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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Uncle Randy and the Angry Niece (Pt 03 of 03) (Hoisington) {Mf, 1st, inc, slow, rom}
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UNCLE RANDY AND THE ANGRY NIECE
Part 03 of 03
Russell Hoisington
This is an erotic fantasy. The characters and the situation
are purely imaginary, and this story is *NOT* intended to be
a guide for actual behavior. Any similarities between this
story and actual people or actual events you should be
ashamed of are purely coincidental. If it is illegal in
your part of the world to access and read erotic fiction, or
if you are underage, or if you don't like underage sex
stories, then stop now.
This story is copyright 2008 by Russell Hoisington. Please
do not remove the author information or make any changes to
this story. You may post freely to non-commercial (free)
sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. That does
*not* mean that these stories are in the public domain, nor
does it mean that I give permission for you to use them in
spam advertising. I reserve the right to determine what is
"spam advertising" by *my* definition, not yours or anyone
else's.
Thank you for your consideration.
My sincerest thanks to Denny Wheeler for editing this story
and to Denny, the Night Hawk, Rod O'Steele, Tesseract, Uncle
Sky, and Wizard for their input. Special thanks to Wizard
for allowing me to use characters and events from _The
Trailer Park: The Road Trip_. I suppose I should also thank
myself for allowing me to use characters from my _Wynter_
series, too.
************************************************************
UNCLE RANDY AND THE ANGRY NIECE
Russell Hoisington
Thirteen
Cheryl was very subdued all of Tuesday and Tuesday
night. Impatient for an answer, she finally called Doc and
asked about Cletus Judson's cow. The calf didn't make it
out alive, and the cow was still on the critical list.
Instead of mutual masturbation, all she wanted Tuesday night
was to be held while she drifted off to sleep.
Who'd have thought Mandy's daughter would have so much
empathy for someone she'd never met?
She spent breakfast voicing concerns about Cletus and
his family, wondering what we could do if he lost the cow.
She was still distracted when Summers and his crew showed up
for the horses. He was making a big fuss over "Little
Missy" when Doc called to tell her that the cow was going to
survive, though it was quite anemic from blood loss. As I
learned later, she was concerned about the bill for Doc's
services. She arranged a deal to provide Doc with
advertisement photographs in exchange for Doc applying the
cost of the photo session to Cletus's bill.
I was surprised when I learned the fee Doc had agreed
to, especially since she was an apprentice photographer. I
decided that she should negotiate all my payment contracts
for me. I could pay her ten or even twenty percent of the
difference and we'd both come out well ahead.
Meanwhile, Summers had inspected Lariat and pronounced
him fit. I repeated my promise to replace him if necessary.
"Son, I appreciate that, but ain't no way I'll need to
collect. I know enough about horses to replace most vets
doctorin' them. Lariat's gonna be just fine. Fourth, maybe
fifth best horse I ever bought. Be good for the men to
ride, maybe some of the more qualified women, though you
don't get many of them at a dude ranch. Hey! Here comes
Little Missy!"
He let Cheryl tell me that the cow was going to make it,
and then I couldn't get a word in edgewise while he
discussed the photo shoot with her. Most of the discussion
was one-sided, of course.
Mandy always put a lot of effort into being the center
of attention and frequently failed at it. Cheryl did
nothing more than show up, and Summers, Doc, and the ranch
hands were hanging on her every word, watching for her every
signal. Attitude makes all the difference because
physically, Cheryl was similar to her mother at that age.
Summers didn't stop talking to her while he handed me
the check. He did manage to squeeze in a "Thanks for
everthang" and a "Pleasure doin' business with you" along
with a handshake before he climbed into the truck and hung
out the window, still talking to Cheryl as his foreman put
the truck in gear and eased toward the gate. I guess the
foreman wanted to get home before winter snows closed the
highways.
Cheryl looked at me and shook her head. I thought of a
hound dog trying to clear water from its ears. "And I
thought Mother liked to hear herself talk."
"Shoot," said Jake Matson, digging a finger into one ear
like he was trying to prod it back to life. "I thought Doc
liked to hear himself talking to you, but Summers got him
beat. I'd rather be deaf than trapped in a room with those
two trying to monopolize your attention."
"What?" Cheryl said, surprise blanketing her face.
"Me?"
"Well, yeah," said Bob Wagner as he directed Ricky to
remove a pile of horse apples from the parking area with a
flick of a pointed finger and a lift of his chin. "Didn't
you notice that he never said more'n a dozen words to all of
us and maybe two dozen to the Boss whenever you were around?
Only difference between him and Doc is that Summers has a
deeper voice."
Cheryl looked puzzled. "No. I guess I was too
concerned with how we were going to get pictures of his
guests made, too. It's a family ranch, so he should have
pictures of families in his flyers, too, and not just all
the pictures of me he kept talking about."
Pride may be a sin instead of a virtue, but I never felt
more pride in my life than I felt at that moment for my
niece.
~ ~ ~
Friday morning, Cheryl finally came to terms with Buena
Vista and Cheryl's Blaze moving from the barn to Stable One.
It became a late afternoon homecoming party of sorts, with
balloons and crepe streamers and an "IT'S A GIRL!" sign that
had Bob shaking his head every time he looked at them.
Well, me, too, because I don't know where she found the
balloons, and she wouldn't tell me. Cheryl showed Blaze
stall seven and said, "When you're a little bit bigger, this
will be your room." Blaze seemed to be unimpressed, but
maybe she was just being Miss Cool for Cheryl.
~ ~ ~
My niece might be well down the road to becoming a
functional human being when she wakes up at six, but when my
alarm sounded at four the next morning, she called it names
I'd never heard before. I was fairly sure that "fun
peachit" was "fucking piece of shit," but the rest of it
defied any attempt at translation.
I spanked her bare ass and felt it ripple delightfully
under my hand. "Come on. We don't have much time."
"Lem' slee'."
"Unh uh. This was all your idea, remember?" I said as I
sat up. "Besides that, I tried to get you to go to sleep
early last night, but you kept saying you were too excited
from Blaze's homecoming party and needed to get off. Then
you insisted I needed to get off, and then you said you were
still excited and you needed to..."
She pulled a pillow over her head. "F'k off."
I yanked away the pillow. "Whoa! Improper attitude!
Photographers have to learn to get up at any hour, bright
eyed and bushy tailed and raring to go!"
She let one breath out in a low, rumbling growl. With
the next she mumbled, "Do' wan' be 'to'f'r. Be mod'
'stead."
"I've told you, models don't live glamourous lives.
They have to get up an hour or more before the photographers
do for a dawn photo shoot."
"F'k."
I thought about tickling her, but since my hand was
still on her butt, I pinched it instead.
"Ass'le."
I paused to turn on the bedside light and then pinched
some more, alternating cheeks.
After several more words, a few of which I might have
recognized, she finally shoved herself up on her hands and
knees.
It wasn't Cheryl. It was a crossbreed between that
rabid pit bull and the javelina, and it looked worse than
both. I had a vision of glowing red eyes with cat-like slit
pupils and a huge snarling maw fitted with a hundred fangs
that all dripped poison onto huge-clawed front feet capable
of eviscerating an elephant with one swipe.
I did two things, only one which made sense. First, I
recoiled in horror. Or terror. Or maybe it was both.
Then, for reasons I'll never understand, I kissed her. I
mean I really kissed her. It was stupid in more ways than
one. She easily could have bitten off my tongue and gone
back to sleep without remembering a thing about it.
Her struggling didn't stop, but it did change direction
in an instant. One second she was fighting to pull away
from me, the next she was trying to climb inside me through
my mouth. I came to my senses when I realized she was
pumping a fistful of iron and was trying to climb onto my
lap.
It took strength I didn't know I had, both physical and
emotional, to stop her.
~ ~ ~
We saddled the horses quickly. I didn't check her work
when we finished. "You know what you're doing," I said when
her head drew back in surprise. "You don't need to be
checked like a dude rancher or like a little girl. Let's
go."
At first I thought she was going to repeat our kissing
session. Then, with a bright smile, she picked up her
camera gear and led Misty out into the darkness.
~ ~ ~
I locked the camera in place on the tripod, stepped
back, and indicated with my head for her to look through the
viewfinder. "That's where the sun will hit first," I said
as she looked across the valley toward the house. "You can
set your camera toward anything you want. I'm just letting
you know in case it makes a difference in your plans."
"Got it," she said, then set the Hasselblad where she
wanted it and locked the tripod. She was still giddy over
my surprise announcement that it was her camera for this
session. "I think I want this."
I looked. "The sun should get there maybe a minute and
a half afterward." I checked my watch and said, "We have
fifteen to twenty minutes, so you can do some grab shots if
you want."
She pointedly looked at my crotch in the pre-dawn light.
"I know what I'd like to grab."
"Yes, but you'd get too distracted and forget about your
photograph. You'd have gotten up two hours early for
nothing, and then you'd be mad at me because I caused you to
miss your shot. This whole morning would have been a waste
of time."
She blinked. Twice. "God, I hate you."
"Because I make more sense than your mother?"
She sighed. "Okay, then I love you."
"I think I like that better."
"Good." She switched on her own camera, the FUPOS 1369.
"Get over there. I want to shoot pictures of a great
photographer at work. You'll do as a substitute."
I ignored the snide comment. "Shouldn't you turn on the
flash first?"
"No. I want to try something I read about a couple of
days ago. I want you in silhouette against the lighter
background."
"Well, if it's helping with something educational for
you, then I'm glad to be of assistance."
She smiled at me. "Cool. You know, you're the greatest
uncle ever."
"But first I think we'd better hobble the horses, or
we'll find them wandering into the scene just as the sun
appears."
She got just one shot of me before the deer appeared
below.
"That's the problem with nature photography. You can go
a week without any good shots, and then you find yourself
having to choose between two them. If you want the deer,
take the other Nikon and a telephoto lens. I didn't bring a
third tripod, but the monopod is in the case. Slowly! They
can see the movement even from that distance. I'll watch
for the sun while you do that. Maybe you can get a couple
of shots before it comes up."
I heard the shutter click five times. After the fourth
I heard a mumbled, "Cool!" And then the sun painted a thin
line along the distant ridge. "It's up."
Cheryl collapsed the monopod, capped the lens, and
turned off the camera. She put it on the camera case and
turned to the Hasselblad as I clicked off the first of my
shots.
~ ~ ~
"Shit!" she growled as she examined the slides on the
light box. "Yours are better."
"Yeah," I agreed, leaning in for a closer look. "This
time. Next session yours might be. The studio gives you
great control over all the elements of your photograph.
Nature doesn't live in the studio, and she refuses to be put
under any type of control. Nature photography is the most
frustrating branch because of that, but when you get a great
shot, it's also more rewarding. You just have to learn to
live with frustration. Like those clouds appearing at
exactly the wrong moment."
She turned her head to look at me. "I'm Mandy
Kuczynski's daughter, and you won't fuck me when I ask. I
think I know a little bit about frustration."
She had me there.
~ ~ ~
"Cool" didn't begin to describe her fourth shot of the
deer. "Awesome" was close, but still inadequate. Maybe the
best description was the way she squealed and bounced on the
balls of her feet while she looked at it on the light box.
"I'm disappointed," I said.
That stopped the squealing and bouncing. She
straightened and faced me. "Why?"
"I shoot a hundred pictures and get maybe one that good.
You shoot five and there it is. I'm disappointed in myself
for not being as good as my teenaged niece."
She blinked. Twice. "I guess it's just natural female
superiority."
What got me wasn't the words or the smirk. It was the
way she sounded just like her mother.
~ ~ ~
I held open the driver's side door for her and handed
her the keys. "I'll stand over there and watch. Try not to
drive over me, will you?" While she stood there with her
mouth open, I added, "Don't forget to put the top down, in
case I have to jump in and kill the engine or whatever to
keep you from driving it through the barn."
No doubt it was because of my early-morning thoughtless
reaction, but she didn't just open her mouth in invitation
this time. I was torn between wondering if Diego and Shoe
noticed how she was kissing me and worrying whether she'd
get stomach acid burns on her tongue.
Diego wandered over, never taking his eyes off her and
tensed to jump aside if need be. Diego has a great sense of
self-preservation, boosted, no doubt, by the time she almost
ran into him in his truck. "In two months, I'll start
teaching Buck to drive. Do you think he'll be that excited
when I let him solo for the first time?"
"Nah," I said, impressed by the care Cheryl was taking
to avoid making me think I'd made a mistake by letting her
solo. "Girls get emotional over everything. Boys have more
natural class and self-restraint."
Whooping like a demented hyena, Toad Smith came flying
out of the barn. Ricky, armed with a fire extinguisher, was
in hot pursuit.
Diego groaned. "That's the third fire extinguisher this
month!" He cupped his hands around his mouth like a
megaphone. "_HEY! DIDN'T I TELL YOU TWO HAREBRAINED TURDS
THAT FIRE EXTINGUISHERS AREN'T TOYS? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU
DOING UP HERE, ANYWAY? WHY AREN'T YOU IN THE ARENA TRAINING
CRIBBAGE?_"
Cribbage was to be a rodeo horse. He needed more
coaching because he was young, but he was a natural for
barrel racing.
"_THIS TIME, YOU TWO JACKASSES ARE PAYING FOR RECHARGING
THE DAMNED EXTINGUISHERS! ALL THREE OF THEM!_" He shook
his head in disgust. "Excuse me, Boss," he said, striding
away quickly like his short legs had suddenly grown three
feet in length.
Maybe I should be glad I was hosting a niece instead of
one of my nephews.
~ ~ ~
After verifying that we would sleep in tomorrow, Cheryl
turned off her alarm. "No," she said in reply to my
question, "I don't think I need my legs rubbed tonight. The
hot shower was enough. But I do need some serious rubbing
between them."
"That's a surprise."
She missed my sarcastic intent. "We just rode across
the valley and back for the photos, so I wasn't on the horse
long. Maybe after I start practicing rodeo maneuvers I'll
need massaging every night for a while."
We climbed into bed. She snuggled tight against my
side, facing me. "Thanks."
"For?"
"For telling me that you didn't need to check how I had
saddled the horse. For letting me drive by myself. For the
nice toast at dinner. For sitting through that pay-per-view
romantic movie you didn't like with me because I wanted to
see it."
"I never said I didn't like it."
"Not in words."
I thought I'd managed to cover my indifference to a
maudlin, insipid boy-meets-girl story with no plot,
unrealistic dialogue, and poor lighting. "Well, I liked my
company while I watched."
"I know." Her left leg hooked over mine, and she slowly
humped against my hip. "I liked my company, too, because he
put what I wanted ahead of what he wanted. And I appreciate
that. I'm not like Billie Finch."
Billie was formerly one of Cheryl's best friends, but
she'd become even more self-centered than Mandy, if that's
possible. The rift between Cheryl and Billie had become too
great to survive. The last time Cheryl had mentioned her,
she'd said Billie had no friends left at school and couldn't
pay guys to date her.
I smiled at her and pushed her hair from her face.
"You're also not like one of my twin sisters. Except for
one very, very strong similarity."
The brown wings collided over her nose and her hips
froze. "How's that?"
"You're both female. Which is good, because I wouldn't
be here with you if you weren't."
She blinked. Twice. "Asshole." _Translation: God, I
love you._
"You didn't love me at four this morning," I said in
reply to the translation.
The slow humping against my hip resumed. "That's not
true. I didn't love the hour and I didn't love being
awakened. Not at first. But I didn't stop loving you."
"Not even when you called me a 'gribbin portamakshin
kobot'?"
This time the humping continued when the wings collided.
"A what?"
"That's as close as I can come to the sounds, as best I
remember them. I speak English and a dozen Spanish cuss
words, but I don't speak any Earlymorningcherylese."
"If you're going to be a smartass, you can get me off
and do without for yourself. Or do yourself."
I rubbed my chin and frowned like I was thinking. "I
see. We've graduated to using sex as a weapon, have we?"
She blinked. Twice. "That sounds like something Mother
would do."
"I'm sure that's what you'd hear if you asked Marek and
got an honest answer from him."
"Ask _Daddy? Eeew!_"
"It was just an observation and an answer to your
question. An honest answer."
She shook her head, making her hair ripple in an
interesting interplay of lights and shadows. "I didn't ask
one. All I did was observe, too."
My turn to blink. "You're right. I answered what I
thought was an implied question. Should we start all over?"
She grinned. "Let's start with a couple of minutes
after I woke up."
"When you called me a 'gribbin porschemakin tottabot' or
whatever it was?"
She moved closer to me so that her face was over mine.
"No. When you did this."
Few things in this world strike as fast as an angry
rattlesnake. One that does is a horny Cheryl's tongue. I'm
convinced it also pushed my jaw open to get into my mouth.
It took longer for her hand to find its target, stroke it a
few times, and then hold it upright while she lifted her leg
and started to swing her hips over mine.
"Cheryl, no! We can't do that."
"Uncle Randy, I need it!"
"Cheryl, no. I can't. We can't."
"But..."
That's when the phone rang.
"_FUCK!_" she screamed. "_SHE ALWAYS INTERRUPTS! HOW
DOES SHE KNOW?_"
"Quiet!" I said as I picked up the handset and looked at
the Caller ID. "It's not your mother."
She didn't look any happier, but she did shut up.
~ ~ ~
"Keep your ass in the car, and if you're going to puke,
do it over the side and not in the floorboard. Hear me?"
"Yeah, Boss." At least, I think that's what Ricky said
as I took the keys with me to the door of his trailer. When
he's drunk, he apparently speaks a dialect of
Earlymorningcherylese.
The lights were on. I had called Penny five minutes out
and asked to talk to her. She had agreed but told me not to
bring Ricky with me to the door. I found the door not only
unlocked but also slightly ajar.
Penny sat on the couch. She wore the transparent white
babydoll with the crotchless panties, my favorite of all her
nighties. She wasn't alone. Big John was entertaining her.
Big John was a dildo almost as wide as my fist and almost as
long as my forearm. She was fucking herself with Big John
in her right hand while using her left hand to hold a
vibrator on her clit. From the looks of it, she'd just
shaved her snatch, so you had no clue that she wasn't really
a blonde. Last time I saw her, she'd been a redhead, though
that wasn't her natural color, either.
"I warmed it up for you," she purred. Penny wasn't fat,
but she certainly didn't shop in the petite section, either.
"Penny, I can't tonight. I need a favor from you. A
big one. My niece is staying with me, and I'd rather not
have Ricky spend tonight and tomorrow in the bunkhouse."
She gave me a knowing grin. "I hear she likes to run
around naked to tease you because she thinks you don't like
pussy. You'd rather look at her skinny little ass and small
tits instead of these babies?"
She left Big John inserted but used that hand to expose
and bounce a tit. While it was larger than Cheryl's in
absolute volume, proportionately it wasn't all that much
bigger. I wasn't surprised that Ricky had described Cheryl
to Penny. She loved pussy almost as much as her husband
did.
"Penny, you know how much I love your tits and ass.
It's not that."
Penny grinned and started fucking herself with Big John
again. "She give you that bondage necklace? You should
have brought her along. We could have had a party."
I'd forgotten to leave it at the house. "Penny, she's
only fifteen, and it's a memento gift braided from her hair
plus the manes of Buena Vista and her little filly. Cheryl
doesn't know anything about bondage."
She shrugged. "I had my first fuck at fifteen. Ate my
first pussy at fifteen, too. Haven't stopped doing either
one since. Didn't do any B&D until I was nineteen, though."
"And you're great at everything. But I need to get back
to the ranch. She's by herself. So, how about it? As a
favor to me, will you let Ricky in the house?"
Extortionists have a certain look about them when
they're extorting. That look crept across Penny's face.
"You want a favor from me, you have to do one for me in
return. When I realized Ricky wasn't coming home, I called
Pete and Logan and Debbie over to take care of me. They've
gone home, now, and I'm still horny. You give me a quickie
and you can leave Ricky here. Otherwise, you can take him
with you."
I dusted off my box of arguments and opened it. I
withdrew the first argument and began.
~ ~ ~
Cheryl crossed her arms over her bare chest and glared
at me from the center of the bed. "You fucked her, didn't
you? You fucked Penny." She pointed. "I know what that
looks like after it gets off, and it looks like that now.
You wouldn't fuck me, but you fucked her! Don't lie to me,
you know you did, and I know you did!"
I sighed. "Of course I won't lie to you. Yes, we had
sex together. But..."
I'd forgotten what Cheryl looked like when she was
enraged. I now knew why I'd wanted to forget. "I'm not
good enough for you, so you took advantage of my not being
with you to fuck her! Is that why you had me stay home?
Because you knew you could fuck her if I wasn't there?"
"Cheryl..."
"_GET OUT!_ Go sleep in your room by yourself tonight.
Or go back to Ricky's and sleep with Penny! Or _don't_
sleep! Spend all night fucking _her!_ I don't care. _I
don't want you in here with me if you don't want me!_"
"It's your room. I'm only here at your invitation, so
of course I'll leave. But may I say something first?"
"_WHY WOULD I WANT TO LISTEN?_"
"Because you're Cheryl and not Mandy."
The rage cooled from boiling to simmering. "Okay, but
don't lie to me," she grumbled.
I took a deep breath and tried to speak as
noncommittally and unemotionally as possible. "I thought
you'd like to spend the weekend here with just me, not with
Ricky and me. Penny didn't want to take him back tonight,
even as a favor to me. She demanded a favor in return."
"So! You fucked her for me, did you?"
"For you, no. For us, yes."
The glare faltered for a moment, then returned with
renewed vengeance. "_BULLSHIT!_"
"Try to keep one thing in mind as you go to sleep," I
said before turning to the door. "Your mother isn't the
only one who uses sex as a weapon or for extortion. Other
women have done it as well. Millions of them, including
Penny. I won't insult you by asking if you want a good
night kiss. Get up when you feel like it in the morning.
Whichever one of us gets up first can check the horses. Or,
if you get up first, you can wait and I'll do it. Your
call. Good night."
She didn't start crying until I closed the door and she
thought I couldn't hear her.
Fourteen
Did you ever notice how life never gives you
straightforward, black-and-white situations? Everything is
always shades of gray. Or worse, plaid. Take waking up,
for instance. When it comes to waking up the bad way, it's
hard to beat being jolted awake by a nightmare so horrible
that you're glad you can't remember the details and wish you
also couldn't remember that it had been a nightmare that
horrible.
When it comes to waking up the good way, it's hard to
beat opening your eyes and seeing a pair of beautiful brown
pools an inch away, staring back at you from under graceful
brown wings.
So, when you wake up and both apply, is that waking up
the good way or the bad way? I couldn't decide.
Cheryl smiled. "I love you, Uncle Randy."
Okay, it's definitely the good way. "I love you, too,
Niece Cheryl."
"Do you forgive me?"
"Of course not."
She blinked. Twice. "You're being Mister Smart Ass
again, aren't you?"
"Just honest. I can't forgive you if you haven't done
anything wrong. If you want to be forgiven, then you have
to do something wrong first."
Her eyes looked pained as her hand lifted and her
fingertips stroked my cheek. "I was a bitch."
"You were Niece Cheryl, who isn't a morning person."
"It wasn't morning, it was bedtime."
"It was over an hour after midnight, so technically it
was morning."
"God, I love you." Her face moved forward, and she
kissed me lightly. "I hope I grow up to be like you and not
like Mother."
"You already have."
She smiled as her eyes grew moist.
"Shall we check the horses?"
She shook her head. "They're fine. I already checked."
"Really? How long have you been lying here?" The
room's brightness indicated it couldn't have been much past
seven.
She lifted her head to look over my shoulder at the
clock, then returned it to the pillow with our noses
touching. "A little over an hour. I was watching you
sleep. It's nice to watch."
"You didn't get much sleep."
"No." She sighed. "Not much. I thought about what you
said. Penny did act like Mom. She wanted something, and
she didn't care who had to pay the price for her to get it."
"You're pretty smart for a teenager. You must have
inherited that from me."
She smiled her prettiest smile. "I did! There wasn't
anybody else in this family for me to get it from."
"Your grandparents. It skipped a generation except for
me. That's how it works. It may skip your kids, too, but
your grandkids will be as smart as you."
"God, I love you."
"They'll also have your sense of good taste. That often
skips a generation, too."
Funny, isn't it, how a gentle kiss can seem more
passionate than yesterday's crotch-grabbing tongue
wrestlers.
Her lips moved back, but her nose remained against mine.
"Uncle Randy, I have something for you."
"Another present?"
"Uh huh. Sort of. Your goodnight kiss that you did
without." It was as soft and gentle as the preceding one,
and it seemed even more passionate. "And your good morning
kiss."
"Didn't I already get that one?"
"I don't think so. It was an I love you kiss. I don't
think that counts as a good morning kiss. Let's not take
any chances."
"Good thinking."
After she pulled her lips back from mine she asked,
"Would you do me a favor?"
"Probably. Depends on what it is, though."
She wiggled her head, causing the tip of her nose to
draw a circle around the tip of mine. "Would you get me
off? I'm so horny I can't stand it."
"Well, since I got off last night and you didn't, I
suppose I owe you..."
Her eyes went wide. She really has the most beautiful
whites. Sclera, I think, is their technical name. "No!
Uncle Randy, you don't 'owe' me anything. If you want to
get me off because I asked and you _want_ to, then I'm glad
to have you do it. If you want to get me off because you
think you _owe_ me, then that's the same as me asking for it
as payment, and makes me no better than Penny or Mother."
"Congratulations, Brainy Niece. You just passed the
test."
She was going to bruise her eyebrows if she kept
slamming them together like that. "What test?"
"I can ask if you understand that similarity, and you
can honestly tell me you do even if you really don't. But
by giving you no time to think about it, just letting you
react instinctively, I can tell whether you truly understand
it in here," I lightly tapped her forehead, "and in here."
I moved my hand down to lightly tap over her heart.
"Sometimes we understand with one but not with both."
She thought about that a moment. "Yeah. I guess so. I
think I understand what you mean about the difference."
"Of course you do. You're from the smart generation of
the family."
Seems I'd forgotten to remove the fingertip from over
her heart. Her hand closed over mine and moved it sideways,
until I was cupping one of those small, firm treats that
make breakfast and other mealtimes fun. "Then would you
please get me off this morning?"
"It would be my pleasure."
The sly look of evil plus the ache of longing appeared
in her eyes again. "Not as much as it'll be mine." She
lifted her leg and pressed her lips to mine, opening herself
at both ends in invitation. Fortunately I can multi-task,
as I proved with my tongue, the fingers tweaking the hard
little nipple, and the fingers that found the hot wetness of
her mostly-shaved furnace.
When she stopped gasping and smiled, I said, "That
didn't take very long. Less than a minute, I think."
She purred happily. "I've been on edge since... I don't
know. Three or four o'clock, I guess."
"You didn't do anything about it?"
"Unh uh. I didn't want to do myself. I gotta tell you,
though, Cartwheel had a boner this morning, and it looked
really good, though not as awesome as yours."
"You sure know how to stroke a man's ego," I said. She
responded by stroking more than my ego as I added, "Maybe I
should have brought Ricky home after all. He once said he'd
give a thousand bucks to watch a girl do a horse."
"_Eeew!_ I was _joking!_"
"Yeah, but Ricky wasn't."
She clamped her lips together and frowned at me. "Uncle
Randy, the only way you're going to get that gross image out
of my head is to get me off again."
"Well, if it's a medical necessity."
"It is! And you have to apologize to my pussy."
"I do? You started the subject."
"I was just saying how Cartwheel's boner made me think
of yours. _YOU_ brought up the gross stuff!"
That wasn't the way I remembered it, but I experienced a
sudden reminder that the object in her hand had two
functions, and things were getting rather uncomfortable
since it needed to perform the other one, but couldn't when
it was erect. Since it seemed I'd forgotten to remove my
hand from her mound, it was an easy maneuver to wiggle my
fingertip into the wet trench and bring it forward to wiggle
against her swollen clit.
She grabbed my wrist. "Uncle Mandy," she said with a
sound of disgust. "Whatever am I going to do with you?
What part of 'apologize to my pussy' did you not understand?
You get down there and kiss it and tell it you're sorry."
"Uh, Cheryl..."
"Look! It's not like you haven't kissed it before, you
know. In fact, you French kissed it, remember?"
Yeah, I remembered. And I'd foolishly thought that
after six nights without bringing it up, she'd forgotten.
"Hurry up! We have a busy day ahead of us, and we can't
get started on it if I'm horny."
"What..."
"Uncle Mandy! There's a time and place for everything.
This is _not_ the time and place to discuss our daily
calendar! We have more important things to occupy our time
at the moment."
I pressed the tip of my nose to hers. "You're enjoying
this too much."
"Not as much as I'm about to enjoy it, if you'll hurry
up and kiss it and apologize. Otherwise, you'll have to be
the one calling your sister to explain that her daughter
died of terminal horniness because you wouldn't eat her
box."
"'Eat'? I thought I was just supposed to kiss it and
apologize, not..."
"As long as you're down there, you can make yourself
useful. Hurry up! I think I see a long dark tunnel with a
light at the end of it."
What could I do? She'd put so much effort into setting
me up that I had to reward her for her effort. Plus it
sounded like a medical necessity.
She flopped over onto her back. I slid down, pausing
long enough to sample those twin pink tips without the
benefit of syrup, salad dressing, ice cream, apple pie
filling, whipped cream, chocolate, or the gravy she'd made
for dinner Thursday night.
"You know something?" I said as I released the second
one and resumed sliding. "I think I like them best without
the toppings, though it's a close call."
Her reply sounded like Earlymorningcherylese. My
bladder said I didn't have time to ask for a translation
into English. She shuddered when I kissed her engorged lips
and ran my tongue between them. "I'm sorry I was gross,
Miss Pussy," I said, and then I used my thumbs to spread her
open.
"Hey, Cheryl? There's a long dark tunnel here, but I
don't see a light at the end of it."
"Asshole."
"No, that's farther down. I don't see any light shining
out of it, either."
_Incongruous_. Webster's Tenth Collegiate Dictionary
says that's an adjective dating back to 1611. Definition c:
"Inconsistent within itself." A good example is how a hand
that can feel so soft and gentle while stroking an erection
can hurt like the blazes when it raps the top of your skull.
~ ~ ~
Cheryl dipped the corner of her toast in her egg yolk
and bit it off. She looked really cute sitting there fully
dressed in her necklace and chewing whole wheat toast, grape
jelly, and egg yolk while surrounded by a dreamy post
orgasmic glow that hadn't faded.
She smiled at me. Not that it took any effort on her
part. She'd been smiling non-stop at both ends since I
sprang out of bed and dashed for the bathroom. "I have a
question."
Several potential questions jumped up in front of my
mind's eye. "Well, I'm your uncle, so naturally I have all
the answers."
"Did you eat Penny like that last night?"
That wasn't anywhere close to any of the questions I'd
thought she might ask. "Cheryl, a gentleman doesn't kiss
and tell. She asked me if I'd done anything with you yet.
I didn't answer her. Would you want me to discuss our
business with anyone else?"
She waved her toast toward the studio. "You have
pictures in there of your face buried so deep between her
legs that the only way it's possible to tell it's you is by
your watch and that awesome boner waving around. I've seen
that album, remember?"
We were back to arguing with logic again. "Well, you
_really_ don't want to know, do you?"
It's difficult to look serious while smiling in
post-orgasmic afterglow, but Cheryl manages admirably.
"Yes, I do. Nobody else in the family seems to want to
understand the real Randy Long. They're happy with the one
Mom invented. I want to know what's going on beneath that
gorgeous blond hair and behind those beautiful blue eyes.
Sometimes I think you know me better than I do. I want to
know you that well, too."
She waited while I processed that and reached a
decision. "No," I finally said. "She was happy with
straight sex, so it was just a quickie. I don't think I
even kissed her except to kiss her goodnight when I left."
She used orange juice to wash down some bacon before she
spoke again. "Did Ricky watch or take part, too?"
"Ricky was passed out in the front seat. She wasn't
about to let him in the house until after I she'd gotten
everything she wanted."
"Did you suck her boobs?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I can't tell you yet, but I will. I promise. It's
important, honest. You know I won't lie to you, either."
"Yes, I believe you, of course, even if I don't
understand. Since it's important, no, I didn't suck them.
She likes having them squeezed some, so I did that, but
that's all. I would have if she'd asked, though."
I had the uncomfortable feeling that I'd just sprung a
trap when I embellished the answer, but it was too late to
take back the words.
"Did you do her in different positions?
This was sounding too much like prurient interest and
not much like getting to know Uncle Randy, but I'd decided
to answer her. I wasn't going to start second guessing my
decision now. "No. She's happy with just a straight
missionary position. Uh, you do know what that means, don't
you?"
"Of course I do!" she snapped.
"Okay! I'm sorry. I was just making sure. Better to
be safe than sorry and all that. Anyway, she'll go along
with almost any position that's physically possible, but she
never has any real preference for anything else. She loves
screwing and cumming. Everything else is just window
dressing for her."
"And you didn't have a preference?"
"I preferred to drop off Ricky and get home as quickly
as possible, but the only way it was possible was for me to
do her first."
"There's a picture of you with it in her butt. Did you
do that?"
_Now what?_ "No. I would have if she'd asked in order
for her to let Ricky in the house, though. But, actually, I
don't care for anal sex."
She gave me a sly smirk. "You don't? Some fag you
turned out to be."
"Yeah. Sorry to be such a disappointment to everyone.
Ricky likes doing it a lot more than I do. More than Penny
does, too. It's okay with her because he makes sure she
gets her jollies, and occasionally she wants it. That
picture was the one time she asked me to. It was the spirit
of the moment that made her ask. It was at a group party.
Just one-on-one like that, she never asks anyone to do it."
She used her fork to scrape egg onto her jellied toast.
"You don't love her."
"No. Of course not. Well, I love her as a friend, but,
no, not the way you mean it. Cheryl, there's a difference
between love and sex."
She paused, moving only her eyes to look at me. "Uncle
Randy, I know that. I'm not in love with Allen Kirk, you
know."
"I don't think I _knew_ that because I don't remember
you saying it, but I was pretty sure that was the case."
"Well, that's why I was asking those questions. You
were just going along with whatever she wanted because you
had to. You weren't doing anything else because you don't
love her."
I was having trouble finding the walls of the trap I
knew I was in. "You're saying that I don't love her because
I do anything she wants, and because I won't do what you
want, I therefore love you?"
"No."
"You're saying, uh... You're saying that, uh... You're
saying because... Okay, I give up. What are you saying?"
"Huh? I told you. I'm saying I want to know Randy Long,
World's Greatest Uncle, better. That's all I'm saying. I
know Randy Long is complex. Until now, I didn't really
understand how complex. I don't think anyone else in the
family understands you at all, and you know something? It's
their loss."
I don't care what you offer me, to include my own
country to run as I see fit, Cheryl isn't for sale. I'm
keeping her.
~ ~ ~
I looked through the viewfinder at Cheryl on the tech
table. She'd covered it with a royal blue cloth and had
curved the top of that over a support bar to create a
seamless background. The color set off her skin tone
nicely. "Are you sure I want to do this?"
"Why not? We've done other pictures we don't want my
parents or anyone else to see."
"Yeah," I agreed, adjusting a fill light. "But with
sexy clothing, not with those."
She picked up one of the penis-molded vibrators and
turned it around in front of her eyes, surveying it
critically. "Well, I found them in that box in the model's
closet, and it seemed like a shame to let them go to waste."
"I'm not sure this is a good idea."
She switched on the motor and jumped when she felt its
intensity. That one was to vibration what Penny's Big John
was to size. "I'm not sure it's _not_ a good idea. We're
just having fun, remember? It's not like we're going to
publish them or sell them. Besides, when I'm old and gray
my boobs hang down to my waist, you'll be glad to have the
pictures to remind you of what I looked like now."
"I have other pictures to remind me."
"You'll be glad to have these too. Trust me."
For a change she didn't sound like her mother. Now she
sounded like her lawyer father. But before I could say
anything, she touched the tip of the vibrator to her clit
and shrieked, jumping hard enough to leave the table and
come crashing back down on it. Fortunately I'd chosen the
tech table for the shot because it was designed for heavy
loads and physical abuse.
"Holy shit, that's _great!_" she squealed, then shrieked
again as she pressed it to her clit. "I'm going to cum in a
hurry with that!"
She did, too. It made for the greatest set of facial
expressions I'd ever seen or photographed. They look out of
sequence when you view them in sequence, so I've tentatively
titled that set "Non-Linear Ecstasy."
She had me shoot her in different positions with each of
the dildos and vibrators, and she got off with almost every
one before moving on to the next.
When she was finished with those, she used her fingers.
My second-favorite shot of the day was Cheryl's butt waving
in the air above her spread knees. Her upper body rested on
her right shoulder as her right fingers furiously tried to
coax a final orgasm into being. Her torso was turned so
that she could look at the camera, cheek against the table,
and her face was twisted by her need for the release that
was just barely refusing to happen.
"Uncle Randy!" she moaned in the most aching, pleading
voice I'd ever heard. "Help me! _PLEASE!_"
I dropped the remote shutter release and rushed forward.
She moved her hand the instant before my face made contact,
allowing me unhindered room to furiously lick, suck,
tongue-flutter, and whatever else I did to her clit to get
her off.
I'd noticed that Cheryl's orgasms had grown
progressively smaller throughout the session. This one was
the sum of all the others, violent in its nature. Her
fingers turned into claws that hooked into the blue cloth
and dragged it down from the vertical supports. She
breathed in great moaning gasps afterward. I left two
fingers inside her and planted soft kisses randomly across
her butt and legs as she came down from the experience and
got her breathing back under control.
"God, that was _WONDERFUL!_" she gasped. _Translation:
Holy shit!_
"I thought you enjoyed it."
"I did! _NO!_ Don't take those fingers out yet, unless
you plan to put in something awesome I'd like better."
"I'll leave them in."
I wasn't sure if she muttered something or just made a
different gasping sound. Eventually her breathing returned
to normal. She tilted sideways and came to rest on one hip.
She was so wet inside that I let her rotate around my
fingers.
"Oooh!" she cooed. "That was nice." She started to coo
something else, but her head suddenly shot up and turned to
look at me. "Uncle Randy! You've had a boner this whole
time. You must need to get off."
"Actually, to be perfectly honest, I do. But you wanted
me to keep my fingers..."
I think her expression is best described as adoration.
"And you did! Just for me! Okay. Take them out and I'll
get you off, if you don't want to get it off inside me."
At that moment it wasn't a case of what I wanted, it was
a case of what I couldn't do. I didn't dare tell her what I
truly wanted and how badly I wanted it. I slid my fingers
out and popped them in my mouth. Cheryl has the most
delicious taste.
She sat up and reached for the little buckaroo. She
stopped her hand less than an inch away and looked around
the table where she was sitting. She quickly twisted until
she was lying on her stomach and then reached again. "I
want to watch it up close," she explained as she wrapped her
fingers around it and started pumping it right in front of
her nose.
It didn't take long. When all my muscles locked and my
upper and lower teeth tried to occupy the same space at the
same time and my eyelids squeezed together so tightly that I
was seeing stars, I felt her lips kiss the head and then
open to slide down around it. Her tongue slid down the
underside as I said something in the Earlymorningcherylese I
didn't know I spoke and almost passed out from the intensity
of my own release.
~ ~ ~
Cheryl stood behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder
and squeezing my chest in her arms. Together we looked at
the final photo on the computer screen, my favorite of the
day's shoot. It was of a dreamy-looking Cheryl, radiant in
post-orgasmic afterglow, eyes and lips smiling in impish
mischief and the latter randomly coated with traces of
pearly white.
I began typing in a title. "I'm going to call that one
'Temporarily Satiated', I think."
"Temporarily?"
I turned my head so that I could see the corner of her
eye out of the corner of mine. "Ten bucks says you'll get
horny again before you leave at the end of the summer."
Her head tilted sideways and gently bumped mine. "Ten
bucks says I'll get horny again before we leave this studio
for lunch."
"I've lost sucker bets before. I've got better sense
than to lose another one. No deal."
She purred in my ear while I locked those shots behind
passwords. When I was finished she whispered, "Uncle Randy,
would you kiss my pussy and make it feel better?"
"You _are_ horny again?" I thought she'd been kidding.
"No. Sore. I didn't ask you to get me off, I asked you
to kiss it and make it feel better."
"Ah. I see." I turned in the chair as she
straightened. I kissed the small unshaved patch on her
mound, then softly kissed her slit. "Get well soon," I
whispered.
Look, it was a medical necessity to alleviate pain and
suffering, okay?
~ ~ ~
I felt, more than I heard, her knees at either side of
my head, crunching into the sand beneath my towel. The sun
had stopped shining through my eyelids, too. Before I could
find the strength to pull my leaden eyelids apart, cold
water dripped onto my face.
"The cold water helped, but it's still a little bit
sore," she said. "You'd better kiss it again."
I managed to force my eyes open just as she pressed her
lower lips against my mouth. I gave it a soft kiss. "Randy
Long, DSP," I said.
She lifted her sore little snatch from my face and
looked down with suspicion that was totally out of place on
so innocent a face. "DSP?"
"Doctor of Sore Pussies."
She blinked. Twice. "Works for me," she said and
pressed down for another necessary medical treatment.
~ ~ ~
Remember me saying I had better sense than to lose
another sucker bet? I lied. As a result, I had to carry
her from my shower to my bed. I carefully placed her in the
center and tried to straighten.
She refused to release her arms from around my neck and
pulled me into bed with her. "Thank you."
"'Thank you,' she says. She forces me to take a sucker
bet, I lose it, and she forces me to carry her to my bed
because I lost, and now she says, 'Thank you.'"
She kissed me. "I wanted you to know I was Niece Cheryl
and not Sister Mandy. You've had a full day. You might
have forgotten."
I gave her a long, analytical stare. "Are you leading
up to asking for something? Like getting you off yet again
today?"
She frowned with those graceful brown wings, but the
beautiful brown eyes stayed mischievous. "I think maybe
I've had enough today. But only because my pussy's still
sore." She waited while I kissed it out of medical
necessity and then continued. "Do you know how many times I
got off today? I didn't count."
"Eight for sure, maybe ten or twelve total. Or maybe
more. I'm not sure."
Her eyes widened. "No shit? Damn! Maybe that's why
I'm sore."
I chuckled and kissed her as I scooted close beside her,
half-lying over her left side. "Some of those contraptions
were pretty big. If you hadn't been so wet, you'd be a lot
sorer."
She thought about that. "I guess I'd better do it with
them every day, then."
_No clue._ "Why's that?"
"Well, you're almost as big as a couple of those. When
I finally get to do it with you, I don't want to stop after
just eight to twelve times because I'm too sore."
Fifteen
Summers' fascination with Cheryl became more
understandable when I met his wife, Joyce. She said they
had lost a daughter at age ten, and Cheryl was practically a
reincarnation of their girl, though Cheryl's face was
proportionately wider and her cheeks a little fuller.
Still, they could have been sisters.
"He's never really accepted her death," Joyce said in a
quiet conversation at the opposite end of their large living
room where the mantel was covered with pictures of Kimberley
Summers. "He planned for her to take over the operation of
the ranch because the boys didn't seem interested in it. He
was right, too, because they've gone on to other things.
Kimberley, however, couldn't wait to jump in and give
orders. At first I thought it was because she liked being
Little Miss Bossy. Then I realized it was because she had a
talent for the horses and for what was required. Keith
finally started listening to her suggestions and
implementing them."
"I'm sorry for your loss," I said.
"Thank you, but I came to terms with it," she said,
giving her husband a wistful glance across the room. "Keith
never did. He won't admit it, of course, but he sees
Kimberley when he looks at Cheryl. That's why he calls her
Little Missy. It was his nickname for Kimberley. Oh, he
knows she's not Kimberley. He's not in denial. But that's
who he sees when he looks at her. I hope he doesn't make a
pest of himself as far as she's concerned."
I told Cheryl the whole story when I finally had a few
minutes alone with her. Those beautiful brown eyes blinked
twice, keeping tears at bay. She nodded, and then she
latched herself to Summers' side on his return and stayed
there when she wasn't posing.
I did most of the photography, while Cheryl either posed
or stood with one arm around Keith's waist and her side
pressed to his, occasionally detaching herself to shoot one
or two shots when I had a teaching point. Even then, she
took Summers' hand and pulled him along with her. She was
supposed to be my assistant and help with the photo work,
but I didn't mind. Her self-appointed new job was more
important, and I loved her even more for voluntarily taking
it upon herself.
Summers agreed to more pictures of vacationing guests
and fewer pictures of Cheryl because she suggested it,
though I shot plenty of her both on film and on digital
chips. She had suggested I give him a personal photo album
of the shots not used for his brochures. Most of the shots
of her would go in that album. I agreed, but said that the
gift would be from both of us.
I never knew they gave an award for Best Uncle of the
Year, but she said that I'd just won it.
~ ~ ~
"Look," Summers said, waving a hand at my horse trailer.
"You're gonna leave that and your two horses here while
you're gone." He waved his other hand across the lot at a
huge camping trailer. "It's a fifth-wheel hitch, so you can
pull that with your truck."
The Ford engine "sounded funny" to both Jake and Ricky.
They'd insisted I take the GMC instead, which had a
fifth-wheel but no bumper hitch. Which also meant I took
the huge trailer for just two horses, a fact that raised the
eyebrows of Keith's foreman until I explained.
Keith looked at me like I was a dude saddling up for the
first-time. "If that deal is as big as it's advertised to
be, you ain't gonna find a room anywhere in town at this
late date, even if it is a ski resort with plenty of rooms
for rent. Your choices are gonna be pitch a tent or live in
that. Take that. It's got three beds. Little Missy will
be more comfortable in it than in a sleeping bag on the
ground."
Cheryl squeezed the arm around hers, smiled up at him,
and said, "Sounds good to me."
Summers grinned at me. "I think that just ended the
argument."
~ ~ ~
When the Summers family was out of sight, Cheryl stopped
waving and dropped her hands to her lap. She stared out the
windshield at nothing for a while. "Uncle Randy, I didn't
ask for you to take the camper for me. I hope you
understand that."
"Of course I do. I knew at the time you said it."
"Cool."
"And I thought your reason was very sweet of you."
"Thanks."
She chewed on the thoughts for another ten to fifteen
minutes, then inspected her fingernails without raising her
hands from her lap. "Uncle Randy, would you mind if I spent
two weeks at their ranch next summer?"
I glanced at her and returned my attention to the road.
"Of course not. Why would I mind?"
"I don't know. Maybe you think my proper place isn't at
Summers' ranch but at Long's."
She was still looking down at her hands. "Cheryl?" I
said, causing her to look up tentatively. "Your life is
yours to live. Your proper place is where _you_ want to be,
not where Randy Long wants you to be. I want you to be
where you will enjoy yourself, and if that's with Keith and
Joyce for two weeks, then that's fine with me. You'll be
sixteen next year, so your parents still have some say about
where you can or can't go, but if you want to spend two
weeks with the Summerses, they shouldn't object. And if
they do, I'm pretty sure Joyce can talk your mother into
it."
In retrospect, I should have said, "your parents," but
honestly speaking, I got it right the first time.
"You think so?"
"I spent more time listening to her than you did."
Which was true. When Cheryl was with Joyce, so was Keith,
and he didn't give his wife any more opportunity to speak
than he gave me. "If anyone can talk Mandy Kuczynski into
the idea, she can, one mother to another."
Her face went from gloomily doubtful to eagerly
anticipatory in less than an eye blink. "Cool."
"Two years after that, you'll be eighteen. Then you can
work wherever you want, and if you'd like to be a Summer
Dude Ranch worker, I doubt you'll have any trouble getting a
job. Not unless you kill half the horses as a guest."
"Uncle Randy! That's not funny."
"And," I continued as if she hadn't spoken, "you'll have
your own three-year-old horse you can bring along for your
personal use."
Her eyes grew so large I thought they swallowed those
graceful brown wings. "Blaze?"
I shrugged. "It will be time for her to get off her
butt and get a job. I think she'd like working with you
best."
"Can you find a place to pull over?"
"Why?"
"Because I can't hold back this kiss much longer, and
it's gonna last long enough for you to drive us off the road
and down a mountain."
I don't know about you, but that sounded to me like an
excellent reason to pull over.
~ ~ ~
We truly lucked out. We happened to be seeking a
camping trailer space at Rainbow Campground, the only one in
town we hadn't yet checked, when the people who'd entered in
front of us said they had a family emergency and had to
return to Nebraska with their camper. Rainbow was next to a
marina and the town's lakeside park, so it was the most
expensive in town. The space was a top-tier price space
because it was on the shore, with its own beach and a
beautiful view of the boaters and skiers on Hargus Bay, the
town to the west beyond, and the majestic rocky cliffs of
the surrounding mountains beyond that. More mountains
towered to the south and southwest. In July, the ski slopes
were verdant swards of grass off to the northwest. I had
the distinct feeling that when all was covered in snow and
ice, this would still be a beautiful place to park a camper.
Almost as beautiful as the wide-eyed face of my niece as
she took in the view. "Uncle Randy," she murmured, "if it's
shitkicker, let's just do something else here. Maybe just
do local nature photography and lie on our beach."
I didn't argue.
~ ~ ~
We set up the trailer and had lunch. Since things
didn't start until six at the park, we lazed on our beach
and soaked up some sun, which felt warm in the relatively
cool mountain air. Cool compared to what I was used to at
the base of the Western Slope, though the locals were
probably complaining about the heat.
"Uncle Randy," murmured Cheryl, keeping her voice low
because our neighbors to either side were sunning on their
beaches, "the only thing wrong with this place is that we
have to wear more than our necklaces."
"Well," I whispered after thinking for a moment, "at
least we have scenery that's almost as beautiful as you in
your necklace and a smile."
Cheryl lifted her head and looked around. "Wow! That's
one hell of a compliment."
"Uh huh," I sighed, wriggling to a slightly more
comfortable position because of a pesky rock under my
shoulder. "It is to the scenery."
Her hand found mine. The gentle squeeze felt more
passionate than the oral session we'd spent in the camper
outside of Glenwood the night before. "I love you, Uncle
Randy."
"I love you, too, Niece Cheryl."
~ ~ ~
With some advice, directions, and a map from John and
Tammy McKeown, who ran the campground, we packed dinner and
cameras and piled into the truck. Cheryl wore the smile of
someone who had needed a pre-departure orgasm and had
received it.
Look. She said I could either give her one before we
left or she would be humping a camera lens before the
concert was over for the night. I was just protecting my
investment. Those lenses are damned expensive.
Cheryl gave me a quick peck on the lips before I turned
the key. "Mmmm," she purred, running the tip of her tongue
over her lips. "I know what you've been eating."
"Cherry pie a la Cheryl," I said and put the truck into
gear.
The directions weren't really necessary. All we had to
do was get in line and follow the crowd. Parking wasn't as
bad as I'd expected because the parking area was huge. It
wasn't great, but it could have been far worse if not for
shuttle busses and the many tour busses. I later estimated
the crowd at over two thousand people. We decided to leave
the food and cooler in the truck and wander around doing
photographer things for a while. After all, we didn't know
if we'd be staying.
The direct sunlight in the valley doesn't last as long
as it does on the Western Slope this time of year, but we
still had enough light for flashless photography of the
people and scenery. We shot pictures of the concert shell,
the dressing tents behind them, people camped out on the
grass, people milling about, people lined up for the porta-
potties, and people setting up collection tables for the
money that would count as votes for the bands. We shot
pictures of the trees, the sidewalks, the parking area, the
park's town hero statue, and the concession stands.
Cheryl was armed with one of the electronic Nikons and
her FUPOS 1369. I periodically checked her results. I
didn't know talent could be inherited from an uncle, but
she'd apparently inherited some of mine. Sometimes she'd
produce a shot she was exceptionally pleased with. She'd
squeal with delight and press against my side while jumping
up and down as she showed it to me. Nobody seemed to notice
my discomfort at her public display of affection. Nobody
seemed to notice the display, either. Everyone was having a
good time, including my photogenically beautiful and
photographically talented niece.
We were still shooting when the comedian emcee started
the proceedings with plenty of announcements and some
occasional heckling from the audience. Finally he announced
that Stampede would be playing Monday night, and that got a
warm reaction from the crowd.
Cheryl wrinkled her cute little nose at me. "_Stampede?
Eeew!_ Five dollars says that's a shitkicker band."
"I don't want to take your money because it's too easy.
I've heard of them. They are, mostly, but they play other
stuff, too, so you can't really call them shitkicker."
"And this place likes them? Maybe we should leave now
if that's what they're going to play tonight."
The announcement of Junior and the Twins caused the
world to explode in a cacophony of screams, whistles, and
cheers that made both of us jump.
Cheryl pulled my head down to ask in my ear,
"Shitkicker?"
I shook my head. "No clue." I had to shout because of
the crowd. "Must be local."
The announcer finally established order and listed the
other three groups for the night. Unrehearsed could be
anything, but Defiant Sheep and especially Taco Jones and
the Enchiladas wrinkled the pert nose again.
The last one was the first up. When we saw how they
were dressed, all red, white, and blue sequins and spangles,
including their cowboy hats, it was no question that they
were shitkicker. "They look like a Busby Berkeley act," I
murmured as they quickly set up.
"Who?"
I blinked at her for a while. "Producer of Broadway
musicals from thirties and forties. Broadway's idea of how
The West looked and dressed. Like the play and movie of
_Oklahoma_ on steroids."
The cute wrinkles deformed the cute nose again. "They
made a stage play about _Oklahomo?_"
I pressed my forehead to hers and rotated my neck until
our noses touched. "It's a very famous musical. Remind me
to expand your horizons and educate you when we return
home."
"If you _really_ want to expand my horizons and educate
me," she began, that lascivious grin curling oh-so-smoothly
into place.
"No."
"Okay." Again she didn't press the issue. But again I
had the feeling that I had just stepped more firmly into a
bear trap. "Come on. We've gotta take pictures of this
bunch. Nobody back home will believe me when I tell them
how they were dressed. Well, Mom probably will. I'm sure
she thinks her homo brother dresses that way on his ranch."
Her smirk made me want to turn her over my knee, but I
was afraid it might just turn her on while getting me
arrested for child abuse. But then I laughed. "You could
always tell her that it's some of my friends."
The "Well, duh!" look fooled me at first. After a
second or three I realized that was her intention. "You're
trying to fool her into letting you come back next year,
aren't you."
"Except for two weeks with the Summerses."
"You tell her those are my friends and you might spend
the whole summer with Keith."
Evil Cheryl smiled back. "Will Blaze be big enough to
spend the summer away from home?"
I didn't reply because that was when Taco Jones decided
to torture cats to death and call it "singing."
We shot the band from near the stage front and off the
wings. Cheryl turned to me. "Uncle Randy, I can't take any
more. Let's leave. If that kind of shitkicker is what they
like here..."
"Excuse me," said a large balding man with an Olympus
film camera around his neck. He had been walking past when
he overheard Cheryl's comment. "You're obviously not from
nearby."
"Western Slope," I said. That answered his question
since he was obviously a local.
He waved a chubby hand toward the band and smiled at
Cheryl. "Taco is from Fort Collins, like Junior said, but
he was born here. He's related to the mayor so he gets
invited to pretend to sing occasionally. There's a reason
he's the first act. It's because people are still showing
up. Some of the locals are leaving home now because they
know Taco will be the first act, and they're hoping that
he'll be off the stage by the time they arrive."
Cheryl nodded. "I wish somebody had warned us."
The man's large body shook as he laughed. "I'm here now
because I have to be, not by choice," he said, indicating
his Olympus. Then he looked at our cameras in a glancing
sweep. "Film and electronic both," he said, nodding at my
two. "You a pro?"
"Randy Long, Long Studios," I said offering my hand.
"Primarily nature photography, but I do other assignments."
"Maynard Sillerman, reporter for the local _Herald_.
You teaching your daughter the business? I recognize her
Nikon. It's the one I want and the wife says I can't
afford."
"Actually, I'm not married. This is my niece, Cheryl
Kuczynski, from Dallas. She has a natural talent I wish I
had. I worked hard to get the talent that she seems to be
born with. You wouldn't believe it."
He pinched an earlobe between forefinger and thumb and
rubbed it, giving me a look that bordered on apologetic.
"Trust me when I say we're very familiar with born talents
around here. You wouldn't believe the stories if I told
you. You on assignment?"
"Just vacationing and taking the opportunity to teach
Cheryl how to handle a shoot like this."
He smiled at my lovely niece. "Listen, I normally shoot
coverage of my own stories, but it would be nice to have
some professional shots. E. L., the boss, is a cheap
bastard, but I think I can get him to spring for some
quality shots if we can afford the man who did that shoot of
Mesa Verde two years ago in _National Geographic_."
I know I looked startled because Maynard smiled and
said, "Reporter's disease. Uncontrollable memory for
names."
I nodded understanding. "Well, I'm fairly reasonable,
especially with local newspapers, but you'd be surprised
about Cheryl's outrageous fees."
Maynard laughed. "I've been married for over
twenty-five years. I'm used to women being outrageous when
it comes to money."
Cheryl gave him a dirty look but said nothing.
"Tell me about it. We shot advertising pictures at a
dude ranch yesterday. She got paid fifty percent more than
I did."
Maynard's broad face went slack and then he squinted at
Cheryl. He turned his gaze back to me. "Keith Summers'
place?"
"Yeah. You know him?"
The large head nodded. "And I understand. I got to
know them when Molly and I spent two weeks there years ago.
I knew Kimberley, too. Keith and I became casual friends,
and I did an article on the ranch for him. Made the _Denver
Post_ and got picked up by the AP. Listen, you're welcome
to join us up here so that you'll be close to the stage.
Molly won't mind the company." He gestured to a vague spot
off to the side.
Cheryl screwed up her nose at him. "You sure the rest
isn't sh... Isn't more of that?"
Maynard laughed. "I don't know about the bunch from
Washington, but the Denver group is okay hard rock and...
Say, are you serious? You haven't heard of Junior and the
Twins?" He was looking at me when he asked the question.
"Not really."
"You'll be glad you stayed. And so will Little Missy.
I assume that's what Keith called you," he said, looking at
Cheryl.
She nodded, her eyes looking a little damp. "He did."
Taco Jones finished his first song and was greeted with
half-hearted applause. It didn't seem to faze him.
Maynard nodded. "I thought so. Well? Want to join
us?"
Cheryl gave me a look, something of resignation, I
suppose. "I guess we could tonight," she said. "Okay,
Uncle Randy?"
"You're the one who wanted to do a photo safari. You
are now working. Let's go get our stuff and a couple of
studio caps for advertising."
Maynard beamed at Cheryl. I was getting an inferiority
complex about how everyone paid attention to her and not to
me. However, he _did_ remember my Mesa Verde photo shoot.
I guess that counted for something. "We're over there by
that light pole. I'll stand up so you can see me."
Cheryl looped her hand around my crooked elbow as we
returned to the parking lot. "You don't mind, do you? Just
for tonight? Maybe tomorrow night we can be off by
ourselves."
I looked at the swirling mob around us. "I don't think
there's anywhere in this park that we could be by ourselves,
honey."
"Yeah," she agreed as she also looked around. "I guess
the important thing is that we're together."
"That works for me."
"Just one thing, though. When we get to the truck, you
have to kiss me. I need it. Bad."
I knew it was a bear trap. But there are far worse
traps to be caught in.
~ ~ ~
Molly Sillerman, a pleasant lady almost as wide as her
husband, was accompanied by a slender friend, Pam Buford.
Pam was my age, attractive, very single, and very available.
She was the first to let you know. Cheryl took an instant
dislike to her. You had to know Cheryl to really see it,
because it wasn't overt like it would be with Mandy.
"Your uncle is quite handsome," Pam said at one point,
just loud enough for me to overhear.
"Yes, he is," Cheryl replied with the slightest chill in
her voice. _Translation: Die, Bitch! _
"Is he seeing anyone?"
"Yes." _Translation: Being eaten alive by ants is too
good for you. You deserve something nasty._
She was clearly too subtle for Pam, who forged ahead.
"Think there's any way I might be able to change his mind?"
I saw the change in Cheryl's face out of the corner of
my eye. "Actually, you can probably change hers," she said
with a shrug of one shoulder. "She's getting tired of the
way he beats her when he gets drunk, which is most every
night that he's not working. She really should move out,
even if he does keep or burn all her things like he
threatened."
I couldn't decide which I most wanted to photograph:
the look of shock on Pam's face or the look of smug
satisfaction on Cheryl's.
~ ~ ~
Maynard and I took a trip to the Men's while the
Washington group sang to canned music. "They're pretty
good," I said. An attractive young teenager had the crowd
on its feet and dancing furiously to her version of
_Jailhouse Rock_.
"They're okay. The really great act is the last one. I
see your niece has a crush on you."
I looked at him as we dodged around the dancers. "It's
that obvious?"
"Oh, yes. It is especially evident if you knew
Kimberley. She sort of had one on me and acted the same
way. That's another amazing thing that she and Cheryl have
in common. Or if you know my wife. She used to get pissed
off when I interviewed women, married or single. One of my
first assignments was an interview with the oldest woman in
town on her hundredth birthday. Molly about came unglued
because I was alone with _her!_ But she finally grew out of
it. Mostly. I saw a little of the old Molly flare up for
an instant when Cheryl kissed my cheek, though."
"Yeah, that was for my benefit," I admitted. "You said
something nice about her camera. I called it a FUPOS-1369
when I first saw it. That's short for..."
"Yeah, I know."
"Right. Well, it was a gift from her father."
"And she's close to her dad?"
"Closer than she is with my sister. But both my sisters
were closer to Dad than to Mom. I guess it's the way girls
are."
"Seems that way. Hey, are you interested in a possible
job? I'm thinking about doing a book, a history of the town
and the other settlements in the valley, most of which are
now ghost towns and abandoned mines. I've been talking with
one of the students here about it. She's got a strong
interest in local and western history. One of her friends
is an amateur photographer, but he's better than me. Might
be a year or two before I'll be to the point where I know
what photographs we need. If you promise not to cornhole me
over the fee, I might give you the job instead of him."
He must have noticed the smirk on my face because he
asked, "What did I say?"
I explained why Cheryl had been sent to me.
"Yeah? Say, if we tell your sister I'm queer, too, you
think she'd send Cheryl to spend the summer with me when
she's not at Keith's? I could use a good photographer."
~ ~ ~
Junior and the Twins was a high school surf music group
with a rhythm guitarist about my age dressed in an open-top
wet suit while the rest of the guys were dressed in beach
shorts and open shirts. The drummer was a short redhead in
a bikini top that did interesting things during her solos.
Unlike Taco's, their look wasn't a joke. They looked like
they were on a Maui beach. They also had a light show,
which meant that I got to teach Cheryl how to shoot subjects
in different colored lights. We photographed the band and
their dancer in the bikini top and grass hula skirt while
they played the first two songs, and then we returned to
Maynard and Molly. Pam had disappeared.
Maynard immediately had Cheryl on her feet, teaching her
surf dances. I remembered what he'd said about Molly's
jealousy, so I tried to occupy her attention.
"You're missing one of the two best bands in the state,"
she said, politely shutting me up. But she took my hand and
squeezed it, so I knew she wasn't upset. She was proud of
her town and wanted me to enjoy what it had to offer.
I continued to hold her hand and enjoyed.
Cheryl finally collapsed beside me and took my other
hand in one of hers and one of Maynard's in the other as the
band began its final number. We joined the rest in
screaming "_LET'S GO!_" as the drummer worked the crowd into
an frenzy. When she began another solo, Cheryl tilted
sideways and almost shoved her mouth into my ear so that
nobody could overhear her say, "God, I love you!"
Before I could tell her that I loved her, too, she
added, "And I'm so horny it's okay if you eat me right here
on the stage in front of the entire world!"
I successfully kept anyone else from noticing the sudden
bulge in my cutoffs, but it wasn't easy.
~ ~ ~
"Uncle Randy, we haven't voted yet!"
"Well, we're going to be here more than one day.
Shouldn't we wait until we've heard them all?"
"You obviously weren't listening to Junior," said
Maynard. "One hundred percent of the money goes to a
scholarship fund. You can vote for every group every night
if you want to. But if you're wanting to vote for just the
best group here, my advice is to put half your money on that
last group now and the rest on The Wizards of Wynter on
Sunday night. Same drummer," he added as if that might help
me decide.
"If you'll excuse us, we'll go vote," I said.
We hadn't moved more than a millimeter before Cheryl
glued herself to my side like she was afraid she'd get lost
on the fifteen yard trek to the nearest table. Her mouth
found my ear. "I didn't know dancing could make me so
horny!" she said. "If it's like this tomorrow, you have to
find a way to get me off whenever I need it."
I squeezed her waist. "Maybe there won't be any music
to surf dance to and you won't get horny."
"Just being here with you is enough to turn me on. I'm
having a great time, but when we go on our photo safari,
let's not be around anyone else so that you can take care of
me when I get this desperate."
"Works for me," I said, wondering if the bear trap was
escape-proof.
We arrived at the table at the same time as an
attractive redheaded girl about Cheryl's age and my height.
"Oh!" said Cheryl. "You were in the group from Washington."
"Robbie Tait," she said as Cheryl's comment clicked the
face into place. She glanced at Cheryl's Long Studios cap.
"You shot me several times."
"Cheryl Kuczynski. This is my uncle, Randy Long. He's
teaching me to be a photographer, too. The newspaper hired
him..."
"Hired _us_," I corrected as I took the offered hand.
Robbie had a very firm grip.
"...to photograph the concert."
"And now you're going to vote?" she said with a
mischievous grin.
"Yeah. But we were, like, planning to vote for the last
act. Sorry. You were good, but..."
"Don't worry about it," Robbie said, handing a ten to a
blonde girl with striking blue eyes. "I'm voting for them,
too. It's okay. The guy I did the duet with and his sister
who did _Jailhouse Rock_ are cousins of their drummer. It's
all in the family."
A girl in a wheelchair held out her hand for my money.
I had an idea. "Can I put twenty on the last act and ten on
hers?"
She grinned evilly. More evilly than Mandy, if that's
possible. "If you promise to come back tomorrow night and
put thirty on The Brink of Disaster."
"That would be your group?"
The grin turned smug as Robbie said something to Cheryl
I didn't understand. As we were returning to Maynard and
Molly, Cheryl told me. "She said if she had an uncle as
cute as you, she'd be glad to let him teach her photography
or basket weaving or even cleaning fish. Whatever, as long
as she could spend the summer with him."
"I see. And you said?"
"I said it would be the smartest thing she ever did."
I blinked at her. Twice. "As the most wonderful person
I know often says, cool."
Sixteen
_Can't breathe!_
I woke up enough to realize it was because of a weight
pressing down on my chest. I opened my eyes. Cheryl was
lying on top of me. I knew it was Cheryl because my tongue
remembered that she needed to shave again, and I could see
stubble in the glow from the campground's light poles
creeping in around and through the curtains. I lifted my
head slightly and kissed the stubble, then kissed the
opening in the middle. Thanks to the exposure to the air,
she was dry now. She hadn't been... however long ago it
was. I couldn't see the clock because of her legs.
_Should I wake her?_ I thought about it and decided to
leave her where she was. I liked the view. Then I woke up
enough to realize she had to be uncomfortable the way her
body was folded. I used my tongue to tease her awake. She
grew very wet, and not from saliva, before she woke up.
"_Oh, God!_" she moaned, and a warm, wet mouth sucked in
my favorite buckaroo. It was hard in an instant. "Fuck
me?" she moaned around it.
"Honey, I can't! No!"
"Okay." She humped my face and came as I spewed so
quickly I wondered if it counted as premature ejaculation.
I marveled at that for a moment, realizing that when we'd
passed out from exhaustion, I thought it wouldn't get up
again for a week.
Then I remembered why I'd awakened her. "Honey, you're
going to be stiff and sore if you don't straighten out your
body."
She rolled sideways off me, scooted her head toward my
feet, and went back to sleep with her left leg bent and
draped over my chest. I turned my head to enjoy the view
and dozed off, too.
~ ~ ~
We left the truck where Maynard had indicated and hiked
through the evergreens up the mountainside trail. Our
destination was a locally popular one but difficult to
reach. The trail was well used from the parking spot to the
point where we had to climb up to a ledge. The area at the
base of the ledge appeared to be used as a picnic area and
had a nice view. Above that, the trail was less well
traveled but still obvious. We continued to climb until we
emerged on Panorama Point. The view of the town and the
lake below us was breathtakingly spectacular. We even had
to look down to see the tops of the ski runs at Wizard
Basin.
"Maynard didn't exaggerate!" Cheryl squealed, bouncing
on her toes. I remembered when I'd had that much energy
left after a climb like that.
Okay, so I lied. I've never had that much left after a
workout like that climb.
We sat on a natural bench and enjoyed the view before we
erected the tripods and cameras. We shot many pictures of
the natural scenery, and then I took pictures of Cheryl with
the slightly less beautiful scenery behind her.
"Now some just for Uncle Randy," she said and slipped
out of her blouse. Before long she was out of her shorts
and thong, too, and kneeling on a blanket from her pack.
Eventually she was on her back, one languid finger
slowly stroking between the folds of that beautiful crease,
coaxing out wet, smacking sounds that almost made the
deceased inhabitant of my shorts stir. "This is almost
perfect, Uncle Randy. I can't think of anything I'd like
better than losing my virginity to you in a place like this.
And there's nobody else but us."
Her offers were growing harder and harder to refuse, but
somehow I again found the strength. She seemed a little
surprised, as if she thought the exhaustion of the climb and
the beauty of the scenery would have eroded my resolve.
"Okay," she said as usual. "But I didn't shave for nothing
this morning. I won't scratch your tongue now, so get to
work." She snapped her fingers and pointed at her wet
pinkness. "Hurry up! I get any hornier and I'll have to
start humping camera lenses!"
Like I said, those lenses were expensive.
~ ~ ~
She knelt before me and rotated her hand side-to-side,
watching the little buckaroo flop. "It's still awesome, but
I think it's dead."
"I thought it was dead before you got it up the first
time," I said, barely able to keep my body upright on the
natural rock bench. "In fact, I thought it was dead before
you got it up... whenever that was I woke you up to move off
me this morning."
"I bet I can resurrect it," she said, rising and
straddling my legs.
"Cheryl!"
"Oh, relax, Uncle Randy. I won't put it in, even if I
do get it up." She lowered her body until she could stroke
her clit along the underside of my shaft held in her right
hand. When she finally gasped, threw her left arm around my
neck, and buried her face in my shoulder while she came, it
was still as floppy as a Mylar ribbon.
Far below us and a little to the west we could see that
Otter Park was filling. She seemed displeased with herself
as we dressed and assembled our gear to leave. I could tell
by the way that she looked at me that she wasn't
disappointed with me, the way Mandy was with everyone else
whenever she didn't get what she wanted. She gave me an
apologetic look of sympathy. I couldn't get it up again,
and she blamed herself. How can you not love her?
We descended quietly because we were armed with our
cameras, and nature photographers need to learn to move with
as little sound as possible, so we heard the approaching
voices but they didn't hear us. Around a large boulder
surrounded by pine saplings that screened a bend in the
trail we found ourselves face-to-face with three boys and
three girls, all Cheryl's age or maybe a year or two older.
The girls screeched and pulled the edges of their blouses
together to hide their bare breasts, realized we weren't
locals who knew them, and released the clothing.
"Sorry we startled you," I said, offering a hand to the
boy in the lead. "Randy Long. I'm a Western Slope nature
photographer, and so I have to move in silence. I'm
teaching my niece, Cheryl, how to be a nature photographer
and move quietly, too."
The boy nodded, gave Cheryl a thorough inspection in a
rapid eye scan, and took my hand. "No foul," he said.
"Jeff Baker. Um, anyone else up toward the Point?"
Jeff was looking at me. His two male friends were
giving Cheryl a more detailed inspection while their girls,
not the least bit jealous, had x-ray eyes fixed on me. They
managed to nonchalantly move hands to their hips so that
their blouses opened more. I recognized the looks in their
eyes. I'd seen it many times in the eyes of Penny and her
party friends and last night in Pam's eyes.
"Nope. You'll have it to yourselves," I said as a
gentle breeze carried the scent of beer toward me.
"Great!" Jeff said. His eyes flicked toward the girls
with a look that I'd often seen in Ricky's eyes. Probably
the same look I'd been giving Cheryl earlier.
I'd have thought Cheryl would have been jealous of the
way the girls were looking at me, but she was focused on the
three guys like she was wondering if she could get them up.
No doubt as a test of her now-questionable abilities.
The name and face suddenly clicked. "Jeff Baker? The
wide receiver?"
"That's me." He didn't seem surprised that a stranger
knew the name, nor, I suppose, should he.
"You surprised me. I couldn't believe you signed with
CSU instead of Colorado or Nebraska this fall."
The tall blonde with perky medium-sized breasts crowned
by small, pink nipples managed to expose her assets more
fully. She hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts
and tugged slightly downward while licking her lips with a
sinuous wet tongue. She had perfectly sculptured legs, the
way I expected Cheryl's to develop. She shook her head at
me. "That's because the idiot is chasing me instead of
taking the best offer." She shook her head. "He'd still
have me on weekends after football season, when he got tired
of their cheerleaders during the week."
I gave her my best charming smile, which wasn't
difficult to do the way she was visually worshipping me.
"He may not have good sense, but he definitely has good
taste," I said, causing her to preen and the other girls to
show more of their assets, too.
"Listen," Jeff began. He gave Cheryl another scan,
skimmed over the girls with him, and then refocused on me as
he came to a decision. Swingers often recognized others in
the lifestyle, and this seemed to be the case with Jeff and
his friends. They must have assumed that Cheryl was my
swing partner and pretending to be my niece. "We're going
up to have a little party on top. Tammi, Maria, and
Yvon..."
"That's 'Yvon' with one 'Y' and one 'n' and without any
'e's," said the slender redhead with the largest pair as she
stared at my crotch and licked her lips. Her last name was
obviously Subtle.
"...won't mind having you along for the fun. Looks like
your... niece... wouldn't mind joining us," he said.
Cheryl had been lost in a fantasy trance. She suddenly
focused on me. "Uncle Randy?"
"We have to get down to the concert," I said in
reminder.
"The good acts won't be until tonight," said the
muscular black-haired boy. I recognized him as a defensive
back from another school but couldn't name him. The third
guy I didn't recognize.
"Unfortunately, we're working. I also do special
assignments, and we've been hired to photograph the concert.
That includes the afternoon performance, which starts in
fifteen minutes."
Jeff nodded. "Our loss."
"Ours, too," said Yvon. She caressed the underside of
one breast. "And yours."
How could I explain to them that the three of them
together couldn't get it up again if Cheryl couldn't? "I'm
sure that's very true," I said, giving each a thorough scan
and nod of approval.
"Have fun at the concert," Jeff said.
"Not as much as you're going to have," I admitted with a
sly grin that he returned. The guys each kissed Cheryl in
passing as the girls kissed me, the slightly wide little
Hispanic one adding an extra dose of sinuous tongue as she
rubbed her tits on my arm.
"Uncle Randy," Cheryl said about fifty feet down the
trail, "you gotta get that awesome thing up again tonight
and fuck me or I'm gonna die of terminal horniness!"
~ ~ ~
I've been swinging for years. I understand the
lifestyle and don't get jealous. Cheryl isn't a swinger,
hence the attitude toward Penny and Pam. So why wasn't she
equally jealous of those three? Was it because she'd been
attracted to the three guys her own age? Or was it because
she was jumping into her seat of the truck without her
shorts and thong panties, swiveling on the seat, and lying
back with her left foot resting in the opened window and her
right folded back so that her knee was near her cheek,
urgently demanding that I, "Hurry up, damn it!"
Twenty seconds after I shoved my face into her, she
grabbed my hair in her fingers and tried to pull my head
inside. I was surprised that she didn't rip out chunks of
my scalp.
After she relaxed and released my hair, she giggled and
cooed, "Uncle Randy, did those three get it up for you?"
"Honey," I said in all honesty, "if you couldn't, they
didn't have a chance."
"Shit."
~ ~ ~
Maynard and Molly watched while Cheryl bit into her
cheeseburger and chewed thoughtfully, judging. We'd decided
to buy our food from the concession stands rather than pack
a basket. Normally, stands at events like this tried to
earn enough money from each customer to put kids through
college for a year, but the prices here were very reasonable
and the food was supposed to be good. We were testing that
last bit of information. "Well?" he asked when she
swallowed.
"Second best I've ever had," she said.
"_Second_ best? Pedro's El Grande isn't _the best_
you've ever had?"
She bit off another chunk and indicated I should try
mine while she chewed. I did after noting she had mustard
on the corner of her mouth. She scooped it with a fingertip
and wiped it on the paper sleeve around the burger. "Second
best, right?" she asked after she swallowed.
I nodded at her and at Maynard. "It's close, but Bobbi
Jo's Buckskin Diner has these beat by a smidgen."
"Or maybe just a half-smidgen," she amended.
"Three-quarters of a smidgen."
"Yeah." She nodded to Maynard. "Three-quarters." She
held up her free hand and pinched her thumb and forefinger
together, then opened them barely enough to slide in a sheet
of thin paper.
Maynard shook his large head and jerked a thumb toward
the comedian emcee, who we'd learned was an announcer for
the local radio station. "Have you two been taking smartass
lessons from Junior?"
I shook my own head. "No, I've been taking them from
Cheryl."
"He's a fast learner," she said, sampling a french fry
and then making an _Eeew!_ face while shaking her head.
"God! These aren't even in the top twenty. You should come
visit Long Ranch. Uncle Randy and I will take you to Bobbi
Jo's and let you sample some great fries to go with the best
cheeseburgers ever."
"There's an idea," said Molly. "We could stop at
Keith's and see them, too."
Maynard patted his wife's knee. "Could I take smartass
lessons from Cheryl while we were there?"
"Honey, you don't need them," she replied as a
shitkicker band from Golden began wailing.
Cheryl's pert little nose turned to me and wrinkled in
disgust. "_EEEW!_"
~ ~ ~
I indicated Maynard and Cheryl with a subtle movement of
an index finger. "Is she really teaching him something
new?"
Molly nodded. "I think so. One of the reasons I argue
against his getting that Nikon for himself is that it's more
camera than he can handle. He's basically point-and-click-
and-pray. He was overwhelmed by the Instamatic. He's good
enough for _The Herald_, though he usually shoots two or
three pictures to get one good enough."
"Then he's better than me," I said as Cheryl had him
adjusting the manual settings and photographing a wide shot
of Wolf Creek Avalanche, a reasonably good rock band from
Pagosa Springs. "I usually salvage one out of a hundred."
"Your clients have higher standards than E. L.
Blankenbaugh," Molly said. "His only standard is how cheap
he can get away with everything."
"I run into those occasionally."
"She loves you very much, doesn't she?"
I think I controlled my reaction to the sudden shift in
topic. "I'm the closest kindred spirit in the family. She
gets along okay with my brother-in-law Duke, her cousin
Sydni's father, because he treats her like another daughter,
but I'm the one who hasn't grown up."
"That's not what I mean."
I knew that. But it was worth a try. "She has a crush
on me because I'm the closest thing she has to a boyfriend.
Her mother's afraid that Cheryl will end up like herself.
When she was Cheryl's age now, Mandy was a couple of months
pregnant with her. We met three guys going up as we came
down from Panorama Point. She was definitely interested in
them. Maybe before she leaves, she'll find the boyfriend
her own age here that she's not allowed to have back home."
I guess you'd describe her look as sympathetic. "How do
you feel about that?"
I wish I knew.
~ ~ ~
Maynard is a gregarious person. Still, I wondered how
many of the men and teenage boys who stopped to speak with
him were actually stopping because of him and not my
beautiful long-legged niece in the tight mini-shorts.
We met the emcee during the break between shows and
photographed him in his outlandish mismatched get-up. As we
walked away, Cheryl hooked her hand around my elbow, tugged
so that I bent my ear toward her, and said, "He's not nearly
as dumb as he pretends."
"Good comedians aren't."
She kissed my ear. "Must be why you're so good."
Maynard overhead her. "Randy's as good as Junior?"
"He has promise. I'm going to keep him."
"If you change your mind, how about trading him for me
instead of for Junior."
She grinned at him. "Works for me."
"Hey, over there's my boss. Come on, and I'll introduce
you two."
Maynard led us to a tall, elderly man with a pot belly
and a few long wisps of white hair above an unkempt shorter
fringe of gray and yellowish-white. He wore an unironed
once-white cotton shirt buttoned at the neck and with the
sleeves rolled up above his elbows and tan pants belted just
below his ribs, with the cuffs rolled to his knees. One
inch of pasty white shins was visible between the rolled
cuffs and his gray argyle socks with two small tears in one
and three in the other. His above-the-ankle shoes may have
been brown at one time, possibly when he bought them early
in World War One.
I've met a lot of newspapermen in my time. None were
like E. L., as everyone called him. "Eccentric" was far too
inadequate a word for him. But by the time Cheryl was
through turning on her charm, he'd decided to put out an
extra four pages of concert photographs for the following
week's special Tuesday wrap-up of the results. It was
already too late to include them in tomorrow's edition,
though I got the impression that Cheryl could have changed
his mind if she'd tried.
Maynard was flabbergasted as he escorted us toward some
other people. "Normally it's a fight to keep him from
_cutting_ four pages!"
~ ~ ~
Jeff Baker wandered past during the second act of the
evening show, a pop band from Colorado Springs. He looked
like he was searching for someone. When he spotted Cheryl,
he looked like he had found the object of his search. I was
dancing with Cheryl at the time. With a jerk of my head, I
invited him to cut in. I sat down. Maynard and Molly
lasted until the end of that number and then joined me.
I watched several exchanges between Jeff and Cheryl as
they danced, many ending with Cheryl shaking her head.
Whatever she was saying no to, it didn't seem to bother
Jeff. I got the impression that Molly was watching to see
if it bothered me.
~ ~ ~
The final act, by far the best of the day, was the girl
in the wheelchair from the voting table of the night before.
She was the lead guitarist for The Brink of Disaster, a band
that played a mixture of teen pop and metal. While she sang
_What's In It For Me?_ as the follow-on to _Smoke on the
Water_ and Cheryl danced with Jeff again, Maynard explained
that her father was the entertainment director responsible
for the concert.
"Never underestimate the power of nepotism," I said.
Maynard pointedly looked at Cheryl, looked at me, looked
at the stage, and said nothing.
Cheryl collapsed beside me after the second encore.
Jeff sat on her other side. She took one of our hands in
each of hers as the stage crew wheeled out a platform with a
second large set of drums. For the final encore, the girl
in the wheelchair introduced a short, familiar-looking
redhead with an interestingly filled tube-top blouse. Jeff,
Molly, and Maynard rose to their feet to clap and scream and
whistle with the rest of the crowd.
"It's the drummer from last night," I said to Cheryl.
"Recognized her boobs, did you?" my sarcastic niece
asked with a grin.
I pressed my mouth to her ear. "The only boobs I
recognize on sight are yours."
She gave me a look of mock horror. "Uncle Randy! You
promised you'd never lie to me!"
"Who says I'm lying?"
"God, I love you!" She nibbled and kissed my ear as
Jeff pretended not to notice.
The final encore was an instrumental that featured the
two drummers competing against each other with dueling
solos. It was so flawlessly spontaneous that I thought they
must have rehearsed it for months.
We voted afterward, waited for the announcement of the
night's winners, and I watched the girl's band perform a
final encore, something from Disney, while Cheryl had a
final dance with Jeff.
Jeff escorted Cheryl and me--mostly Cheryl--to the
truck. I made myself scarce by taking the long way around
to the driver's side while Jeff kissed her good night.
She was quiet until we got away from the crowd exiting
the park. Maybe she was collecting her thoughts, maybe she
didn't want to distract me in the dangerous traffic. With
Cheryl, the safe bet was Option Two.
We were halfway back to the park before she sighed,
looked at her hands folded in her lap, and said without
looking up at me, "You know Jeff wanted to fuck me, don't
you?"
"Knew it? No. Guessed it? I was ninety-nine percent
sure."
"I told him no."
"Okay."
"Are you mad?"
"No, no, and no."
She frowned at me in the glare of the passing street
lights. "Huh?"
"No, I'm not mad that he asked. No, I'm not mad that
you declined. No, I'm not mad that you wanted to do it even
though you said no to him."
She blinked. Twice. "Do you always know what I'm
thinking, even when I don't?"
I smiled at her, something that remained easy to do. "I
never claim to know what any woman is thinking at any time.
But I understand how people feel and how I think I'd have
felt if our roles were reversed."
"What if his girlfriend or one of the other girls had
asked you?"
"Not if you said no to Jeff."
She looked at her hands again. "I mean if I wasn't
here. Jeff wasn't here."
"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I guess it would
depend on how I felt at the time. And I can't know that, so
I can't know the answer."
"I guess. Do you know why I told him no?"
"Hunh uh."
"It's because I still want you to be the first one."
"What if I never say that I will? Do you plan to go to
your grave as a virgin?"
She thought about that. "That wouldn't be as bad as
never having you," she said as I turned off the highway and
onto the road into the park.
"What if I'd already been the first one? Then would you
have told Jeff yes tonight?"
"Well..." She thought a moment longer. "I can't know
that, so I can't answer."
"That sounds familiar, somehow."
"Cool."
~ ~ ~
_Note to self: Investigate the possibility of becoming
a skinhead._ The nice thing about being a skinhead is that
you don't have to worry about someone twisting your hair
around her fingers and pulling it out by the roots during
the throes of orgasm. I mean, this was twice in one day!
She shuddered as I gave her slit a final lick and then
slid up to lie beside her.
"I needed that," she sighed.
"I... got that impression." I almost asked if it was
because of Jeff or me, but I didn't want my niece angry
again. I rather liked having her _not_ angry.
"Would you hold me while I go to sleep?"
"Of course."
She sighed as I snuggled against her side and draped an
arm across her bare back and my leg over her bare butt. "My
stomach feels a little funny."
"After all you ate, I'm not surprised. And Molly warned
you about those burritos from that stand."
"Yeah. But nobody else had peppers hot enough." Don't
let that sensuous stomach fool you. Inside of that layer of
soft, supple tanned flesh is a cast iron kettle that would
resist hydrofluoric acid and fissionable material. Cheryl
didn't get a craving for hot peppers very often, but when
she did she could eat habaÂ+/-eros like they were M&Ms if she
had some cheese to chew after every bite.
"Are you going to chase me out of here with the farts
later?"
"Don't be gross." She lifted her face from the pillow
and kissed me. "Good night, Uncle Randy."
"Good night, Niece Cheryl."
Unfortunately, the night wasn't all that good. A
quarter past three o'clock, she jumped out of bed and made a
mad dash for the bathroom. That was the first of several.
At eight I drove to a convenience store for some
Imodium. That stopped the diarrhea, but she was pale green
and queasy all day. She spent the morning in bed. We
decided to skip the Sunday afternoon performance at the park
and lie on our beach instead.
"I feel useless," she said as a boat roared past out
beyond the shallow water marker buoys at two o'clock. "And
I'm keeping you from working. Why don't you go on to the
park and shoot pictures for Maynard?"
"One, you aren't useless. You're here with me, and that
makes me happy. I call that highly useful. Two, I called
Maynard the last time you dozed off and told him about you.
He offered to send over a doctor, or someone better, and
said he'd shoot pictures this afternoon, and if you didn't
feel like making tonight's performance, he'd shoot those,
too. He said he'd do a much better job than before, thanks
to your training."
She smiled. "I learned from the best."
"Yes, I know."
"Not the most modest, but the best."
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
She turned her head and lifted her sunglasses to look at
me. "Do what?"
"Sound so much like Mandy. Almost makes me need to run
for an Imodium myself."
"Oooh! Big tough guy," she said. "Afraid of a
fifteen-year-old girl." She slid her sunglasses back into
place and laid her head back. She seemed awfully pleased
with herself.
~ ~ ~
"Uncle Randy, are you sure you don't want to go tonight?
I'll be okay here by myself. And Maynard said that
tonight's band would be as good as Friday night's. Same
boobs drumming."
"What makes you think I was interest in her tits?"
Cheryl shrugged and sipped the chicken broth that was
her supper. "I don't know. Maybe the way you drooled down
the front of your shirt whenever you watched her. Had to be
her boobs because her legs are short, and I happen to know
you like long legs." She stroked a hand down the lovely
length of the smooth inside of one thigh as she said that.
Something finally came back to life and twitched in my
pants. "Maybe I just like redheads. Would you like me to
take you? You can sit with Molly and Maynard while I..."
"No. I almost want to puke whenever I walk. I'd never
survive the ride. I'm starting to feel better, but not that
good. I'm going to take another nap in a few minutes
anyway. I won't even know you're gone."
I bit off half a french fry and used the rest as a
pointer aimed at her. "I would! I'd rather be here with a
sleeping Cheryl than there with no Cheryl."
She blinked. Twice. "You're the only romantic in your
family, aren't you."
"No. My mom's a romantic, and so is one of my nieces."
"Sydni?"
"Well, sort of. But I was thinking of someone taller,
not blond, and with smaller boobs."
"So you noticed Syd's boobs?"
"According to you, that's all I notice about girls."
"She has great boobs, doesn't she?"
"I haven't seen them personally. I guess they're okay."
"Would you rather play with hers or mine?"
I pretended to think about that while I fetched myself
another Diet Coke. "What if I wanted to play with both?"
She shrugged. "It's okay with me, but Sydni's awful
bashful about her body. I guess if anyone could talk her
into it, you could. I think you're her favorite uncle, too"
She sipped more hot broth. "But that's not an answer.
Would you choose mine or hers if you had to make a choice?"
"You know I love you both."
"I know you're avoiding the question. Is that because
you don't want to hurt my feelings?"
I sighed. "No. It's because I'm afraid you'll think
the answer means I don't care about Sydni. Or, at least,
think I don't care about her much as I care about you."
She nodded. "That's cool. You saw the three girls
yesterday. Which of theirs would you choose?"
"Tammi's."
"Yvon's were bigger."
"Yes, I noticed. But Tammi's were more like yours."
"Bullshit. Even Maria had bigger boobs than mine."
"I'm a photographer, remember? I notice more than just
size. Tammi's were more aesthetically pleasing: shape,
firmness, relative size and perkiness of her nipples. In
that respect, they were more like yours. If I had to choose
between those three, I'd take Tammi's. Between the four of
you, then I'd choose yours because yours may be smaller, but
they have the best aesthetics."
Cheryl looked at me over her cup of broth. "Aesthetics?
You sure you're not a fag?"
"Do you think a homosexual would have gone down on you
the way I did last night?"
She sighed and wiggled in her chair. "Ummm," she
purred, smiling at the memory. "I love you, Uncle Randy."
"I love you, too, Niece Cheryl."
She smiled sweetly, like a cat at a cornered mouse.
"Then you should fuck me."
Seventeen
"_SHIT!_"
Despite the amused smile that suddenly jumped across his
face, Maynard's face managed to remain sympathetic as he
looked down at Cheryl, who'd collapsed to sit on the grass
and mope. "I'd have told you, honey, but I didn't know."
Cheryl put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin
atop her fists. "Pardon my French. I can't believe I
missed Tyrone Hayes! Of all the times for me to get sick!
That makes this my worst Fourth of July ever."
"I forgot he was from here," I said. "It never occurred
to me that he might perform."
"Didn't to none of us, either. As far as we knew, he
was in New York. He snuck back into town and was one of the
encores for The Wizards of Wynter. They're part of his
backup band when he's here, them and Junior and the Twins,
which is mostly the same band. The drummer is the one who
discovered him."
Cheryl tilted her head back so that she could see
Maynard beyond the bill of her cap. "The one with the boobs
Uncle Randy likes?"
For the briefest instant, Maynard's eyes flicked to
Molly, who was ten feet away and talking to a short,
elderly, round Hispanic woman who made Molly look petite by
comparison. Molly wasn't listening. Maynard spoke softly.
"Randy's not the only guy around here who's noticed her
attributes."
Cheryl saw his eyes move, too, and giggled. "If I'd
known he was going to sing, I'd have had Uncle Randy, like,
bring me last night."
"You said you were too sick to make the trip," I
reminded her.
She gave me The Mandy Look. "So?" _Translation: your
IQ went back to negative numbers, didn't it?_ "I'd had made
the trip with my head hanging out the window so I could
puke."
"Maynard, maybe it's a good thing you didn't say
anything."
Maynard chuckled and gave Cheryl a look of sympathy.
"Tell you what. If he shows up today, I'll introduce you to
him."
Cheryl went from morose to ecstatic in one ten-billionth
of a second. She sprang to her feet. "You know Tyrone
Hayes?"
"Honey, this isn't Dallas," I said.
Maynard nodded. "I've known his whole family since his
dad and I were kids, back before the ski basin opened. This
was a lot smaller town then. Everybody knew everyone else.
And everyone else's secrets. Still do, mostly."
Cheryl squealed with excitement, grabbed Maynard, and
kissed his cheek. Then she repeated the gesture with me. I
glanced around and noticed several people, especially boys
her age, wondering how to get her to repeat that with them.
"You missed some other excitement, too," he said to me.
"While he was on stage, some hopped-up junkie decided to rob
one of the voting tables."
I hadn't heard that. "Cops get him?"
"After a couple of boys took him down."
"Boys?" Cheryl asked, puzzled.
Maynard pinched an earlobe between a thumb and
forefinger and rubbed it. "Not many outsiders realize it,
but there aren't any other towns like this anywhere else in
the country. You remember those kids trapped in Hargus Mine
a couple years ago?"
Cheryl vaguely did. The memory came back to me. "They
were from here, weren't they? We passed by the ghost town
on the way to Panorama Point."
"Their band was Tyrone's backup last night. One of the
two who took the guy down was also at the mine with them.
Got hurt a little during the collapse. He's a martial
artist now, and a darn good one. The other boy is his
trainer."
We were interrupted by Jeff's return. Cheryl babbled
excitedly about possibly getting to meet The Tyrone Hayes.
Jeff was unimpressed. "Yeah, he's a lot better singer
than me in the choir," he said, "but I always remind him
that I'm the better running back."
~ ~ ~
The emcee announced that Stampede was the night's winner
in the voting and that Junior and the Twins was the overall
winner by a few thousand votes. Stampede played shitkicker
for their final encore. That did not go over well with my
lovely niece, who had been without Jeff since eight, when
he'd received a phone call and had to leave.
The _Eeew!_ nose turned to me. "Want to leave early?"
"I wouldn't recommend it," said Maynard. "Thanks to
IST's money, we have the best fireworks display between
Denver and Salt Lake City. Since you didn't get to meet
Tyrone, you need some substitute fireworks."
Cheryl's eyes had never left mine. A subtle change in
them told me that Maynard had tightened my foot in the bear
trap. "Okay. We'll stay."
Maynard was right. It was spectacular. Throughout the
display, Cheryl bounced and squealed in delight, the way she
did when I blew fart kisses on her tummy when she was a
baby. Weird, the memories that come back to you when you
least expect them.
~ ~ ~
We stashed our gear in the camper. "Diet Coke?" I
asked.
"Sure."
I fetched two out of the fridge and turned around. I
know I hadn't had my back turned long enough for her to
strip completely, including her shoes and necklace, but
she'd done it.
"Cheryl! You know I'm not supposed to see you naked!
Young lady, you get that necklace back on immediately!"
"Unh uh," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to
wear anything the first time you make love to me."
"Cheryl, we can't..."
She threw up an index finger. "Stop!" She took the two
cans from me and sat them on the table. Then she put my
hands on her breasts. "Cool," she said as her nipples
hardened. "Literally."
"Cheryl..."
She pressed the index finger to my lips. "Uncle Randy,
you've taught me a lot since I got here. Now it's my turn
to teach you something. Sit down."
She pushed, and I sat in a chair. She sat on my legs,
facing me. "You said my life was mine to live. When I said
you might think my proper place was at Long's ranch instead
of Summers', you said my proper place was where I wanted to
be, not where you wanted me to be. You said you wanted me
to be where I'd enjoy myself. Remember?"
"Yes. But I meant..."
"Wait. Where I want to be is on my back in that bed
enjoying you inside me. Or on my hands and knees in that
bed enjoying you inside me. Or sitting right here in your
lap enjoying you inside me. Or in the cab of the truck
enjoying you inside me. Or out there in the water enjoying
you inside me. Or up on Panorama Point again enjoying you
inside me. Let me know when you see a pattern here."
"I think I see it," I said dryly.
"Well? It's my life and my virginity, and I want my
first time to be with somebody I love and respect. There's
nobody I love and respect more than you."
I cupped her face in my hands. "If you change your mind
later, you can never take it back and give it up to somebody
else instead. It's a once-in-a-lifetime event."
Her slender hands closed around my wrists and squeezed
gently. "Yeah. And I can always spend the rest of my life
regretting that it wasn't you, it was someone else. Who's
to say that wouldn't happen? Uncle Randy, if it's going to
be a mistake, let _me_ make the mistake, don't make one for
me. It's my life, remember? You said so yourself."
"I also remember you saying that your parents had some
say so..."
"When Mom said she was sending me here, did she tell you
not to fuck me?"
"Well, she thought I wasn't straight. It never occurred
to her to say that or she would have."
"Yeah? You said she would have told you not to let me
bleach my hair but she got sidetracked, so you bought me
that hair bleach, didn't you?"
_I should have known that hair bleach was a mistake._
"That's not exactly the same thing."
"Okay. Then, did she tell you not to eat my pussy or
finger me until I got off? You've done that, as you may
remember."
I understood how the bear felt when it realized the trap
was escape-proof. And when it realized it could get away
only by chewing off its own leg.
"Cheryl..." I sighed. "Look. I said your life was
yours to live and your proper place to be was where _you_
wanted to be, modified by your parents while you weren't of
age. Well, I _am_ of age. We aren't talking about just
your proper place but _my_ proper place as well. You're
deciding what I should do _for me_, just the way you are
arguing that I should _not_ do _for you_! Isn't that
wrong?"
"Uncle Randy, you promised you would never lie to me,
and so far you never have. I have just one question for
you. I know you'll be totally honest and truthful because I
took the time and trouble to know the real Randy Long now,
and you're someone who always keeps his promises."
Her right hand released my left wrist and pressed down
over my heart. "Do you, deep inside the real Randy Long,
honestly want to fuck me or make love to me or diddle my
brains out or any other way of expressing your putting that
awesome boner inside of my pussy and getting us both off, if
we didn't have anything like age or relationship or what you
think Mother might want getting in our way?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
"Not if you don't love me."
I sighed and covered her hand with mine, pressing it
harder against my chest. "If I could, I would in a
heartbeat."
Her voice was surprisingly gently, simultaneously
scolding and loving. "You know you can. And denying that
truth isn't doing either of us any good, Uncle Randy. It's
going to happen, either now or later, and putting it off
until I'm eighteen is going to make both of us regret that
we didn't do it sooner. You aren't stupid. You know that
as well as I do. And you know it's not going to make either
of us any happier."
Her lips were on mine so fast that I was amazed I hadn't
experienced a tooth-shattering collision. Her tongue,
unlike the rest of her mouth, didn't apply the brakes. It
found mine and invited it into her mouth to play.
I squeezed her body to mine so tightly that I suddenly
worried that I was asphyxiating her, but I realized that
she'd moved my tee shirt up to my armpits and had unfastened
my belt. I cupped my hands under that exquisite butt and
rose to my feet.
She used her hands and feet to push my shorts and
underwear to my knees, where they dropped to the floor with
gravity's assistance. She threw her arms around my neck and
her legs around my waist while I stepped out of the
discarded clothing, staggering a little as my right shoe
snagged. I placed her gently on the bed and started to
crawl atop her.
"Wait a sec," she said. I blinked at her in confusion
before she said, "Why don't you take off your shoes first?"
"Shoes!"
I didn't know if I dropped them or threw them. All I
could see was the beautifully tanned, beautifully undressed
beauty smilingly lovingly up at me, arms and legs wide in
invitation and anticipation.
I knelt over her and let the buckaroo's head kiss her
opening. She grasped the shaft and looked up at me with
wide eyes. "God, that's awesome! Promise you'll put it in
slowly so I can enjoy the way it feels going in the first
time?"
"However you want it," I promised, praying to a whole
pantheon of gods that I wouldn't spray her before it
entered.
She positioned the nose and, looking deep into my eyes,
nodded. I wish I'd had a camera to capture the various
looks on her face as I squeezed into her tight box. Every
new expression was more interesting, more intense, more
loving, more erotic that the last.
She sighed as my body pressed against hers. "_All_ of
it went in? God, that's awesome! And it _feels_ awesome,
too! Uncle Randy, I love you!"
I kissed her gently. "Not as much as I love you."
She grinned. "We'll see. Fuck me."
"Not yet. I don't want to cum too soon. I want to
enjoy you for a while first."
She wiggled her butt, changing her angle, and I felt
myself sliding another quarter-inch up her wet furnace.
"Don't worry if you do. You can just do me again. You'd
better not think you're going to do me, like, just once
tonight."
I pressed my face into the junction of her neck and
shoulder and nibbled while circling my hips, causing the
base of my dick to grind against her clit. She shuddered as
I said, "Cool."
~ ~ ~
She slammed her pussy down around my impaling rod, threw
her head back, and gurgled in a variation of
Earlymorningcherylese that I'd recently dubbed
Orgasmicherylese. I probably said something similar as I
found two or three drops that I'd missed earlier and spurted
them out to have a family reunion with the rest.
Her hands found the back of the kitchen chair and locked
it in a death grip. Apparently she was afraid that if she
held on to me, she'd pull me into the kitchen floor on top
of her. She didn't want to do that. We'd already used the
kitchen floor--our fourth time, I think.
_First was the bed, then the floor where we'd rolled out
of bed, then I'd chased her on hands and knees and caught
her for a doggy style..._ No, the kitchen floor was the
third time. The fourth was on her bed that we'd never used
for anything, including sleeping, before tonight.
"God, I love you!"
I found enough breath to grunt and said, "You just love
to fuck."
"No," she said, having as much trouble breathing as I
was having, "I love to fuck _Uncle Randy_. That's a big,
important difference. _Shit!_ I can't fuck Uncle Randy if
you keep falling out like that!"
"Sorry, but I think you killed it."
She kissed me, her eyes sparkling in the light seeping
in around the curtains. "That's what you said the last
time, and I got it up again."
"Once more would exceed your allocation of miracles for
today."
She pushed forward and rubbed her perky nipples on my
chest, grinning with unabashed lust. "It's been tomorrow
for a few hours now."
"That's what I mean. You've used up both days' worth."
She sighed and tried to look angry. The fresh-fucked
grin that wouldn't go away spoiled the effect. "Uncle
Mandy! I told you I didn't want to have to stop fucking you
after eight to twelve times because I was sore. I also
don't want to stop just before number eight because you have
a dead dick!"
"It's not like I have a choice, because if I did, that
would _not_ be the choice. Trust me. This time it needs
Last Rites for sure. There's nothing you can do about it
now."
She looked around the darkened kitchen. "Yes, there is.
We haven't done it on the kitchen cabinets yet. Set me on a
cabinet, and I'll get it in."
I shook my head. "Honey, you can't. I'm too big and
you're too tight."
She rubbed my nose with hers. "Ten bucks says I can get
it in."
"Well, it takes time for me to recover, remember?"
"Uncle Mandy," she said in patient exasperation. "If
it's not gonna get up anyway, what's the sense in waiting?"
"Well, um..." _No answer._ "Hey. Does Sydni argue
using logic, too?"
"She has blond hair and big boobs. I don't, so I have
to use logic to overcome my handicap." Her face turned sly.
"Does thinking about Sydni help you get it up?"
"If Cheryl can't get it up, Sydni couldn't get it up,
either."
"_Shit!_" She blinked. Twice. "I think."
~ ~ ~
I pressed my dead door knocker against Cheryl's hip and
draped a leg over the backs of her thighs. My hand stroked
the hollow of her lower back and the gentle rise of her butt
in a loving caress. The index finger dipped slightly
between her cheeks. She clenched her butt muscles, giving
it a quick squeeze.
She sighed and made the sleepy-eyed grin of the
temporarily satiated from the pillow. I kissed her with all
the love I felt, causing her to sigh again. She scooted
sideways, getting her body an extra half-inch closer to
mine. "Good night, Uncle Randy. I love you."
"Good morning, Niece Cheryl. I love you, too."
"You know what? This was my best Fourth of July ever."
"Even though you didn't get to meet Tyrone Hayes?"
The grin widened. "The fireworks made up for it.
Especially the fireworks after we returned to the camper."
She yawned. "You turned off the alarm, didn't you?"
"Uh huh. You wore out more than the little buckaroo,
you know. I'm going to need the extra sleep. Even then I
may not be able to drive after we get up."
She perked up. "I can drive!"
"You've never pulled a trailer, or I might consider it.
We might have to stay here another day, or maybe leave late
and stop early somewhere down the road."
She yawned again. "Either way, we'll have to stop at
the shopping center in town."
My exhausted eyelids were trying to close despite my
eyeballs' wish to keep looking at the beauty next to me.
"Why is that?"
"Well, I gotta buy myself something with the ten bucks I
won, don't I?"
Eighteen
I wondered why my cell phone was ringing in the middle
of the night. Then my eyes cracked open enough for me to
realize it was bright inside the trailer despite the closed
curtains. _Sunshine, not street lamps._
I probably didn't want a translation of the
Earlymorningcherylese that was mumbled next to my ear, so I
reached for the phone instead. "Randy Long."
"Hey, it's Maynard. Have you left town yet?"
"Ummm... no."
"Oh, good. I was afraid I was too late. It's after
eight, and I know how you ranch-types like to get up early."
I listened, wrote down notes, thanked him, hung up, and
snuggled next to Sleeping Beauty's evil twin sister.
"Cheryl?" I said, gently caressing her shoulders.
Something in Earlymorningcherylese, too faint to make
out individual words. But not to faint to grasp the
meaning, if not the words.
I brushed back hair and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Cheryl?"
The eyelids remained closed, but I knew the beautiful
orbs they once covered had turned flaming red with yellow
cat-like pupils. "_Lem' lee, fun peachit._"
"Cheryl, I have a surprise for you."
"_F'kov 'n'..._" The eyes flew open. Human eyes. "You
got it up again?"
"No, I..."
The eyes closed. "Then let me ge ba lee you..." The
rest faded to grunts and then inaudibility.
"Well, okay, if you'd rather sleep than have breakfast
with Tyrone Hayes."
I counted to six before the eyes slammed open and the
head popped up from the pillow. "_HUH?_"
"Maynard called him and told him that his biggest fan in
Texas had missed his performance because she was sick that
day and wanted to meet him."
"_AND WE'RE GOING TO MEET HIM AT THE RESTAURANT?_"
"No, we're going to meet him at Chateau Sillerman.
Molly is..."
"_YOU MEAN NOBODY ELSE WILL BE THERE BUT US?_"
"Well, Maynard and Molly and I planned to join you since
we haven't had..."
"_OHMIGOD! I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO WEAR!_"
I thought she looked just fine even without her
necklace. I was pretty sure Maynard and Tyrone would agree
with me, but I guessed Molly would want her to wear
something. Probably something more than just her necklace.
~ ~ ~
Cheryl sat next to me, her head on my shoulder,
listening to her autographed CD of _Rockin' Mountains_. As
I pulled onto the overpass of the state highway leading to
the interstate, she sighed sweetly. I glanced down and
marveled at her expression. It was equal parts of
contentment, awe, disbelief, and the post-orgasmic afterglow
from one final session before we departed.
Yeah, she'd gotten it up again. My niece, the miracle
worker.
"You haven't said what you think," I noted.
She kissed my shoulder through my shirt. "I think I
hope Mom never finds out you're straight. If every summer
can be like this, I want to spend all of them with you.
If... if that's okay with you."
"It's okay with me, but I think Keith would like you to
spend some of that time at the Summer Dude Ranch."
"Oh. Yeah! That would be cool, too!"
I grinned and kept my mouth shut. I knew that anything
I said might be used against me, even if she was happy at
this particular instant. One advantage of knowing a lot of
women is that your survival skills get sharpened. You
realize that gloriously happy moments can become arguments
with one wrong word. I didn't want to utter that word.
"You know, I was surprised that he was just a kid."
_I probably should keep my mouth shut,_ I realized, but
I decided to risk speaking. "Honey, when you were about to
enter the ninth grade last year, I remember that you didn't
think you were 'just a kid.' Has your opinion changed now
that you're so much older and wiser?"
"Oh!" She blinked. Twice. "I didn't think about that.
He didn't act like a star."
"That's not true."
She frowned up at me as _White Water Canyon_ ended and
_Gold Fever_ began. "Huh?"
"Man! I wish I could think of witty responses like
that."
"Asshole."
I risked a glance and found her smiling, not snarling.
I gave her a quick kiss and returned my eyes to the road.
"He acted like Tyrone Hayes. Tyrone Hayes is a star.
Ergo..."
"Leggo my ergo!"
I glanced down at the smug grin. "Takes an asshole to
recognize an asshole, I guess."
"No light shines out of yours, either, you know."
"Hmpf!" I grunted. "As I was expounding, he's only been
a star since Thanksgiving. But I don't think he's going to
change that much. Maynard told me about his family. Kids
usually turn out the way their parents are."
"So you think I'm going to turn out like Mom?"
"I think you're going to be an exception to that rule.
That's why I haven't shot you in self-defense."
"You 'shot' me plenty of times last night."
"Yes, but that was assault with a friendly weapon."
She sighed, replaced her head on my shoulder, and
circled it in a caress. "You got that right." We were at
the Interstate before she spoke again. "I still think we
should have stayed another day. Tyrone would have
introduced you to 'Little Momma' and you could have seen her
boobs up close."
I no longer had to worry about bear traps. Instead, I
was now worrying about wolf traps. I was pretty sure Cheryl
was teasing. Pretty sure. But sometimes relationships
change with no advance warning after the participants take
that final step in the bedroom. That's what happened with
Marcia Phelps after I performed her first concert with the
pork trombone when we were sixteen. Jokes that made her
laugh the day before suddenly became reasons for jealous
furor and raging anger. It was far too early to tell what
effect our new relationship would have on Cheryl.
_Tact. I'll try tact._ "Honey, you know that my
chances of seeing them in all their glory, the way I've seen
yours, are less than zero. Besides, I'm sure I wouldn't
like them anyway. No doubt her aesthetics aren't anywhere
equal to yours."
She was quiet for a long time. I was beginning to
wonder whether she was dozing off or pissed off when she
raised a hand and pointed. "Pull over in that rest stop."
I hit the turn signal. "Time to go pee?"
"No."
_That's what I was afraid of._ Because of the huge
fifth-wheel camper I was pulling, I always parked in the
truck area. I pulled in next to a Wal-Mart semi and killed
the engine. Cheryl straightened and turned to me.
"Uncle Randy, what's wrong?"
"Wrong?"
"Uncle Mandy! If I wasn't a kid in the ninth grade, I'm
not one now, either. Don't treat me like I'm one! You've
been dancing around me like I'm an eggshell now and you're
afraid you'll step on me and crush me." That was one of
Mandy's sayings, courtesy of Aunt Emily.
Her smooth forehead wrinkled and her eyes grew watery.
"Until last night you were my best friend and made me feel
loved. Now that we've fucked, you treat me more like a
stranger than your niece. Is it because you don't love or
respect me any more? Or is it because I've done something
wrong? Is it because I wasn't good enough my first time,
like you expected? Is it... Well, _what_ is it? What do I
have to do to get my Uncle Randy back? Or is it to late to
get him back?"
_Oh, shit._
A tear crawled from the corner of her right eye. "I
thought having you was the best thing that ever happened to
me, even better than meeting Tyrone Hayes, but now you're
making me feel like it was the _worst_ thing ever. Like it
was a huge mistake."
"Cheryl, I... Look, it's not easy to explain, and it may
sound wrong at first. I'll explain, but let me finish
before you say anything, like I did for you. Okay? It may
not come out right, too, so don't jump to any conclusions
that will make us both feel worse before you understand.
Okay?"
Cheryl definitely isn't a kid any more. She listened
quietly while I explained. A couple of times she looked
like she was biting her lip to keep from saying anything,
but she let me explain what I meant every time the words
came out wrong.
When I finished, she nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Daddy
always says our lives are guided by past experience. Now I
see more clearly what he means. But Uncle Randy, that sure
sounded like you expect me to be like Mom."
I hadn't thought of that, but she was right. I nodded.
"Good point. I guess if I'd realized that, I'd have saved
myself a lot of worry. And you a lot of grief, huh?"
"I guess. But you can't help doing dumb things. You're
only a man." Her hand slid up my leg and squeezed the
little buckaroo through my shorts. She grinned. "Lucky for
me."
~ ~ ~
I managed to get enough sleep to get up refreshed at
seven, mainly because the little buckaroo had failed to
respond a third time to Cheryl's demands. Since the Canyon
Cliff Campground had a laundromat and an adjacent cafe that
catered to the passing traffic, we did laundry while we had
breakfast. I didn't want to have to explain the condition
of the sheets to Keith and Joyce.
After the sheets were back on the beds, Cheryl decided
that she didn't want to explain, either, so she pushed her
shorts and thong down, bent forward, and rested her hands on
the kitchen sink. We had one for the road because she was
just too cute for my short partner not to respond.
"That should last you until tonight," she said as she
cleaned up afterward.
"But will it last you?"
Her only answer was a feral purr.
But there was no "tonight" because Keith and Joyce met
us in front of the house and insisted we spend the remainder
of the afternoon and the night with them as their guests.
Keith looked so desperately pleading that I would have
agreed if Cheryl hadn't beat me to it. She lightly lifted
an eyebrow at me afterward in question. I slowly nodded
that I again understood her reason, earning a smile that
made me quiver like a schoolboy about to get his first kiss.
I called Diego to tell him we would be delayed until the
next day. After I hung up I said, "Cordillera's in labor."
Keith tensed and looked concerned, throwing a worried
glance at Cheryl encircled by his arm. "Do you need to get
back?"
"No," I said, and he relaxed. "It's not her first, and
everything's normal. But Cheryl's Blaze will probably have
a playmate by the time we return."
"Cool!" said Keith's armful, bouncing on her toes.
Joyce caught Keith's reaction to that and for just an
instant a sad-yet-happy smile flickered across her face.
Then the armful looked up at Keith and cranked up the charm.
"Papa Keith?"
I thought the man would burst into tears as he looked at
her in surprise. "Yes, Little Missy?" His voice was
slightly choked.
Joyce's hand gripped my forearm and gently squeezed.
"Do you have lots of little horses born here, too?"
"No. All of the males are geldings, either when we buy
them or after they arrive."
The _Eeew!_ flickered for an instant. Then, "I see.
Hey, I've been wondering. What all do you have to do to run
a dude ranch, Papa Keith?"
Joyce squeezed next to me and spoke in a low voice,
though we both realized Keith wouldn't have heard her if
she'd screamed. "Wherever do you find nieces like that?
Are the rest of your family's kids like her?"
"Joyce, I love them all and they're all wonderful, but
she's unique. Maybe it's because she's trying to be the
antithesis of her mother."
She nodded slowly as Keith steered Cheryl down the
sidewalk, his free arm pointing in various directions as he
explained things. Her voice was faint, like she was
thinking out loud to herself. "The Buddhists say Karma has
to balance. If she's the balance to your sister, then maybe
it's a lucky thing your sister turned out the way she did."
"I never thought of it that way before. But you'll get
no argument from me."
"Coffee?"
"You're just full of great ideas today." I offered my
arm. She took it and let me escort her into the house.
~ ~ ~
Joyce looked down at the Beef Wellington spread on the
dining room table. "I feel guilty about inviting you to
stay and then you doing all the cooking," she said, her eyes
flicking from Cheryl to me. "I feel like I should apologize
for atrocious manners or something."
"If Uncle Randy wasn't a fantastic photographer, he'd be
a world-famous chef," said the beaming brown-eyed beauty.
"Only, he's been getting very lazy lately, and he needs the
practice, so you're actually doing him a huge favor. Two
favors, actually, because it's more fun to cook for four
than for two. The only better cook in the family is my
mother, most of the time, and both are teaching me, so this
was good practice for me, too. And it gives me a chance to
get an independent opinion from you and Papa Keith on how
good I'm doing. Uncle Randy might lie to me because he's
biased."
Like Keith wasn't?
Joyce laughed. Obviously we shared my opinion. "Fine.
But I still feel guilty."
"Okay. Then you can bring Papa Keith to visit us, and
we'll let you cook."
_I suppose that would balance Karma, too._
Cheryl lifted her glass. "I have two toasts." She
waited until we were ready. "First, to the Summer Dude
Ranch. May it always be the wonderful home-away-from-home
it's been today."
Her second toast surprised me, though it shouldn't have.
"To Cordillera and Sidewinder's Latigo." Diego had called
five minutes earlier to say it was a boy. "May mother and
son continue to do well."
Keith had his own toast, one to Little Missy, naturally.
The evening just got better from that point.
When I turned out the light and lay back on my pillow, I
realized how strange it felt to be sleeping alone. And yet
I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the best night
yet of Cheryl's visit. I had introduced Cheryl to her first
night of anything-goes and we had screwed ourselves into
exhausted bliss in a gloriously spectacular night, and yet
this night, when I did not have her, I felt... It was a
satisfied feeling of... Well, it was wonderfully...
Can fraternal twins share insanity?
~ ~ ~
Cheryl bonded with Latigo, though not the same way she
bonded with Blaze. Then she grabbed two apples and raced
off for Stable One to check in with the occupants of stall
six.
Ricky volunteered to help me carry in the suitcases and
groceries. I knew what was coming. When we were alone, he
asked, "So was she as good as she looks?"
I played dumb. "Meaning?"
He grabbed an armload of grub. "Boss, don't try to
bullshit an old bullshitter. You seen that look in her eye
as many times and places as I have. That's the look of a
girl what's had her coozie creamed and liked it."
"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."
"Boss, it's me."
Yeah. I should have known, since that argument hadn't
worked with Cheryl, either.
"Ricky, you put your dick in that and I'll kill you."
"Yeah, I know. So there ain't no way I'm gonna learn
how good she is unless you tell me."
I dropped a suitcase and punched in the lock code for
the door. "You saw her in the barn that day. Picture how
good you think she'd be."
He closed his eyes. "Okay. Yeah. I got it."
I opened the door. "It was much better than that.
_Much_ better." I nodded. "Much."
I was halfway across the living room with the luggage
when I realized he was still standing on the porch with his
eyes closed. "Any day now."
He carried the groceries to the kitchen while I dumped
the suitcases upstairs. I met him at the bottom of the
staircase, where he was picking his teeth with a fingernail.
"Boss, if she ever decides she wants to swing..."
"I won't call you unless she asks for you."
He sighed. "Yeah, that's kinda what I figgered. Let's
go get the rest of the grub."
~ ~ ~
"_SHIT, THAT'S COLD!_" I squawked, almost dropping my
ice cream bowl on the couch.
Cheryl squinted up from making little buckaroo a la
mode. "Don't be a pansy."
"Don't complain to me when it shrivels up to negative
length."
She pulled her head back, frowned, and gave it a
critical inspection. "It's still awesome. It can use some
more." She scooped out another spoonful of mushy ice cream
and spread it on, then grinned and sucked all of the ice
cream off. It definitely wasn't negative length when she
finished.
She put her bowl on the floor beside her bare butt and
picked up an aerosol can. "Now let's try it with whipped
cream."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Like you're not?" She squirted a layer of foamy cream
down the shaft, then covered the head in a white ball.
"I didn't say that."
"That's because you won't lie to me." She opened her
mouth wide and took it all in, scrubbing with her tongue.
Naturally it began swelling. She kept at it until she
gagged. She withdrew it and gave me an angry look. "Shit!
I'm never going to get deep throating right."
"Practice makes perfect."
She switched to handjobbing. "Maybe I should ask Penny
for instructions."
"Ricky would like to volunteer to be the test dummy."
She inspected the results of her pumping. "Tell me
something I don't know." She practiced again, with the same
results. "Too bad you aren't a fag. You could tell me how
to do it right."
"Maybe you just need practice."
"Works for me."
~ ~ ~
Cheryl circled her arms around my neck and smiled
happily up at me. I shifted my hips slightly, causing her
to purr, before resuming the long, slow strokes into her.
"Our first time in your bed," she said.
I kissed her. "I hope it's as good as you imagined it
would be."
"Better."
"Close enough."
She smiled and closed her eyes for a minute, rocking
with me, occasionally giving a little gasp as something felt
especially nice. Then her eyes drifted open and her smile
widened. "I love you, Uncle Randy."
"I love you, too, Niece Cheryl."
"God, this feels so good! It really is better than I
ever imagined. I wish I could have you in me every night
before I go to sleep."
"Sounds good to me, honey, but I think your mom might
object."
She shrugged. "Fuck her."
"I don't think so. I draw the line at fucking nieces.
Sisters, no. Nieces, yes."
"So... oooh! That was _nice!_ So, you'd fuck Sydni if
she were here instead of me? Or Kylie?"
Not only was I in the wolf trap, I could see a .30-06
with a hair trigger aimed at my head. "I wouldn't do Debbie
or Mandy. Beyond that, I can't say. Sydni's not here, you
are. I'm happy with who I have right now."
"That is so not an answer. Oh, God! Do that again!
Oooh!" She began panting and came a half-minute later, her
tight little sheath doing interesting things around the
little buckaroo. She relaxed and smiled, her eyes closed.
Foolish me, I thought she'd forgotten her line of
inquiry until, out of the blue, "Okay, maybe not Kylie yet.
Her boobs are smaller than mine because they've just started
growing. But Syd..."
"Has bigger boobs. Yes. Somebody mentioned that to me.
Several times."
"In case you hadn't noticed."
"I'm starting to get an uneasy feeling, Cheryl. Just
exactly why do you keep mentioning Sydni and her endowments?
At first I thought it was because you were hoping it would
get me up again, but unless my wires are crossed, I'm
getting signals that it's still up." I pulled out all but
the head and lifted my body enough to glance down between us
to the point where I stopped and she began. "Yep. It is."
The sudden _Uh oh!_ look confirmed that I would not like
her answer.
I slid fully into her and stopped, waiting for the bad
news. She said nothing. "Well?"
She gave me the frightened look of a little girl caught
raiding the cookie jar. "You know how bashful Syd is. She
wants to lose her cherry, too, but she's too embarrassed to
ask anyone. She knows some guys she'd like to have do it,
but she doesn't know how to ask them and she's afraid of
letting them see her body because she's afraid they'll think
she looks funny and she..."
I pressed a finger to her lips to stop her. "So you
want to volunteer me to solve her... her... her virginity
problem the way I solved yours? Don't you think that
whoever does it should be Sydni's decision and not yours or
anybody else's?"
The look changed subtly.
"That _is_ Sydni's decision? She's decided she wants me
to solve it? _Why_ would she decide that?"
"Well, because... because you're so good and so gentle."
"You told her about us. That phone call you made to her
at Keith's last night?"
Tears gathered in her eyes. "Uncle Randy, Sydni is my
closest friend. I haven't told anyone else."
"Cheryl, you can't tell _anyone_ else about us! Don't
you know what would happen..."
The tears in her right eye overflowed first. "She's not
going to tell anyone else, Uncle Randy. Neither am I.
Sharing secrets between Syd and me is like sharing them
between you and me. Nobody else will know."
"You seem to have shared one of ours without asking me
first. Or even telling me afterward. Honey, _nobody_ else
can know about us!"
Anger flashed and the eyes became hard, resolute.
"Ricky knows."
"Ricky recognized the look in your eyes the moment..."
"Oh! So it's _my_ fault that Ricky knows, too?"
I sighed. "No," I said quietly. "I'm sure he can see
it in my face every time I look at you."
The anger cooled. I vaguely noticed that I was no
longer hard, though I was still inside Cheryl as she said,
"She loves you, you know."
"Sydni?"
"No, Joyce. Of course Sydni! She's always talking
about how you're our best-looking uncle."
"Well, I love her, too, but that doesn't mean I want to
get her where you are now. Besides, she might not like it."
"She would love it! We've both said how sad it was that
you were a faggot. Then I found out you weren't. Where do
you think I got the idea of you being the first to do me? I
got that from all those times Syd and I talked about you.
As soon as I learned that you were straight, I knew that my
prayers had been answered. I was going to get you to do me
first, no matter what I had to do to get you to do so or how
long it took for you to do it."
I didn't try to sort that out. "As I remember, the
first thing you did after you discovered that I was straight
was get mad at me."
"Don't change the subject."
"Yes, Ma'am." The little buckaroo suddenly squirted out
of its temporary home.
"You get that thing up again and put it back where it
belongs! I've waited too many nights for the opportunity to
have you in me, and I'm not letting you stay out because
you've lost your boner."
"Honey, guys find it difficult to keep it up when
they're in the middle of an argu... when they're having a
disagreement."
"Yeah?" She wrapped her arms around my neck again and
turned up the charm. "Well. Wanna bet I can get it up
again?"
"No. I hate losing bets."
Nineteen
"Bitch." Cheryl didn't move except to speak. She
stared at the cordless phone extension in her hand, now
switched off.
"Noun or verb?" I asked, gripping her shoulders and
massaging her spine with my thumbs.
She looked over her shoulder at me. "Huh?"
"Was that a descriptive noun, or was it a verb
complaining about what she did?" I took the offered phone
and shoved it into the charging base on the end table, then
resumed working out the muscle kinks she developed while
talking to her mother.
"Yeah."
I kissed the back of her neck. "Both. Thought so."
"She was worried that I might be having too much fun."
"Were you?"
She hummed in delight as I dropped a trail of kisses
from her head to her shoulders. Then she groaned in
frustration as I squirted out of her tunnel with a soft
"goop" sound barely audible in the silent room. "I was
until you came and went soft. Get that thing hard again and
put it back in where I need it."
"Sorry about that."
Her brown hair rippled when shook her head. "She heard
you groan and wanted to know why I was watching television
instead of working."
"At nine-thirty at night? She doesn't remember a damned
thing about horse ranches."
"You aren't hard yet."
I looked down to where my body disappeared under her
shapely ass. "Well, it's a little difficult to get it up
when you keep reminding me of Mandy. Maybe if you'd
concentrate some of your attention on helping me?"
She stood up, turned around to face me with a smirk, and
sat on my lap again. She grabbed my face in her hands and
gave me the most scorchingly passionate kiss I'd ever had,
from her or anyone else. When she finished she reached
down, held the hitching post upright, and impaled herself
with a low, guttural growl. "That's much better," she
sighed as we bottomed out.
Damned sure was.
~ ~ ~
Cheryl spotted me, slid out of the saddle, and bounced
when her feet hit the ground. Still holding Arapaho's reins
she brought him with her to the corral fence and bestowed a
quick kiss of welcome for my return. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah. Snake's right. You're good. Keith should be
able to use you to teach barrel racing if you keep improving
at that rate." Cheryl would stay an extra two weeks with
Keith and Joyce next summer, working as a ranch hand after
her guest visit. They'd agreed to that arrangement at
dinner two nights before, after Joyce took command of my
kitchen to balance Karma. They had departed that morning,
just before I made a run to the feed store.
My lovely niece had stayed behind to give Snake a hand
because Toad had called in sick with a summer cold. She
preened at the praise. "Papa Keith knows talent when he
sees it."
"He's not the only one."
"Oh. Yeah! So does Snake. You're right. He did say I
was good, too."
"Exactly. You get back to work while I go unload the
truck with Jerry and Shoe."
Cheryl glanced over her shoulder. Snake was on the far
side of the corral. "I've got good news," she purred in a
soft voice.
I leaned near her ear. "Oh, no! Don't tell me! My
vacation week is over and I have to go back to work
providing stud service night and day for you? How is _that_
good news?"
Her free hand gently slapped me upside the head. "It's
good news for _ME!_"
"What if I die of exhaustion?"
She kissed me again. "Well, if the summer's not over,
then I guess Ricky's dream will come true after all."
~ ~ ~
Cheryl grabbed Ricky's blanket in each fist and pulled,
forcing her elbows down into the mattress while her graceful
brown wings and her hairline all rushed toward the bridge of
her nose. Her upper lip pulled up to meet them, exposing
clenched white teeth. Her eyelids were squeezed together so
tightly that I though she'd be seeing stars for hours.
"Oh, _GOD!_" She dug her heels into Ricky's mattress
and pushed her body upward to meet the incoming thrusts.
The animal sounds escaping from her throat changed from a
high-pitched squeak to a deep growl as she came. Hard.
I'd lost count of the times I'd seen her cum, but none
of the others had been as intense as this. She thrashed
about on Ricky's bed, losing the grip on the blanket with
her right hand. The arm flailed wildly. "Oh, God! Again!"
was followed by a repeat performance of the noises as a
second wave of pleasure swept her away.
Unable to hold back any longer, I flooded into her. My
own release was pretty damned good, too, though Cheryl was
too out of it to notice. Fortunately, I noticed for both of
us.
She threw her arms around my neck and shoulders and
tried to squeeze us into one combined human lump, moaning,
"Oh, God, oh, God, oh God," over and over as shudders
rippled through both of us.
Eventually we both relaxed. Or collapsed. I dragged my
upper body sideways so that she could breathe and buried my
face in her neck, kissing it in short staccato bursts. We
lay there listening to the raindrops hitting the bunkhouse
roof, saying nothing in words, saying everything with
cuddles and squeezes. Another "eventually" passed before I
could lift my head and look down at the beautiful oval face
and its sparkling brown eyes and that fresh-fucked smile of
contentment.
"That was some load you shot. It's running down my
butt. We're gonna have to wash Ricky's blanket or he'll
know what we did on his bed."
I shrugged. "I wasn't _planning_ on shooting a big wad
this time, but the longer you kept me going without cumming,
the bigger it got."
"Blaming me again, huh?" She kissed me. Soft and
gentle and yet simultaneously fiery and passionate. I'd
never had a woman like Cheryl before.
"Of course. It's what guys do. You sure had a good
time. You don't often have one that big."
Again she smiled like she'd just won Miss Dallas.
"Yeah. I was looking at the pictures of Ricky and Penny on
the wall there. Got me turned on."
I kissed her cheeks, chin, and lips, then hunched
forward to keep from squirting out of her tight little box.
I was in no hurry to leave. "Ricky turned you on, did he?"
She thought about that. "No. It was just the idea that
I was seeing two other people doing what we were also doing.
I wondered if she felt the things I was feeling at the time.
If she had as good a time as I was having."
"I see."
"And if he felt what you were feeling."
"No. He was feeling Penny. I was feeling Cheryl."
"There's a difference?"
"Honey, if there wasn't a difference, there wouldn't be
swingers."
She thought about that, too. "That actually makes
sense. You sure you're Mandy Kuczynski's brother?"
"Nope. I'm Cheryl Kuczynski's uncle."
"Works for me." She sighed. "Well, that's the
bunkhouse. It was the last one on the list."
"Took us a while to get here. Maybe because you made
such a long list."
"Well, we were gone on the photo safari for a week,
too."
"Where you had another list," I said in mock reproach.
"Yeah." She giggled. "I thought the hood of the truck
was the best one on that list."
"My favorite was on the blanket beside the campfire
under the stars."
She purred at the memory and kissed me. "Yeah. That
was special, wasn't it? What was your favorite on this
list?"
"In the barn, where we stacked the hay bales so that you
could kneel on them and I could stand between them. Holding
onto your hips and slamming into you like that was out of
this world. I'm glad you thought of it. I never had."
She gave me a smug grin. "Going to try it with Penny or
Kelly?"
"Not as long as Niece Cheryl is here. But I'll probably
try it again with her."
"You think Niece Cheryl will let you?"
"I'm sure she will, for three reasons. One, she's
incredibly sweet. Two, she's accommodating to the needs of
others." I pretended to hesitate.
"Uh huh. And what's reason three?"
"She gets very horny and will do almost anything I want
if I will get her off."
"That sounds like... _SHIT!_ You fell out again! I
didn't tell you to take it out, damn it!"
"Let me rethink that first reason."
She shook her head at me. "Asshole. Come on. Get up.
As long as you're not going to let that awesome thing soak
in me, we might as well take the blanket back to the house
and wash it."
Good plan. Besides, it was Saturday night. There was
always the possibility that Ricky had gone partying and
would be back to spend the night here.
The rain had turned gentle but steady. It was warmer
than usual, even for an early August night. We were halfway
back to the house when she turned to me and grabbed a
handful of her favorite buckaroo. She grinned up at me as
the rainwater splashed and streamed on her face. "You know
something, Uncle Randy? Our list left off fucking in the
rain."
~ ~ ~
Cheryl gave me a "What the hell are you talking about?"
look, then focused on the large-format color slides on the
light box. They were the best of the ones she'd taken on
our photo safari. "Well," she said, drumming a pencil on
the empty air above one, "I suppose I would choose this one
and... this one. Maybe this one, too."
"Okay. What about that one with the hovering bird?"
"If it was my book? Yeah. I guess so."
I typed notes on the computer and said without looking
at her, "I think I finally decided on a name for the book."
"Do I want to know?" she asked dryly.
I turned my head slowly to look at her. "Such cynicism
and dubious mistrust in one so young. I don't know what's
become of today's youth." I looked at the screen again. "I
was thinking about _Chromatic Colorado Canyons: Photographs
by Randy Long and Cheryl Kuczynski_."
After a brief pause, just long enough for her to
blink--twice--she squealed like a set of bad brakes.
"If that meets with your approval, of course. I'm open
to different names, since it's only partly my book."
"_UNCLE RANDY!_"
"You don't like it?" I asked as I turned to her in time
to see a blur streaking toward my head.
The collision of her teeth damned near chipped mine.
~ ~ ~
We waved goodbye to Maynard and Molly as they
disappeared up the drive to the gate. Cheryl turned to me,
squeezed me in her arms, and said, "There's still a couple
hours of daylight left. Wanna go skinny dipping?"
"Whatever turns you on."
"YOU turn me on, Uncle Randy."
"So I've noticed. You aren't tired of me yet?"
"Heck no. I've decided to keep you."
I kissed her. "I'm not returnable anyway. Or
recyclable. Or reusable."
"Not even for Syd?"
"When's the last time you saw your legs?"
"_Saw_ them?" She frowned slightly. "On the way here
in the car, I guess."
"And I told you then how they would fill out while you
were here, didn't I? You should see what all that horse
riding and swimming and hill climbing and walking have done
for them. Sydni should be jealous of such beautiful legs."
"Like I'm jealous of her boobs?"
"I don't know that you should be because I've not seen
her aesthetics. I've seen yours."
"I know your tastes now. You'd like hers better."
I grunted skeptically. "But I'm not in love with hers."
The large brown eyes that suddenly grew larger made me
think about what I'd just said. I replayed the words in my
head.
And realized what I'd said.
"You're in love with my boobs? Does that mean you're in
love with the rest of me?"
"Uh, maybe I made a bad turn of phrase there."
She ignored that. "Does that mean you're in love with
the rest of me?"
"Cheryl..."
"_UNCLE MANDY!_ Does. That. Mean. You're. In.
Love. With. The. Rest. Of. Me?"
I sagged. "I can't lie to you, can I?"
"No way in hell! So what's the answer? I know it will
be the truth, whether I like it or not. I want to know,
even if I won't like it."
I searched her eager eyes. Nope. She was right. No
way in hell could I lie to her. "I really think this is the
first time in my life I've truly been in love."
She squealed and threw herself at me. I felt like the
Empire State Building being climbed by King Kong as she
swarmed over me, squeezing, hugging, and kissing like there
was no tomorrow and she had a lifetime's worth to cram into
what was left of today. I eventually had to peel her off in
self-defense so that I could breathe.
I gestured beyond the house. "Come on. The swimming
hole is waiting. Let's go get wet."
"I already am, thanks to you."
"You're always wet. I'm surprised that cute little
thing doesn't mold."
She latched onto my arm and squeezed. "It probably
would if you didn't hose it out regularly."
"So, the reason you keep me around is personal hygiene?"
"Why not?"
Mandy needed to teach her daughter how to argue. So
that I could win occasionally.
~ ~ ~
I lay on my back on our bed. It had been _our_ bed in
_our_ room since the week after the concerts. Cheryl still
had her bed in her room whenever the Sillermans or the
Summerses came to visit, but this was now our room. I liked
that arrangement.
Somewhere under a rat's nest of brown hair, a soft cheek
pressed down on my left shoulder. The arm flung across my
chest moved upward, pulled by the fingers that found my arm
and managed an exhausted grip. A soft breast crushed
against my ribs, sliding on a lubricating layer of
perspiration as we both gasped for air.
"God, that was good!"
I grunted acknowledgment, unable to produce coherent
sounds. Lips formed a pucker and kissed my shoulder. After
a moment came the soft, "Uncle Randy?" and I knew it was The
Time.
"Uh huh?"
"I've been thinking."
"You're Cheryl, not Mandy. You know how."
She reminded me by demonstration that behind those soft
lips were sharp teeth. "Behave."
"Yes, ma'am."
"If you're in love with me and I'm in love with you, do
you think and maybe one day, when I'm older, eighteen, you
know, you and I, well, we..."
"No. Honey, you can't marry Cousin Matt because he's
your first cousin. Therefore you can't damned sure can't
marry Uncle Duke because... Well, wait a minute. Maybe in
Texas you could because Debbie's the blood relative, not
Duke. Change one. You can't marry Trey because he's your
first cousin, which means you damned sure can't marry Uncle
Junior. I'm the same blood relationship to you as Junior."
"Shit." She was quiet a moment. "We could just shack
up."
"I think that would cause problems with the family."
"They think you're a faggot anyway."
"I meant cause problems for you, sweetheart."
She made a fart noise with her lips. "Like that's such
a big deal? If they don't like my favorite uncle, they
don't deserve me. If they don't deserve me, what do I care
what they think?"
"I'm sure I have a counter-argument to that around here
somewhere. Give me time to find it."
"No." She pulled herself up to look down at me in the
darkness. "Uncle Randy, I don't want to give you up. And
we have just one week left together. I want to stay here
forever and love you and care for you and let you care for
me and grow old together." A tear trickled down her nose
and splashed near the corner of my mouth.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me.
"Honey, even if we could think of something, we can't do so
for three more years. In that time, maybe you'll find
someone else, someone your own age, that..."
"But I don't _want_ anyone else!"
"Cheryl, people change with time. Relationships change.
Maybe over the next three years, we'll change. We can't
know that will happen in advance, but it often does."
More tears fell on my face. "But what if it doesn't?"
"Then we deal with it when the time comes. But we don't
worry about it until then."
Her eyes searched mine, and then she kissed me. "Yeah.
I guess so. Uncle Randy, can you make love to me before we
go to sleep? That was a great fuck, but, well, I kinda
need..."
"I understand. You help me get it up and it will be my
pleasure, too."
~ ~ ~
"I needed that," she said when I slid out of her and
wrapped myself around her content body, enjoying her
occasional shiver and quiver. It had been slow, gentle
lovemaking, an expression of deep feelings for each other
designed to communicate love and respect.
I kissed her cheek. "I know. I was surprised by how
much I needed it, too."
"I don't think I can make it until next summer without
you."
"Well, I'm sure I'll need you to return occasionally to
work on our book, you know. It's _our_ book. It would be
presumptuous of me to do your part for you."
The dreamy half-closed brown eyes blinked. Twice.
"God, I love you."
"God, I love _you_." I gave her a final goodnight kiss.
I didn't remember my dreams the next morning, but I knew
they were about Cheryl and they were wonderful.
~ ~ ~
The brown-haired vision of loveliness emerged from the
kitchen with two quartered apples and a questioning look
around her red eyes. "Uncle Randy, would you mind putting
the bags in the car by yourself while I say good-bye to
Buena Vista and Blaze alone?"
"Of course not." She didn't want me to see her crying
over the horses. She'd done enough of that over me the
night before and at breakfast.
I waited in the convertible. I was thinking about going
to get her because we were almost out of time when she
appeared. "I forgot something in the house," she said as
she ran past me.
"Two minutes," I said, admiring the way those tight
jeans made those wonderful legs look as they rhythmically
pumped her toward the house. They almost drew my eyes
entirely away from that gorgeous butt that would make
Aphrodite herself insane with jealousy.
"Won't take that long."
No, it took three.
We talked about everything but our separation all the
way to the airport. She held back the tears until she had
to board. "God, I love you," she said and threw a
stranglehold around my neck. Her kiss drew a lot of
attention. Neither of us cared. "See you in a few months,"
she said, and then she was gone.
I was proud of myself. I'd held back my own tears.
They didn't escape until the road turned from four-lane to
two.
~ ~ ~
I had planned to stop at Bobbi Jo's and have a
cheeseburger and fries for Cheryl, but I drove on past. I
couldn't face anyone else at the moment. The loathing
turmoil in my head was too great. You see, I had lied to
Cheryl. I had flat-out told her the single biggest lie of
my life. When she had asked about spending time at Keith
and Joyce's, I had said that I wanted her to be where she
would enjoy herself. I really wanted her to be with me. I
wanted that to be where she enjoyed herself.
I just didn't know at the time that I was lying to her.
~ ~ ~
The house was an empty shell. It had always felt like
home whenever I returned, whether I was gone minutes or
weeks. This time it felt like an abandoned cavern, devoid
of life and spirit. No brown-haired beauty would grab me
and dance me around the room saying how much she had missed
me the fifteen seconds I'd been out of her sight. No
graceful brown wings would lift in silent analysis of my
dubious sanity. No sparkling brown eyes would say, "I love
you" without words but with oh so much more meaning.
No slender browned arm would wrap itself around me and
squeeze like it was trying to keep its most prized
possession from escaping. No sleek browned leg would wrap
over mine in the night in silent reassurance that I was
there and so was she. No short brown stubble would scratch
my tongue and face in the middle of the night when she awoke
and needed a quickie.
No tender pouty lips would kiss me like I was the most
important person in the entire world.
_Now what?_ In about another hour, Mandy and Marek
would pick up a stranger at DFW. With luck they would
recognize her face if not her revised attitude, her new
sense of responsibility. With luck they would have the
sense not to drive her back to being the sullen, angry niece
I had acquired three extremely short months earlier.
They had Cheryl. I had an empty house. Cheryl had most
of her life ahead of her. Statistically, somewhere between
a third and a half of mine was gone. Maybe Cheryl was gone,
too. Maybe she'd find someone her own age, fall in love,
have the wedding she could never have with me. Have the
kids she could never have with me. Have a life apart from
me as I became nothing more than a footnote in her diary of
life.
I needed a beer.
I stumbled into the kitchen, half-blind, and stopped. I
had to wipe my eyes, trying to grasp what I was seeing, and
suddenly realized the reason for her trip back into the
house.
In the middle of the kitchen table sat the bottle of
hair bleach and a note:
Keep this safe for me.
I'll be back for it.
Love, C
[End]
Copyright Russell Hoisington 2008
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