Uncle Bob Ch. 15

Chapter 15. Mothers

The flight home was, I guess, OK. I'd upgraded us all to business class, which was a little extravagant considering it was a flight of less than two hours, but hey, the royalties from my app deal were making me feel like I should do things like this. I'd given the girls the seats next to the window, while I sat in the middle, drank the complimentary champagne and watched the hostesses. They were cute, and I felt a little disloyal, considering that Stacey -- my Stacey as I kept thinking of her -- and her luscious friend Hannah, who I'd been delighted to fuck earlier that morning, were sitting just a few feet away. But hey, I guess I'm ruled by my cock.

Stacey got up around halfway through the flight and whispered in my ear "Hey, Uncle Bob. Why don't we join the Mile High Club?"

"Stacey, I'd love to fuck you in an airplane, but unless you'd like a brief audience, then to be thrown off the flight and fined a few tens of thousands of dollars, I don't think it's such a great idea. And I may be a little gross but I'm not squalid. An airplane toilet is pretty unpleasant and there's no room in there to enjoy the experience. Let's wait until we get home."

"Oh Uncle Bob, it'd be fun, and I'm so horny," she protested.

"And that's different from normal, how? Look, baby, if you're desperate, why not go there with Hannah and make out. Me, I'm too old to fuck sitting on the john."

Stacey pouted and went back to her seat. To be fair, I would've loved to fuck either of my hot companions, or one of the cute hostesses, but I felt a little distracted. Our few days in New York had been very special, but I knew that in a few weeks, my beautiful slut-angel would be heading out West with her hot friend and I'd be left with no-one to love and, perhaps more urgently, no-one to fuck. Barbie was almost certainly regularly wrapped around her new body-builder friend, while Dolores was probably giving Josh quite a few test-drives, so if Janine didn't reappear at the club and want to hook up, I would be back to jerking off again or going out on a beaver patrol for the first time in a while.

A few minutes later, both Stacey and Hannah got up and headed for the toilets. I thought about trying to stop them; I'd only really suggested they go there together as a joke, but I figured that two young girls going into the toilet together might attract rather less attention than a guy and a girl. I noticed that one of the hostesses had seen what was happening, so I called her over, asked her for a drink and then engaged her in conversation. I found out her name was Jenna. She kept glancing toward the toilet all the time we were talking, but I managed to distract her sufficiently to get her phone number. Not bad, I thought. Possibly a future distraction for me?

At the baggage reclaim, Stacey volunteered the information that both she and Hannah had come really strongly from some fingering and pussy-licking, and that I, Uncle Bob, should have joined in as I would've had some fun. I suggested that Stacey and Hannah's enjoyment of their high-altitude high-jinks had only been possible because I'd distracted the hostess, and that she owed me twenty thousand bucks, which would've been her part of the fine if she'd been thrown off the airplane for inappropriate activity in a toilet. She gave me one of those 'oh, Uncle Bob, you're so uncool' looks, almost indistinguishable from the regular teen 'whatever' shrug, so I knew I'd failed again to impress upon my niece how I'd saved her ass from the slammer.

I'd left my car at the airport, so I drove Hannah home. We kissed with rather more passion than we had a few weeks earlier when she'd left for Europe. "Thank you so much for -- for everything," she said, sweetly. "I hope that soon I might have the opportunity to fuck you again." Then she kissed me again. Definitely not the worst or most heartbreaking parting I've ever experienced.

"Hey, Uncle Bob, can we, like call by my mom's place? It'll be super-surprising for her to see me back, like, a day early," Stacey said when we got back into the car. Our plan had been for us to go back to mine, get some of her clothes into the washing machine, maybe take off the rest and fuck each other senseless, and then go to her mom's in her pink Beetle, currently parked outside my house, in the morning.

"Sure," I said, recognizing that this could go one of two ways.

As we pulled into the drive at Dolores' house, Josh's pickup was parked right in front of the house. I said nothing.

"Shit! Uncle Bob, that's Josh's pickup!" Stacey exclaimed.

"Really?" I replied, knowing exactly what was going to follow. I regretted not packing my radiation suit, as I knew that the next few minutes could produce an explosion a little hotter than Hiroshima.

"Uncle Bob, I know. I've been fucked in the back of that pickup," Stacey reminded me. And, as you can guess, this wasn't something of which I wanted to be reminded, but at least I had Stacey's full attention on the subject.

"Baby, let's play this cool. Let's sneak in and see what's going down."

So Stacey unlocked the door, and we took our shoes off. Then we tiptoed upstairs. We easily recognized the noises that were coming from the slightly-open door of Dolores' bedroom -- noises that I'd previously helped to produce. "Oh fuck, yes! Right there! Oh yes, deeper, harder!" You get the picture.

The look on Stacey's face told me she was ready to burst in and demand to know why her mom was still fucking her ex-boyfriend, after having apparently repented. I headed this particular attack off at the pass by whispering "Stacey, go to your room and put all of the clothes and other stuff you'll need for college into one of the suitcases in your closet. After that, we're leaving."

"But..." she began, before I put my finger to my lips.

Somewhat to my surprise, Stacey obediently headed to her room. I selected the camera on my phone, set it to video, made sure the flash was off and carefully slipped the lens part around the door. On the screen I could see Dolores and Josh. It was hot. It was incriminating.

After a few interesting minutes, during which I discovered that Josh's skills had moved on somewhat from when Stacey and I had first discovered him fucking Dolores, I went to join my slut-angel. Like most teenage girls, she had no idea what she would need in order to do -- well, almost anything. I helped her choose clothes that would work in SoCal, ensured that she'd packed all of the accessories that she might reasonably need (and then some), and helped her close the two suitcases she'd filled. Together, we carefully and quietly carried the luggage down the stairs, and I again prevented her from interrupting Dolores and Josh's intimate adventures.

Back at my place, Stacey and I had some intimate adventures of our own. She was so angry with what she'd heard that she fucked me with a passion I'd rarely experienced. As she bounced first her pussy, then her tight asshole, on my cock, it was as though she wanted to teach me a lesson. The lesson seemed to be that if her mom was fucking her ex-boyfriend, I should expect some really energetic sex, ending in me coming deep in her ass while she screamed and writhed around. Quite a lesson. I resolved to tell Dolores to fuck Josh some more while Stacey watched or listened, so that this experience could be repeated.

Holding my slut-princess in my arms afterwards, she still seemed to be pissed.

"Hey baby, what's the deal? So your mom is still fucking Josh, but you dumped him months ago. And you and me are still fucking. Dolores would be more than pissed if she knew that. Maybe you should give her a break."

She looked up at me. I'd seen that face, that expression, a heck of a lot over the past eighteen years, and every time it made my heart melt.

"Uncle Bob, it's not just that she's fucking him; it's the dishonesty that I so hate. Like, if she'd just told me that they were fucking again, I could totally forgive her -- though it would so be difficult to forgive him."

"Maybe she isn't being dishonest. Maybe she just chose not to tell you while you were away. Perhaps she planned to break it to you when you got back. Hey, look; let's go over there tomorrow, like we'd originally planned, say nothing about what we saw and wait to see if she tells us about her and Josh. If she does, then maybe it'll all be cool. If she doesn't, we can decide what to do about it -- about them."

So the next morning, we drove to Dolores's house. Our story was that I'd met Stacey at the airport as originally arranged, so she arrived back at her mom's in an outfit she might have travelled in, and carrying her travel bag. Dolores seemed delighted to see Stacey, and gave her a big hug. There was even a smaller hug for me. Remember that the last time I'd officially seen Dolores, I'd fucked her up the ass and sent the video to Stacey, so there seemed to be a slight feeling of embarrassment on her part.

We went inside, and Dolores fixed us some iced tea. While she and Stacey were catching up, I slipped into the lounge and surreptitiously plugged a thumb drive into her TV, appropriating the remote and making a few selections (with the sound off), before putting it on standby.

Stacey gushed her stories about Europe -- missing out, of course, the ones about the boys -- and girls -- she'd fucked, or the steamy relationship she'd developed with her BFF. Dolores smiled broadly at having her daughter home at last. She'd already heard some of this; Stacey had dutifully WhatsApped her mom throughout most of her trip away, and even from New York. (She'd carefully kept out any reference to me or any pictures that may have shown my involvement). But now Stacey was in full, enthusiastic flood, filling in a lot of detail, so I just let them talk, and carefully interjected only if I felt that Stacey might let slip stuff about our little fuck-fest in the Big Apple.

At the appropriate moment, I executed the next part of the plan. "So how have things been with you, Dolores?" I then waited to see whether she was ready to fess-up about her surfer-riding or struggle to lie. But I should have realized; as a lawyer, lying -- or, at least, evading the truth -- was no struggle for her at all.

"Oh, you know, I've just been throwing myself into my work. I've had several interesting cases..." she began, and it became clear to me that she was trying to steer us away from her private life.

"So, Dolores, you've felt no desire to repeat our last experience. I'd have thought that, now that you've been opened up to the enjoyment of it, your ass would be a little more welcoming."

"Robert, stop being so crude," she said with something approaching a tired expression, but I could see she was blushing. "I don't think that we should bring that up right now." Note that she called me 'Robert'. This wasn't usually a good sign.

"Mom, it's OK. I've seen the pictures. And the video. It was totally hot. I never realized that Uncle Bob had such a nice cock. It's way nicer than Josh's."

Ooh! Stacey hadn't quite hit the ball out of the park, but she was definitely going for a home-run here. She'd managed to bring both Josh into the conversation and a comparison of the sexual attributes of her erstwhile boyfriend and my good self; those self-same attributes that Dolores had sampled from both of us. And that Stacey legitimately knew that Dolores had sampled. It would be interesting to see how Dolores reacted to that.

"Stacey, I don't know what's gotten into you, but comparing the -- the penises of two men seems a very strange topic of conversation. Surely you have better things to discuss; your upcoming move to college for one."

Hah! So Dolores was using her lawyer's skills to change the subject. But Stacey was undeterred. Smiling sweetly, she said "But Mom, I was totally fascinated by the pictures of Uncle Bob fucking your ass, and you so came like crazy. That must've felt awesome. So don'tcha want some more of that? Uncle Bob says he hasn't been inside your place..." she paused and smirked "or inside you, since he took the video. You must be missing that beautiful-looking cock of his by now. What are you doing for, like, sex these days?"

My mental image had moved to a different arena -- from baseball to a gladiatorial contest. Stacey stood over her mom, who lay, helpless on the ground, with a weapon poised to strike, dependent on what was said next. I waited, fascinated.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Stacey." Dolores was blushing bright red by now. Her body-language showed extreme discomfort. "I may as well ask what you're doing. Not that you'd tell me."

"Sure I'll tell you. In Europe, me and Hannah fucked a load of guys -- and a few girls. We had a lot of cock and quite a lot of pussy to play with, which was so cool. Then there was this guy in Manhattan who treated me and Hannah like slut-princesses. It was awesome. My pussy and my ass got seriously pounded. So did Hannah's. And I got licked and sucked and I swallowed a gallon of cum. And we both, like, came and came and came. So that was my sex life since I went away. I've told you mine, now you tell me yours." And then Stacey smiled like it was some show and tell at elementary school and she'd just produced an original signed copy of the US Constitution.

Dolores was now cornered. "If you must know, it mostly involved plastic."

"Why didn't you call Uncle Bob? He could've so made you come. I know -- I saw the video and I heard the noises you used to make. And what about Josh?"

No mercy. No fucking mercy at all. Stacey was determined to hear what her mom had to say on the subject. Dolores could have admitted her ongoing affair with Stacey's ex, but she chose the Trump option; lie and walk away from the podium before anyone can challenge.

"Oh I haven't seen Josh in ages. I'm fine on my own for now. Look, let me get another iced tea."

I stood up, went to the kitchen door and pressed a couple of buttons on the remote. From the TV came some unusual noises -- lots of grunts and squeals, interspersed with cries of "Oh yes! Right there!" and "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Dolores, a look of alarm on her face, rushed out of the kitchen to see what was happening. Stacey followed. On the screen was a slightly blurry video of Josh, enthusiastically fucking Dolores -- who looked very raunchy in stockings, heels and some hot lingerie -- in doggy position. The bed was bouncing.

"What? Where -- where did you get this?" Dolores demanded with a mixture of anger and terror.

"We took it when we dropped by yesterday to surprise you. It was certainly a surprise for Stacey, though I'd already guessed you still had a soft -- and very wet -- spot for the boy. If you can't keep your pussy off him, Dolores, at least try to be honest with your daughter. You wanted her back, but you also wanted Josh in your life and your bed. You could have had both with a little honesty, but you don't seem to know how. It was good seeing you, Dolores. You can keep the video as a souvenir."

And with that, Stacey and I nodded to each other and headed out of the front door. As we stepped outside, Stacey spat back "For fuck's sake, Mom! Why do you think it's OK to lie to your own daughter like this? We're not in court, you know. We're meant to be family."

On the drive back to my place, I saw that Stacey had tears on her face, so I pulled into the parking lot at the mall, quickly parked up, unfastened my seat belt and leaned across to hold her.

"Uncle Bob," she sniffed, "You'll always love me, won't you?"

"Hey baby. Forever and ever. And don't be too hard on your mom. She's a little like you. She has the hots for a guy who makes her feel really good, except he's not really a sane choice. That doesn't stop her -- or you -- wanting the guy. She didn't want to tell you about Josh, because she thought you'd be pissed at her. And you can't tell her about me, because a homicide by a lawyer wouldn't look good on her CV."

Stacey laughed, and I was delighted to see her expression change.

"Look, baby, let's get a coffee and maybe buy you some clothes."

"Yay!" was all she said.

Later, back at my place, she modelled the 'slutty schoolgirl' outfit she'd bought -- or rather, that she'd chosen and I'd paid for. Having seen her briefly emerge from the changing room wearing it, I'd struggled to get close to the desk to pay for it, as my boner kept getting in the way. She was also wearing the collar and leash she'd first revealed around Hannah's neck in New York. Oh. My. God!

We fucked. Or rather, Stacey went down on my dick like she was trying to see if she could get it as far as her stomach. When I finally dragged her off -- pulling on the leash seemed to be the only way of getting my dick out of her esophagus -- she then rubbed her soaking-wet pussy all over my face until she was moaning and I thought I would drown. (It felt like an exquisite form of waterboarding). After extracting a sizeable vibrating plug from her ass, she then did her best to see if, by repeated and very energetic pounding, she could drive my dick into her stomach from the opposite direction. She leant back on her arms, her micro skirt pulled up, her skinny thighs wide apart, pressing onto the bed with her very-much not school-regulation heels. She did all the work, bouncing up and down my full length, in and out of what she delighted in telling me was her 'slutty little asshole'. She also insisted I used a bigger-than-average vibrator to simultaneously fuck her sweet, wet pussy. Or as she preferred to call it, repeatedly, 'my whore cunt.' Oh, and I extemporized by rubbing her clit at the same time. We both came, a few seconds apart, with a lot of moaning, expletives, and -- in her case -- an extended scream. The bedsheets were very, very wet afterwards.

And so our life resumed. After that highly-energetic, almost angry, session, Stacey seemed to settle down into our usual routine. We'd go to the beach, the park, the mall, to restaurants, gigs, movies, as if we were lovely niece and doting uncle. On days when I had to work, she'd chill by my pool, sometimes alone, sometimes with Hannah.

Then, at night and occasionally during the day, we'd fuck; sometimes romantically, sometimes frantically, sometimes almost brutally. Sometimes just the two of us, and again, sometimes with Hannah. I'd often just watch as Stacey and Hannah finished studying together or just scanning Facebook or Instagram, and started making out. A few times, I stayed watching as they did the sexiest things to each other, and listened to the sounds of their multiple orgasms. But usually I'd be invited to join in. It was bizarre and beautiful.

One time, they insisted that I fuck both of them together. They just bent over the end of the bed, and I fucked two beautiful, wet, silky pussies in turn -- three or four strokes in one, then the same in the other, trying to use my hands to stimulate the unoccupied one, until I finally came -- inside Hannah -- after both of them had got where they needed to be. We kissed, cuddled, then Stacey said she'd go and mix us some drinks while I went to use the bathroom. When I came out, two cute faces were looking up at me, mouths wide open, tongues out. Stacey just grabbed my hips and swallowed my limp cock completely. By the time it came out of her mouth, it wasn't limp. It was fully hard by the time Hannah had engulfed it, swallowed it down and worked it in her clever throat for a while.

But I never got a chance to pump my cum into either of their digestive systems -- at least not from that end -- because then it was asshole time. By that, I'm not referring to me and my hugely successful attempts to deprave two sweet young women. No, I mean that I was then promptly presented with two plugged, lubed, tight but very willing anal cavities, and encouraged, verbally and with a number of gestures, to plug those cavities with something hot, organic and (by then) very hard. With Hannah, I was gentle, but I still managed to make her whimper and gasp when, after removing her plug, I carefully inserted my cock into that lovely tight tube for only my -- and her -- second time. Stacey had to content herself with the vibrating plug -- the remote, this time, held by Hannah -- while I made sure that, by the time I was balls-deep, Stacey's gorgeous BFF was as deeply into it as I was into her ass.