Me and My Uncle

I went to school the next day thinking that everyone would know what Uncle Bill and I had been up to all weekend.

I felt like I had a big W, for whore, stamped on my forehead, and that everyone at school would see it and nod knowingly. But nobody said anything. Still, I was nervous.

Not only was I nervous about people at school finding out about me and my uncle, but I was also apprehensive about what Bill had said the night before about going somewhere that night, something about learning how to suck cocks.

When I got home, Uncle Bill had me work the register, like I did most days, while he went upstairs to do some business, so he said. And I guess he did, because he had me work straight through until closing, rather than going up and fixing supper.

As soon as we closed, he told me to get in his pickup and we took off. We drove to Jeff City, stopped and grabbed some burgers, then we went to the mall. We went to several shops, and he bought me some clothes, but these weren't clothes I could wear to school.

Nope, these were what I came to call my whore outfits. Uncle Bill bought me several short, slinky dresses, mostly of thin material. They revealed a lot of my legs and a lot of my breasts, what there were of them. He also bought me several pairs of stockings, several garter belts and four pairs of thigh-highs. We also bought some cosmetics - mascara, blood-red lipstick, eye liner - stuff that when worn made me look like a slut. Our final stop was to a shoe store where he bought two pairs of high heels, the slutty kind with open toes and thin straps across my feet.

Significantly, he bought me no bras or panties. It was about dark when we got back to the truck. As soon as we climbed in the cab, Uncle Bill ordered me to take off my clothes and put on one of the outfits.

"Here?" I asked, incredulously.

"Right here, right now," he said forcefully. "Sophie, you're going to have to learn that the only acceptable response to anything I tell you to do is 'yes sir.' How many times do I have to tell you that before you learn? I told you to change clothes and I want you to do it NOW! Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," I said timidly. Looking back on it, I seethe when I recall how docile I was back then. Maybe if I had stood up for myself then, a lot of what was done to me later would have never happened. But it would be a long time before I developed enough backbone to rebel at the way my uncle treated me, and it almost came too late.

So I quickly shed my shoes, my T-shirt, my jeans and my socks, and waited for Bill to show me what he wanted me to wear. I was mortified, then, when told me roughly to keep going, to take off my bra and panties.

I was afraid of someone coming up and seeing me naked in my uncle's pickup, but I was more afraid of disobeying him, so I quickly shed my underwear.

Bill handed me one of the new dresses he'd bought me, a thin, loose-fitting one-piece miniskirt of an almost translucent material with a gray and pink floral pattern. I waited for him to hand me more, but the only thing he gave me was a pair of my new shoes.

That was it. I still felt naked without my underwear, but I didn't say anything. Uncle Bill was in one of his moods, as I'd already seen, and it was better to just shut up and do what he said. For the final touch, he told me to put on some of the make-up we'd bought, and to lay it on thick.

I felt like some kind of circus freak as we drove out of the mall parking lot and headed for the seedier side of town. After driving for a few minutes, we pulled up in front a rough-looking bar called Cosmo's Saloon that had a lot of pickups and motorcycles parked in front. My heart was in my throat as we got out and walked to the door.

Just before we entered, Bill told me not to tell anyone that he was my uncle, that if anyone asked, I was his girlfriend.

I will never ever forget the feeling of entering that bar that night and seeing the leering looks on the faces of the men in that bar. I felt like a zoo animal on display. What made it worse was trying to walk without falling down.

Until that moment, I had never had on a pair of high heels in my life, and I could almost hear the derisive laughter as I wobbled toward the bar. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, and no one so much as touched me.

Thankfully, a young man at the bar got up and offered me his stool, and I sat down, grateful to be off my feet. In all honesty, however, I'm not sure if he was being gentlemanly or if he was offering me a seat so that I would unwittingly show off my naked pussy. I kept my knees clamped firmly together to prevent that, but my short skirt still rode up my thighs, giving the drooling patrons a look at most of my legs.

Bill ordered two beers and handed me one. In 1988, Missouri had still not raised the legal drinking age to 21, so I could drink legally, if I so chose. But I really didn't want a beer. I had always been afraid of alcohol because of my vivid painful memories of my mother's drunkenness, but Uncle Bill told me to take it, so I did.

Later, I would be grateful for the refuge alcohol provided, as a means to numb myself to the things I did. But that first beer - and it was the very first taste of alcohol in my life - went down awfully hard.

Uncle Bill walked off to speak to some people that he obviously knew, leaving me alone at the bar. Sure enough, several guys walked up and started hitting on me, and I nervously tried to smile and engage them in conversation. But they seemed to back off when I told them I was Bill's girlfriend. I got the distinct impression that Bill Trotter was a known and respected person in that establishment.

Only the bartender seemed to know the real score. After the guys drifted off, he leaned in real close and spoke. He was a big, bearish man with tattoos all up and down both arms.

"Listen, Sophie," he said. "You can relax. Ain't nobody gonna fuck with you here. Bill ain't gonna stand for it, and neither will I."

That made me feel a little better, and I finally finished my first beer, and the second one wasn't quite as much of a struggle. We chatted, and I learned that he'd grown up in the same town as Uncle Bill and knew my mom from high school.

Of course, after I finished that second beer, I had to pee, and I was terrified of the idea of walking to the ladies room, under the influence of two beers on high heels. So I walked slowly and carefully to the bathroom, a stride that resulted in an exaggerated hip motion that caught the eye of every man in the joint.

I got finished, and returned to the bar, but before I sat down, Uncle Bill took me by the arm, said it was time to go and escorted me out.

"Where are we going now?" I asked, feeling a little more relaxed from the two beers.

"You'll see," he said. "I've got some business to conduct, and you're a part of it."

We drove about a mile until we came to a fairly large cinderblock building. My eyes got wide as I saw the garishly lit sign that said, "ADULT VIDEOS." In smaller lettering it said the establishment had books, magazines, videos and novelties.

We pulled in and parked, and I got a real queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had an idea what we were there for, although at that moment I wasn't sure how it would happen. All I knew was that somehow this was where I would, "learn to suck cock."

Uncle Bill pulled a large cardboard box out of the locked toolbox in the bed of the truck. I peeked inside and saw it contained videos and magazines from the store, stock that apparently hadn't sold particularly well. There were maybe a dozen cars parked in the lot, and I felt fearful about what was to come.

When we entered, we were greeted by the person working the counter, a handsome young black man who was introduced as Darren. He had a friendly smile, but I still shivered as he looked me up and down with an appraising eye. I wondered if I was going to be expected to suck his cock, and the idea actually kind of intrigued me, since I'd never before come close to a sexual encounter with a black man.

Darren pointed Bill in the direction of the back office, and he took the box with him, I guess, to exchange for newer stock. I looked around the store, and noticed a black curtain hanging over a doorway off to the side, just past the counter.

The sign over the top of the entrance advertised video booths, and as I watched, several of the patrons - who had been eyeballing me with some relish - exchanged some bills for metal tokens, walked through the curtain and disappeared.

In spite of my apprehension, I started to become aroused as I wandered the aisles and saw the depictions of hardcore sex on the covers of the magazines, books and videos. Four years of watching porn with my uncle had given me a taste for that sort of thing, and I could feel my pussy swelling and moistening as I saw videos of every conceivable sex act.

I was lost in thought when I heard Bill calling my name and telling me to come back to the office. When I got to the office door, I saw Bill talking to an older, heavy-set man who was sitting back in an office chair by a large cluttered desk.

"Sophie, this is Murph," Bill said. "He's the owner of this establishment. I've made a deal with him to use his, ah, facility tonight. One of the terms of the deal is that he gets to fuck you first. I'll be around, so look me up when you're done."

I guess I had a little bit of a shocked look on my face, because Bill walked up to me and whispered in my ear.

"You'd better take REAL good care of Mr. Murph, you understand?" he snarled.

"Yes sir," I answered.

"Good girl," he said, his demeanor softening. "You'll do fine, just do what comes naturally. Don't worry, I'll be right outside."

Of all the clients I had over the four years I prostituted for Uncle Bill, Murph stands out, and not in a good way. He was short, fat and had a sweaty odor about him that was quite repulsive. Plus, he was quite obnoxious. As soon as the door closed, and I turned around, I saw him sitting in his chair leering at me with his dick sticking out of his fly.

"Come on over here, baby," he said. "I want to see you get me hard. On your knees, whore."

That grated on me, and it would every time he saw me. Never once did he call me by my name. It was always, "baby," "whore," and "bitch." But he was the client and I was indeed the whore, so I couldn't complain.

I knelt between his legs and took his cock in my hand and began to stroke him up and down, then I took him in my mouth. I nearly gagged when I did, because his cock tasted vile, almost like he'd peed in his pants. With effort, I worked my mouth up and down until I had him as hard as he was going to get.

He had a pretty small cock, 4 or 5 inches, and coming after Uncle Bill, it felt like a toothpick in my mouth. Later that night, I would pray for a toothpick-sized cock, but at the time, his size made me chuckle.

When he was fully hard, he stood me up and had me lie back on the desk. He pulled my skirt up to my waist, ran a couple of stubby fingers through my lips and smirked as he encountered the dew that had gathered from my earlier perusal of his merchandise.

"Oh, you are a hot one, aren't you," he said. "I'll bet you fuck like a fish."

Like I said, the man was disgusting. Still, I got a little bit of a charge when he grabbed me by the hips and slid his cock all the way up me in one thrust, but it wasn't much. I mean, Murph didn't even bother to drop his pants. He just stood up with his dick sticking out of his fly and fucked me like I was some milking machine. He never even touched me other than to work my hips on his cock. It was just in-and-out, in-and-out.

But I acted like he was some movie stud, giving him as much hip-thrusting motion as I could muster in that position. It hit me, then, that this was what being a whore, a prostitute, was really all about.

I was going to be expected to perform all sorts of sex acts with men - and possibly a few women (although I didn't realize that at the time) - that I would have never otherwise given the time of day to, whether I liked them or not. If they had the money, or, in Murph's case, something of value in trade, I was going to fuck them. Period.

And that depressed me. That was when I got the idea that this was going to be a real downer of a night. It had already started out on a sour note, with Uncle Bill in a bad mood. It had continued with my having to strip and change clothes in the mall parking lot, through the depressing scene at the bar and now this totally mechanical sex act with a slob.

Fortunately, Murph didn't have much staying power, so after about five minutes on the desk, he grunted loudly and shot a surprisingly hot, hard cum shot in my pussy, and I managed to use what I had learned from Uncle Bill to squeeze every drop of cum from his cock.

Then his dick flopped out of me, he backed away, zipped himself up and pointed toward the door.

"You can let yourself out," he said as he walked off to the far wall of the office to inspect a video or something. I had thought he would at least say thank you, and maybe offer me something to clean up with, but he didn't. So I hopped down off the desk and cringed as I felt his cum oozing from my cunt. It felt squishy with every step I took, and I desperately wanted to find a bathroom and clean it up.

Uncle Bill was waiting for me, however, and he took me by the elbow and escorted me to the side of the store, through the black curtain and into a world I hadn't known existed until that very moment.

It was garishly lit, with a blue light at one corner and a red light in another, and we probably encountered seven or eight men just loitering. The area consisted of a long hallway with a half-dozen doors on each side, each with a red light above the door. About half of the lights were lit, and I watched as one red light went off. A man emerged from inside and made his way to another door, one with a light that wasn't on. He went inside, and presently the light came on.

"What is this place?" I asked my uncle.

But he just grinned wickedly and said, "you'll see."

We passed a set of three doors on either side of the hall, then a small, narrow door, then there was another set of three doors on each side. Bill came to the middle one on the right and waited. As we did, Darren came back and Bill nodded at him before he went through the narrow door. A minute or so later, the light went out and a man emerged looking rather disheveled, and he was adjusting his pants.

We went inside into the pitch-blackness, and I felt Uncle Bill pull me close. The room was small, no more than 10 feet square, and with two us of in there, I got a feeling of claustrophobia, which was compounded by the peculiar odor in the room. It smelled kind of musty, but there was also something vaguely familiar about it, like it was something I'd smelled before, recently.

"OK, Sophie, this is where you really start earning your keep," he said. "I told you that you were going to learn to suck cock tonight, and this is where you will learn."

Suddenly, a TV monitor came on, bathing the small room in the flickering light. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that it was a porno film. A woman with short brown hair and big tits was kneeling on the floor sucking on a fairly sizable cock.

Then Bill fiddled with a knob of some sort and the picture changed, to a slim blonde woman kneeling on a floor surrounded by three men with big cocks. She was going from one cock to the other, sucking and slobbering on all three as she made it from one to the other.

I could feel my pussy beginning to tingle, from the scene on the TV and from the cum that was dripping slowly down the insides of my thighs. At that moment, I took a look at the surroundings and was taken aback to see a live cock sticking through the wall, a hard, live cock.

That's when I noticed that two holes had been cut out of the paneling, one on the left side of the little room and one on the other. I heard the sound of someone from the left clearing their throat impatiently.

"Well, don't just stand there, get down there and suck the man's cock like a good whore," Uncle Bill said roughly. As he did, he sort pushed down on my shoulders and I dropped to my knees so that I was at eye level with a fairly long cock, which I instinctively took in hand and began to softly stroke.

It took me a second to realize that I was kneeling on a hard concrete floor, that I had landed right in something on the floor that was sort of sticky-slimy, and that it was all over the floor, no matter where I positioned my knees. It hit me then what it was, and what that smell was I'd encountered when we first entered the room.

I looked up at Uncle Bill, and he already had his big cock out and was slowly jacking himself as he watched the movie on the screen.

"Is that what I think it is on the floor?" I asked, with a touch of revulsion in my voice.

"What do you think it is?" he asked with a smirk.

"C-c-cum?" I said, hesitantly. Uncle Bill laughed, and I heard laughter coming from the other side of the wall. I realized, then, why the man had come out before us adjusting his pants, and I thought for a second that I was going to be sick. Then Uncle Bill refocused my attention.

"You have work to do, and it's not giving that man over there a hand job," Bill said forcefully. "You're here to suck cock, so get to it. He's paid his money for your mouth, not your hand."

Fearful of upsetting my uncle any further, I opened my mouth, bent my head toward the wall and let the head of the man's cock slide into my mouth. I was filled with puzzled feelings as I began to work my mouth back and forth on the cock that belonged to a man I couldn't see, a man who had paid $20 for the privilege of being sucked off like that.

I couldn't comprehend the anonymous nature of this encounter, and I really couldn't believe that I was there, on a cold concrete floor, kneeling in a puddle of cum, sucking off a man who had his cock sticking through a hole in the wall of an X-rated movie arcade.

But I finally decided to not think about it, and just do it. And, man did I. For the next three hours, I sucked cocks of every kind, and the amazing thing about it is that I still remember every single one of them, what they looked like, the order in which they came at me and how I reacted to each one.

It was an event that burned itself in my memory forever, and to this day I sometimes find myself replaying it, usually when I'm trying - or Ron is trying - to work me toward an orgasm.

It took about 10 minutes before that first cock swelled in my mouth and I tasted - and swallowed - his hot, tangy cum. I thought I did all right, although I could only take about half of him before his cock hit the entrance to my throat and I started gagging.

After that cock had pulled itself away, Uncle Bill turned me around to the other side of the booth, where a man had a short, but fat cock sticking through the hole. This one didn't make me gag, but it stretched my lips pretty wide open, and when he got all of his cock in my mouth, I could barely breathe.

As he worked his cock as far as he could get in my mouth, I could feel a sloppy stream of drool run out the corners of my mouth and down my chin. This guy insisted on filling me to the brim when he came, and I kind of coughed and gagged when he came. That caused some specks of sperm to fly out over my cheeks a little bit.

I took two heaving breaths before Bill turned me around back to the other side where an average-sized cock, maybe 6 inches and fairly slender, was waiting. I sucked about two-thirds of him in before I started gagging, and Bill took an interest at that point.

"Come on, you can take more," he said in almost a growl. "Go on, take it deeper."