Uncle Bob Ch. 13

Shooting the Apple

Author's note: OK, at long fucking last, here's the next instalment of 'Uncle Bob'. I'd like to apologize to everyone who has been kind or persistent enough to hang on in there. This story started life around 9 years ago, prompted in part by listening to a continuous stream of 'Valley talk' from a delightful young lady of around 20 on a flight from London to LA. So for those who have said Stacey sounds like she's 14, in my defense I have at least one example of someone old enough to do what Stacey does and still talk like her. (Sadly, whether she actually DID the things Stacey does in the story, I never found out).

So I'm posting the next 2 chapters now, and probably two more in the next two weeks. (Both are currently well under construction). According to my storyboard, there are 3 more chapters after that to get to the end of Stacey's little story, although the two I've posted here kinda jumped in when I wasn't looking, so there may be one or two more before I finally let go of Bob and Stacey and focus properly on the 4 other stories I have been developing at the same time. (I just wish I had an attention span).

I hope you enjoy what's left of the story. If there's anything you'd like Bob, Stacey or any of the other characters to do before they say goodbye, please let me know. I have some pretty lurid episodes planned, so the loyal Bob and Stacey fans shouldn't be disappointed, but I'm always open to new suggestions -- as is Stacey.

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Airports; as I've said before, not my favorite places. But today was different. I stood outside the arrivals gate at JFK, holding up a sign saying "Stacey & Hannah" that that I'd printed, and wearing a cap I'd borrowed from the limo driver I'd hired to take us all back into New York. When the girls came through the gate, they didn't immediately recognize me. Then Stacey saw the sign, looked into my face and squealed "Uncle Bob!"

She abandoned Hannah and their suitcases and ran straight up to me, threw her arms around my neck -- and her legs around my waist. I had to drop the sign so I could hug her. She kissed me like she hadn't seen me in weeks -- which, of course, she hadn't.

"Oh, Uncle Bob, I've missed you so, so much," she gasped between kisses. With my angel attached to me like some creature from Alien, I was finding it hard to respond. Then Hannah appeared next to us, dragging two suitcases and looking a little pissed. "Hey, Stacey. I know you've missed your Uncle Bob, but could you like, let go for a moment, or maybe get a room?"

Stacey reluctantly unhooked her legs from my back -- and I reluctantly let her. When she was standing in front of me, smiling radiantly, eyes wide with surprise and the sheer thrill of being unexpectedly reunited, Hannah said "Do I get to say 'Hi', too?"

Our eyes met, and then Hannah moved in for a kiss. I wasn't about to say 'But we've not been properly introduced!' when our lips met. She was a good kisser. It wasn't as full-on, face-devouring as Stacey's kiss, but I didn't complain. Her nice, full breasts pressed against my chest, and I was a happy guy. She seemed happy too, as the kiss went on for several seconds.

When I'd heard that Stacey and Hannah would be flying back via JFK and would be spending a couple of days in New York before heading for home, I'd told them I'd arrange for a better hotel than the fleapit they'd booked and a taxi transfer to the city to save them taking the bus, as a special 'welcome home' treat. I didn't tell them that I'd flown up to New York, booked an up-scale serviced apartment and a stretch-limo transfer into the city. I was eager to see my angel after three weeks apart, and anyway, I'd made a good amount of money from my latest app deal. Instead of my usual fee, I'd negotiated ten cents a download and the same for a subscription renewal. It mounts up to a lot when you get eight million users worldwide and rising. So I could definitely afford to splash some cash and take some time out to show my niece and her hot friend around the Big Apple.

On the ride into the city, I had a few minutes to recover from the unexpectedly-friendly greeting I'd had from Hannah. Stacey seemed completely oblivious as she kept hugging and kissing me while telling me all about the places they'd been and the amazing things they'd seen.

"Me and Hannah took the elevator right to the top of the Eiffel Tower and then we walked all the way down, which was scary! And we went on a bateau mouche on the Seine, at night. And we saw Notre Dame and the Sacré Coeur and Montmartre, and Oscar Wilde's grave -- and Jim Morrison's. We had a gondola ride in Venice. St Mark's was awesome! And we stood right next to the place where Julius Caesar got cremated in Rome, like, two thousand years ago! And the Vatican and St Peter's were, like, WOW!" she enthused. "And Uncle Bob, we so got fucked by some hot boys and had the most amazing sex. Didn't we, Hannah?"

"Sure," her cute friend replied, "it was awesome." But I wasn't sure she meant it. The way she looked at me, I couldn't quite figure out what was going on here. Was she jealous because Stacey had a guy waiting for her? Was she resentful, because she had a hot girl-girl thing going with my niece and didn't want any male interlopers? (Remember, I'd seen the pictures). Or was there something else? The kiss was definitely hotter than I'd been expecting. There seemed to me -- hopeless optimist that I am -- a lot of invitation in it. Maybe more was going on than I could work out.

The girls were blown away by the apartment I'd booked. "Uncle Bob, the places we've stayed are soooo not as good as this! This is -- awesome!" Somehow I'd expected that adjective.

The apartment had two separate bedrooms, each one large and with a king-sized bed. There was a big bathroom with a hot tub, and a huge living area with a mini-bar and some great views over New York. The girls were impressed. But the bed arrangement was something that seemed to puzzle Stacey.

"So how does this work, Uncle Bob? There are, like, two beds. So do I share with you or with Hannah? Either would be good, but, like..." her voice dropped, and she said a little conspiratorially, "like, you could've saved your money and booked us just the one room." Hannah was taking in the view and didn't seem to notice our conversation.

"Really, Stacey? Only I thought you might spend some time in my bed, and maybe some time with Hannah," I replied in the same quiet tone. "You sent me the pictures, so I guessed you have something going on."

"Sure we have, Uncle Bob, but it's like..." She glanced across at her friend, who had now stepped out onto the balcony. "See Hannah, I think she'd feel kinda left out if we had some fun and she was on her own."

"Stacey, baby, I've been aching to get back with you for so long. I have some very wild and naughty things in mind. Do you think Hannah wouldn't approve?"

Again a glance in Hannah's direction. "I kinda told Hannah about you and me -- a bit like I told Barbie. I said you were a friend of my dad, and not, like, my real uncle, but that I've always called you Uncle Bob since I was little and we both kinda like it. I know that she thought it was, like, a little gross at first, but then she saw you at the airport and thought you were hot. When I explained that we were, like, so fucking, and how awesome you were, and how totally gentle and cool you were and how you made it all so super-amazing when you, like, fucked me up the ass and stuff, she was super-curious. She really wanted to..."

"Stacey, baby, I'm not sure I can take any more Valley-talk right now. Please can you just tell me how Hannah feels about you and me?"

Stacey took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. "I think -- I think Hannah wants to fuck you. And maybe me at the same time. But she's a little conflicted. I think we so need to take it slow with her."

"OK. I'm cool with that," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant but actually having difficulty controlling the boner developing in my pants. Apart from winning the lottery, I couldn't think of a better outcome from my rather-expensive trip to the Big Apple to meet my niece and her gorgeous friend. And I hadn't bought a lottery ticket!

"So please, Uncle Bob, don't try hitting on her. Hannah is really shy. We met, like, loads of boys when we were travelling around Europe, and we fucked a few of them, but I think Hannah wouldn't have done any of that if I hadn't, like, encouraged her and I don't think she liked it as much as I did."

"Stacey, you amaze me. I would never have thought of you as the kind of girl who would encourage any form of sexual contact with random, good-looking guys."

She looked at me for at least five seconds before she realized I was being sarcastic and slapped my arm (quite hard -- I had a bruise later) and then abused me verbally for claiming she was anything but a chaste young maiden -- not her words precisely, but you get the picture.

We established that neither girl had anything appropriate to wear for the swanky place I'd booked for dinner, so (of course) we had to go clothes shopping. It was a terrible trial, sitting outside of the changing rooms and watching as two seriously hot young women paraded in front of me in a series of tight, short, revealing outfits, asking me to select the most appropriate ones. It would have been easy for me to select totally inappropriate ones, in which these two cuties might appear, in disapproving eyes, like a couple of exclusive young hookers on the arms of a sad, older man. Ultimately, not only did I help them choose stuff, I also paid for the outfits, which cost me about seven hundred bucks. And another four for the shoes. OK, so I'm a sucker for a cute girl in a sexy dress -- or, as I've said before, maybe the word 'licker' is more appropriate.

I felt like I had attracted the undying envy of every guy in the room as I walked into the restaurant with two very animated and very attractive cuties in delicious, expensive and very revealing outfits. The dresses were clingy, low-cut, with short skirts. Both girls wore classy-but-sexy heels. From what I could tell, neither girl was wearing a bra. The top on Hannah's dress may have had some support built in, though her tits bounced very invitingly as she walked. Stacey's dress was very thin silk, and the pokies I detected confirmed what I'd guessed. I would also have been willing to wager the price of the meal on Stacey not wearing panties either, though I was trying not to think about whether Hannah was similarly naked under her short skirt. Both girls also wore big, sexy earrings and chokers, something that for some reason always gives me a boner. Stacey's was black and had a small enameled pendant hanging from the center. Hannah's was plain pink satin, matching her dress and toning beautifully with her milk-coffee-colored skin. 'Fuck', I thought, 'it may have cost me eleven hundred for the outfits, probably around five hundred for the meal and rather more for the apartment, but this is worth every fucking cent!' I was in horndog heaven.

Over dinner -- which was very good -- Stacey was happy to tell me about the sexual experiences she and her friend had had during the past three weeks.

"Hey Hannah, do you remember Yves and Marc? Uncle Bob, it was weird. See, they were both so cute, and they spent ages eating our pussies. But, like, Yves has this really long cock, but it's quite slim, but Marc's is much shorter, maybe only, like, six inches, but a lot thicker. So, like, they got us to kneel on the floor, and they tied scarves over our eyes, and then they stuck their cocks in our mouths. But, like, it was so easy to tell which was which."

"Yeah," Hannah said, managing somehow to get a word in edgewise in Stacey's constant stream of excited chatter. "But, like, when Yves went in he was pushing deep, and I can't deep-throat like Stacey, so I was, like, gagging all the time. And then Marc's cock made my jaw ache."

Stacey butted in. "But then when they fucked us -- Oh! My! God!"

Both girls dissolved into fits of giggles. I was glad I'd booked a semi-private booth, or the whole of the restaurant would know about the sexual exploits of two hot teenaged girls -- and we'd probably have been asked to leave.

"And then there was Julio in Venice. Do you remember him, Hannah?"

"Oooooh yes!" Hannah said with a broad smile.

"So we met in this bar, drinking Aperol Spritz -- which is a really cool drink, Uncle Bob -- and then later, back at his place, Hannah was riding his face and I was straddling his cock when his girlfriend walked in! So I thought -- 'she's gonna be so pissed! We're all, like, gonna be toast!' But then she pulled off her dress, came over to us and started making out with me and Hannah. And by the end of the evening, all four of us were in bed, and Julio had fucked all three of us, and his girlfriend -- Rosa -- had eaten us both out and face-sat us and stuff. It was..."

"Awesome?" I suggested. This time, Stacey laughed.

I'd ordered Virgin Mojitos for the girls, not wanting to get arrested too early in our little New York adventure.

"Uncle Bob, in Europe you can drink alcohol at, like, any age, so we tried, like, everything!" Stacey informed me.

"Yeah, Uncle Bob. There was wine and Prosecco and Spritz and loads of beers and cocktails and stuff. Me and Stacey got loaded a few times. It was wild!" Hannah's big smile was really attractive. You may have noticed that she also called me 'Uncle Bob' -- something I also found attractive. She'd asked if she could do so as we were traveling to the apartment. I thought that it sounded a little perverted -- not quite the Daddy/Baby Girl stuff I'd encountered with Janine and Grant, but still kinda weird. However, if you want weird and perverted, I'm your man, so I happily agreed. Hannah seemed to like it, and called me Uncle Bob almost every time she spoke.

After desserts, Hannah went to the restroom, and I took the opportunity to ask Stacey a little more about her friend.

"See, Hannah was in this, like, all-girl school in Michigan. Her folks moved down only around six months ago. She wasn't used to the boys hitting on her. Raoul and Ricky and maybe even Josh, they so wanted to make out with her, and she didn't have any friends and the class bitches were so mean to her, cuz she was new but mostly cuz she's, like, not totally white. So I decided to be her friend." (Typical of my angel; she sees someone in distress and steps in to help. I guess like when her sad old uncle was in desperate need of a fuck...)

"I wondered why I'd never met her before. You never brought her back to my place."

During the divorce, maybe five or six years earlier, when things between Michael and Dolores had gotten kinda Stalingrad-like (cold, brutal and very bloody), Stacey started to bring some of her friends to my place for sleepovers. We'd make ice cream, order in pizza and watch inane TV shows together. There were some sweet kids, as well as a few moody teens. I wondered what had happened to them. The last sleepover at mine had been around a year or so before my niece had decided that mine was the cock she wanted to try first. She'd brought home two really pretty friends from the cheerleading team. I'd had to go around the house in some baggy old denims to hide the permanent boner I was -- very inappropriately -- carrying the entire time.

"Like I said, she only arrived a few months ago. She came to mom's place once. But see, her grandma died and left her folks some money, saying she wanted Hannah to see Europe where the grandma had grown up. But her mom and dad have both started new jobs and couldn't get the time off, so they suggested that Hannah should go with a friend to celebrate graduation. I was the only one she asked. She even offered to pay for me to go with her, but I knew mom and dad could afford it, and I guessed her folks needed the money more. And Hannah, she's chosen the same college as me, too. And she, like, speaks French and Italian, so it was so cool! Only -- only I think the sex kinda freaked her out a little."

I gave Stacey a Leonard Nimoy-style quizzical look. She checked that Hannah was nowhere in sight yet and continued.

"See, Hannah was almost a virgin when I met her. She'd had this kinda on/off boyfriend in Ann Arbor, and they did it a couple of times, just before she came down to Florida. But she told me she'd done it with girls at her high school up there in her senior year. She said one girl even fucked her with a strap-on, before she'd ever had a boy's cock in her. But in Europe, I think she was a little surprised by all the attention."

Having seen Stacey and Hannah at the airport, as they were leaving for Europe in their little shorts and tight tops, and when they arrived back in short, clingy dresses, I was -- as Stacey might have said -- so not surprised by the attention they would have attracted. Honestly, if they'd both been wearing baseball caps saying "Hi! We're hot American teens. Come & fuck us!" it wouldn't have been more obvious. While Stacey wasn't quite in the "oh sweet Jesus, will you look at her!" league as Barbie, she and Hannah would've run a close joint second in most guys' estimation. I imagined the zone around the two of them as being like a roving North Sexual Pole, with every cock in the vicinity pointing in their direction.

"Hey, Stacey -- don't forget that you've only been a non-virgin yourself for a few months. But she's definitely less up-front about sex than you are."

"Well, kinda. See, it was Hannah that hit on me on our first night in Paris. You know I've only had one other girl -- Barbie -- but Hannah's had a few girlfriends. I think that she thought she might be a lesbian. She was really into me, and we did some very naughty things together. I -- I have a confession, Uncle Bob. I did let her fuck me up the ass with a strap-on, but I thought that wouldn't count. Is that cool?"

I laughed. "Yes, Stacey, that's cool. A lump of plastic attached to another girl isn't the same thing as a lump of hot flesh attached to a boy."

Stacey smiled. "Whatever, I don't know how much she enjoyed sucking and fucking the boys we met. She seemed to like it when Yves and Marc got us into a sixty-nine and then fucked us. I know she came then. But there was this really big guy in Rome -- Giorgio -- and she wouldn't let him fuck her because she said he was way too big."

"But I guess you did?"

Stacey smirked. "Of course, Uncle Bob. A girl's gotta try everything, right? Only it did hurt a little, and it was so hard to get all of him inside my pussy, and I kinda came but it wasn't as good as when you do it. And I was sore the next day. Hey, but guess what?"

"What?"

"Guess what I'm not wearing."

"Mmm. Let me see... A ball-gag? Handcuffs?" She gave me an exasperated look. "Oh -- could it be -- er, panties?"

"Perhaps you'd better check for yourself, Uncle Bob," she said, smiling impishly.

She took my hand and guided it under the table, onto her smooth, skinny thigh, and then upwards, until it found something warm and soft. And wet.

"You can, like, leave your hand there, Uncle Bob. Only -- only maybe move it around a little?" My movements were slow and deliberate, gently stroking the outer lips, teasing the wet cleft -- which she then thoughtfully opened by spreading her legs. My first contact with her clit -- in over three weeks -- caused her to gasp and to flutter her eyelashes; fuck, this was hot. As I carefully observed her sweet face, she gave me a naughty smile.

"Hey, Uncle Bob. Another surprise for you." She reached up to the little enameled pendant on her choker and turned it around. On the reverse it had three short words cut into the metal; 'fuck my ass.'