Uncle Ed's Lap (5 page)

“Ow, ow, ow,” I chanted, bucking like the horses we always saw at the fair.

“Behave!”

“I am behaving,” I shouted, crying for real now. Dripping tears off my nose, down my face, tasting them with my tongue before they could drop.

“No. You're not. And because you're not, we're going bareback.”

“Bare—”

But then I understood because he was pulling off my panties. My thin, cheap panties! But thin or cheap, no matter, they were in fact my only barrier. And now they were gone.

Two fingers this time dipped into the well of my pussy. Stroked me until I let out little sighs like I was dying or slowly deflating. One or the other. “Oh, god, yes, just like that. Just like tha—”

Blow eight, rocked my spine. Teeth of pain sinking into my buttock where bare flesh now met bare flesh. He let it register. Let the pain really rev up and then he landed nine. I didn't caterwaul this time. This pain was too real, too toothy, instead I bit my tongue and fell backwards into the white hot agony blossoming on my bottom.

Nine, ten, eleven. He had gone from scolding to crooning as my body shook with his blows. My head would toss back and I'd make a small sound in my throat, half grunt, half moan, but I didn't carry on. “Such a good, brave girl. Good, brave, strong girl.” He sighed out the words. Dropped them on the smooth skin of my back like kisses. He gave me everything I wanted from him. Approval, love, kindness. “Final one, Fiona. Twelve,” he whispered.

Twelve
, I said in my head. Only to myself. I refused to say anything out loud because I did not trust my voice at all.

Uncle Ed pushed me on the bed, face down. His lips traveled every inch of skin he had just tortured. His tongue and fingers gentle and soothing as he kissed it better, smoothed it better. I pushed up to meet his touch and let the tears leak out of my eyes and douse my white sheets. He pushed two pillows under my hipsone, two, plump and clean. He slipped his fingers into me, pressing and thrusting until an orgasm swelled inside of me and I cried out, losing my ability for silence.

“There you go, good girl.” He said. His zipper sounded like a gunshot, his belt like the Liberty bell. The slide of his jeans over his skin sounded like a freight train. Every sense I had was ratcheted up to huge. I let him part me, my body limp and loose and willing. He slipped himself inside of me as effortlessly as his fingers. Slow even strokes as he fucked me, fingers biting into my hips, holding me still so he could bang into me with a pounding rhythm that matched my heart. He rode me, me draped over the hill of pillows as his fingers plucked at my searing skin. He palmed the welts, pushed the bruises, milking fresh jolts of pain as he fucked me deeper. The pain morphed and twisted into pleasure until my fingers tangled in the slatted headboard so I could hang on. I rose up and back to meet him, begging him to go deeper, harder.

“Touch yourself for me, Fiona. Come with me. Be my good little girl. Listen to your uncle, now.” He said it all in his warm lilting caramel voice. I shoved one hand under me, taking ever blow of his hard dick that he delivered. I circled my clit, thumping with my pulse until something in him broke and he howled in the small quiet room, his hand gripping at my ass, my back, my thigh like he was drowning. He clutched at me and I pinched my clit, coming with him, tensing up around him, my pussy sucking his cock dry as he emptied into me.

He lay flush atop me and we heard the birds in the pear tree again. His heartbeat kept time with mine, the sweat cooling on our skin.

“They see the fox,” I said softly, running my fingers though the dark hair on his arm, tracing the sun whitened scar on his skin.

“What fox? There's no fox brave enough to run around here in the day time. We're kind of in the city, love.”

“I've seen it.” My eyes started to drift and I got sleepier when he started to pet the throbbing marks on my bottom. It felt so good now that it was over. I wondered what it would look like. Would I bruise? I wanted to get up and check but I was too boneless and sleepy.

“You're crazy,” he said, kissing the back of my neck. “I'll make us some food. You rest. That takes a lot out of you.”

And it had. “I've seen it,” I said again.

“You're crazy,” he repeated. He shut the bedroom door gently.

“Like a fox,” I said to no one.

The rest of the afternoon we worked in the garden. The thunderstorm passed and the air was a tiny bit cooler. Not much, but enough that we could trim and yank and weed. All the things I adored doing in the overgrown back yard. It took me half the afternoon to find the stone angel in the back section by the gazebo. My shower before lunch was long gone and gnats hovered close to my sweaty skin drawn by the salt on my brow.

“Ah, you found her. She always was your favorite thing out here. We have pictures of you inside, as a little girl, having a tea party with the angel.”

I traced her face with my fingertips. Black from time and rain and weather, she was still gorgeous. Her right hand held and open flower that could be filled with bird seed. I dug in my pockets, coming up empty. Uncle Ed handed me a coin. I turned it over in my hand and checked out the year. 1989. I was freshly nine when the coin had been minted. I put it in her hand and smiled. “There you go.”

“Why did you always do that? Leave her coins?” He came in closer, into the overgrown cover of ivy and small dogwoods, wild flowers and vines. No one could see us back here. Not yet. Not until we got the clippers and dragged off about sixty pound of foliage.

I shrugged, even as he wrapped me in his arms from behind. His thumbs ran sweeping arcs over my nipples and they spiked through the worn dark fabric of my tee. I hummed in my throat at the good feeling of it all and then answered. “It just seemed like a nice thing to do. Like giving a friend a piece of candy.”

“Then why didn't you leave her candy?”

“Bugs,” I laughed.

“Ah. Smart girl.” I felt the subtle shift as his cock came to life, pressing hard and ready to the crack of my ass.

I pushed back, touched the knuckles as he continued to sweep his fingers over my nipples until my belly buzzed with warmth. “That feels good.” I turned in the circle of his arms, kissed him, my toes the only part of my feet touching the ground. A mosquito dive bombed me, buzzing like a fighter plane and he swatted it away. Uncle Ed kissed my lips, my temple, licking the salt off the tip of my nose, pushing at my brand new terry cloth shorts. We staggered back, my back and hips hitting the weathered wood of the gazebo.

“Have you really thought of staying?” he asked. He scooped me up in his arms to carry me up the steps and I squealed at leaving earth so suddenly. Pressing his lips to mine he said, “Shh, we don't want to be found. How would we explain? How would I explain? I am supposed to be the sane adult here. Not the niece fucker.”

I tangled my hands in his hair, yanking sweaty clumps so he hissed against my lips. “Even if the niece wants the fucking? Deserves the spanking? Even if she begs for it?” I asked. “And yes.”

“Yes?” He'd forgotten with all my bad language.

“Yes, I've thought of staying.”

“And you want it?”

“I do.” He set me on my feet and I tugged at his chinos. I wrestled the buttons and popped them all with a brutal tug. I dropped to my knees and slid his boxers to his big tan ankles. I took his cock in my mouth and sucked him hard, inhaling the heady woody scent of him. The smells of summer and forest and green growth. Sweat and cotton and man. I licked the rosy head of his cock, lapping at a gem of pre-come so perfectly shiny I had to smile. “Pretty,” I said and traced my tongue down the back of his dick, feeling the vein beating against my tongue and feeling the tom-tom beat of want in my cunt answer his blood flow.

“Come up here, Fiona,” he sounded desperate.

I sucked the head, jacking the slick length with my fist until he gasped. “No.”

“Come on, come up here.”

I took him all the way in, not caring that I gagged a bit. Not caring that I did not seem gentile. I took him all the way in until his cock and the smell of him filled my entire throat so that all I could breathe was him. His hand settled on my throat, squeezing gently and my pussy roiled with a huge gush of wetness. My cunt seized up like I was going to come and the pleasure was inexplicably big in me. It forced me to pull back and breathe though and he got his way, catching my hands up in his and pulling me up to him.

“You really are a terrible listener sometimes,” he said, pulling my tee up so he could grab my breasts. He pinched my nipples so hard I bit my tongue and little black spots jumped up in my vision.

“Sorry, I just can't help it. I can't...get enough. Of you,” I confessed.

The belt came off with a whisking snap and he walked me back again. My shorts snagged on the wood and he got rid of them. He didn't tell me what to do, he did it. He put my hands above my head and looped his leather belt around them, tugging and buckling it so it bound me to the old, beaten scrolled wood. This time he dropped to his knees. He buried his face at the crossroads of my thighs and my pussy. Parted my nether lips with his fingers and sat back to look at me. He studied the flush landscape of my sex and smiled up at me. “Someone's ready.”

The way he studied me drove me insane. For the most part, I had been with boys. Still learning, unskilled, hurried, desperate boys. They never bothered to look at what they were fucking. Or figure out what felt good for me. Eventually they would, but usually sex was hurried and okay. Sex with uncle Ed was great. Phenomenal. Blissful.

He blew gently on my clit, holding me open. I had never felt more exposed and perfect and beautiful. He blew again and I gasped. Naked but for my tee, legs spread, pussy opened like some exotic flower. He slipped a finger into me and blew again. Then only the tip of his tongue was touching me. A warm wet velvet torture device that he wielded against me. He tickled the tip of his tongue to my clit and my hands beat at each other bound as they were. I could only grapple with myself, so that is what I did.

“Please, Jesus, don't do this.” I tried to move my legs and he held my ankles. He held me at the angle he wanted as he did to me what he wanted. When I stilled the fingers returned to fuck me, a fat bundle of three fingers penetrating me, slamming me so that I felt the bite of splinters in my ass. I tried to open wider for him. Impossible. But I think if I could have turned myself inside out for him, I would.

Finally, he gave into to me. Finally, he pushed his mouth, so wet, so wanted to my cunt and licked me. Alternating strokes so that I sobbed and begged and promised him everything but the moon. Or maybe I did. I fucked against his face, thrusting my hips with no shame. Screw being shamed, it felt too good. I ground my pussy to his face until I heard him sucking deep breaths of air before going back to fuck me with his tongue, lick me until I babbled. He sounded like a diver going down in the deep. I wanted to touch him but couldn't, my shoulders screamed with pain but the agony only amped up the delight.

I came, whispering over and over, “Please, please, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” It was like a drum beat in my head.

He stood. “Shush, Fiona, they'll hear.” He kissed me and his face was smeared with me. Juices painted his face like war paint and I licked anything I could get, my legs climbing up his thighs, feet first in a frenzied jerky desperate attack. Anything to get him to sink into me.

The thought of
them
seeing only made it that much better. That much dirtier. That fucking good.

He grabbed my legs, hooking them around his hips, sliding the head of his cock along the slit of me. I pictured myself scarlet and soaked, opening for his hard rod. Sucking him into my body like some beautiful monster. It was really about eating his cock up with another part of myself, wasn't it? He speared me, fast and hard and I froze, back sliding along the splintery wood, pieces piercing me like some bizarre coming of age ceremony.

“Okay?”

“God, yes,” I sighed, biting into his shoulder because it was all I could reach. But he grunted in my ear, a sound more animal than man and started to fuck me with the jerky off-beat rhythm of a man barely hanging on.

“You taste like watermelon and lavender,” he laughed. “You taste like youth and laughter and perfection, Fiona,” he said in my ear.

I was whispering words. What words I do not know. Everything he said to me made me feel lighter, more perfect, adored.

“You taste like sunshine and ice cream and stubbornness.”

His fingers pinched and bit into my ass where it was still so bruised and tender that breathing on it made it sing. I yelped, my pussy squeezing him, the echoes of goodness rolling up from my pelvis to my belly to my breasts until I felt full of light. I was going to come. Hard.

“You taste like clean sheets and green grass and fresh cucumbers.” He was gasping now. I kissed more of me off his face. I licked his stubbled chin, nibbled his jaw, ran the flat of my tongue up his cheek. He groaned.

I grew tighter still.

“You taste like goodness and delight, Fiona.”

“Yes,” I said because it was all I could think to say. “Yes,” I echoed myself.

He froze, eyes locked with mine. Lips brushing mine, fingers digging into my skin as he balanced me there. His cock deep inside my pulsing cunt. “You taste like home,” he said and covered my mouth with his. He thrust hard, going stiff, emptying into me while the wet rush of my orgasm rose like floodwaters until I swore I was drowning. Drowning in my pleasure, drowning in him, drowning in us.

When he let me down I winced, my back full of wood and bits of the gazebo I picniced on as a child. “I love you,” I said, not afraid to say it anymore. “I always have, only now it's a different kind of love.”

“I know. Me, too. A different kind of love for sure.” He pecked me on the nose. “Run up to the house, we have to take care of that back of yours. I'll be there in a moment.”

I turned to look on my way back. Saw him standing over a small stone he had placed by the angel. It was for aunt Carole. My heart kind of tilted sideways but I saw him clear it off and then smile. It was a real smile. It looked like real happiness.