The next two days gave me a good opportunity to gather together my confused thoughts and to reflect on my outrageous and unbelievable behaviour during the previous two days. I went back to some degree of normality and returned to my normal routine of shopping, gardening, cleaning and other mundane household tasks. I also had some wonderful telephone conversations with my darling husband and I surprised myself by managing successfully to act as if nothing had happened and everything was perfectly normal at home. In fact, Michael seemed to be the one who sounded guilty as he repeatedly apologised for being away during my own summer break, and he promised to take me away for a few days to a country hotel when he returned. Apparently, his boss had agreed to allow him to take a few days off as a reward for his willingness to deputise for his ill colleague. I promised myself that I would try to make our little holiday a memorable one for Michael and I really hoped I could, at the same time, manipulate the situation so that Michael could at last attempt to take me under control and fulfil my submissive needs.
I also had a chance to recover physically -- my bottom was initially very sore and red after my spanking by Mr Evans and my pussy lips were visibly swollen from the fucking I had received from Uncle Ron and old Reg, his father. I soaked myself in warm baths and rubbed soothing ointment onto my arse cheeks until the soreness gradually receded and the red marks disappeared.
I could not help myself, however, from occasionally drifting into daydreams about Uncle Ron's disgustingly ugly but magnificent cock and I would find my hands involuntarily moving down between my legs and touching myself while thinking about the huge monster pounding into my tight little cunt. It was as if I temporarily became another person -- my animal 'Juicy Lucy' side, as opposed to my normal, sweet married 'Mrs Lucy Ryan -- school teacher' side. I felt that I would do anything for this large, ugly man, including satisfying his obviously voyeuristic nature and satisfying the needs of other people while he watched. One moment I might be dusting the furniture and then, as my thoughts returned to that sleazy old man's prick, I would find myself standing in front of the mirror while I tugged down my sweatpants with one hand while massaging my nipples to hardness with the other, quickly followed by frantic wanking. I especially enjoy coming while standing up and watching myself -- somehow the feelings seem so much more intense.
On the day of Uncle Ron's return, I awoke full of trepidation to another fine summer's day. There had been times over the last couple of days when I almost telephoned Uncle Ron to tell him that I had come to my senses and that I didn't want him to come round again. However, my 'animal' side would then take over and I could not quite bring myself to put an end to the rollercoaster ride I was on, and my imagination ran wild again as I wondered what further sexually-fuelled adventures Uncle Ron had planned.
I felt extremely nervous and light-headed, and the butterflies started racing around again in my tummy as I got out of bed and got myself ready for Uncle Ron's visit. My spirits had been lifted, however, after speaking with Michael on the telephone the previous evening. In my mind I rationalised that my behaviour with Uncle Ron was a way of exploring new boundaries and increasing my adventurousness, which could only enhance and enrich our marriage in the long run.
I took a hot shower and applied further lotion to my bottom while deliberating about what I should wear. Because it was likely to be a warm day, I decided on a pretty yellow summer dress with buttons all the way up the front, which finished about six inches above the knee. I fastened my silver anklet around my ankle and slipped on a pair of flip-flops. If our previous episodes together were anything to go by, I reasoned that I required a minimum of garments and, of course, I was not allowed to wear any underwear.
Uncle Ron arrived promptly at 11 o'clock. I opened the door and he was wearing his usual scruffy old shorts and T-shirt. He looked me up and down with a huge grin on his face and I gave him a little twirl so he could inspect me properly.
'Very nice, Juicy. That should do nicely. Come here.'
I obediently took a step outside and he suddenly lunged at me and held me tightly with a bear hug around the waist. I gasped and, as my mouth opened, he pressed his lips against mine and I could feel his tongue wiggling around in my mouth until my own tongue met his. I stood on tiptoe as we licked and sucked each other's tongues and lips in a little frenzy of lust and I could feel Uncle Ron's hardness pressing into my tummy and his hand lifting my skirt and moving up my thigh. I suddenly realised with alarm that we were in full view of anyone who happened to be passing in the street. I opened my eyes and looked over Uncle Ron's shoulder and, at that moment, saw Dave, our postman walking down the path towards us. I quickly disentangled myself from Uncle Ron and pushed him through my front door and into the hallway of my house. I looked sheepishly at Dave, and he winked at me as he handed me my post. After thanking him I hurried indoors before he had a chance to say anything further.
Uncle Ron laughed at my predicament but I was really worried that Dave might tell someone what he had seen.
'What if he says something to Michael,' I said.
'Don't worry Juicy. You need only tell the truth, which is that you were greeting your old uncle who came to visit,' he said. 'In any case, perhaps it will make him realise what a good little slut you are so that he can then give you what you need.'
I wasn't reassured by this remark, but I thought how great it would be if Michael would, even occasionally, be forceful and dominant and treat me like his own little slut. I gradually calmed down and looked over at Uncle Ron, who was still smiling at me stupidly. He still had a large bulge sticking out of his shorts and I reached out and rubbed him gently.
'Where are we going today, sir?' I asked in my best 'little girl' voice.
'You're going back to work,' replied Uncle Ron.
'What do you mean sir?'
'Well. I'm very good friends with someone you know well. His name is George Thomas.'
'Surely you don't mean George, the caretaker at my school?'
'The very same. And even though it's school holiday time, he's agreed to open up school today just for us. Isn't that kind of him?'
George was a short, wiry man in his fifties, who always seemed to be grumpy about something and was constantly complaining to teachers about the behaviour of the children or the untidiness of classrooms. He was also a bit of an old pervert and always managed to hold on to my arm while he talked to me or, 'accidentally' brush up against me when I passed him in the school corridor. He had a terrible reputation amongst the other young female teachers and they tried to avoid him as much as possible. My best friend and teacher colleague, Ann (my belly dancing companion) was constantly teasing me by saying that I was creepy old George's favourite. Apparently, once I had been in my classroom after school bending down putting some books away in a low bookshelf and she had seen him looking at me through the window and rubbing himself.
'You shouldn't wear those short skirts to work, Luce, you don't want to give old George a heart attack!' she had said.
I laughed it off at the time, but I continued to wear short skirts occasionally and I must admit that I started to notice George looking at me and I liked the feeling that it gave me. It reminded me of how I felt when I was younger and Uncle Ron used to ogle me on my way to school or when he used to visit my parents. I even went out of my way to pass his little office in the school in the hope of bumping into him or making up excuses about things that needed repairing in the classroom so that he would call in to see me. I got a thrill out of seeing his reaction when I crossed my legs in my chair in front of him or bent down to show him something so he could see down my top.
'What are we going to do at school, sir? Do we have to involve creepy old George?'
'You'll have to wait and see. But I know you will enjoy it!' Uncle Ron replied.
During the journey to my school, I tried to imagine what was going to happen to me on today's 'adventure'. George was a quite loathsome, pervy character but, paradoxically, the thought of him looking at me, or even touching me, really turned me on (although I didn't want to admit it to myself) and I suddenly remembered how I felt on the occasions when I had deliberately teased him at school.
I then reflected that many of my wildest sexual fantasies had been about me with older and/or less attractive members of the male species. The turn-on for me was essentially the thrill of seeing someone drooling over a young, attractive woman -- someone who they would normally expect would either ignore them or, at worst, would react angrily. Also running through my mind was the thought that younger, better-looking men would normally take it for granted that they would attract members of the opposite sex without too much effort, and I guess that my husband fell into that category. However, sex with older men, uglier men, fat men, or a combination of all three, seemed hugely kinky and much more satisfying, knowing that they were probably feeling that it was their luckiest day.
