finger traced an invisible zipper up from my belly button to the hollow between my breasts. “You know, I'm still not at peace with myself over you. Sometimes I get angry at me. Once in a great while at you. You shouldn't feed that fire by being such a brat to the neighbors. They'll start to talk.” That zipper went back down south, from breast bone to belly button, past it. Over the small swell of my lower abdomen to the top of my mound. Scorching cold blips of pleasure. Heat, chill, want, madness, all could be found in that single finger tracing a line on my body. “How many
spanks
do you think, Fiona?”

Flabbergasted, I opened my mouth, closed it. Opened it, closed it. “I don't...um, six?”

He laughed, a good deep belly laugh at that. “Oh, six? You think six will cover that atrocious behavior?”

My face burned with blush and I shifted on my toes. God, I wanted to cross my legs to quell the beating pulse in my wet entrance. But I didn't, because I knew deep down that would not tamp it down, it would only stir it up. “Eight?”

“We'll meet halfway,” he said. “Twelve.”

“Twelve! But that's not meeting half—”

“Want to go for thirteen?” He pulled me over his lap and smoothed his hands over my bottom. I arched into the touch instinctively until his hand came down on my ass. Hard. The crack of the blow hit my ears before I felt the blood rising in my skin. I jumped, letting out a howl.

“Take it like a man, Fiona,” he said softly.

Blow two and three rained down and I jittered over his knee like a broken puppet. “I'm not a man!” I sobbed.

“No, but you can be stoic if you try.” His hands were back to smoothing and one finger wormed under the cotton and elastic of my panties to slide inside of my pussy, swirl in my gushing wetness, flex against my pussy walls until I saw spots because I was holding my breath. My pelvis was warmed with urges and needs, but I waited. Then they came. Four, five, six, seven, like fire dropping from Heaven to land on my skin.