Me and My Uncle Ch. 06

My freshman year at the University of Missouri passed pretty uneventfully.

I kept a low profile, studied hard and made good grades. I played the part of the shy country girl on campus while I got acclimated to a whole new world.

I honestly hate to say this, but if I had been thrown into that situation cold, without the weeks I spent working as my uncle's whore that summer, I'm not sure I would have survived.

I was so naive and in need of guidance at that point in my life, that I probably would have fallen into the clutches of someone (anyone), and I doubt that it would have been very pleasant.

But after a couple of months of negotiating the pitfalls of life as a whore, under my uncle's tutelage, I had developed some street smarts, and some much-needed self-confidence. I know, that's a pretty brutal way to obtain those kinds of life skills, and I wish now that I had chosen another way.

Nevertheless, that's the way I did it, there's no going back and doing it over, and it did force me to learn how to swim with the sharks pretty quickly.

I took the basic general studies courses that first year, because I really didn't know what I wanted to do. I knew I had an aptitude for math, though, and by the end of my second semester, I had about decided that computer sciences were where the future was.

I also discovered that I had a little bit of artistic ability. I wasn't much with my hands, but on the computer, I found that I could be quite creative.

Along the way, I solidified my new identity as Lyn Gibson. That was tough in spots, and weird, too. I had to learn how to sign my name all over again, and I often found myself not responding when someone spoke to me.

However, I established my official address as a post office box in Columbia, and after that nothing that could tie me to Lyn Gibson ever came to the store, nor did anything that could tie me to Sophie Trotter ever come to the box.

The one dicey part was showing Uncle Bill my grades, and at first he did insist on seeing them. Fortunately, I was able to obscure the name on the grade reports when I showed them to him, then I never left them lying around where he could see them.

It really is amazing that I pulled it off, but Uncle Bill was so self-absorbed, so wrapped up in his own little world that he never really caught on. Plus, I think he figured I wasn't that clever - or devious - to think up something like that. I don't think it even occurred to him to suspect anything like that.

After all, I was his docile little pet, his fuck toy, his sex machine, his dependent little niece who would do anything he told me to do.

I quickly settled into a routine, and we started bringing in a hefty bit of cash. Bill set up an account in a Jefferson City bank where my earnings and his matching funds would go to pay for my tuition, books, fees, etc. And he paid fairly close attention to that account. He didn't want me tapping into it for just anything.

I thought that was pretty funny. We'd never had much money, and I had learned at an early age how to be frugal with what I had. I wasn't about to become a spendthrift just because I now had more money available than I'd ever had before.

Still, I insisted on getting a healthy allowance so I could buy clothes, gas and food while I was off at school.

Let me say very clearly that I earned every penny I made. If you've never fucked for a living, you may not understand how quickly you can become jaded. Most nights when I worked, I averaged about a dozen men, who wanted everything from a handjob to anal.

Once the parade started, I'd reach a point where I might climax, but more often than not, I had to fake it. I mean, it just got so monotonous.

But there were plenty of nights when something would happen that lit a spark. Sometimes it was an extra-big or extra-good cock, a few times it was another woman, and then there were the party nights.

Every so often, we'd entertain more customers than I could handle doing them one at a time. If it was starting to get late, and we still had a large crowd who wanted some of me, Uncle Bill would declare a party night, and for $60, everyone who wanted to could pile into the apartment for a full-blown orgy.

The first time it happened was on New Year's Eve my freshman year, and it was OK until I got drunk and puked all over the place. That sort of put a damper on things.

But the next time it happened was probably the best party we ever had up there, and I remember it well.

It was the Saturday before Memorial Day in 1989, and spring fever was in the air. I was out of school for the summer, and had been busy for several weeks making up for time that I'd lost when I didn't work during finals.

I believe I was at the peak of my sexual prowess at that point. I'd been at it for a year, and I had become very skilled - and very popular. I had developed a real nasty streak - nasty as in wanton - and I was giving my customers more than their money's worth.

This was the period I talked about earlier when I said I came to love the taste of cum. Truth is, during this period in my life I was a real cum junkie. I got to where I liked being sloppy with it; the more cum, the better.

I think the Cardinals were on TV that afternoon, because we had a large crowd gathering pretty early at the bar. Uncle Bill fired up his big smoker grill and cooked up a bunch of roasts, ribs and pork shoulders, and the bar just seemed to be buzzing all day.

By 5 o'clock, I had been kissed, felt up and teased by just about everyone there, and I had been teasing in turn all afternoon. We were just having a hell of a time. Finally, we just closed the store and started to get down to business.

I was feeling really wicked, so after the store was locked up, I went upstairs and put on one of my outfits. I had on a garter belt, stockings, a pair of my thong panties, one of my teeny-weeny skirts, a thin blouse, my high heels and I got myself made up pretty good.

The large crowd that had gathered in the bar whooped and whistled when I made my entrance, and I quickly got up on the bar, while someone played the jukebox. I did a really seductive dance that quickly turned into a strip show. Off came my blouse, and I played with my tits a little bit. Down went my skirt, and I stood on that bar and did the hippy shake clad only in stockings, panties and heels.

I played with my panties for bit, pulling them tight up my crotch and so forth. Everyone was chanting for me to take them off, but I laughed and said loudly that if anyone wanted to see any more of me, they'd have to come upstairs, leaving unsaid the inference that they had to pay for the privilege. And with that, I jumped off the bar and slipped out the back, before they could react.

I was really horny, and I had a gut feeling the night was going to be spectacular. And, boy, was it ever!

The first guy to come up was a young guy, a guy I vaguely recalled from school as being a year behind me. I don't recall his name, but he was fairly quiet, and I think he was there on a dare from his friends. He didn't have a lot of money on him, so he said he'd settle for a handjob.

He shucked his clothes and laid back on my bed, his half-hard cock already twitching. Now, let me tell you, when I gave out a handjob, it wasn't just three minutes of fast fisting to get a cumshot. Oh no. I'm telling you, I was the best, and my handjobs were legendary.

I slid my panties off, and knelt between the guy's legs, which were spread wide. I took a bottle of baby oil and squeezed a generous amount onto his cock, then I slowly, softly, began to rub his cock and balls, which quickly tightened up into a nice little hard-on. He wasn't real big, maybe 5 inches when fully hard, but I believe I could have cut a diamond with his cock.

I slowly began to stroke him up and down, and all the time I was giving him a sexy talk. I told him to close his eyes and imagine me riding his cock, up and down, up and down. I could see his body starting to tense up and his hips were starting to work in a fucking motion.

I got him right to the edge ... then I quit. He groaned heavily, then I started up again. I held his cock by the base and worked my fist rapidly over the crown, which brought a sharp cry of ecstasy from his throat. But I quickly settled back into a methodical rhythm until I felt him getting close, then I stopped again.

The poor kid was panting, and his whole body was red, especially his super-hard cock. This time, I went to work with purpose, stroking him briskly up and down, and he writhed on the bed as I masturbated him expertly.

"Come on, baby, that's it," I purred. "That's it, come for me. Oh yeah!"

His cum exploded out the end of his cock like one of those old films you see of an oil strike, where the stuff just spews everywhere. This kid's cum shot out all over and covered his stomach, his abdomen and my hand, which was still milking him of all of his juice.

Finally, he slumped back on the bed, well satisfied. I took a wet washcloth from the bathroom and lovingly cleaned up all of his cum, then he got dressed and I sent him on his way with a kiss to the cheek.

Next was a man I recall only as Harmon, and he paid $60 for a blowjob with a facial at the end. I could feel my pussy purring at that. I'd come to love the feeling of hot cum shooting onto my face, so I eagerly bent to the task at hand.

Harmon had a good-sized cock, maybe 6-6 1/2 inches, and moderately fat. I sucked his balls, one at a time, then both at the same time, before sliding the flat of my tongue all the way up his shaft until I was slurping at the head like it was an ice cream cone. I licked him all over until his cock was covered with saliva.

Then I opened my mouth wide and slowly sucked his cock into my mouth. I sucked about half of it in, then started with a head-bobbing motion. As I worked up and down, I sank a little bit more of his cock into my throat, until suddenly I plunged every bit of him in me.

I felt his wiry pubic hairs tickling my nose as I worked my throat on his twitching cock. When I heard a gasping groan come from Harmon's lips, I pulled my mouth all the way off, leaving ropy tendrils of saliva and pre-cum connecting us.

"You liked that, huh?" I said in my sultriest voice.

He just nodded. I had him in the palm of my hand, and I got a big charge out of that kind of power. As much as anything else, it was the knowledge of the power of my hot pussy or my hot mouth over men that caused my work as a whore to build my self-confidence.

I think I'd always known it subconsciously, or maybe I'd projected that kind of innocent sexuality, which is why I seemed to attract men who wanted to use me, going back as far as Schultzie. But once I put it together and really understood what I had, I used it to my advantage as much as possible.

Of course, it was a dangerous game that ultimately backfired on me, but in 1989, I was reveling in my newfound power.

I slipped my mouth back onto Harmon's cock and really began to work him. I hummed, I slobbered, I slurped and, of course, I sucked. I could feel him tensing up under me, and I could feel my own arousal starting to build.

When I got paid for a blowjob and a facial, I always told the customer to warn me when he was about to shoot, and Harmon fairly croaked, "I'm cum...min'," as I felt his cock balloon in my mouth.

I pulled him out of me about a second before he shot a half-dozen really creamy cumshots all up and down my face. He laced both of my eyes, my cheeks, my hair, around my lips and down my chin.

When he was finished spurting, I slid the head back in my mouth and squeezed out the last few drops of cum from the end of his dick. Then I got up on my knees, and stared into his eyes as I slowly, sensually, scooped as much of his cum as I could from my face with my fingers, and licked them clean.

After he left, I cleaned my face just in time for the next customer, a regular named Clint. I didn't have to ask what Clint wanted, because it was the same thing every time. He wanted a blowjob and he wanted me to swallow his cum.

He was a fairly young guy, probably in his mid-30s, and nice-looking. I asked him one time why he came to me, and why he never wanted to fuck me when he did. He said his old lady (his words) was good-looking and a great fuck, but she absolutely refused to give him a blowjob. So he came to me for something he loved that he couldn't get at home. Made sense to me.

He had a decent-sized cock, nothing spectacular, and I finished him off after a really hot, sloppy blowjob.

By this time, I was really getting hot between my legs and I was in need of a cock, and my next customer more than filled the bill.

Dave was a youngish guy also, a semi-regular who came around maybe once a month. He was about 30, and a dead ringer for Steve Dallas, a character in what was at the time my favorite comic strip, the legendary Bloom County. He had the same rakish dark hair, the same slightly rumpled appearance, the same shades that he wore all the time, and he had the same problem with alcohol.

But he also had a real nice dick, probably 7-7 1/2 inches and quite thick, and he knew what to do with it. He plopped down his hundred-dollar bill, and as soon as I had it stashed away, I melted into his arms and we kissed like two lovers who hadn't seen each other in a week.

I quickly unbuttoned his white dress shirt (which was wrinkled, of course) and his slacks, slid his boxers off and we tumbled into the bed naked. He was already semi-hard, and I quickly got him up to full roar with my hands, while he slid two fingers between my bubbling pussy lips.

"Hmmmm, I see you're hot to trot tonight, my dear," he said in an ironic tone of voice. "All for me?"

"You and anyone else with the money to pay for it," I said back with a laugh. "Now are you ready to fuck me or what?"

He just growled, and rolled me onto my back. I spread my legs, took his cock in my hand and guided it to my molten pussy. I hissed in lust as his cock slid past my lips and into my steaming cunt.

"Ahhhhhh yeah!" I cried out. "Goooood dick. God, I love cock."

"You do, don't you," Dave said as he quickly got up to speed in my hot box. "I'll... bet you'd... do this... for free. Wouldn'tyou."

"M-m-m-maybe," I stuttered as I worked my hips up and down to receive his inward thrusts, fucking him back every bit as hard as he was fucking me.

I could feel a really large orgasm - a real one - quickly gathering steam in my heaving body, and I worked Dave harder and faster to get him to come with me.

We were both panting and groaning as we hurtled toward the finish line, and I got there about a split-second before he did. I arched my back, cried out sharply and felt my whole body shudder as the orgasm crested in me.

And even as I hit the peak of the wave, I felt Dave tense and grunt loudly as he exploded with his hard, rocky cumshot, deep in my womb. We both twitched and groaned from the intensity of our climax.

That's when I knew it was going to be a really good night.

Dave left, and I was able to clean up quickly - just a douche - before the next guy came in, someone of around 35 that I didn't know. He was built like a bowling ball, kind of short and stocky, with very short hair that was pretty much gone gray.

His cock was also kind of short and stubby, about 4 1/2-5 inches, but fairly fat, and he was quite muscular. He wanted me on my knees to fuck me doggy-style, and I worked myself around that fat cock, while he leisurely fucked me.

It was slow going for me, and I was still a long away from cumming when he sprayed my insides with cum.

I just left his cum in me, and let it dribble slowly out of my hole. At this point, I really didn't care whether the guys got a sloppy hole or not; they'd just have to deal with it.

The next guy, however, just wanted a blowjob, and I sucked him off to a most satisfactory climax. This man's cum was especially thick and creamy, and I let it roll down my throat like it was the nectar of the gods - which, to me, it was.

As soon as my next customer walked through the door, I felt a charge go through me. It was one of Uncle Bill's old buddies, a guy named Clay, and he always wanted my ass. He was perfect for the first cock of the night back there, because he wasn't real fat, but he was long enough to really get inside me and get me all worked up.

I handed him the jelly as we climbed onto the bed, both on our knees, and I cooed as his fingers worked the lube into my asshole. I could feel another climax beginning to spark, just from anticipating a butt fuck.

Funny how that works. When I first started, I was terrified of anal sex, thought it was filthy. Now I loved it, and couldn't get it enough. Even now, when I'm really feeling frisky and want to try hard for a big climax - which I have trouble achieving these days, if you'll recall - I'll ask Ron to play with my asshole, and I've even asked him to fuck me back there, which he does, eagerly.

Clay worked his fingers in both my holes, getting my ass well-lubed and open, and fingered my already well-fucked pussy. He noticed how sticky it was with cum, and had to comment. That was my first inkling of what was in store for me that night.

"Feeling kind of hot tonight, are we?" Clay said.

"You betcha!" I exclaimed. "I'm feeling pretty good tonight."

"It's a good thing, then," Clay said. "Because there's a real crowd down there waiting their turn."

"How many?" I asked, my stomach starting to boil with a combination of anticipation and concern.

"Oh, about a coupla dozen, at least," he said.

"Well, then, I guess we'd better pick up the pace," I said, reaching back and pulling my butt cheeks open to widen his target. "Come on in here and fuck my ass, baby."

Clay did just that, pressing the spear-like head of his cock to my well-lubed asshole. I let my whole body relax, and he slid his cock past my anal ring with no trouble. As he slid his length all the way up my backside in one smooth push, I could feel myself starting to lose control.

I started moaning rhythmically, panting and shaking as my climax began to gather steam. I pushed my butt back on his steadily-pumping cock, wanting as much of him up my ass as he could get in there.

Clay gripped my hips as he worked my ass back and forth on his churning dick, and I reached under my body and began to strum my bloated clit, working myself up to a tumultuous orgasm as Clay fucked my ass hard and fast.

At last, I could feel him fuck me really hard for about a dozen strokes, and about the time I crashed into a full-body climax, I felt the warm jets of cum fill my bowels. We both jerked in time as the climax washed over us.

Finally, he disengaged himself from me, and I rolled onto my side, spread my legs and showed off my glistening holes.

"Come on back, any time," I purred. Clay said he would, and retreated for the next customer.

That was another regular, and another potentially spectacular fuck. Grant Murray had been a football star for the local high school about 10 years earlier, and he'd stayed in real good shape. He was 6-foot-3, 260 pounds, with shoulder-length brown hair, and a very nice 8-inch cock.

Grant just stared at me as I displayed myself lewdly and he quickly undressed, after dropping his hundred on the dresser. As soon as he was naked and that nice big cock was free, I crawled up on my knees, grabbed it by the base, stuffed the head in my mouth and began to suck.

"Whoa, this is a pleasant surprise," he panted.

"Just priming the pump a little," I said in a husky voice. I was sitting on Cloud 69, and I was ready to cum again.

Grant just grunted, rolled me onto my back, lined up the head of his cock with the entrance to my pussy and rammed it home. I gasped and squealed as I lifted my legs off the bed, wrapped them around his back and humped him as hard as I could.