Uncle Victor's Stay-over
     1.) Karen's Room
 
     This is a fantasy. Things I've never done in ways I would never do  them. You are on your honor to recognize that what follows could be  physically or psychologically damaging to a child. Do not do these
things.

     Karen knew that he was going to be coming to her room, knew from the last time they'd been together, one week and two days ago.
     She had been at his house. Uncle Victor watching her and Cathy while Aunt Sheryl and Karen's mom went to the theater. She had sat on Uncle Victor's lap, feeling tired, feeling friendly. Uncle Victor liked to cuddle, and he did just that.
     Then, without any hesitation, as if he was doing nothing more than stroking her hair, he had put his hands beneath her skirt, had found the girl's underwear, had begun to draw the panties down her legs.
     Karen had felt a sudden lump in her throat. She realized immediately what was happening, could not think to say yes, could not think to say no.
     Cathy lay asleep stretched out on the couch besides them, facing away. Uncle Victor was saying nothing, his hands moving Karen's panties slowly towards her knees. Karen was breathing rapidly. Victor was not.
     Then the sound of the kitchen door squeaking open, happy women chatter right behind. Karen's panties were back where they should be, and Uncle Victor moved the girl off his lap, rising to meet his wife and her sister as they walked into the living room.
     As Karen's mother drove her and Cathy home, she asked why her older daughter was so quiet. Karen said she felt sleepy.
     One week and two days should be enough time to decide something important, even for a ten-year-old. It hadn't been for Karen. And now her mother was in Kesslersport for two days on an assignment from work. Uncle Victor was staying over to watch the girls. He'd said nothing to Karen about their last time spent together, acted not to have remembered. Karen could think of nothing to say, and so had said very little at all since her mother had left. Cathy was oblivious, and watched, then rewatched her "Elmo Saves Grouchland" video, sitting a full eleven inches from the television.
     So Karen knew somehing was going to happen that night, and now Uncle Victor was at her bedroom door.
     She had been reading.. Actually, just flipping through her "Animorphs" novel and wishing she could read it. But she couldn't. She could only pull her covers up tight around her chest.
     She'd put the book down five minutes ago, and had been staring at the door. She had heard Uncle Victor walking around, first downstairs then up. He went into the bathroom in the upstairs hall, brushed his teeth, took a pee. Then, back down the hall to Karen's mother's bedroom, where he was sleeping that night, turned on the TV. Sixty-one heartbeats later (Karen was counting) he turned the TV off, walked back down the hall. Stood a moment outside the girl's bedroom door.
     And now he was opening it. Not really slowly, even though Karen was sure he would have.
     He had undressed in the bedroom, and Karen took her first real life look at a naked man. He was tall, but she didn't know how tall. She'd seen before when he'd gone to the beach with them once that he had a lot of chest hair, but it seemed like a little less this time.
     She knew that his penis had an erection, though she'd only heard about them. She didn't know how Uncle Victor looked relaxed, and had no standard for measuring what was an appropriate size for a man's genitals. Still, Karen calculated quickly that he was probably quite adequate for the needs of an adult woman (she knew that the erection was important, that a penis in it's regular state was not fit for "making love", as her mother had called it, a term that had captivated the little girl).
     What was strange is that Karen knew there was supposed to be hair between his legs, but instead there was only dark, scratchy stubble. She found the sight of her uncle, every bit a strong (and now threatening) man, but with one vital aspect of his adulthood shorn away, troubling. The strangeness of it, mounted on top of the frightening anticipation she felt prompted her to finally try and choke out a word of protest.
     But her throat was sealed by fear, a fear she could not recognize. A fear she was not sure she should really be afraid of.     Uncle Victor walked over to Karen's bed casually. She saw that his penis was glistening wet with something that had been applied to it, and it was so rigid that it nearly pointed straight out from his abdomen, it's tip dark and growing still darker.
     Victor pulled the girl's covers down, prying them from her fingers. The sheets and comforter were both decorated with Winnie the Pooh and his friends. Karen felt sweat on the back of her neck seeping into the pillow case where her long brown hair was not preventing it, dampening the cartoon bear beneath.
     "Over, honey." Uncle Victor said, putting one hand on her shoulder as if to turn her himself, but waiting for her to do it of her own accord. She did.
     Victor got onto the bed, kneeling on the mattress at the foot of it, his legs on either side of the girls feet, which were pressed together as tight as her legs were. He leaned forward, taking hold of the girl's nightshirt and pushing it up until it was gathered beneath her arms. He ran his hand down her bare back, the girl shuddering with the tingle it produced. Finally, he took hold of her underwear and completed what he had started nine days prior, sliding the girls blue and white striped cotton panties down her legs to her ankles, then tugging them off and tossing them into a corner.
     Karen's eyes suddenly widened, her heart racing, as she was shocked back from her stunned passivity. She looked ahead at her bed's wooden headboard, her jaw pressed into the pillow, clenched as her whole body was clenched.
     Oh my God this is happening! she thought. This is really happening and he's going to do it!
     "Umm.."  She began to say a tinge of panic.
     "Shh. Let me work." Uncle Victor said, soothing, unmoved by whatever reservations the girl felt.
     Perhaps to emphasize this point, he pressed his palm against Karen's back, restricting her for the first time. "Don't go anywhere" was the subtle message.
     Karen's legs were as tight together as she could make them. Still, she squeezed harder. But Uncle Victor easily wedged his free palm between her legs, stoking the inside of her left thigh just a bit, and her resistance broke like water on stone. Her butt, which was clenched firm, relaxed, taut muscle returning to soft flesh. The girl's legs parted, as if of their own volition.
     Like a flower, she thought, opening like the petals of a flower to sunlight.     Karen was surprised that this poetry had suddenly arisen within her, even as her body betrayed her better judgment. Fear welled up again. He can't do this! This is wrong to do!
     But he had told her to be silent, and she obeyed him.
     He kneeled between her parted legs now, placed one arm at her side and leaned forward, resting on it. Karen's eyes pinched shut, though she still did not know if from dread or some less sinister anticipation.
     And then it was the actual thing Really, really happening. The moment that comes only once in a girl's life. The one which Karen had only barely begun to wonder about, and where it lay in her future. It had arrived well ahead of schedule.
     Uncle Victor must have been holding his erection, directing it with it's hand, for she doubted it was capable of the probing, to the left and right, that it was doing (though she couldn't be certain) A few questing jabs and it had found it's target, the girl's tender sex. Karen felt it slipped in slightly, gaining purchase as the folds of her skin parted. Then Uncle Victor put his other hand beside the girl's body, his own body now suspended above her, the weight of his pelvis upon hers. He forced his hips forward, and pushed himself into her with deliberate slowness.
     Karen pinched her eyes tight, tight. Her labia expanded, wishing to pull away from the man's stiff flesh but hopelessly gripping it. Karen's teeth gritted as she sucked air threw them, her mouth pressed against Pooh Bear.
     I'm too small no please! She tried to send the message wordlessly. To Uncle Victor, or that piece of flesh that seemed to be controlling him. Either would do.
     It's too much!
     She was on the verge of true pain, when Victor's motion ceased .He had pressed himself fully into her. She could feel the stubble of his shaven crotch pricking the strained, sensitive skin of her vagina. Karen remembered what the book about the facts of life her mother had read to her had said. It showed a silly cartoon couple in bed, making love. "This is as close as two people can get!" The book had said of penetration. She recited the words over and over within her head as she contemplated the painful fullness between her legs. As close as two people can get.
     Victor sighed, or groaned. Karen could not see him. His chest was to her back, and he probably had to crane his neck to keep from striking the headboard, but she was sure he was smiling.
     The man pushed backwards against the bed. Almost as slowly as he had entered her, he retracted from her, though not quite. The tip of his shaft remained lodged within.
     Before Karen had time to wonder about his inclinations, before her sore anatomy could relax overly much, he thrust forward again, faster this time, again to the hilt. Karen stifled a yelp. There was a sharp pain, though not great, as Uncle Victor made his less than gracious re-entry.
     Karen was aware of the substance on Uncle Victor's penis, that he had made himself slippery with it. Victor, in a breathy, conspiratorial whisper, said, "You must have broken it yourself, huh? Maybe that's better." Karen did not know what he was speaking of. She suspected that he was referring in some way to her inner workings, and her mind alighted on some childhood accident that she could barely recall that had made her bleed once from there. Was that what Victor meant?
     Uncle Victor did not elaborate. He withdrew and plunged in again, began to move faster. A rhythm developed, the body of the girl bobbing with the man's thrusts, every return into the girl's slick, wet vulva greeted with a soft, satisfied grunt from Uncle Victor. Karen felt sure that at any moment something would give way within her, that she would feel something disconnect and that the next thrust of the man would find his sword inside a cavern, instead of her cramped rabbit's hole.
     But that didn't happen. Every jab, always followed through to where Victor's inflexible rod connected with his body, was into a tight, resistant apparatus, which seemed to suit the man but made the girl wince with each intrusion.
     Then Victor slowed, stopped, still  buried inside the girl. He took hold of her hips and straightened his body, once again kneeling on the bed but holding half the girl's weight above the sheets. He maneuvered himself off the bed without removing himself from her so that now the girl lay over the bed's edge, her nightshirt almost going over her head and her arms reaching forward, still face down.
     Victor began again, but now, with the girl's legs hanging off the bed, her lower body not pinned down, he maneuvered her own hips with his. The angle of his thrusting changed, and Karen suddenly felt an altogether different sensation on top of the soreness.
     A sigh escaped her as Victor stabbed into her, but slower than before, his shaft grazing some sensitive spot the girl did not realize she had, but producing a sensation she recognized vaguely from some infantile exploration of her own.
     In this case, however, Uncle Victor had deliberately targeted that spot. As his penis moved inwards, the entire length of it stroked this mysterious area. A feeling like a tickle, drawn out and agonizingly wonderful, swept through the girl.
     "There we go. This is for you too, sweetheart." Uncle Victor said, sweetly but also coarsely, as if he were dealing with a jaded professional. He resumed his rapid penetrations, his testicles slapping against the girl's crotch, but now he made sure to rub against the child's tender region with each entry and withdrawal. Karen was stunned to hear noises coming from her mouth that echoed her uncle's. The sweet sensation was more delicious than the pain was intolerable. The bed shifted, as     Victor's thrusts became almost violent. Karen gripped her bed's comforter, pressed her forehead into the mattress, teeth gritted now in animal pleasure.
     Victor pressed his thumbs hard into the girl's waist. She hardly noticed. Her gasps were growing louder, louder than Uncle Victor's, and she knew that if he was feeling half of what she was, that he was restraining himself, a fact he proved when he suddenly slowed, said. "Shh. Your sister," then resumed with vigor.
     A thought forced itself through the joy and suffering that were battling for control of the girl, a voice of concern for her sister, sleeping in the next room. Cathy! Oh my God, will he do this to her? He can't! She's too little! It's too scary!
     But these thoughts gave way to ideas she would not have though possible a mere one-minute prior. She should feel this too! I wish she could! And then a darker thought: No! this is mine! Why should I share? Mine alone!
     Still, she subdued her vocalizations by groaning them hard into the mattress.
     The sensations Uncle Victor was generating were building into a tidal wave, and Victor must have been approaching a similar crescendo, because he was having trouble restraining his own words. He swore as he
 crashed his flesh into hers, seeming to try and produce as much sensation for her, both cruel and exquisite, as he could.
      "I belong in your cunt!" he fairly snarled. "You like this fucking and you'll never refuse it! Tell me to fuck you harder!"
     "Harder!" Karen squeezed out, her body beginning to spasm.
     "Say 'fuck me harder'! You little bitch! Say it!"
     Karen had never sworn in her life, did not know why Victor wanted it, but she wanted to give him anything he asked for. "F..fuck me harder!" she said, as the tidal wave bore down on her. Victor suddenly gripped her hard enough to hurt, lifting her stiffening legs off the ground, making her parallel with the floor, her legs grabbing the waist of her tormentor/lover.  He pushed even harder, as if he was trying to pass his body through hers. Karen felt a spasm from the man, and an eruption of wetness, which she could hardly concern herself with as her own orgasm exploded, an expanding bloom of ecstasy spreading from her groin, swallowing her consciousness. Karen squealed sharply through teeth biting into her bedspread.
     Uncle Victor's thrusts continued a short time until he was certain the girl had climaxed. He set her down so that she was kneeling at the side of her bed, her chest lying across it. When he withdrew, the sound was slick, sticky, and through her panting, as Karen felt blessed relaxation return to her over-stretched pussy, she imagined that she was birthing some weird creature, that Uncle's Victor's organ was not returning to it's owner, but had in fact come from her. Surely her labors were not unlike the labors of releasing a child to the world?
     Victor knelt behind the girl, stroked her hair, kissed her head. He went to the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth. Karen dutifully got on her bed, and Victor, using no great delicacy, washed the fluids from her swelling, enflamed vagina. She hissed, but Karen now fully understood Uncle Victor's sexual philosophy.  You are a child, so you cannot refuse me. If I share with you the pleasures of womanhood, it is out of fairness, not kindness. You may enjoy the sweetness if you like, but I make no apologies for the bitterness.
     In the end, Karen realized that Uncle Victor was, at heart, a taker. He redressed the girl, and as he tucked her into bed he stroked her face and she looked into his eyes. She knew he would take from her whatever he pleased whenever it was convenient for him. She could profit from it if she chose, and he would never make her suffer overly much, but it really wouldn't matter to him if she thrived off of his deeds or merely endured them.
     Victor left the room and turned off the light. Beneath Karen's face, the wet spot where her spit had dampened the pillowcase was cold against her cheek. Beneath her body, there was a wet stain from the merging of her body with her uncle's.
     Karen hiked up her nightshirt to her waist and pressed her thigh against the spot, feeling the coldness there too.
 
 
