California Who Says Revenge Isnt Sweet
- 3 years ago
- 41
- 0
Life Isn't FairChapter 7 free porn video
If I had given more thought to things, I would have realized how difficult this all was for poor Uncle Bob. I had him wrapped around my little finger, and didn’t even know it. I’m pretty sure he did. I’m pretty sure he kept saying, “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” in his mind as he gave in, time after time to the whims of a teenage girl. He just couldn’t resist.
As I look back on it now, I’m sure that’s why he ended up on my bed, sans shorts, with me lying perpendicular to him, my face inches from his very hard penis.
“You have to teach me how,” I informed him, just staring at his male-ness.
He did. He taught me how to grasp it, and where to grasp it, so that my hand made the foreskin slide back and forth, uncovering and then covering the tip. It was fascinating to see this thing up close, and to be able to feel it. I could almost imagine it being clasped by different muscles, in a different place, but it was just a quick fantasy.
He taught me how tightly to hold him, and how fast to move. He was saying, “Yeah! Like that!” when, suddenly, it went off. Those ropes of white shot out of it like before, except this time they went straight up and then straight back down. It got all over my hand, and his stomach, and some got on the bed. It was warm, though, and didn’t feel icky at all.
I stared at it. It wasn’t as viscous as the liniment. It was more runny, and yet it had body to it. Girls I knew said they’d tasted this stuff. Some said it was great, and others said it made them puke. I wasn’t there, yet. Not for tasting it. His cock started wilting in my hand and I felt the same sadness I’d felt as my orgasm seeped out of me.
I got up and lay on top of him. We were both naked, but I wasn’t trying to do anything sexual. I just wanted to feel his skin against me as I kissed him. He was still gasping for air, so I had to kiss the corner of his lips, but I didn’t care.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re - welcome,” he panted.
“I’m going to be sad we can’t do this anymore,” I said, thoughtlessly. I really did believe that my new toy would solve everything.
“Yeah,” he sighed.
I was all bouncy and perky. He was drained. I got off of him and observed that I had laid down on his semen. It was on my abdomen and in my pubic hair. And all over my hand, of course. I decided I needed a shower, even if it took the liniment off of me.
After all ... he had more. I could always have him put more on me.
The shower I usually used had been brand new (and probably new-fangled) when it was put in, but now it was just a rust-stained enclosure with a tired plastic curtain across the opening. Three of the hooks had ripped through the plastic. All that didn’t matter, though, because the water was cool and clean. I didn’t use soap, but just washed his semen off of me. My fingers found my slit was still slippery, until the water washed that away, too. I dripped dry, to preserve any of the ointment that might have survived the water. My mind wandered as I stood there on the bath mat.
I thought about my parents. I knew my “situation” wasn’t resolved, yet. I had maybe three weeks left at Uncle Bob’s and then I’d have to start school. I wanted to go back home and back to classes at my regular school, where I knew everybody. I was pretty sure that me just being gone for the summer wasn’t going to be enough to make my parents grow brains, though. I thought about pleading with them, and telling them I’d learned my lesson. I hadn’t learned anything at all. Well, I’d learned that my geezerly old uncle was way different than I had thought he’d be. I had a major crush on Uncle Bob. I knew it wasn’t what he’d done to me, though that played a huge role in things. It wasn’t that I’d gotten to expand my knowledge of sexual things. What made it special was that I got to learn it from him.
I figured he would take a nap, because he’d looked all tuckered out, lying there with his penis shrunken back down to maybe three inches long. It had looked tired, too. So I went to the computer and looked up a recipe for meatloaf. I printed it off and took it to the kitchen. I started gathering up ingredients and it wasn’t until I opened the big chest freezer to get out some hamburger that I realized I was still stark naked. My breasts, hanging halfway into the interior of the freezer, notified me that such cold was ... interesting.
I decided to just stay naked, because my clothes were where Uncle Bob was sleeping, and he deserved his rest. He worked hard. So I just stayed naked as I nuked the hamburger to thaw it out, and then got my hands all sticky-icky mashing meat, ketchup, an egg, milk, and crushed crackers up. I added diced onion and Worcestershire sauce, and topped it off with garlic powder, salt, and pepper. The mess got less gooey and more firm, but my hands were still a mess when I finished getting it in the bread pan I found under the counter.
I slid it in the oven and then washed my hands. I was doing that, in fact, when Uncle Bob came into the kitchen after waking up.
It turned out he was still naked, too.
I found this out when he came up behind me and put his arms around me, pressing his hot body against my back. His hands cupped my breasts as I wrung my soapy hands under clear water.
“You’re naked,” he said into the hair covering my ear. I shivered.
“You’re naked, too,” I said. I pushed back against him and arched my chest.
His fingers found my nipples and played with them.
“I love your nipples so much,” he breathed. “You have the best nipples I ever saw.”
“My nipples are kind of fond of you, too,” I said, feeling spikes of joy shoot down from my breasts to what I now knew was my womb.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he sighed.
“Yes,” I said. “Help, help. Oh, somebody come save me.” My voice was both pitched normally and emotionless.
I turned, using my wet hands to make him let me, until I faced him. I felt his penis against my stomach. It was hard again. I decided to kiss him, I think, because I didn’t want to talk, just then. If we talked, he might say more about what we shouldn’t be doing. He kissed me back and it turned into a very nice, very dreamy kiss. I wanted to rub my pussy against something, but the only thing available was his thigh and things were at the wrong angle.
He finally pulled back and stared at me.
“It’s a good thing you’re going home in two weeks.”
“Two?” my voice went up. “There are three weeks before school starts up again!”
“You can’t go back on Sunday and start school the next day,” he said, gently.
“I don’t want to go back and start school at all!“ I blurted. Where had that come from?
“Come on, Cassie,” he said. “At least they haven’t found some boarding school to send you off to.”
That was true, at least as far as I knew. Private schools had turned out to be more expensive than my folks could handle. What I was afraid of was that my mother had gotten me into the parochial school run by Saint Martin’s Church. It was the biggest Catholic church in town and ran a K through 12 school. Those kids all had to wear uniforms. We weren’t Catholic, but I knew a kid who went there who also wasn’t Catholic.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, since I was worrying, instead of talking.
“Why can’t I just stay here?” I moaned, full of self-pity.
“Because we’d spend too much time like this,” he said. He bumped me with his boner. “And things would get more serious, and I’d seriously contemplate buying a box of condoms, and once I had them I’d want to use them, and you need to be able to be a teenager, instead of being asked to be a grown woman.”
The idea of staying there under the conditions he had just described did not terrify me. And if “being a teenager” meant slumber parties and dating inane, horny boys, and going to dances, and to the mall, then that didn’t sound too interesting, either. Not compared to working with the animals on the ranch, and riding on the open range, and getting massages from Uncle Bob. I even threw baling hay in there, for just a few seconds.
I liked it on the ranch. I fully admit I might not have if Uncle Bob wasn’t there.
But he was.
He asked what was in the oven, and I told him. He told me to go get dressed and that he’d cook some potatoes to mash. I was suddenly down, full of self pity, and got dressed slowly. Suddenly tired, I thought about taking a nap, myself, but I wouldn’t be able to get a decent one in before supper was ready.
I got back to the kitchen and found he’d gotten dressed, too, in jeans and a regular work shirt. He’d just gotten the potatoes out of the microwave and was mashing them in a big metal bowl. I got a can of green beans from the pantry and opened them. I poured them into a bowl, but wouldn’t put them in the microwave until just before we ate.
It all seemed so normal ... so domestic. Back home I’d stay in my room until supper was ready. I wouldn’t help at all. My help wouldn’t be welcome. Mom didn’t like anyone using her kitchen except herself.
I sat at the table and watched him. I tried to imagine being married, but it didn’t work. I could imagine him on the tractor. I could imagine him riding a horse chasing a cow. I could even imagine him naked. But imagining him as a husband was impossible. Imagining anybody as my husband was impossible. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too immature to keep reaching for things adult. I had learned a ton on the ranch, but that still didn’t mean I was ready to go out into the world all by myself. Even trying to imagine going to college only resulted in images of me in high school. I had no idea what “college” really meant, other than going to more classes.
We ate supper and he said he was turning in early. I’m pretty sure he did that just to avoid me. It didn’t matter. I was in a funk about things, anyway.
I stayed in my funk all day Monday and most of Tuesday. What brought me out of it was the UPS truck driving up the driveway and delivering a package.
My rabbit was there!
Of course Uncle Bob said we still had work to do. On that particular day he was working on building a contraption that would assist in getting hay bales out of the field. He’d taken the axle out of some vehicle and welded a frame to it. The frame was sort of shaped like a triangle and had a ramp on it, with a really long super big bicycle looking chain that went around an exposed gear on the axle. This chain had five inch hooks on it every so often. When it was finished, it was supposed to hook onto the side of the hay trailer and roll along next to it. The tractor could be steered to scoop up a hay bale, and the hooks on the chain would drag the hay bale up the ramp, where somebody standing on the trailer could grab the wires and pull it off. If it worked, it would only take two people to collect the hay bales from the pasture, instead of three.
I still couldn’t imagine how it was all going to work, but he had it all figured out in his brain. I held things while he welded them together, and got him this and that. I had been his personal go-fer all summer, so I was used to it. Doing things like this could be boring, unless you found something to think about. And if you did find something to think about, then doing stuff like this was a great chance to think.
What I thought about was my ... situation.
He was right about the progression thing. I understood that, now. I understood why famous people, when they broke up, immediately found other partners. They’d gone through the progression and didn’t want to go without sex. Nobody who had experienced the joys of sex wanted to go without it. He was right about how we shouldn’t have done anything. If we hadn’t, I wouldn’t know the things I knew now, and wouldn’t be wanting more. The story about Pandora’s box made a lot more sense than it had, too.
I thought about wanting more. I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to change. I knew there was nobody back home I would consider doing more with, nobody I wanted to start a progression with. That was just one more reason being back home was going to be a downer. I wanted to be with my friends. But somehow that didn’t seem like it would be enough.
Slowly, I brought together a plan that was just as complicated as his pick-up-the-bale-and-pull-it-up-the-ramp machine. I didn’t say anything to him about it. I knew he would not approve. And a lot depended on what happened at home. There were lots of variables. If I got sent to Catholic school, it might not work. If I wasn’t allowed to date, it might not work. If I violated the wrong rules, it might not work. A lot could go wrong.
But if everything went right, my world might get a lot better.
I had forgotten about the sex toy as we worked and my mind was taken up by my Machiavellian plan. When we went into the house for supper, the box was sitting on the kitchen table, where Uncle Bob had put it.
I took it to my room and opened the box. The thing had looked strange on the website, and it looked positively weird in real life. It had a thick, smooth tube that was obviously intended to insert into my vagina. Then this growth-looking thing, like some bizarre mushroom grew off the side. It came to a point that didn’t make sense, until I looked at the “instructions.” The ‘growth’ vibrated and was meant to press against your clit. There was also a picture of the device turned the other way, and the ‘growth’ vibrating where Uncle Bob had touched me and I told him not to. Who wanted to stick a vibrating growth up their butt?!
Anyway, I got it out of the packaging and found that, like most things, batteries were not included. I went to find Uncle Bob.
I took it with me, not out of some unkind intent, or to tease him. I just was going to show him the battery chamber and say, “I need batteries to fit in there.”
He had taken off his work clothes and was standing there in his boxers. I no longer felt like I was intruding when I barged into his room without knocking.
“I need batteries to fit in there,” I said, holding the rabbit in my left hand and pointing to the open battery compartment with my right forefinger.
He gaped. I had unintentionally presented it to him in perfect profile, with the long tube and growth in plain view. He didn’t have to read any instructions to know what the design was intended for.
“Good grief,” he said, staring at the thing in my hand.
“Do you have any?” I asked. I assumed he knew I was still talking about batteries. “I want to try it out.”
“Fuck, Cassie,” he groaned. “You can’t just show me that thing and tell me you’re anxious to use it!”
“Why not? Isn’t this what you wanted? Now I’ll leave you alone. I won’t need you anymore.”
I admit I was a little cruel. It’s possible there’s a tiny perverse streak in my personality.
He found me some batteries and, even though we hadn’t had supper yet, I went to my room and stripped naked. If I’d have gotten this thing back home I’d have hidden it and only brought it out in the dark of night, when I thought everybody else was fast asleep. But at the ranch, I didn’t feel embarrassed about using it at all.
I was, in fact, using it ... in earnest ... when Uncle Bob came to get me for supper. If I’d closed the door he probably would have knocked. But I hadn’t closed the door. It had been an hour since I asked for the batteries, so maybe he thought I was finished already.
“You should have locked your door,” he gasped. My heels were firmly on the bed, lifting my butt up into the air, as the circular workings of the long dildo made me whine with joy.
“Why would I need to lock you out?” I managed to gasp.
“At least fucking close the door,” he growled, and turned around and left.
There was a smallish learning curve with my new toy. What I had already learned about my new best friend was that I was going to be able to use it for hours. It didn’t give me orgasms. It just made me feel wonderful. It was like eating your favorite food, but never getting full. I was pretty sure I could have an orgasm with the thing. I’d have to learn how to use it for that, but I just didn’t want to. Not right now, anyway. Maybe later, when I was tired.
I pulled it out of me and it made a different noise. I turned it off and laid it on the bed. I hopped up and put on my shorts and a T shirt. My muscles felt pretty good. Just standing around helping Uncle Bob build the hay bale thingie had given them time to get all better. Plus, I had a full dose of dopamine, or endorphins or whatever my rabbit had been manufacturing in my brain.
I went to supper a happy, happy girl.
Uncle Bob was surly at supper. That didn’t dampen my enthusiasm at all.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll keep my door closed from now on.”
“Thank you,” he muttered.
“I really like it,” I said.
“More information than I need, Cassie,” he grunted.
“Okay,” I said, brightly.
I stayed to help with dishes, but then said I was going to bed. It was only seven, but I knew what I was going to do for the next two hours before I went to sleep.
I did close my door, by the way.
I learned later that not “playing with me” was harder for Uncle Bob than what had been going on. It wasn’t that abstinence was more difficult than trying to resist going all the way ... while going lots of the way. It was because he could hear the rabbit through the door and walls. And, possibly because he stopped seeing much of me at all. I was instantly addicted to the stupid thing. As the older, wiser version of myself, I know that it was my inexperience that was the root of the problem. Remember how I said I could go for hours using it? That’s because I didn’t know myself well enough to understand how to achieve orgasm, or at least the kind of orgasms I was seeking. That was part of that learning curve I mentioned.
Latisha
- 23.05.2022
- 35
- 0
