Special chores for uncle
by Big Bad Uncle
tom1001johnson@gmail.com



This happened a long time ago, more than thirty years, when I was 13.

My brother was only three years older than me, but I was little and he was big, and I was a girl and he was a boy.  My parents let him do things that they'd never allow me to do.  I guess we'd had a sibling rivalry when we'd both been little, but now that we were both teens, I was envious of his privileges and especially that he could do things that they'd never ever let me do.  They trusted him too, and it seemed like they didn't trust me.  They even let him drive and borrow my dad's car every Friday and Saturday night, when he went out with his girlfriend.  I felt like they treated him like an adult and that they still treated me like a baby.

He had been working, making money shoveling snow during the winter and cutting grass during the summer ever since he was 11, but they wouldn't let me even try.  The most the ever let me do was babysit.

He was already about 6 feet tall, and I was still only 4 foot 6.  I weighed about 90 pounds back then, and it seemed like he was twice my weight.  He lifted weights, after school, and drank some nasty, high-protein powder stuff that he mixed in the blender with milk and three raw eggs every morning and before he went to bed that was supposed to help him get bigger muscles.  He had a real girlfriend, a pretty blond girl with hazel eyes and big breasts, while I'd never even kissed a boy and our parents wouldn't even let me double date.  He was a starter on the junior varsity football team, and I was still in junior high, with my little mosquito-bite-sized titties.

I hated when it when he called me "twerp" and "squirt." He'd mess my hair and tease me but never with the old cruelty that he had when we were still rivals.  I hated that too, because, I think, I somehow knew that he knew that he had outgrown our old rivalry.  By then his only rivals were the linebackers on the varsity football team, older, bigger boys than him.

My uncle had a big yard back then, with a big front lawn and really big back one too.  My uncle was cheap.  He didn't have a power mower, but he got my brother to cut his grass, every Saturday, because he claimed that my brother would put on muscle "mass" pushing the push-mower to cut the grass on his great big yard.

My uncle had been the quarterback on his high school team.  His team won the division back a million years before when he and my dad had been in high school.  My brother really looked up to him.  Every Saturday during the summer, my uncle let my brother drink a couple beers, when he'd cut my uncle's grass.

They were always talking about football too.  My brother never got tired of hearing the same old boring stupid stories about my uncle winning the state division back in the days of the dinosaurs.

One time, when we were all sitting around the table at our house, my parents and my uncle drinking beer, and me and my brother drinking Coke, I guess I sort of whined about how it wasn't fair that my brother was making money cutting grass and shoveling snow but that I couldn't do that, because I was a girl.

My uncle laughed and looked at me and then right at my little mosquito-bite breasts and said, "There's other ways a cute girl can make money."

My mom and my dad laughed, like they thought that it was very funny instead of utterly inappropriate, and my brother laughed too.  My uncle was just smiling.  Unlike my doofus father, he ever laughed at his own jokes.

I blushed.  I wasn't stupid.  I sort of knew what he meant.  They all laughed even louder at my blushing too.

That night and the ones after it, alone in the dark in my bed, I thought about what he'd said.  He was kind of handsome still.  He was a year older than my dad.  His temples were silver-gray and the rest of his hair was a mix of jet black and silver.  My dad was going bald and getting fat, but he wasn't.  He still had a full head of hair.  He ran ten miles every other morning and lifted weights at night.  He and my brother ran together, sometimes with my brother's football buddies, and I was envious of that too.

About a week after that, I guess, when he was getting a beer from the fridge and I was doing the dishes, so that the two of us were alone in the kitchen, I asked him, pretending that I didn't know what he'd meant that time at the table, if I could come over sometime to earn some money for chores.

He asked what I'd had in mind.

He'd gone in the Marines after high school and had never married.  He lived in my grandparents' old house.  Unlike our forever-messy, confused and disordered house, his was always clean and neat, very "ship-shape," so that as far as I knew, there was no girl-type chores for me there.

"I don't know, whatever you'd want, I guess."  I remember that I blushed again, since I felt my face get warm, and I dropped my eyes.

"Ask your mom if you can come over after school.  I think we can find something for you to do."  He was looking at my little titties again, and then he smacked my butt.

I giggled.  I'd always loved it when he smacked my butt, even though it always stung a little.

I was so afraid right then that I just nodded and didn't look at him.  Instead,  I went back to doing the dishes.

When I asked, my mom said that I could go over his place after school whenever I wanted but added that I should be good and do whatever my uncle said, like as if I were still a little kid.

I think that that's what really bothered me, that they treated me like a little kid, while, it seemed to me back when I was just 13, they always treated my brother like an adult.

The next day I was too scared to go over, but the day after that I did, taking the bus to his house right from the school.  

When my uncle let me in, I said that I should go change out of my school clothes.  I'd brought my old cut-off shorts and a brand-new snow-white tee-shirt, in a clean, crisp paper sack from the supermarket, to change into once I go there.  My mom had told me to stop wearing those old shorts because she said that I looked "indecent" in them ever since I'd started to get hips and a butt, but they still fit, even if they were a pretty tight.

In his bathroom, changing, I even took taken off my bra too.  My mom was always saying that guys could see my pointy nipples that way even though I only had itty-bitty little titties back then.

My uncle sort of whistled at me when I came out.  I didn't know what that kind of whistle meant, back when I was only 13, but I blushed and giggled anyway because he was looking right at my titties and my legs.

He was sitting on one of his kitchen chairs.  He laughed and asked, "Now, what do you think that you can do to earn your keep around here?"

I walked right over to him, even as my face got even hotter, and he reached out and took my wrist in his big rough hard hand.  I giggled as he pulled me closer to him and easily bent me over his knee, even though I was squirming and giggling and trying my best to get away from him.

He smacked me on my butt, the left cheek and then the right and then the left and right again.  Like always, it stung again, but like always, I loved it.  Then he tickled my thighs and even my butt.  My skin was still baby smooth back then.  I'd only just gotten some hair on my pubes and wouldn't begin to get any on my legs until I was about 25 years old.

I was giggling and squirming still, pretending that I wanted to get away from him.  He pulled me up and sat me on his lap, his knees together and mine wide, on the outside of his, straddling him like a pony or a bike.

He pulled my head back by my ponytail and kissed the side of my neck, so that the stubble on his chin tickling me, and he whispered in my ear, "I love you, snuggle bunny."

He'd never married and he had no kids, that he "knew of," he always said, and I always felt like I and my doofus brother were like his own kids to him.

His hands went up my neck and my shoulders, and he began to rub and massage them.  It felt good.  No one had ever done that to me before.

I just sat there, on his lap, loving his attention and the closeness that we were sharing, just the two of us alone in his big house.  My brother was at football practice, running and sweating like a pig in his helmet, uniform and silly pads that all his teammates wore, even at practice.

But I was scared about what he would do next.  I felt sort of like millions of ants were crawling around inside my belly.

He rubbed down my spin with both his hands and then slipped his hands under my shirt and onto the bare skin of my back and rubbed his way up to my shoulders again.  It felt so good!

After a while of rubbing my bare shoulders, he rubbed all the way down again and then started up again, only this time his hands were on the outside of my back, on my sides.

His hands were really big and rough, unlike my dad's hands, which were kind of small and soft.  My dad was an accountant and hadn't gone into the military after high school.

I felt really scared.  I knew that guys liked to touch girls breasts.  No guy had ever touched my titties before.  I held my upper arms as tight against my side as I could to protect my bare breasts from his hands.

He rubbed the back of my neck again with his sandpaper stubble chin, and I giggled and squirmed again.

He whispered right in my ear, so that I could feel his warm moist breath, "Now what chores do you think that you can do for me?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

But I kind of lazily raised my arms from my sides, and I pretended to fix my hair with both my hands.  His hands slid forward onto my little breasts and cupped them.

I went stiff and then tried my best to relax.

He squeezed my titties hard and then he pinched my nipples and then tugged and twisted them.

They felt sore and tingly.  I remember that it wasn't a good feeling but wasn't all that bad either.  It was mostly weird.

All I could think was, "He's doing it; he's doing it; he's touching my titties; he's really touching my titties."

"Well, your mom said that you should do whatever I say."

"I know."

We were both still whispering.

"You'll have to come over every day after school."  He was squeezing and unsqueezing my breasts instead of worrying my nipples, and I remember that I liked that much better.

"Okay."

"What we do will have to be our secret.  You can't tell anyone."

"I know."  I did know it, too, had known all along that I'd have to keep it secret.  "I promise never to tell anyone."

"You sure, snuggle bunny?  We can stop now, if you want, but once we really start you'll have to do whatever I want from now on."

That kind of scared me too.  To let him do it to me whenever he wanted?  But it excited me too, really excited me.  I thought, "I'll no choice and always have to let him do whatever he wants" and felt happy about it.

But I said, "We can tell my mom that I'm cooking for you."

"Okay, but you really will cook for me."

"Okay."  My mom had taught me how to cook, so I wasn't worried.

One of his hands had started to make a lazy circle on my bare belly while the other cupped one of my breasts and then the other, going slowly back and forth between them.  My belly was really ticklish, and I was trying my best not to have a fit of giggles.

Then I felt his hand find the button on my denim cut-off shorts.  Then he started to worry it.

"Are you sure, sweetie?"

I giggled and instead of answering, I reached down and undid the steel and brass button and unzipped my denim cut-offs.

He whispered in my ear, "Good girl."

My shorts must've gaped open, because his hand slid easily into my shorts and my panties.

His finger found my clit and stroked it once.  I think that I sucked in my breath.

Since then, I've always hated it when guys have "stampeded" my clitoris.

But he knew what he was doing.  Instead of annoying my clit, his finger found my little hole and began to slide in and out of it.

"You're wet, snuggle bunny."

I didn't know what he'd meant.  I'd woken up wet before then but hadn't known what it meant.

He let go of my breast, and his finger slipped out of my vagina, and his hand in my shorts slid up and out of my panties and my shorts.

I wondered for a moment if he was done with me for today, but then his hands were both on my hips with his thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, and he pushed and pushed down my shorts and panties at the same time as I lifted myself up off his lap so that my shorts and panties would slide under my butt more easily.

He pushed them down to the middle of my thighs, and I pushed them down the rest of the way, while he pulled my tee-shirt over my head.  I used my feet to kick my shorts and panties off.

Sitting on his lap, naked, with my back to his chest, he couldn't really see me, but then he pulled me up and spun me around.  I covered up my breasts with one hand and an arm and covered by pussy with my other hand.

He laughed.  "Your mom said to do whatever I say."

My face was hot, so I knew that I was blushing.  I could only nod my head.

"Show me."

I slowly dropped my hand and my arm from my little titties.

"Everything."

I dropped my hand from my pussy.  I had wispy brown hair down there.

He pointed to one of his cabinets.  "Get me the Wesson oil."  This was before everyone started using extra virgin olive oil.

I went and got the tall round glass bottle and brought it to him.

He pointed to the table and I started to put it on it, but he laughed and said, "It's no good with the top on it.  When we're together, I want you to do everything you can for me, without me having to tell you, so anticipate my wants and needs."

I was only 13, so I never thought of what a male chauvinist prick he was and was much much happier for it, of course.  I loved doing little things like that for him.

I twisted the the metal top off the bottle and got a paper towel and put the bottle and the twist-top on top of the paper towel on the old wooden table next to him.

"Get a cup, too."

Once I'd set the cup next to him on the paper towel, he grabbed my wrist again and pulled me over his lap again, only this time I was naked and I didn't pretend to resist him.

He smacked my butt on both cheeks, so hard that it really stung.  I giggled again.  I remember that I felt very happy somehow.  I knew that I my brother could never ever come close to pleasing him the way that I was pleasing him, even if his stupid football team won the division again.

I bend my head around and up and watched him.  Unlike my dad's baby browns, his eyes were very very blue, just like mine.

He poured some of the oil into the cup and then dripped his fingers from one hand into it.

Then he slowly jammed an oil-slippery finger up my butt while I was bent over his lap like he was going to give me a spanking.

I giggled and squirmed.

He said, "Never pour the oil back in the bottle.  Never us it for cooking or anything else.  Always throw it away and wash the cup with very hot water afterward."

I giggled.

He smacked my butt hard again and told me to be still.

He dipped a finger from his other hand into the oil and then reached under my belly and my hips.  His oily finger found my clit and began to rub it slowly, very slowly.

It felt good.

Then he pushed a second finger up my butt.  It didn't hurt because he did it so slowly.

He fingered my butt like that, in and out, for a while while he rubbed my clit.  I felt so good that I started to moan.

Then I felt a third finger push its way up my ass.  He was pushing them all the way inside me as far as they would go but was doing it so slowly that even that didn't hurt.

His finger was moving a little more quickly on my clit.  I was really moaning.  I felt the best that I had ever felt before in my life.  And then I came, the first, and I think strongest, orgasm of my entire life.

I know that some girls start playing with themselves or running water on their pussies at a much earlier age, but I never had.

He kept fingering my ass and rubbing my clit, and I came again and again.

After a while, I guess when he was satisfied with how big he'd dilated my butthole, because he stopped and with drew his fingers from my butthole while he rubbed my clit more slowly.

He asked if I felt that I needed to go to the bathroom.  I knew that he meant take a dump.

Still bent over his lap, I said, "No."

He dripped some of the oil right into my butthole.  I giggled as I felt the cool wet drops drip onto me and into me.

He helped me up and then washed his hands in his huge, old-fashioned porcelain sink.

Then he led me by the wrist up to his bedroom.  He was holding the cup of oil in his other hand.

I knew what he was going to do, knew that he was going to fuck my ass, even though I'd never heard of or imagined buggery before.  I knew about sex --- my mom had told me and I had heard girls talk about it at school --- and even knew that girls and women sometimes sucked their husbands' and boyfriends' cocks, so I knew that men climbed on top of women and put their cocks in their pussies.   I was smart enough to guess that he was preparing me for it and was even smart enough to guess with reasonable certainty that I couldn't get pregnant from it.

He told me to wait, standing next to his neatly made up oak four-poster bed, while he got two big beach towels from the his closet in the hall next to the bathroom.

The room was cool from the big air conditioner in the window.  My brother's room always smelled of sweat, but his room smelled clean. 

He held the beach towels up high so that he made them double thickness and then laid them down the exact middle of his big old bed.  He got a regular, fluffy bath towel and folded it and refolded it a few times  so that it was like a throw pillow and put it in the middle of beach towels, right in the middle of the big bed.

He undressed.

The curtains were open and the shades were up, so there was light coming in the windows.  It wasn't a harsh light.

He wasn't shy.  I was already naked, of course.  He didn't turn away and I watched him, not pretending to look away or anything, because I was so curious.  I'd never seen a man or a boy naked before, aside from babies that I'd changed when I babysat.  He was over 6 feet tall, maybe 6 foot 3, and his shoulders were big and broad.  He only had just a little fat on his belly.  His butt, legs and hips looked really strong.

When he pulled his pants and boxers down and his cock sprung out, I sucked in my breath and felt afraid.  It looked so big and scary.  I thought, he's going to put that up my butt in a minute or two.  I thought, some time soon, maybe even before he puts it in my butt, he's going to make me suck it into my mouth.  And he's going to take my virginity with that huge monster.  Then I remembered that I'd promised to come over every day after school and realized that he was going to fuck me every day with it.

He came over to me, both of us completely naked, and put his hands on my shoulders.  I knew what he wanted, so I didn't wait from him to pushed down on them.  I simply knelt in front of him, without being asked.

I looked up at him, taking my eyes off his cock for the first time since he'd shed his pants and boxers in the same motion, and said, "You have to teach me."

"I know, darling."

I leaned forward and kissed it.  I could smell him and instantly loved it and always did.  It was a little bit sweat, a little Irish Spring soap, and a little something else, but there was no nasty butt-crack smell.

He was circumcised.  The huge bulbous cock-head was like a fleshy, peachy-pink mushroom.

"Take it in your mouth, but mind your teeth; cover them with your lips."

I took the surprisingly warm shaft in my hand and guided his cock-head into my mouth, opening my mouth as far as it would go.  It felt warm and big.

I knew that I was supposed to suck it, so I did, but he said, "No, don't suck it yet.  Just have it in your mouth while you lick it like a big lollypop.

I wanted to giggle at the thought.

He took hold of a handful of my curly brown hair at the top of my head and said, "Just let it slid in and out of your mouth."

He used my hair like a handle on my head and pulled and pushed my head back and forth as his cock slid in and out of my mouth.  I was making a lot of saliva and it had started to drip on my chin.

It grew even bigger and got really hard right in my mouth, almost as hard as wood.  I realized why guys called it a woodie.

At that time, I could only get the head and just an inch or so of the shaft into my mouth, it was so big and I was so unpracticed.  Later, he even got me so that I could take all 8 inches of it down my throat without gagging.

Then he pulled me up and guide me over to his bed.  "Climb on, just hands and knees, and don't get your butt onto the bed."

I giggled.  I knew that he didn't want any of the oil to leak out of my butthole.

"Lie down on your belly so that the towel is under your hips so that your butt and hips are raised."

I did as he said.

"You're going to put your penis in my butt?"  I knew but wanted to ask anyway.

"Yes."

I giggled.  I felt afraid, but I also trusted him so much that I knew that he wouldn't hurt me.

I laid down like he said.  I looked back at him as he got on the bed, on his knees, behind me.

"Put your legs together, sweetie."

I did as he said and felt him crawl over me so that his knees were on the outside of both of mine.

He said, "Relax as much as you can."

I turned my head so that I was face down on the beach towels and his mattress and closed my eyes.  With my nose in his mattress like that, even through the two fresh washed beach towels, I could smell him.  I breathed it in deeply, loving it.

Later, afterward, he told me that he put oil on his cock too to get it really oily, especially the head.

I felt him lean down toward me and felt him put one hand and then his whole forearm next to my head, so that he could balance his weight over me.

Then I felt his cool, oily cock on the crack of my butt.

I giggled.  I was really nervous and scared.

Then I felt him press his cock against my butthole.

"Here it comes, sweetie."

"It's okay," I said.  I reached back and with both my hands I spread my butt cheeks as wide as I could manage.

Then I felt it push slowly inside me.  I felt my butthole stretch, but it didn't hurt.

It slid up inside me.  It felt weird, so weird, sort of like I had to crap, but not exactly like that.

And then he started to fuck me, in and out, easy at first, not too deep.

And then I felt his weight on my back pressing me down into the mattress.

And then his other hand, not the one that he was supporting some of his weight with, slipped under my hips and onto my pussy.

His finger began to stroke my clit.  As soon as he did that, I started to moan.  I felt so good, so good, so very very very incredibly good.

I started to raise my hips to meet his thrusts, and he started to fuck me harder and deeper.

I came and came and came and came, my first multiple orgasm.

After that, I had multiple orgasms every time that he fucked my ass, sometimes several of them, twice a week every week for the rest of my 7th grade, through high school and then all of college.  I've never let another man do that to me, even my husband of twenty-two years.  It was something that I chose to keep as my uncle's alone, as ours alone, his and mine, all my life.

He fucked me really hard for about half an hour, but I loved every minute of it.

Toward the end, he started to moan and to grunt.  He told me how good he felt.   He told me how much he loved me.  And the I felt his cock throb inside me and knew that he was cumming inside my rectum, knew that he was shooting his semen inside me.

After, we showered together.

In the shower, he told me that he'd had a vasectomy and explained what it was, and I realized that he'd fucked my ass that first time just because he wanted to do it.

We went back into his room and he taught me to kiss and then fucked my pussy, which did hurt a lot.

Afterward, he asked me how much I wanted.  For a moment I had no idea what he was talking about.  I'd forgotten my rivalry with my brother.  When I realized what he meant, I said, "Whatever you give Danny to cut the grass."  I knew that he gave my brother $25 a week during the summer, which seemed like a huge fortune to me back then.

"Each week?"

"Yes."

"And you'll come over every day and cook for me, 7 days a week?"

I was good at arithmetic back then, so I knew that that was less than $3.60 a day, knew that even for the cooking alone he was getting a huge bargain.

I giggled and said, "Sure, and do whatever else you want."

He laughed.  I knew that I could've asked for a lot more, but like I said, he was a cheap bastard, and I just didn't care about the money any more.

But then I said, "And I get to drink two beers every time I come over."  Like I said, my brother got to drink a couple beers every time he cut my uncle's grass and when he shoved his paths and driveway.

He laughed again.  "One beer.  Your brother is twice your size."

It made sense to me, and suddenly, once I didn't really care because I was having sex with my very own uncle, I realized that my brother really was different than me.   He was 16 and I was only 13.

He was a boy and I was a girl, and now that I truly knew what that meant, I realized that even that alone mattered a lot.  My uncle really wanted me, and I knew then that other guys wanted me too, most of them guys whom I wouldn't want to ever touch me.

I cooked for him and he drove me home.

After that first day, I took the school bus to his house every day during the school year and even stayed with him on the weekends and most of the summer.  After high school, I moved in with him and went to a college near our house so that I could live with him.

I think that my parents knew or at least strongly suspected, but they never said anything, but I don't think that my brother ever even thought of it as a possibility.

All that time, I never even went on a date with another guy.

After I graduated from college, he broke up with me, clean and honest, decisive break.  He said that I should find a husband and have a family of my own.

I cried and cried, but he never took me back.

I found a husband, one of my brother's friends from high school, and started a family.

He went to the Philippines and found himself a cute and sweet, brown little 17-year-old Filipina and married her and brought her to America.

She hated the cold winters, so they moved to Hawaii.

He gave me his house, completely free and clear, with no mortgage, the house that had been my grandparents' house that my father and my uncle grew up in.