(As Told By: Uncle Bob's Niece)

Chapter 1

My Uncle Bob is Mama's older brother by six years. Aunt Gaynelle is in between Bob and Mama and then there's Aunt Jean the spoiled rotten brat. She's still the spoiled rotten brat according to Mama and Aunt Gaynelle. She married Senator Johnson whose Mama only named him Senator because she liked the sound of it and they lived in one of the biggest houses in town. The thing had twenty rooms filled with, of all things, Tupperware. Aunt Jean had started collecting the older editions of Tupperware because she thought is was the cutest stuff she had ever seen with her big blue eyes.

Mama and Aunt Gaynelle made fun of her, of course, they were her sisters, but if anyone else had said anything about her, they would have found themselves slapped silly. Every now and then, to keep Mama and Aunt Gaynelle in line, I kindly point out Mama's collection of drift wood that Daddy swears is taking over the whole damn house, and Aunt Gaynelle's collection of dirt which she kept in jars all over the three story brick house she and Uncle Fred had shared for ten years before he had got mad one day and had tossed out twenty jars of her dirt -- some of which she had had since she was kid. She had tossed him out of the house that night and he had moved to some place up north to live with his sister and her three daughters. It's been rumored around town that there are three new baby's in the house; with another one on the way.

Aunt Gaynelle says she wouldn't be surprised if it's true. Any man who couldn't appreciate good dirt had to have something wrong with him somewhere.

This in a round about way brings me to my Uncle Bob. He's a man who appreciates good dirt. Of course, he's a farmer and like all good farmers he prefers to keep his dirt outside in the fields where it does him the most good. He makes a decent living off the fresh strawberries and watermelons he grows every year; not to mention the potatoes and pumpkins. He has other things he carries to market, too, but those are his biggest sellers. And his road side stand he has set up on the side of the road out in front of his house also does good business.

I'm sure the fact that he's never been married, or the fact that he's right handsome with his dark wavy hair that has yet to see gray anywhere, (though it is a little thin on top thanks to the caps he insists on wearing), or the fact that he has long dark eyelashes to match his dark eyes has nothing to do with all the women who flock around the stand all the time. Some of them come almost everyday. They buy things, of course, and I've often wondered how some of them explain to their husbands why they have to have five pounds of strawberries when they had five pounds just last week. The ladies who are single tend to look down on the ones who are attached. They also tend to look daggers at each other. I'm waiting for the day when we have to call for help to stop a free-for-all involving twenty or thirty women.

The other day when he stopped in to see me right before I was getting ready to close down the stand, there were at least ten women vying for his attention. Uncle Bob looked like he was ready to climb under one of the tables -- in spite of the fact that his six feet eight inches would not have fit under any of the tables that he had made for the stand.

After we managed to get rid of the ladies, he handed me a wrapped package that turned out to be a limited edition OMEGA Speedmaster "Snoopy Edition" "Eyes on the Stars" Winding Chronograph watch to celebrate my working with him for the last six years. I've been working at the road side stand since I was ten years old. The watch had cost him a pretty penny and he had decided that it would count toward my birthday coming up next month, too.

I loved Snoopy and I loved my Uncle Bob even more and as I hugged him I told him that was fine by me." I'm not crazy about my birthday coming up anyways and having this early will help me survive whatever your three sisters are hatching up for me."

He laughed. "Can it be any worse than last year's fiasco?"

My Mama and her sister's believe a birthday party should have a theme. Last year's theme had been Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, which had gone okay until a couple Maggie The Cats had gotten into a knock-down-hair-pulling-drag-out over a Big Daddy O, who had happened to be married to the Maggie the Cat he was not kissing behind one of Mama's prized rose bushes. The roses had barely survived the shock, according to Mama, but I hadn't been able to tell much difference in the thing myself.

"This year's theme is Gone With the Wind," I told him. "Hoops skirts and everything."

He groaned. "She knows I hate dressing up in suits."

"At least you ain't having to dress up like Scarlett O'Hara."

"She's making you be Scarlett?"

I nodded. "I'd rather be Rhett Butler."

"Why am I not surprised?" He grinned at me. "Which dress is she gonna' have you wear?"

"Beats me. She and your other two sisters have been arguing over that for a week. They're making my dress, of course, so even when they reach an agreement on the dress it ain't gonna' matter. They'll fight tooth and nails over how it gets made. Daddy made'em take everything over to Gaynelle's."

"Which ever one they choose, I'm sure you'll have every boy there at your feet just like Scarlett." He kissed my forehead and started back to his John Deere "Take'em all a basket of strawberries."

The thing was, I didn't want every boy at my feet. I only wanted Uncle Bob at my feet. One way or another, on my sixteenth birthday, he was going appreciate my soil for a change; a soil that was healthy and fertile; and he was gonna' start planting his seeds. I was not gonna' let'em keep going to waste.

Chapter 2

I pulled into Aunt Gaynelle's drive way and drove down to the house that set back a hundred yards off the road. The five huge oaks that had been there for seventy-five years were as tall as the house and provided the front with plenty of shade. At the back of the house was a swimming pool. The yard itself was a garden full of flowers and dogwoods.

I looked through the back screen door before I entered. My two aunts and Mama were sitting around the glass kitchen table. Mama was wearing denim shorts that came to just above her knees with a blue tank top. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun. Aunt Jean was wearing a bright pink sun dress. Her hair that she kept dyed blonde had been cut into a style I had once seen Princess Di wearing. Aunt Gaynelle had on a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and a bright red blouse. Her spiked hair was as dark as Mama's.

They had several pattern books in front of them and they all looked mad enough to start throwing some of the muffins they were having with their coffee.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.

"Mary-Ellen," Aunt Gaynelle said, "would you please tell your Mama that she is not the only one in this family who knows how to sew?"

Taught to respect and obey my elders, I did as she requested.

"Tell her she's full of shit."

This from the woman who gave me my name because she adores the Waltons. She's so crazy about them, I swear if I had been a boy, I would have been named John-Boy; and had I not been an only child my siblings we would have been saying, Goodnight John-Boy, Goodnight Jim-Bob, Goodnight Erin, and etc. for all our days.

My aunts had two boys a piece. They were already in college, married, or living with their partner. They had had sense enough to move out of state and visit home a couple of times of year, which suited their mamas just fine. They neither one liked the choices their sons had made concerning anything in their lives -- only because their sons did as they damned well-pleased.

With their sons being the pains in the asses they were, (their words; not mine), I had been adopted by my aunts and had become the daughter they had never had. I don't know how Uncle Bob survived the three of them and I understood why he had avoided marriage. He was scared to death he would end up with someone like his sisters.

I gave Mama a look and did as she had asked me to. I then walked over to the quart jar that Aunt Gaynelle kept on the cabinet next to the phone and put in a dollar. If anyone used cuss words in her house they had to pay a dollar for each offensive word. The jar had been empty when I had left Mama there that morning. It was almost full when I dropped in my fine.

"Did ya'll decide which dress I'm wearing?" I asked.

I got three different answers. The same three answers I'd been getting for the last two months. Aunt Jean wanted me to wear a dress like the one Scarlett was wearing in the opening scene of the movie when she's sitting on the front steps of Tara with the Tarleton twins. Aunt Gaynelle wanted me to wear a frock like Scarlett had worn to the picnic at Twin Oaks. Mama wanted me to wear a dress like the one Scarlett had made out of the curtains.

"At the rate ya'll are going, I'm not gonna' have a dress by the time I'm twenty. Why don't you just draw straws?"

They all laughed and Mama said, "Honey, you're going to have three dresses by your birthday. We decided that you could change dresses during the party."

This announcement made me wonder what I had done lately to deserve the punishment of having to wear three dresses on my birthday. I hate dresses and I think it's because of the three women who were smiling at me with all the love they had in the world. I had been like a darn Barbie Doll to them from the day I was born. Fortunately, as I had gotten a bit older, I had cut down on some of their shenanigans, but I knew I was stuck with their plan unless I could come up with an escape of some sort.

I put two of the small baskets of strawberries on the counter by the sink and opened up the fridge for a can of soda. They were all diet. I made a face. "Hey, where did the good stuff go?"

"You need to start watching your figure," Aunt Gaynelle responded.

She and Mama and Jean were all slender, built small, and were all more than a foot shorter than Uncle Bob. I had inherited Daddy's family genes of being big and tall. I only weigh a hundred and twelve and Doctor Graves said that with my being almost six feet tall and having the frame I have I'm fine, but I didn't argue with her. I simply poured myself a glass of milk and grabbed up two of the strawberry muffins from the plate that had been left on the stove.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

I grinned. "Yes, Mam. I only took two instead of my usual three."

"You've been hanging around Bob too much."

"Speaking of whom," Mama cut in. "Did he happen to mention whether or not he's coming to lunch on Sunday?"

"Mama, he always comes to lunch on Sunday."

"I just wanted to make sure something hadn't come up."

I frowned. The last time she had said that, she had invited Gloria Roberts and her divorced niece Sunny to Sunday lunch. Sunny had made herself a nuisance for three months. Calling Uncle Bob at all hours of the day, leaving him erotic messages on his answering machine, and sending him photos of herself that were less than pure. I'm not sure how he had ever managed to get rid of her, but the last I'd heard she had ran off with her brother's wife.

I probably wouldn't be able to learn what Mama was up to, (she was good at covering her tracks), but I could at least warn my beloved uncle that something was up. I could also get myself ready. If I could help it, the only woman Uncle Bob was gonna' have in his bed next was me.

Chapter 3

The next morning I parked my bicycle beside Uncle Bob's back porch and went up to the door. I could see him in the kitchen as he always was, but this morning he was not alone. Vicky Ames had her hands on his bare chest. Her lips were locked with his and she had her body pressed up against his so tight I couldn't have gotten a tissue between them.

Vicky Ames was twice my age and had three kids. She had been widowed for three years. There were rumors that she had killed her husband for his money, but no proof had ever been found and she lived happily bouncing from one man to another.

With wet dreams plaguing me the whole night before, I had not gotten much sleep and seeing her D cup-sized bosom plastered against the man I loved totally pissed me off. Pushing back the oak door hard enough to make it bang against the wall, I said, "I see I'm not the only one horny this morning," and went across the kitchen to the refrigerator.

Uncle Bob guffawed, while Vicky whirled around and shot daggers from her eyes at me. Fortunately, I was as pissed-off as she was and her death wishes for me were neutralized.

Her blouse was unbuttoned and I could see her naked ample breasts. "Have you had another boob-job done? It looks great."

Spewing very unlady-like things out of her mouth at me, she stormed out of the house.

"Mary-Ellen Guthrie, what on earth has gotten into you?" He was trying to be stern with me, but his dark eyes were full of laughter.

I opened the door of the fridge and reached for a normal soda. "Three damned dresses for my birthday, no sleep, and finding my Uncle having sex." I twisted the lid on the drink and it sprayed all over me.

Saying at least twenty dollars worth of curses, I dropped the bottle in the floor and ran to the bathroom.

I was washing my hands and crying when Uncle Bob reached around me and shut off the water. Wrapping his arms around me, he kissed the top of my head and made a face at me in the mirror.

I tried not to grin, but it was hopeless. He always made me smile.

Turning around I leaned my butt up against the oak vanity. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have barged in like that."

He placed his hand on my cheek and brushed my tears with his thumb. "I'm glad you did. She was about to make me burn my biscuits."

I giggled and he pulled me into arms to hug me. He smelled like whatever Vicky had been wearing, but I didn't care and buried my face in his chest.

He kissed the top of my head. "We weren't going to have sex; nor had we had sex. She barged in on me and started taking off her clothes. Not knowing what else to do, outside of slapping her silly, I took her in my arms to keep her from getting totally naked. Then, she went and started that kissing stuff."

"Like this?" I asked, kissing his neck.

He grunted. "Yeah. Like that."

"And like this?" I kissed his shoulder.

He nodded. "I don't know what I would have done if the lady of my heart hadn't barged in and rescued me."

My heart pounding in staccato, I was feeling a bit dizzy and wasn't sure I had heard him correctly, but rather than ask him, I moved my lips back to his neck and kissed him. When he didn't protest, I brushed my lips against his skin and followed my instincts; caressing every inch of him working my way down to his chest.

His encouraging words and moans of pleasure, as much as what I was doing to him, had me aching between my thighs like nothing I'd ever felt before. When Jimmy Wilson and I had necked in his tree house one Sunday afternoon it had been Stars and Stripes, at best. This was the Hallelujah Chorus.

Juices gushing into my panties, I whimpered and began to suck on his left nipple.

He hissed. "My jeans, Baby. Kneel down and undo'em."

I had the zipper half-way down when Mama hollered, "Bob! Mary-Ellen! Where on earth have ya'll gone off to?"

Panicking I started up with the zipper. Unfortunately, several strands of my hair got caught and the thing came to complete stop and refused to budge.

Chapter 4

I quickly ran a brush through my hair and automatically checked Uncle Bob's hack job. Staying calm when my hair had gotten caught in his zipper the morning before, he had hollered at Mama that he would be out in a few minutes and asked her to start making gravy. He had then taken his pocket knife and cut my hair loose and had helped me out the bathroom window.

I had gone around the side of the house and come back through the kitchen door as though I had been out at the barn checking on the horses. Mama had noticed my hair and had immediately set in lecturing me about falling asleep with bubble-gum in my mouth, again and I let her believe that's what had happened.

Pushing my bare feet into my old sneakers, I went downstairs and out the back door to get my bike. I was headed over to Uncle Bob's before church to check on the stray cat who was supposed to be having kittens any time. It was seven-thirty and I had plenty of time before Sunday school.

I didn't bother with going in the house, Uncle Bob always slept in on Sundays 'til nine. He had stopped attending Sunday school when he turned thirty on the basis that if he didn't know what he needed to know by then, he never would.

I found Miss Daisy, a tiger striped beauty, on a bale of hay in the barn. Uncle Bob had made her nest of sorts using an old blanket. She had come up stray a few weeks before and Uncle Bob had let her stay. He never turned down a damsel in distress no matter her origins. The first kitten was making its way into the world. As I stood there watching the miracle of life, my clit began to itch and my juices started flowing into my panties.

Moaning softly, I placed my hand on my crotch and began to gently rub myself. By the time the second kitten arrived, I had pulled my shirt off and was running the fingers of both hands over the curves of my bare breasts. I kneaded them together and pinched my pink erect nipples as I watched Miss Daisy clean the new kitten, while the other one nursed.

As the third one made its way out, I wiggled out of my shorts. My black lace panties were clinging to my damp skin and removing them was a relief. Squeezing my right nipple with my left hand, I trailed the fingers of my right hand down to the raging heat between my thighs.

Gasping and moaning, I knelt and slid my fingers between my wet swollen lips, teasing myself, working my clit and fucking my fingers. I was making quite a bit of noise, but Miss Daisy didn't seem to mind. She just kept giving birth to her babies until the last one popped out. When it did, my body trembled and my walls tightened around my fingers and I cried out Uncle Bob's name as I orgasmed and collapsed on the floor.