Uncle Oscar

Disclaimer:

This is a story about sexual attraction between old & young. Betrayal & humiliation is involved too. If this turns you off - it's probably best to read another story.

Chapter 1

This happened back in the nineties.

Christina and I had experienced the first exotic holiday of our young lives. We had been visiting a faraway country that Christina had a particular interest in. Her best friend Yasmine was of Turkish descent. We had even paid Yasmine's grandparents a visit. But in spite of the exoticism our holiday had been a huge disappointment. In fact the last day of our trip had been awful. Christina and I had hardly talked.

I had just finished my Master's in economics, Christina was a serious law student. Once she had been a wild child. That was hard to believe but I knew it was true. Her parents were both prominent lawyers and she had rebelled against their bourgeois lifestyle. Christina had lit her first cigarette in her family's living-room when she was 13 and was a smoker until she was 19. She had been driving her parents to desperation, hanging around with bad boys, doing petty crime, beating up other girls. When she was 18 her boyfriend was a 50 year old bodybuilder thug. I knew all that. She never hid anything for me.

At 18 Christina also shocked her family by showing her bits in a men's magazine. The pictures were fabulous. It made me so proud that men admired her and desired her.

In real life I felt safe. Men seemed intimidated by Christina's classic beauty and aloof manner. Come-ons or pick up attempts, I had hardly noticed any. And she never was a flirt. In my presence, she was always perfectly loyal.

So, the only thing that really bothered me in that pictorial was the Q & A's.

Q: "Dream man?»

Christina: «Dominant men. They smell better."

I once confronted her about that one. She laughed out loud. "Yes? You have a problem with that?"

Christina never excused herself. No regrets. Never look back.

At 19 she decided to change her life. And did she ever. Christina was so confident, so intelligent, even outgoing when she wanted to. It didn't take her long to make new friends and improve her grades dramatically. Now, in her third year at law school, she was excelling. Christina vowed that with me as her man, her wild years would forever be history. I had no reason to doubt her.

She had decided to put her energy into something positive. Christina was a born sensation-seeker. Diving from cliffs and bridges, mountaineering, parachuting, she did all that. And inspired by her I tried those things too.

OK I know, my Uncle Oscar had been doing the same things all his life and I had called his lifestyle phony macho shit. But I was wrong. Daring to do these things made me a stronger, more confident person. And she loved me for doing them with her.

I had never known anyone so honest as Christina, so outspoken. She detested people who didn't speak their minds. She was the bravest, the least politically correct individual I had ever known. For instance, I had never met a girl who would admit to enjoying porn. Christina did. And she argued that anyone who claimed they were left cold when watching a hot couple enjoy good sex, were asexual or liars. My view on porn was the politically correct one, that porn degraded women. I had never admitted to enjoying it. But she "forced" me to acknowledge that I did, even to disclose that I had a favourite category.

So, I admitted to her I had a thing for interracial.

Christina liked to watch hung and strong older men doing young girls.

I admired her enormously for her independence and strength.

Christina was a horny girl and she was a demanding partner in bed. She liked to be roughed up, loved sex to be dirty, and to last forever. That was OK with me, my sex drive was healthy and I felt that I managed to treat Christina to the naughty sex she liked. Luckily I also had the kind of body that Christina loved, muscular, quite hairy, a good-sized cock.

I never knew women could be turned on by men's bodies like she was.

Then, out of the blue, a couple of months before we went to Turkey, something scary happened to me. I started to lose my erections. I have no idea why, I guess something in my head.

We had a huge fight our last night in Turkey. For the umpteenth time I had gone limp inside her. Every time this had happened before she had been patient with me. She had gently argued that I should see a doctor. I didn't want to see a doctor. The whole thing bothered me too much.

So, her reaction that previous night had shocked me. She had yelled at me and scorned me, she used the nastiest words. It was like a levee had broken, all her bent up sexual frustration suddenly being taken out. On me. She said that if I didn't seek help so I could fuck her like a man, she would dump me like a shit-covered potato. She needed much cock and good cock, she told me, she deserved that.

I made some perplexed attempt to defend myself. She screamed I was "childish and selfish", and she slapped me. Twice. The force of her blows were shocking. I grabbed her shoulders to keep her at bay. Before I knew it she had my arms pinned to the wall. She was furious and told me if I didn't stop feeling sorry for myself she would slap me around like a fucking birthday piñata.

Was she being clear?

I told her she was.

I was in shock. I was totally unprepared for this transformation, it was terrifying. Christina had always been good to me, always fun to be with. Strong-willed and confident, sure, but pleasant, and fair. Her display of strength had caught me completely off guard. We were the same height, both fit, but I had a lot more weight. I had no idea she could pin me like that and I couldn't believe it.

She ordered me to get my fat ass moving and change our plane tickets. She wanted to go home the next day.

We slept in the nude that night, like always. When she came out of the shower the next morning I was just getting out of bed. I could tell she was still mad. And still cruel. She looked disapprovingly at my lack of morning wood, cringed her nose and said, slowly, distinctly, with a threatening whisper.

"I am horny. I really should find myself a Man."

At the airport Christina was still fuming. It made her look hotter than ever, that clean sandy blonde hair cascading around her beautiful, angered face and her shoulder. She looked like a sexpot on the prowl. I got my first good hard-on for a long time and I stayed hard all the time we were waiting for the plane.

She was 22 then, I was three years her senior, I had been infatuated with her since I first saw her. I never stopped admiring her amazing body, particularly her tits, so big and beautiful, only slightly sagging, and always jiggling as she walked. Her best asset though was that warm, radiant smile when she was comfortable with someone.

But that extremely hot summer morning, nearly fifteen years ago, at the istanbul airport, she didn't talk to me. She wanted to let me know that a beautiful horny girl deserved better, more - and perhaps bigger -- than I was able to give her.

The atmosphere was unbearable.

Chapter 2

My parents were university professors. Oscar was my father's younger brother, a self made investor. No formal education. But with this ceaseless drive to succeed and win. I didn't know a lot about his business activities. But rumours named porn investments among them.

Uncle Oscar never married. Yet he always had young beautiful women accompanying, even living with him. To me he was a callous, self-obsessed man, ludicrously boasting of his sexual appetite.

Dad and Oscar were not brothers by blood, they were both adopted. My grandparents were unable to have children and had the opportunity to adopt twice when they were still young.

There was only a year between dad and his brother. And they always despised each other. Two men could not be more different. Dad was sensitiv, caring, Oscar was egotistical, bullying. Dad - tall, slim, handsome, Oscar short, plain, but so exceptionally strong! Mainly due to some rare hormonal disorder, I had been told.

My dad never was one to talk about his childhood, but I knew Uncle Oscar had been a pain in his ass since they were little. My grandma once told me a story I found very disturbing. When they were 11 and 12 Oscar had grown tired of dad telling on him. He decided to teach dad a lesson. So, he beat his much bigger brother mercilessly in front of a growing crowd.

Dad spent the next days in bed, a couple of ribs broken, his face a mess. Oscar had mashed it into the ground.

That hiding became a recurring nightmare in my childhood.

When grandma narrated this story she was far less judgemental than a grandson would expect. Almost apologetic («You see, your dad was quite the busybody when he was a boy»).

Years later I had a man-to-man-talk with my old grandpa. In old age he seemed almost proud of his youngest son's vigour. I can still recall his loud, inappropiate laughter, when reliving the memory of 18 year old Oscar being caught red-handed doing the big nasty with his best friend's hot mom. Her husband had come home unexpectedly. From their bedroom he could hear his wife's pleasure screams.

In their marriage bed he found Oscar, fucking the shit out of the husband's trophy wife. The sight must have been devastating. The couple split up soon after and the husband took to the booze.

I don't think my grandparents ever punished Uncle Ocsar, I guess he was just too forceful, too arrogant. In their old days they both talked fondly of him, particularly after he bought them a new bungalow the year they turned 70. Late in life my working class grandparents seemed more proud of their millionaire son with his unyielding Don Juanism, than of my scholarly, nice dad.

My grandpa's personality change in old age was unnerving. Grandpa's life had been boring. Infertile, probably sexually inadequate - and betrayed. We all knew about Fred, grandma's long-time lover. After turning 80 grandpa got more and more intrigued by Oscar's alleged phallic power.

And in the nursing home his meek personality had changed completely. He had become verbally abusive, and aggressive. Female members of the staff were sexually harrassed, he was masturbating in front of them whenever he had the chance.

He was diagnosed with «Hypersexuality in dementia». Grandpa refused all medication.

This was really bothering us. Month of May that year, mom, dad, Christina and I paid grandpa a visit. It was an eerie experience. He had injured his hip and was bed-ridden. But his eyes never once left Christina. Mom told him that she had run into Oscar the other day. Grandpa lit up, still ogling Christina.

«Oscar! Oh yeah! Pretty as they come you are! Yeah! Oscar's the man! He'd nail you real good with his big one. Ho ho! You sexy little bitch!"

Christina's infectious laughter saved the situation. Sort of.

But grandpa just continued ogling her, shamelessly beating his meat below the duvet.

Chapter 3

I refused to believe my eyes. The man who approached us at the airport in Istanbul with a grin wider than his face...

It was my Uncle Oscar. In Istanbul.

It was totally surreal.

I hadn't seen him since I was 13. And I wouldn't have minded waiting another 12 years. Last time I had seen him was dad's 50th birthday party. Uncle Oscar had caused a scandal. He blatantly, and not without success I'm afraid, made a pass on mom's young niece. My cousin. Mom and dad cut all contact with him after that party.

I always thought he was an ugly man. He balded early and he had a funny nose, like a pug's.

Sixty now, the old man at the Istanbul airport looked plain ridiculous. He had grown a huge walrus moustache. It reminded me of a run over stout. Who would want to look like that? A hermit who lived in some shack in the woods? Maybe. But a man who was wealthy and «succesful?»

Christina had heard a lot about Uncle Oscar. Particularly my older brother was keen on passing on juicy gossip.

I was forced to introduce them. And I couldn't help noticing that she beamed at him, even blushed, when she realized who he was.

Uncle Oscar shook my hand and kissed Christina's cheek.

To my consternation I noticed that Oscar immediately started to ogle Christina. Behind almost closed eyelids. Reportedly he had said of himself that he had eyes like a dead pig. And that women for some reason found eyes like his sexy. I observed him peeking down the cleavage of Christina's top, admiring her bare stomach, hips, her long, luscious well-toned legs, her perfect toes in open sandals. Christina liked to flaunt what she had.

Fear took hold when I realized that she was eying him too.

Uncle Oscar too was dressed for the heat wave, shorts, open sleeveless shirt. He had become old and grey, for sure. But he still looked extremely powerful, tanned, his chest huge with lots of white hair showing. His legs very muscular, and hairy too.

And my uncle's shorts did not conceal that he was packed between his legs. The old man's bulge didn't escape my attention, nor Christina's.

He started talking to her, only to her. And uncle was -- unlike me - an excellent conversationalist.

He was like a bird of prey circling to attack, looking into her eyes, laughing, suddenly close to her. This didn't really shock me, I had heard too much about my Uncle Oscar around beautiful women.

What shocked me was Christina's reaction. She didn't dismiss him, didn't brush him away, even with me being around she totally opened up. Laughing with him, meeting his gaze, nibbling her lip, spreading her knees, letting him come very close. She was tossing her long hair, preening it with slow, luxurious motions.

It was as if she had been bewitched, nostrils flaring, lips wet and shiny. For a moment he just stood there, his shameless, magnetic bad boy charisma on show, staring into her eyes. That moment was so incredibly tense, so nerve-rackingly filled with unrest. Then, abruptly he laughed his vicious laughter and took a few steps back. He made a disarming comment and left for the toilet.

Wild with jealousy I looked at Christina. She had picked up her magazine again but it was easy to tell she wasn't reading. When we had arrived some twenty minutes earlier she had been fuming, horny, out of balance. Now, she was visibly shaken, had gone somewhere else, somewhere deep inside herself. Somewhere I couldn't reach her.

What had taken place? My Christina, so blonde, so beautiful, so playful, always with a marveling question - often a surprisingly naive one - on her lips, what had she changed into? I knew I had seen something I had never detected before. Something dark, deep, even violent that she had inside. It was like she had been invaded, and I was nobody to her.

What had Uncle Oscar done to her? What feelings had this mean, abusive man evoked? What was it about this old man? Was it his physical appearance? His cockiness? His smoothness? That hoarse bass voice? His eyes? His... size? I couldn't tell. I only knew I was frozen by him. Completely frozen.

Uncle Oscar hadn't asked one single question about my family.

Chapter 4

We were in for a five hours flight back to Scandinavia. Since we had just changed our flight, Christina and I were not seated together. Oscar soon returned and damn damn DAMN! Fate was raising it's ugly head even higher.

My uncle's ticket was proof he was seated next to my girl.

They shared a double seat two rows in front of - and to the right - of me. I was seated by the aisle. I could hear them talking, and her giggling. Christina's comfortableness around my nasty old uncle was heart-rending. Exactly what was going on? My mind was a roller coaster of emotions. Was I being paranoid?

Uncle Oscar ordered wine. Karen, I could tell, was getting tipsy, she wasn't much of a drinker. He was the one who talked, obviously telling some hilarious, probably naughty stories. Christina's laughing got raucous. She sounded like a love struck bimbo, I thought. Most unbecoming. After a while their voices got lower, softer, like they were having a heart-to-heart talk. How could this old sod make her feel so good? They were really flirting now, weren't they? My jealousy was eating at me.

I imagined her touching his arm, she always did with people she liked to be with. I was visualizing her beautiful fingers resting on this old brute's hairy forearm. Sickening! After their meal it looked like she was picking some crunches from his moustache, he said something funny, she was leaning on his shoulder, laughing, probably touching him.

They had almost stopped talking. Christina looked jumpy, glancing around a little, like someone trying to hide what she was up to. What the hell was happening, she wasn't feeling the old buck up, was she? I saw the lady two seats in front of me sending the two of them disapproving looks, whispering something to her husband. Most of the time I could see the back of Christina's head, my shorter uncle Oscar was mostly invisible. From time to time both heads were out of my view. I got this crazy feeling that Christina and my old uncle were making out. No. No! My girl would never betray me like that, right in my face, she couldn't?

I must have been white with fear.

Not once did Christina look back to where I was sitting. She left for the toilet two or three times but she avoided my gaze. She seemed light-headed, her mind elsewhere. Oscar left his seat once. He locked eyes with me when he walked down the aisle, scornful little smile on his lips.

His masculinity was jutting out from his crotch, obvious and very very rude.

Was Karen so bedazzled over this old creep's manliness, his crude charm, his persistence, that she was letting herself be seduced in a plane seat? In the pit of my stomach I felt a gnawing pain. Christina's gaze didn't once meet mine before she stood up to get her luggage.

She gave me a defiant look.

Christina and Uncle Oscar left the cabin together, she nearly a head taller than him, me some 10 meters behind. They walked very close, arms touching, towards the baggage reclaim area. Her lovely ass cheeks rolled back and forth inside her shorts. He was doing the talking now, her drunken giggling had stopped, he spoke to her with authority, exerting his natural dominance. She was casting sideways glances, smiling her dazzling smile, fawning over him like some love-sick pup, it seemed.

I couldn't think straight. I was terrified. I had learnt I had shortcomings as a man. And maybe she was putting on a show, teaching me a lesson, but clearly that arrogant old geezer had done something to her.

How?

Christina was the picture of a take-no-nonsense, self-actualized young woman. Yes, I could comprehend her being attracted to a man more confident than me, a man with a take-charge attitude, with a longing to explore, challenge, take risks, to live a life of adventure, a man with an abundance of masculine energy...

Yes. I would have been able to understand that, intellectually.

But what if the man was a hardcore bully, an alpha male parody, an arrogant macho, a greedy businessman, a selfish jerk who probably hated woman? And on top of that her boyfriend's old uncle?

'

Could I ever comprehend how my gorgeous Christina could be attracted to a man like him?

No. Never.

Chapter 5

Awaiting me in the baggage area was an open confrontation. Christina was still all smiles, her sharp blue eyes sparkling with intensity. She calmly told me that my Uncle Oscar had been wonderful company, incredibly sweet. Uncle (who was semi-retired) had signed up for a class in portrait photography, she told me. You know, I have already wanted to learn portrait photography, she explained, matter-of-factly. Students signed up as couples and modeled for each other. Oscar had signed up but he had just broken with his girlfriend, so he had offered her to join him for free, wasn't that nice of him? The class would start that same evening.