That night in bed, I couldn’t help myself. Kicking the sheets off my body, I slowly slid my panties down my legs, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric brushing against my skin, imagining it was Uncle’s thick, calloused fingers touching me instead.
I splayed my legs wide, exposing my needy pussy. Skimming my fingers down my stomach to my aching slit, I ran them over my swollen, wet lips, massaging them, teasing myself until I couldn’t wait any longer. I sought out my engorged clit, and circled it over and over again, using my juices as lube.
I wished my uncle was her, his tongue swiping back and forth, up and down, and finally pulling my little bud into his mouth, sucking it like his life depended on it.
Spasms spread from my cunt outwards, jerking my arms and legs and bowing my back. Copious amounts of thin, slippery fluid coasted my fingers before sliding down my crack and over my asshole.
I laid on the wet sheets in total amazement. I just had the best orgasm of my life, and it was a daydream. About Brooks. My uncle.
I’m so fucking screwed.
4
DOLLY
Over the next few days, I settled into a routine.
I was up at dawn, fed the animals, and helped Uncle Brooks with the chores.
But no matter where I was, Uncle Brooks was always around me, a constant presence that I welcomed.
That I yearned for.
The way my uncle stared at me was far longer than was appropriate. His gazed moved up and down my body in a purely sexual way. And then there was that one charged moment when he reached across me to grab something off the wall, his body pressed against my back, his heat and the scent of his clean, male sweat filling my nose.
I swore I felt how hard he was… for me.
Like right now, as I hand-milked Flower–getting the hang of it because sometimes the machines were down and I needed to know how to do this properly–Uncle leaned in close to show me what I was doing wrong.
His breath was warm on my neck, and I closed my eyes, shivering at how good the sensation felt on my sweaty skin.
“You’re picking it up quick,” he murmured, his hands guiding mine so I was gentle with Flower. “You’ve got a natural touch.”
I could feel his chest against my shoulder, his voice low and rough. My hands trembled, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I leaned into him, just a little, and I swear I heard his breath catch.
But all too soon, he pulled away, praising me for how good I was doing and how much I was a natural.
That night–like every night–Uncle Brooks made us dinner and insisted on giving me vitamins. He said it was to make sure I wasn’t losing nutrients working the farm in this hot weather. I never questioned him.
After dinner, we sat on the porch like we did every evening, the stars shining brightly overhead. The air was warm with a slight breeze moving tendrils of my hair around my cheeks and neck.
Uncle Brooks drank deeply from his second beer, his boots propped up on the railing, his jeans snug on his muscular thighs. I sat beside him, our shoulders just barely a hair’s breadth away. I had never felt closer to anyone despite not even touching.
“You’ve been such a big help, Dolly girl,” he said, his voice soft. He looked over at me and smiled. “I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it. It’s tough work, but having you here… it’s been nice.”
My heart pounded as we stared at each other. His eyes were dark and unreadable in the moonlight.
“I like being here,” I said honestly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He reached out, his hand gripping mine. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”
My breath hitched, and my pussy immediately wettened at his praise. Warmth continued to spread through me that had nothing to do with the summer heat. His fingers tightened around mine, and for a moment, I thought he might pull me closer. I wanted him too. Badly.
But then he let go–far too soon for my liking–leaned back in his chair with a sigh, and finished his beer. “It’s getting late,” he finally said, his voice gruff like he was fighting back emotions. “You should get some sleep.”
Sleep was the last thing on my mind, but I nodded and stood, my legs trembling and my panties already embarrassingly damp. I stood there for a moment, wanting to say something. Maybe I just wanted to come clean… finally. But the words caught in my throat, and with one more lingering look, I headed inside and to my room.
As I did every night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My skin felt too tight, my thoughts racing. I could still feel his hand on mine, the warmth of his body surrounding me, and his scent making me feel drunk.
