Chapter 9

The truck Uncle Bob had at the ranch was an old one. It was all beat up, but it ran fine. It also had a bench seat in the front, the only one I’d ever seen. After he got finished explaining why it was complicated that our mother didn’t mind if we had sex with him, and he still resisted having sex with us, I got this feeling like there had been enough talk. So I scooted over next to him and leaned against him while we drove the rest of the way home. I wished we were naked. He put his arm around me and we rode in silence.

I thought about the fact that Mom knew about what was going on in our bedroom. I was already horny, but thinking about that ... about how we didn’t have to hide things any more ... made me even itchier. I knew that when we got home I could go in the house and find Brinn and get my itch scratched good and proper and that since Mom knew about us, I no longer had to worry about getting caught.

Brinn and Shannon didn’t know all that yet. Of course I’d tell them, but I could have some fun before I did. I was thinking about how I could go into the living room while we were watching a movie or something, and figure out a way to sit down on Brinn, like I had sat down on Uncle Bob, and get him in me there in the living room. He’d freak out, of course. So would Shannon. And then I’d “lose control” and start bouncing around, and the adults would notice and I’d say something like, “It feels so good I just couldn’t wait!”

I was thinking about the holes in that idea, and trying to refine it to something actually workable when we got home.

We loaded and then unloaded the truck in silence, moving the hay bales from the truck to that area in the middle of the barn aisle and stacking them against the stalls. The bed on which us kids had gotten caught was still there, the blanket still laid out over the scratchy hay. I got horny just looking at it. That’s why, when he reached for the blanket to remove it, so hay could be stacked there, I said, “No, not there.”

He looked at me, and then at the hay. There were still five or six bales on the truck. “Where, then?” he asked.

I pointed to the side.

We finished stacking the bales. He started for the door of the truck and I reached out and plucked at his shirt. He stopped, and turned to face me.

“I’m horny,” I said.

He blinked. “I’m not surprised. You’ve always been the horny one.”

I laughed. Shannon was the slut, not me. I reached to unbutton his shirt. He let me get halfway down, and then gently stopped me.

“I admit I’m horny too. I usually am when I’m around you. You have no idea how you affect me, and how you’re going to affect the other men who come into your life in the future.” He kissed my forehead. “But I explained why we can’t do that.”

I went back to work on his shirt. “I didn’t say I wanted you to fuck me. I just said I was horny.”

“I see,” he said.

He let me take his shirt off, and then returned the favor, staring at my breasts as they were revealed to him. I knew my nipples were rock hard, because I knew what I was about to do. I dropped to my knees and reached up to manipulate his belt. It was tight, as well as being big and bulky, but I got it loose. I unzipped him, and pulled his jeans down. He bent forward a little bit, because his erection was trapped, and my pulling on his pants was pulling on it too. Eventually it flopped up, bouncing around in the air in front of my face.

I didn’t give him time to react. I just reached, skinned him back, and leaned forward to get his knob into my hot, sucking mouth.

It turns out that one of the few things Mom can remember about that beach party where she was raped, was guys sticking their cocks in her mouth. So she’s not big on giving oral love to Uncle Bob. She’s done it, but she does it as a favor to him, and not because she has fun doing it.

I’m told a man can tell the difference between being given a favor, and having a life-long, thoroughly addicted, confirmed cocksucker attached to his member.

Let’s just say he was surprised.

He lasted a grand total of maybe a minute and a half, and he wasted about half if that saying inane things like, “What are you doing?!” and, “Kylie!” and, “Oh man ... oh man ... oh man!” Then, as he bent over backwards so far that I had to reach for his naked butt and help hold him up, he said, “Fuuuuuck, Kylie!” and unloaded in my mouth.

I wanted to taste him, but I also wanted him to remember this moment forever, so I pushed my nose against his pubes and let his first spurts jet directly down my throat. I didn’t even have to swallow them. I couldn’t anyway, what with his penis in the way of the mechanics. But then I pulled back and got the remainder in my mouth, where I could taste it.

He tasted different than Brinn. It was very strange, because there were a ton of similarities, but there were little things, kind of like after tastes or something, that made it so different it was tempting to call it completely different. And I almost laughed, because while I was thinking this, I was swallowing and sucking and massaging his balls with one hand and he was moaning and groaning, and what bubbled to the top of my mind was this: “If I ever do this blindfolded, I’ll know which man’s cock I’m sucking just by the taste!”

Again, he panted, “Fuck, Kylie!” It was probably because I tend to keep sucking a little longer than is comfortable for a guy. Brinn had complained about that several times. But rather than apologize for that, I pulled off and looked up at his wide-eyed, astonished face and licked my lips and swallowed one more time, and then said, “You said we can’t do that, Uncle Bob, so I thought of something else to do instead.”

It actually freaked him out a little bit. Not as much as when I sat on his dick and it went in me, but close. I think part of the reason for that is because he had been giving Shannon and me pleasure, of one kind or another, for years, but it had all been a one way street. He did things to us, but all we ever did in return was hug him and kiss him and ask for more. We’d never touched his penis in all that time, even though it was bare, and erect for us, and hanging out there where it was hard to not run into. We hadn’t even so much as given him a hand job. I’d grabbed it one time, but that was more out of curiosity than to give him any kind of pleasure.

Of course, in our defense, we knew that he wasn’t actually starving for pleasure. Mom was giving him plenty of pleasure. When he serviced us (which was actually what he was doing in a very real sense) and got all wound up because of it, Mom took him to the bedroom and unwound him. So there was no torture or anything. Unless you consider that wanting to do even more with us and not being able to was torture. If that’s the case then every man in the world is tortured every day, because every man in the world sees a woman every day he’d like to have sex with, but can’t.

So for Uncle Bob, this was like going to sleep in one dimension and waking up in a different, but parallel one. Things looked the same, for the most part, but there were some huge differences.

I stood up. Possibly because it was my habit to kiss Brinn after I had blown his brain and balls, I kissed Uncle Bob too. I didn’t rub it in by shoving my sperm-covered tongue into his mouth, but I pressed my lips firmly against his. When I pulled back, I said, “You taste yummy. Just as good as Brinn, in fact. I wish I could do it again right now.”

His eyes jittered in their sockets and he said, “Man!”

I undid my pants, looking at him. “I don’t suppose you’d return the favor,” I said. “I mean I could go in the house and find Brinn, and I’m sure he’d be happy to do what you can’t do right now, but you’re awfully good with that tongue of yours ... and I’m horny now ... and the house is all the way over there!” I was an insatiable tease. I admit it.

He was ... enthusiastic. Let’s just say that. My panties ended up ten feet away.

And after he laid me down on that blanket, (which was why I had told him not to remove it) and gave me a bone-crunching orgasm with his lips, he stood up and fisted his penis. It was thick, and longer than when it was fully soft, but couldn’t really be called an erection.

“It’s a good thing you did what you did,” he panted. “Because if you hadn’t, you’d be in a world of hurt right now.” He rubbed the tip of his penis up and down between my saliva-slickened pussy lips. It was just hard enough that he could move my pussy lips around with it, and dip it into the opening there. He could almost squeeze it inside, but not quite. He rubbed it around while I lay there, limp and satisfied.

I thought about saying something witty, like I’d be around later, or that I was sure it would get hard in a little while. But what had happened had been fun, and painless, and there was no stress or strain involved. And I didn’t want to make him think of negative things.

So I just smiled and lay there until he stopped playing with my pussy, and picked up his clothes.

I got mine, and we left the barn, walking side by side.

Believe it or not, after that, things were back to normal between Uncle Bob and me. As far as anything could be called “normal,” anyway.

What I mean is that I could sit on his lap and get those luscious, long kisses that got me going so well. Twice, over the next week or two, while we were watching TV, he slipped a finger into my pussy and wiggled it until I had a nice, little orgasm. I likened it to having a quick nap, except that it woke me up.

It was so nice for there not to be any tension between us. And I’m sure it helped him a little bit too, since Shannon had gotten used to having Brinn whenever she wanted him, and pretty much ignored Uncle Bob. In fact, if Mom hadn’t known about Brinn fucking us, I’m sure she would have figured it out, because quite often, right in the middle of something, Shannon would take Brinn’s hand and pull him to the bedroom. Sure, she said things like, “I need to talk to you about something,” and, “I want to show you something,” and, “I need your opinion on something,” but when you run around naked all the time, it’s pretty hard for people not to notice that your pussy lips are all engorged and inflamed, from the fucking your brother just gave you, not to mention that, if you don’t clean up well enough, there will be sperm running down your thigh. She thought she was so clever, wiping that up with her finger and sucking it clean, but I know of at least twice when, after she did that, Uncle Bob said something to our mother like, “I need your opinion on something,” and dragged her off to the bedroom too.

Did I tell Shannon and Brinn that Mom knew? Nope. I did not. Don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you. I intended to, but then didn’t. It was the only secret I ever had between us, or at least the only one I felt like was important, somehow.

Brinn had already learned a lot about women, and having sex and all that kind of thing. I like to think we had helped him, but these days, when he climbed on top of me, I was pretty much guaranteed to have at least two very nice orgasms before he grunted and filled me up with warm, slippery cum. Sometimes, if both Shannon and I were horny at the same time (and since Shannon was horny all the time that wasn’t rare), then he’d give one of us an orgasm and then switch over to the other, climbing back and forth, teasing us about which one was going to get what he now called “his gift.” Brinn had delusions of grandeur sometimes, I think.

But the point is that both Shannon and I were very happy girls. Mom was happy again, and Uncle Bob didn’t look quite so stressed out anymore either. So life was pretty good.

It was probably two months before Uncle Bob and I were alone again. This time it was because Mom took Brinn and Shannon with her to Morriston, which was the biggest city within about a hundred miles of the ranch. It was time to get staples and bulk items. Only three could ride in the pickup, and I have no idea why she chose them instead of me.

When they left, I read a book for a little while, and then was distracted because it was so quiet. That made me wonder where Uncle Bob was, so I went looking for him. He was taking a nap. I know it was a nap, because he was up and around earlier in the morning.

So I crawled in bed with him. It wasn’t to sleep, but I didn’t have any nefarious sexual plans either. I just wanted to cuddle with him. And he didn’t wake up, either. He moved, as I snuggled up to his back (he was lying on his side) and pressed my breasts against him. He muttered something as I lay my arm over his waist, but his breathing went back to really slow within a minute.

I eventually drifted off too, because the next thing I remember was waking up and his face being right in front of mine. His eyes were wide open and his hand was on my hip.

“Hi,” I said, still sleepy.

“Hi,” he said back.

Then he kissed me, and it was one of those really good kisses, and I woke up.

“I’m horny,” I said, when he finished with that kiss.

“I see,” he said.

“You should do something about that,” I said.

“Oh, I should, should I?”

I nodded and reached for his penis. It was hard. In fact, it was like diamond hard. I stared into his eyes, blinking slowly, which I didn’t actually want to do because his eyes were so beautiful. I tried to stroke him, but the angle was all wrong.

“What, exactly, should I do to relieve your ... condition?” he asked.

There was something in his voice that I’d never heard before. I didn’t know it then, but as I would think about it afterwards, I’m pretty sure that if I’d said something like, “I need a long, hard, spurting penis in my pussy,” I’d have gotten one. But I said what I was used to saying.

“I need to cum. I want you to suck my clitty.”

And things continued to happen that I was used to. He did, in fact, crawl between my legs and feast on my pussy, and I did have a glorious, happy orgasm.

But then something new happened. When he rose up, while I was still lying there limp and satisfied, he fisted that big, long penis of his and rubbed the tip between my slippery labia again.

This time it wasn’t just semi stiff. This time there was a very firm inch sticking out of his hand, and as he rubbed it, that inch penetrated my pussy. He never let go of his cock, so his hand kept it from going more than that inch, but he sort of, almost, kind of fucked me with that inch of his cock. I had my head up, watching, because I was amazed. It didn’t feel all that different from Brinn’s penis, to be honest, but I was just so surprised he was doing it that I was kind of mesmerized. I think that’s why I didn’t look at his face until he made this funny little sound in his throat. When I looked up, his eyes were closed and his mouth was open. That open mouth turned into a grimace that looked like he was in pain, and I felt warm splats on my mons.

I looked back down to see that he had pulled it out of me, and was squirting his cum all over my pussy, and mons and even a little on my belly.

It was delicious, and I felt a thrill shoot through me that was different from any kind of sexual thrill I’d ever experienced, to that point in my life.

“Sorry,” he panted.

“I’m not,” I said. “Except that you wasted it.”

He was still gripping his penis, squeezing it.

“I can’t cum in you, Kylie,” he huffed. “The pill doesn’t always work, and if I got you pregnant I don’t think your mother would see the humor in that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I would have swallowed it if you’d have given me the chance.”

He laughed and said, “Don’t move!”

Then he leaned forward and wiped his cock through the mess he’d made on my pussy and moved up, bear crawling, until his dripping penis hung over my face.