The Black Sheep's Naughty Niece

Uncle Murray never had any kids of his own. Lhana supposed that was for the best. He had come to visit his sister, Lhana's mother, about ten years ago, and never left. Well, he had eventually moved into an apartment down the street, but still seemed to always be mooching off her parents. Her father raised periodic fits about this, but her mom always ended the argument with, "That's my little brother!" It sounded all loving, but Lhana knew her mom's real concern was more a matter of family pride. After all, how could she be the upstanding church lady if word got out that she ignored her kin?

Uncle Murray was the baby of his family. Only twelve years older than Lhana, he had defined her opinion of sexy even before she knew what sexy meant. His playful, nonchalant attitude toward life was in stark contrast with Lhana's work-a-holic father. Murray's philosophy on work was, "That's what you do when you run out of other stuff to do." Which he rarely did, and, needless to say, he did not leave behind an abundance of worldly possessions.

Lhana recalled the many evenings her dad came home from his nine-to-five, when Murray would be leaving about the same time, all dressed up and smelling like Brute. Lhana used to beg him, "Take me with you, pleeaase."

Murray would just chuckle. "Ladybug," (he always called her that), "You have the cutest little pouty face," he'd tell her as he squeezed her cheeks, "but you aren't old enough."

Then Lhana would ask him, "Where are you going?"

Murray's eyes would sparkle with mysterious mirth, and he'd grin through his full, dark auburn beard. His reply was always the same slow drawl, "Crazy."

Lhana would sigh as he left her to imagine what life was like for people who weren't stuck living with her uptight, stuffy parents.

Yet, Lhana mused, as her gaze drifted around the parlor, Murray might have come up short by most people's success gage, and he was definitely never husband material, but he'd always had women around him. Beautiful women. Several of them had shown up tonight to bid their once lover a final farewell. Most of them made it a point to hug Lhana. They had watched her grow into the woman she was today. Hell, many of them had been quite influential, Lhana thought with a slight smile, glancing around as she took her seat on the second row of pews. She heard some people whisper, "Such a tragic accident. Did they ever figure out why he went off the road?"

Lhana thought back to the first time he'd touched her. It was the summer after her high school graduation. She'd been lying around the house, watching TV all afternoon, when Murray came home from whatever odd job he'd been doing that day. She never thought about the fact that all she wore was an old, half t-shirt and her cut-offs. Murray had seen her in various states of dress all her life. In the previous couple of years, they'd developed an easy, ongoing flirtation, like mischievous spirits recognizing one another. She looked forward to those moments where she knew she could torment him with a flash of tit or a glimpse of ass (and still have her parents believe she was chaste).

Naturally, Murray razzed her about what a lazy bum she'd been all day; how she should get a job and quit sponging off her parents. She'd giggled and told him he was just being envious. He agreed, saying that because he'd had to work that day, she should give him a back rub, (as he grabbed a throw pillow and stretched out on the sofa).

Without argument, she straddled his rear and began running her hands up and down his well-tanned torso. Lhana had been giving her uncle massages for years, and actually enjoyed kneading the muscles along his spine. As he lay there underneath her, they both became quiet and lost in thought. Lhana gradually became aware that Murray's hand had slipped under her shirt, and was softly caressing the underside of her breast. She didn't say anything, just wondered how far he'd go. She tightened her thighs around his, leaning forward just enough to give him some encouragement. When his fingers brushed her nipple, it was already to a hard point.

Murray rolled over between the arc of Lhana's legs. She would never forget how his tawny eyes twinkled and his smile deepened the dimples in his cheeks when she lifted her arms to slowly pull her t-shirt over her head, then leaned over to brush her full, round tits against his chest.

Murray groaned, pulling her to him for a kiss that left Lhana in little doubt that they had already crossed a line, to which they would never return. When he drew her tit into his warm mouth, swirling his tongue around her pebbled nipple, and she felt the softness of his auburn beard against her breast, she knew she'd never want to.

Lhana leaned back, wrapping her long, athletic legs around him. Murray sat up, effectively swapping their positions. He trailed kisses down her neck, nibbling as he went, tickling her with his beard. When his mouth returned to her nipples, Lhana twined her fingers into his thick, curly, dark red, shoulder length hair, pulling him urgently to her. He skimmed his tongue over her flat belly and found the button to her cut-off jeans. She leaned back on her elbows, boldly watching as he unzipped her shorts and tossed them carelessly to the floor, panties immediately following.

She had one knee bent in invitation when he turned back to her, but instead of rejoining her on the sofa, he extended his hand. "Why don't we go to your room?"

Lhana felt gloriously sinful when her long raven tresses swept across her butt cheeks while she walked naked through her parents' house to her bedroom. He caught her up in a sensuous embrace, "I always knew you had a naughty streak," he told her, running his hands over the length of her sun-kissed body, tugging her hair so that her face tilted up and he could devour her ripe lips. She fumbled with his belt, but Murray pushed her gently backwards till she fell softly on the bed, where she lay propped on one arm while he quickly shed his jeans.

Lhana stretched back on the bed as Murray leaned over and fanned her luxurious ebony mane across the pillow. "Just a fantasy of mine," he told her, ravaging her lips again. "I've been imagining this for a long time now." His slow, seductive voice was deep and smooth, like molasses.

Being lavishly endowed with firm, round, buxom breasts, she watched as Murray appreciated them. Her rosy nipples tightened, almost painfully. "My, my, how you have grown," Murray said as he slid along side her. He teased her nipples, drawing circles with the rough palm of his hand till Lhana arched and moaned. When his mouth closed around one nipple, Lhana sighed with pleasure. The pressure between her legs felt wet and wicked as Murray toyed with her clit.

"I just got to taste that," he told her, suddenly dipping his finger. Lhana arched upward, gasping as she pressed against his palm. Too soon, he brought his wet finger to his lips, "Mmmm."

Murray sat up between Lhana's legs, trailing hot, lingering kisses along her throat; her breasts; her belly, till he finally reached her sweet spot. She gasped when Murray, with his arms wrapped around her hips, spread her outer lips with his fingers and sucked her clit into his warm, wet mouth. She bucked against his soft beard, moaning and gasping till Murray felt the first quiver of her eminent climax.

Rising up, he pushed the head of his long, hard dick into her warm, juicy pussy, teasing till Lhana lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in with a shocked, but satisfied purr. Murray pumped, in and out of Lhana's tight, young pussy, watching her pleasure play across her face. Her breathless moans turned into ragged sighs and sharp gasps. He barely held off his own orgasm as she began to pulse convulsively around his rock hard cock. She panted and whimpered; reaching for him as Murray drove deeper, prolonging the climax till Lhana, thrashing her head from side to side, pleaded for fulfillment.

Murray stilled inside her, waiting for her breathing to even out. Then he rolled them both over so that Lhana was on top. His huge dick fit so firm in her pussy that she could only rock back and forth. Murray held tight to her hips thrusting his cock deeper and harder till she squealed in painful delight as the sensation on her clit sent her right back into orgasmic orbit. When Murray reached up, closing his palms over both nipples, she went into outer space, with Murray right behind her.

That had been the start of an exciting relationship. The memory brought tears to her eyes as she listened to her cousin, Lance, deliver Murray's eulogy.

"Uncle Murray was in a lot of pain these past few weeks, but Brother Steve and I sat by his bedside and prayed, day after day. Finally, he did come to accept our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ."

Lhana looked up at Lance. You're sick, she thought. Ya'll badgered him into saying what you wanted to hear. Just like Mom, she stole a glance toward Ann, the only soul you're interested in saving is your own. Her eyes narrowed knowingly on Lance. It must be hard to live life pretending to NOT be gay. She wondered when it would catch up with him. It made her want to scream, the way Lance and Brother Steve were talking about her beloved Murray. Like they were speaking of a different man. Saying he had repented all of his sins and was ready to start a new life, if only God had allowed him to do so. She made eye contact with Murray's steadiest girlfriend, Robyn, who sat across the room. The slight shake of her head and purse of her lips let Lhana know that she wasn't the only one at the wake who resented this sanctifying eulogy. Lhana slipped back into her memories.

It was a year or so after the first time. Lhana's prudish mother was driving her insane with stupid "good girl" rules of dating. Lhana had never wanted to be a "good girl." She snickered to herself in the pew. She had just wanted to be good at it. So when Ann had finished her lecture, Lhana quietly slipped from the house and walked down to Murray's.

She found him bent over the only woman to ever hold his full attention. Her name was Scarlett and she was long and lean and feisty as hell. Murray slammed the hood and wiped his hands on his grease rag when he saw Lhana approaching.

"What's up Ladybug?"

"Had to get some air." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, you're just in time. Scarlett needed some minor adjustments to her carburetor and we were just about to go for a spin. Hop in."

"You gonna put the top down?"

"Of course."

The white leather bucket seats of the '67 GTO warmed her backside as she settled in for her escape.

As soon as they reached the stop sign at the end of the street, Murray tossed a bag of pot and some rolling papers in her lap. "I know you smoke, can you roll?"

"Can a monkey peal a banana?"

For the next hour, they just rode around, talked and giggled. The breeze blowing in from the gulf felt wonderful as Murray slowly cruised the beach.

They listened to the radio for a few blocks, then Murray pulled into a gas station.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah."

"Stay put, I'll be right back."

He returned with a paper sack and stuck it behind her seat within easy reach. Once they were back on the road, he reached behind her, retrieving an amber bottle of beer, running the chilled glass along her bare skin at the seam where her legs crossed. Lhana jumped at the cold sensation, instantly spreading her legs. Murray grinned wickedly and laughed, settling the beer against Lhana's satin clad crotch.

A couple of blocks later, Murray pulled into a parking space next to the beach. Warm, salty, Gulf breezes tossed her hair as they made their way down a long wooden pier. At the end, they both leaned out over the rail for a few minutes, just staring down at the dark, rolling waters of the Gulf of Mexico, listening as the endless waves slapped a rhythm against the heavy pylons. Heat lightning sparked through the clouds in the distance lending an electric charge to the evening. Far along the horizon, they could see the lights from a distant oilrig. A little closer, a cargo ship was making its way into port.

"You know what?" Murray asked softly as he came up behind Lhana, caging her within his arms.

"What?" She turned her body to face him. He was so close, and smelled so good. Her breasts brushed his chest through the thin fabric of her blouse causing her nipples to tingle.

"I've always wanted to get a blow job out here," he told her as his lips teased hers with feathery kisses.

"Well tonight might be your lucky night," she flirted.

"Hmmm, I was hoping for that," he murmured, pushing her down gently so that she sat on the bench. "Ah, the perfect height for your mouth."

Lhana unzipped his jeans, freeing his flaccid cock. Her cobalt eyes flashed up at him as her slender hands brought him to her open mouth. She ran her tongue around his smooth knob, encouraged by his instant response. She then stroked the length of his vein with a long, painted nail, pricking his balls ever so slightly as she took him whole into her warm, wet mouth. His soft, curly hair tickled her nose, and his sweet, musky scent made her hot and eager.

Murray's hands found her round tits, tormenting her taut nipples, as she wrapped her full lips around his sex, swirling her tongue. She sucked him in. Her pretty fingers circling around his slickened shaft, pumping him while her tongue probed the slit of his head.

"Mmm, that's right," he rasped, "not too fast."

Lhana slowed her pace; purring as she languidly licked the length of his long rod. First one side then the other. By the time she drew his dick back into her hungry mouth, Murray was thrusting uncontrollably, his hands fisting in the back of her long, thick hair. She felt his hot cum on the back of her throat, but continued to suckle till his ragged breathing subsided. She happily swallowed his load as she looked up, seeing the expression of approval in his twinkling eyes.

Lhana realized she was licking her cherry flavored lips, as she was jolted back to the present by Lance's forceful diatribe. He was in the middle of saying how we are all sinners and will be judged on day. Can't argue with that, she thought. Then her eyes met Dave's through the crowded parlor. She knew that even though his girlfriend, Wendy, was sobbing gently on his shoulder, he had been watching her. As though he could read her mind, Dave winked and blew a kiss over his Wendy's head.

Lance continued to drone on and on about what a good, hard-working, God-fearing man Uncle Murray had been, or would have become, if 'God had allowed it'. Lhana wondered who had elected Lance to speak. Then her gaze landed on her mother, sitting on the front row pew. She watched her mother dab tears from her eyes with a white hankie. Poor Mom. It's a shame I knew your brother so much better than you.

Lhana looked back at Dave. He was still watching her, so she lowered her lashes and slowly ran her tongue along straight, white teeth. Dave stifled a chuckle with a cough behind his hand. Lhana knew he too was remembering a different personality than the one being acclaimed today. A favorite memory came flooding back.

After the night on the pier, Murray had begun to invite her more often. One night, as they cruised the beach. Murray noticed Lhana's slight pout, and flustered face.

"What's wrong, Ladybug?"

"Nothing," she said with an elongated sigh.

"Don't give me that," he coaxed.

"What?" she giggled when he squeezed her knee.

"You know what, silly girl; you've got something on your mind."

"Don't know what you're talking about," she replied in her most angelic voice.

"Come on, spill it."

She waited while they sat through a red light. When it changed, Lhana said, "So this is the big mystery."

"What mystery?"

"Well, you've been letting me hang out with you, at least a couple of times a week now, for a while. Basically all we do is drive up and down the beach, drink a little, smoke a little and fool around sometimes."

"What's your point?" He grinned wolfishly.

"Nothing really," disappointment lingered in her voice. "It's just," she hesitated, "I just always thought that whatever you did when you went out," she searched the air for the right words, "was a little more exciting," she finished. She hated him to think she was complaining. "Don't get me wrong," she added quickly, "This is way better than hangin' at the house."

Murray pulled into a parking place at the park. Without a word, he reached into the console and pulled out his weed. Looking directly out the windshield, he absently separated seeds, throwing a few out of the window, and rolled a perfect joint. Lhana began to think she had hurt his feelings.

Finally, she ventured her question in the awkward silence. "Did I make you mad?"

"What?" he turned, genuinely surprised. She knew when he grinned at her that he was definitely not angry. "No Ladybug," his eyes sparkled like a copper penny, "I was just wondering," he looked into her eyes as he held his toke, "just how much excitement can you handle?"

Surprised, Lhana's midnight eyes grew wide. She took the joint and inhaled deeper than she meant to, then coughed, "How should I know? Hangin' with you is the closest thing to excitement I usually get."

"All right, Ladybug," he reached over to undo the buttons of her ebony blouse, revealing her new Victoria's Secret bra (solid red lace that looked exotic against her caramel tan). "Leave it open as we drive," he told her, running a single finger playfully along the edge of the lace. "That is, if you dare."

Lhana didn't have a clue about where they were headed, but the wanton sensation of near public exposure as they drove back down the beach was highly erotic. As they turned onto a country highway on the outskirts of town, the breeze teased her nipples through the lace. By the time they pulled up to an old farmhouse, her nipples were tight and her panties were wet. She shifted to reluctantly button her blouse, but Murray stilled her hands with his. "Leave it open," he commanded softly as he turned her toward him for a slow, sizzling kiss.

Lhana thought he meant for her to sit in the car and wait for him to conduct some sort of business. Then he walked around the car, opening her door. She felt shy, but thrilled as they walked up on the wide front porch. Murray, obviously comfortable at this house in the middle of nowhere, rapped lightly on the door, opened it and walked on through. "Yo Dave," he called, "I brought ya'll a present." He made it sound like Christmas in July.

Dave walked into the living room wearing green cotton boxers and an opened beige Duck Head button up. Lhana was unsure what to think as she stood exposed to this stranger. He was about 30ish she guessed, noticing his ample supply of curly black hair that spread across his chest before making a happy trail that disappeared into his waistband. He did a double take when he noticed Lhana standing behind her uncle.

"Well Hello," he said, reaching to take her hand, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Dave," Murray stepped from between them, "This is Lhana, my niece."

"Ahh, the infamous Miss Lhana. Wow, she's just as drop dead gorgeous as you said she was." He feathered his fingers through her wind-tangled hair, ending with his hand cupped at her jaw line. "And those big, dark blue eyes. My God Murray, no wonder you've been keeping her to yourself."

"She says she wants some excitement in her life."

"Well, my dear, you just wait. Your new buddy Dave will show you a real good time. Hey Wendy!" he shouted down the hallway, "Come check out what Murray brought."

Lhana felt a little shy standing in this stranger's house while he and Murray talked about her instead of to her. Then she heard a woman's voice from what appeared to be a bedroom, "I would dear, but you forgot a buckle."