TWO NIGHTS AGO
I was fifteen. I was a virgin.
By the morning of the next day, neither of those statements was true any longer. The first statement became untrue due to the unstoppable progression of the earth around the sun as measured by the Gregorian calendar. As in 'Time and Tide wait for no one.' The actual quotation as I remember it said 'no man' but I changed it to avoid having you think that I'm a male.
The second statement lost its validity when I finally gave in to the equally unstoppable blandishments of Uncle Mike.
Let me explain about Uncle Mike. He wasn't my uncle; he was Mom's uncle, the younger brother of her father, Grandpa Ed. Mike was a change-of-life baby, born when Grandpa Ed was already twenty-five years old, married with a baby. Mike, technically her uncle, was actually a year younger than my Mom.
Mike lived with my parents and me in a separate wing of our mansion. When I use that word, mansion, I do not mean the type of McMansion favored by the nouveau riche; I mean a real mansion passed down through the generations by those with old money, the Robber Baron types whose blood runs out through my pussy for a few days every month for the past few years.
And Mike had been trying to get into that pussy, an action more often referred to as 'getting into my panties', for many months.
(For the record, I look like my Mom and she is really sexy. I could picture boys falling all over themselves to get into her panties. Some of the boys at school referred to her as 'table pussy'. She actually modeled panties for magazines, television commercials and print ads. Her tits were a bit small to model bras but she was otherwise perfect to be a runway model. At five foot eight, she was two inches taller than I, but besides that, we were like identical twins. If that means that I'm calling myself beautiful, I surely am, but don't blame me. Blame maryjane, she's the one who wrote this story.)
Though he has a separate wing, Uncle Mike spent most of his non-working hours in our side of the home, eating meals, watching television and all that other stuff. And that included my hopping onto his lap to watch TV or for him to read me a story when I was still a little girl. And I was much too young to be interested in sex when I began to feel a hardness in his lap as we snuggled, though at first I didn't even know what it meant.
Then one day Mom told me that it wasn't appropriate for a growing young girl to sit in her Uncle's lap 'like that' and I dutifully stopped. At that point, Mike stopped any attempts to hold me or touch me but soon his comments changed, especially when we were alone. He no longer called me pretty but changed the compliment to beautiful. My 'cute little sit-upon' morphed into a 'great ass'. He began to ask me about boys and ultimately suggested that I tell him 'how far I had gone' with them.
The answer to that was 'nowhere' but I refused to respond. By then I had figured that he wanted my cherry and I was having a great time teasing him. Girls do that, you know, getting a guy excited without even trying to do so and then sending him off to presumably masturbate in the privacy of bedroom or bathroom.
But deep down I knew that one day I would surrender my virginity, and frankly I had gotten jealous of my friends' bragging about it. It turned out to be a Tuesday evening. Of course I had planned a Sweet Sixteen birthday party, but that wouldn't take place until the following weekend. My parents were out somewhere and I was home alone with Uncle Mike. We were watching television, some tired reruns of an inane situation comedy.
"This is stupid, Uncle Mike. Why don't we watch something else?"
"Wanna watch something grown up? After all, you're gonna be an old lady, sixteen years old tomorrow, remember?"
Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the clicker and changed the station to a pay channel showing adult films. You know, the type marked AO, meaning adults only. No surprise, I had the same channels on the TV in my bedroom, and I watched them when I played with myself. For all practical purposes, they could have been rated as an R or sometimes even as a PG. The viewer got to see plenty of bare tit, just a hint of shaven pussy and lots of bare ass but no assholes, of both genders. They never showed cock. The fucking could just as well have been faked for the films never showed the couple coupled. A large part of the sex was doggy style, hiding the cock. Each actor went down on the other, but again neither cock nor open cunt were ever shown.
"Uncle Mike, I've seen this shit so often that it's boring."
He glanced at me with serious face, uncertain as to how far I would let him go. Then he nodded to himself. The TV was a Smart one, allowing the viewer to log on to the Internet. With just a few clicks, Mike brought up a website with the raunchiest stuff I'd ever seen. Within moments, he showed me samples of cocks in cunts and assholes, cum spurting out onto faces, pussy licking with the camera mere inches from the action, gang bangs, three boys in one chain, three girls ditto, pissing on each other in the shower, absolutely anything you can think of.
Mike watched me as I sat there with my mouth open, speechless at stuff I had never even imagined. I was so stunned that I didn't even feel his hands kneading my tits, then moving under my skirt and inside my soaking panties. I realized what was happening only when I felt his fingers pinching my clitoris.
My face turned from the lurid scenes on the screen and my eyes went to Uncle Mike's face. I half expected, no, make that three-quarters expected, that he would be leering. Much to my surprise, his eyes were fixed on mine in a deadly serious stare. And it was that seriousness that made my brain cancel the order for my hand to slap him and send me a new command to separate my knees from each other.
Yes, Uncle Mike, my brain telegraphed him through the quiet air, you win. It's time, I'm ready to become a woman, to feel turgid manhood inside my wet loins, ready to orgasm without the need for my own fingers, to finally succumb to all those teasing yet deliberate approaches against my virginity. I wanted to scream out, fuck me Uncle Mike, fuck me hard. But through the lust which tore my legs apart, which sent my free hand toward the hardness that signifies male excitement, male lust, I remembered my Mom's earnest warning.
"Do you have any condoms?"
And so my fate was sealed, my Rubicon ready, even anxious to be crossed, innocence forever to be surrendered to the youngest brother of my maternal grandfather, a lecherous man whose entreaties would soon be realized. He was in reality a dirty old man and I was a child just hours away from her sixteenth birthday and both our minds were at that moment consumed with the idea of fucking, fucking, fucking.
I wore traditional virginal garments: skirt, blouse, bra, panties. Since I was at home, shoes and socks were unneeded. Mike too was dressed for rapid nakedness, with slacks and shirt. He must have been rather sure of achieving his goal since beneath those togs he was commando.
"Turn off the set," I commanded, and he complied. Though the pictures and sounds of pornographic eroticism had worn me down to that point, I wanted Uncle Mike's mind to be restricted to my pleasure alone. He knelt on the couch beside me.
His fingers carefully opened each button of my blouse, pausing between buttons to nibble down my breastbone and stomach until his lips found my waist. My bra was likewise virginal since I had not expected this scene when we had sat down in front of the television. He sat me up so that he could slip the blouse down my arms and off. I moved things along by reaching back and unhooking my bra by myself. It hit the floor right on top of my blouse.
My breasts were never my calling card, back then – and still – 32A. Yet to the fumbling young men whom I had previously allowed to touch them, to fondle them, sometimes to taste my engorged nipples, they were a reward for not insisting on going 'all the way.' But even Uncle Mike, who by that point had no doubt that he would achieve a man's ultimate goal with me that evening, treated them with utmost courtesy.
His hands were soft, as befitting a man of leisure, as he gently squeezed one after the other. His face was clean shaven as if he known that he would conquer his only grand-niece's favors that evening. His cheeks smoothly parted my small orbs as his lips moved from one nipple to the other, nursing hungrily. My breasts offered no milk but they surely generated some cream inside his body, cream that was soon to explode outward (from his cock) and inward (to my cunt) in orgasmic delight – for both of us.
His sucking instinct sated, he resumed his seduction with a trip to my mouth. His entire body squeezed on the couch with me. I could feel his erection as he pushed inward to keep himself from falling off the edge. His smooth face touched mine as his lips did likewise. The kiss was soft, the touch of a lover in foreplay. At the same time, his hand found a space between our bodies so that it could feather my nipples. They were hard between us, a promise of what lay ahead.
Uncle Mike's warm breath suffused over my cheek as our lips remained connected without pressure. For perhaps a minute, it felt like an hour until that first tentative exploration with his tongue. My lips parted slowly, then my teeth and finally my mouth opened enough for his tongue to visit. I responded in kind. And yet it wasn't that battle or duel of tongues that had occurred with the first young man who had gotten to sample my nipples. Rather it was as if our tongues were passers-by, meeting each other on the street and politely introducing themselves to each other.
I reflected on that. My guess was that Mike was experienced at sex, was sure of himself and knew where it would all end. He knew how to make love to a woman – which I would become shortly – and he was in no hurry. Contrast that if you will with the boys who'd fumbled with me in the past, boys who deep down knew that they'd have to go home and masturbate and yet were hoping against hope that somehow they'd get to relieve that awful pressure with the aid of my hand, my mouth or, as if they'd won the sexual Lottery's grand prize, my soaking pussy.
Mike's lips left mine and slowly worked their way down my body, pausing again of course to dally at my breasts before finally reaching my belly button. Strange it was that the little umbilical opening, long since outliving its utility after my birth and too small to assist a male orgasm, was still able to bring oodles of lubrication gushing to my cunt.
Mike's tongue washed my navel and at the same time his hand began to rub my pussy from the outside of my skirt. None of the boys who had ever gotten anywhere with me had ever been permitted to touch my pussy, whether covered or bare. And then quickly he abandoned the tonguing and the touching. Standing up, he wasted no time in ridding my body of the obstructions caused by skirt and panties.
His head, his mouth, his tongue were immediately between my outspread thighs. His lips found my clit and tightened, sucking gently. In an instant, I regretted never having allowed any of the boys to touch my pussy, realizing that it might have led, had I known enough, to my introduction to the womanly art of receiving cunnilingus, the thrill of being eaten by the male of the species – or by the female.
His fingers dove into my pussy, spreading my vaginal walls. Remember that while I still considered myself cherry, a virgin, I had long since given up my hymen in an act of vegetable defloration. And then the finger fucking ceased, to be replaced by raw meat, a hard cock, a dick, a prick, a schlong, a baseball bat, a lance, a sword, a Johnson, a willy, whatever euphemism pleases you, and I was being fucked, FUCKED, by my favorite relative. I shivered with excitement, imagined myself bragging to my friends about the pleasure of Mike's wonderful cock. I said raw, because while I mentioned a condom to allow Mike to begin to touch me, neither of us had one on our persons and neither of us even considered a time-out to get one. And deep down, I didn't care if he knocked me up; all I cared about was getting the sensation of his pearly ooze flooding my wet vault.
I screamed as my orgasm hit, far more exciting than any cums I had ever given to myself in the past. Mike's grunt followed rapidly, signaling the oncoming spurt, spurt, spurt as his balls emptied inside me, soaking me. His creamy gift spilled out of me, dripping down my ass cheeks as his cock remained hard until the last of his discharge had left his body.
Without further ado, his cock was inside my mouth, silently inviting my tongue to clean it off. Sucking cock was a novelty for me, yet my cheeks worked by the same instinct as they had when my mother had suckled me with her breasts for the first time exactly sixteen years earlier. And when he was cleansed, his head was again between my legs, licking furiously. Maybe it was because my family was so rich but my first thought was to compare Uncle Mike with a bank teller who had given me too much money and was desperately trying to get it back.
I had always believed that a man eating a woman's pussy – for at that point I finally felt that I had become a woman – was the greatest compliment that he could give to her. But I was wrong; it was only in second place, albeit a close second. No, as my nerves sent the message to my brain, the sensation of Uncle Mike eating his creamy cum out of my cunt was by far the greatest compliment imaginable.
I knew from my frequent masturbation and from having been eaten by Mom – oh, I didn't tell you about that? Be patient. – I knew that after a good orgasm or three, I would often fall asleep. But being fucked by Mike was something different; it was exciting, enlivening, awakening. And so we spent the evening wide awake, kissing, nibbling, sucking and doing whatever we had to in order to refill his ball sac with fresh cum. He even asked me to finger his asshole. But just as I was getting ready to accept his cock once again, he slid off me and rolled me over.
"What are you doing, Uncle Mike?"
"Dorothy, my love, you have another cherry that we have to get rid of."
I had heard and seen all that I needed to hear and see about ass fucking, from my friends and from videos I had seen. None of the friends who had personally experienced it reported any pleasure from it, though some expressed that it was more acceptable after the first time, just not as good as being fucked straight up. But all of them, even those who had been taken that way by fathers or brothers, said that they agreed to be fucked that way because they were 'in love' with whoever they had accepted through the back door.
Would it hurt? No doubt, but if 'first was worst' I should get it over with. Was I in love with Uncle Mike? Well, sure, but not like someone my own age, someone I might one day marry. Was I curious about how it would feel? I must admit that I was. Yes, I had tried it with my own finger once or twice. But I figured that I should play hard to get.
"No, Mike, it'll hurt."
"Just the first time, Dorothy, and I'll do my best to be gentle."
"How can you be gentle? Your cock is bigger than my asshole."
"I'll use KY." Without waiting for any response, he got up and raced nakedly toward his wing of the mansion. I lay there, wondering if he would have gotten the KY if I hadn't brought up the issue. He was back quickly.
"How do I know that this will do the trick?" I asked innocently.
He took a deep breath. "I'll use my tongue on you first."
My eyes popped open. No one had ever mentioned that part. Mike smiled. Silently I rolled over and brought my knees under me. He pulled me back onto my side, my back facing him. His left hand was under my body, jiggling my tits, and the other was on my ass cheek, squeezing. His lips softly nibbled my back and my neck. His right hand moved off my butt and two fingers slid into my pussy, soaking, marinating.
His lips continued down my back, past my waist and into the crack of my ass. His hands moved to spread my cheeks and then his right thumb pressed its way into my ass. I stiffened and he left it there, unmoving. It was not comfortable.
"Mike, I thought that..."
"Sshhhhh," he said. He pulled his thumb back out of me and replaced it with his tongue, curling it and trying to press it into me. Failing that, he licked, up and down, crack to cunt but always returning to my anal opening. I shivered as his tongue soaked me there, half in excitement and half in disbelief at his willingness to do something that I could not conceive of ever doing for anyone, male or female.
He pushed me again onto my knees and I felt two fingers coating my chute with goo, pressing open my sphincter. Then, I could tell, his fingers were spreading more of the KY onto his cock. And next it was up against my asshole, the crown touching my opening but not yet trying to insert it into my darkness.
He pressed in finally, just a millimeter, a fraction of an inch. The lubrication let it slide without any pain but still it hurt as his circumference slowly widened the opening, overcoming the resistance of my protective muscle. I moaned. Was it pain or pleasure, I couldn't be sure. I know that I was excited at the idea of giving myself to Mike, at the idea of crossing a barrier into a world that, while I knew it existed, I had never imagined myself allowing any cock, any man, inside my body that way. My nipples rose and stiffened at this strange sensation. And yet this was the merest fraction of what was to come.
He pressed again, another millimeter. With each thrust, he calmed me with soft whispering, with gentle stroking – tits, pussy – and teeny kisses on my back. It hurt more and more until the crown cleared the sphincter, which then shrank back to the smaller circumference of his shaft. It was easier then, the thrusts longer until I felt him fully seated in my ass, his balls resting against my cheeks.
I then expected him to begin to fuck my ass as he had fucked my pussy; in, out, in, out. Yet curiously, or maybe not so curiously, he held still, allowing my body to adjust to the idea of hard cock in a strange visiting area. It felt like forever, and maybe it was, before I became sufficiently accustomed to the unfamiliar assault. Aah, but was it an assault or merely a new kind of sensation from my lover? No more sounds were necessary. He was going to wait for me to signal that he was accepted, that I was ready to allow him to plow me all the way up to my throat, as if he could reach that far, to thrust until he filled my dark chamber with a doomed load of sperm cells.
I nodded, he thrust and slammed into me, I screamed, moaned, cursed. And then he grunted and stiffened and I felt his cock throb and fill me, spurt, spurt, spurt. He rolled off of me and onto his back, smiling at first and then grinning. His cock pointed toward the ceiling and slowly began to shrivel.
Without him having to ask, I bent over his body and took his sticky cock into my mouth to clean it off.
That's when it hit me. Just as a man eating his own cum out of a woman's cunt is the nicest thing he can do for her, a woman using her mouth to clean a man's cock after he had fucked her in the ass is her greatest compliment to him.
We lay there quietly. I didn't know what I wanted to say until it suddenly occurred to my sixteen year old mind. It was sort of a lie, or at least an exaggeration, but I thought that's what I should say.
"I love you, Uncle Mike."
And he answered the same way, with what I wanted him to say, even if it wasn't true.
"I love you, Dorothy."
And so we lay there, caressing idly, until, until...
"Holy shit, that's the garage door. We'd better get up to our own rooms."
We grabbed our clothing and ran.
YESTERDAY MORING AND A FEW MONTHS EARLIER
Light was creeping through the window blinds.
"Wake up, Dorothy. Happy Birthday, dear." Her voice was lilting, happy.
I garbled some unintelligible remark, rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket up to my neck. Finally I said, "I don't feel well."
"Nonsense," said my Mom. "It's a school day today." She pulled me up by my arm. The blanket fell off my shoulders to expose my naked breasts. Suddenly she was very quiet.
"Why did you go to bed without wearing your pajamas?" The question was rhetorical and we both knew it. My face reddened. She pulled the blanket down further to expose my naked pussy. The fact that I was no longer a virgin was evident. Mom sighed.
"You gave someone your cherry?"
Slowly I shook my head in the manner of giving a negative response.
"Don't give me that bullshit, young lady. I can tell..." She stopped her ranting in mid-sentence. She stayed soundless, waiting patiently for me to utter the expected confession.
I barely whispered the word. "Plural."
Mom closed her eyes and began to sob.
"Do I know him?"
"Your Daddy? Did he sneak into your room after we went to bed? I hope not."
"You know better than that, Mom. Daddy's never touched me."
"Then who?" Surprisingly, she asked that question calmly.
When I said, ' Uncle Mike', she smiled. I asked her why the smile.
"When I was your age," she began, "Uncle Mike took both of my cherries in one night also."
When she was sixteen, he was fifteen, and had no compunctions about seducing and then fucking his older niece.
"When my turn came around, Mike was old enough to be my father, but since he wasn't, he considered me to be fair game." I was aghast at Mom's confession, but hungry for the details. She obliged me.
"He was as handsome as he is now, except not as much gray hair. It happened the evening before sixteenth birthday, just like it happened with you. He had been hitting on me for almost a year, telling me how beautiful I was and how sexy. He asked me if I masturbated myself and he told me he could give me fantastic orgasms. I said that I wasn't ready."
"Me too exactly," I said, "but it was only five or six months. The thing is though, I was always ready. I just was having fun teasing him. He even called me a cock teaser more than once. The same was true of several of the boys who I dated. If one of them had only tried harder, you and I would have had this conversation months ago. As it was though, I had other ways to make myself happy, as you well know."
"I really was ready though. I just didn't want to let him know that. It was more fun imagining that he'd go home and play with his pecker. Finally he convinced me to give him a hand job," Mom said. "I loved it, the feeling of him growing in my fingers and then exploding his cum on my hand and arm. I loved to rub it into my skin and used my free hand to play with his nuts."
"Ditto," I said, "but forget about his balls, he asked me to finger his asshole."
Mom raised her eyebrows, as though approving the idea of his asshole.
I continued. "But why do men like to fuck assholes? It hurts like a son of a bitch."
She sighed. "Well Dorothy, that seems to be a big reason for why they want to do it. Not to necessarily inflict pain, because some of them do it even to women whom they love. What they want is that ego feeling, power, domination, superiority, that sense of 'I can fuck you where it hurts and you won't stop me'. And also of course because they like a tight opening and that's the tightest one we have."
"Right now," I said, "both holes feel very uncomfortable."
She smiled. "Would you like Mother's Special Remedy?"
"Where's Daddy?" I asked.
"The King is in the Counting House counting out his money."
Let me digress. That line from the nursery rhyme is what we use when we want to say that Daddy is at his office downtown, screwing someone. It could be one of his investing partners who is being screwed, quite legally however, who will make a small profit on some deal while Daddy takes home the lion's share. Or it could be that he's screwing his secretary or the wife of one of his sucker investors or one of his nubile clerks, whose main qualification is a willingness to take him up her ass, something that Mom rarely does unless she's had too much to drink.
Mom knew all about these women and had even insisted upon his using one of them when he kept insisting on fucking her ass. In return, Daddy agreed not to give a damn if Mom spent her days fucking other men. Her favorite was Uncle Mike, but she also put in a lot of bed time with her tennis coach at The Club, her masseur (and sometimes masseuse), her life coach, the pool boy, the FedEx or UPS men, assorted home repair men or the family attorney. Let's just say that Mom rarely needed to masturbate.
Dinner conversations often included some polite variation of 'and who did you fuck today?' And that question was always answered, with enough detail to make me blush. Apparently, the freedom was the glue that kept them happy to be together, for they were obviously truly, truly deeply in love.
Now, how is this related to the story of Mother's Special Remedy? Well, there came a time when my body was ready for The Curse or My Friend or any of those other euphemisms that describe the menstrual cycle. Of course I knew all about it, from The Talk, from around the dining room table or conversations with my friends at what we all referred to as The Uppity School for Wealthy Children.
In my case the problem was cramps, as it was with many of my friends. When I finally complained to Mom about cramping, after years of suffering in silence, we were in my bedroom, early morning. She had me take off my pajamas and lie on my bed, naked. It was nothing for each of us to see the other without any clothing, but it felt a bit weird to be directed to bare myself for her.