Chapter 2: I Meet Andy

Back on the road, my thoughts again turned to Uncle Bert and all he and I shared. The Stevens women were not the only ones we bonked together, for bonking seemed to be Uncle Bert’s favorite past time and it quickly became mine. In fact, I hated going home at the end of each summer. It was like going into a monastery after being with Uncle Bert.

He and I shared other things, too: trips to Europe; a cruise down the Amazon; Bangkok, which I still believe is the most honestly named city in the world; and, many more adventures. Uncle Bert was always teaching me, demanding of me, guiding me, helping me grow in every way. He always did it with love.

Sometime during the drive, I remembered meeting Mary Mathews. She had been one of Uncle Bert’s women, a special woman really. I could not remember meeting Andrea. I got off I-70 in Vail and found Uncle Bert’s house. The place looked like no one had been there in a while. I locked it up, got a cone at Baskins-Robbins in the Crossroads and hit the road again. At Glenwood Springs, I turned north and drove to his ranch house, one of three he left me.

The house was cold and lonely, a vast empty space that seemed foreign and unwelcoming. I had spent fifteen very wonderful and enriching summers there. To be there without him did not seem possible. Since it was cool, even in early June, I built a fire. It was going to be heavy emotional stress going through all his stuff, giving away his clothes, and all the things you do after a loved one dies. I was not looking forward to it.

I puttered some before I remembered his instructions in the note the lawyer gave me. When I called the number, a woman answered.

“This is David Wilson. May I speak to Andy, please?”

“Where are you?” she replied.

“At my Uncle’s house.”

“Stay there. Do not leave.”

She hung up. Strange. It was so curt and impolite. I wondered who the hell Andy was.

I got a beer from the frig and started to rummage through the big desk, looking for things that may be important.

I never heard the door open.

“I have a gun. Do not move.” I froze. It was a woman’s voice.

“Look... “ I said.

“Shut up! You should know I am a crack shot. I have a Colt .38 Police Special. I could take off your left nut without making the right one quiver.”

I grabbed my balls and whimpered involuntarily, thinking of one of my beloved little jewels being blown away. I decided to be very obedient until I figured out what was going on.

“I have money if you want it.” There was no answer. “What do you want?” Still, no answer. I started to turn. I heard the gun being cocked. The hammer being opened and locked in a revolver is a very distinctive sound that is never forgotten. I froze again. I felt something being placed on my shoulder.

“That is a blindfold. Put it on securely, so you can see nothing.” I complied with this unknown assailant.

She said, “I will ask questions. You will answer them quickly and honestly. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“David Wilson ... David Bertram Wilson.”

She began asking a series of personal questions: age, birth place, social security number, relatives, and so on.

“Give me the full name, date of birth and social security number of Bert.” It was a strange question. I thought back two summers when Uncle Bert made me memorize that information. Then, she asked questions that dealt with Bert and me as if she had been prompted by him to seek information only I would know.

Sometime during this interrogation, I realized her voice was no longer the harsh, demanding sound I heard when she first came in. It was a soft, sexy, teasing woman’s voice.

“Walk to the wall,” the voice ordered. Of course, I did.

“Now, strip.”

“What!”

“Do it!” she yelled. I did it.

“Now, the boxers!” Down they went.

“Lean against the wall and spread them!”

I heard her walk up behind me. I felt the cold gun barrel in my back. Then, I felt soft female fingers and the scraping of her nails on the cheek of my bare ass. That made my cock twitch in spite of the situation. She was obviously looking at my tattoo. That was something else Uncle Bert and I did together.

We had been in Denver, getting supplies and taking in a couple of Rockies games. We got plastered one night, went to his favorite whore house and then, got our asses tattooed. His was a skull and cross bones; mine was a rose.

“Cute butt,” she said as she stood up. I heard her step back a few feet.

“OK. I believe you are David. Follow the rest of my instructions and I will release you unharmed. Walk back to the desk, lay down on the floor face up.”

I did. I felt something cold and hard hitting my stomach.

“Those are handcuffs. Put them on your wrists attaching yourself to the table leg.”

Now, this was crazy ... but, I was beginning to believe it was crazy good, not crazy bad. I felt around and found the leg. I attached myself, table leg between my arms. I felt her hand on my ankle, then, the locking of a cuff around it. Quickly, my legs were cuffed together. My prick was that half hard state it gets when your mind is not sure what is going on. It was totally quiet.

Then, I felt her mouth on the end of my cock. She was sucking the cock head, her tongue flicking like a snake’s against the eye. Suddenly, she swallowed me ... deep throated ... in to the balls. I felt her throat muscles massage the head of my cock and her tongue active on the shaft. As quickly, she was gone, leaving my cock suddenly cold from the air.

“No,” I whimpered. Her tongue was in my mouth, a long, hard demanding kiss, her lips soft, her breath hot. When she broke it, I gasped, “What are you doing?” She giggled, a soft, sexy sound like bells ringing ... not church bells ... brothel bells, if you know what I mean.

“I am going to fuck you until you cannot walk. I am going to take my time, enjoying every minute, every touch, every sigh, every twitch of your cock as I bury it somewhere in my body. I am in no hurry. And, you obviously are going nowhere.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the woman of your dreams, the woman who loves you without hesitation or restriction, the women who will do anything for you, will bear your children and devote her life to making you the happiest man in the world.”

“What is your name?”

“No more questions now,” she cooed as her fingers scraped my balls.

I heard a zipper and sounds of clothes being removed.

“You have a magnificent cock,” she said.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Oh, no. Thank you!” she murmured as she lay down on top of me, trapping my cock between her thighs. I felt large, soft breasts against my chest, the nipples hot and hard, like little diamonds against me. She snuggled, her head in the crook of my neck, her breath soft against my skin.

“Would you like to touch me, to feel my breasts, squeeze them, make me whimper in my desire?”

“Yes,” I croaked.

“Would you like to fuck me, burying that huge cock in my pussy, filling me with your cum?”

Migod, her voice was sexy and hot. “Yes,” I moaned envisioning doing just that.

“Later,” she giggled as she tongued my ear. It was not really a year. It just seemed that long as she touched me, caressed me, squirmed her delicious body against mine, letting me feel her softness, her heat. She began kissing me, her tongue and lips teasing me. Finally, she took me in her mouth again. I was so hard I was in agony. I felt my orgasm starting. She felt it, too, pulled her mouth away and squeezed my balls to stop it.

“Please, don’t torture me,” I moaned.

She lay beside me, my cock in her hand as she suckled my nipple. She was quick, slamming her cunt into my face. She was running like a faucet. She mashed her pussy into me, covering my face with her juice, then she was gone.

Chapter 3 »