Uncle and Daughter

by Kellis

Winter, 2016-17



“Speaking of getting-started stories,” said Marco the next day, “I never heard yours, Don.”

Corey laughed.  “You missed a good one!”

“So did I.”  Jenkins’ eyebrows rose.  “That good, eh?”

Don, clearly pleased, regarded Corey.  “You mind hearing it again?”

“Hell, no!”

While taking a sip of his water, Don looked around.  On this balmy afternoon the terrace was well filled with decrepit old men, lounging under beach-style umbrellas, attended by nurses and orderlies, but none close enough to follow an intimate conversation.  His audience waited expectantly.  Birdsong was the only competition.



No fuck books, Corey, and no sister, Marco.  And Jenkins, I didn’t need a whore either.  My teacher was an uncle fascinated by cherry kids.  They had to be ignorant to get his attention.  If they were already jerking off, he walked away.  How do I know that?  From comparing notes with my other cousins!

My father was in the military.  He spent the year I was twelve in Korea.  My mother was too timid to wait for him at an Air Force base.  Her brother, Uncle Albert, had a spare bedroom, so we moved in with him.  That summer a car knocked me off my bicycle and mangled my right arm.  For two months I wore a cast from fingertips to shoulder, which caused complications.

“Albert,” said Mom to Uncle, “Don has gotten too big for me to bathe.”

Uncle chuckled with a leer.  “You mean one part has.”

“Albert!  Not in front of the kids!”

Uncle shook his head, still chuckling.  “Wouldn’t think of it!  But what’s your objection?  Thought you broads liked big ones.”

Did he mean big boys?  But why was Mom blushing?

“Albert, please!  Will you give him his bath tonight?”

“Only if you show me how.”

“Please, Albert.  You know what to do.  You just have to make sure and keep his cast dry.”

So at bedtime Uncle Albert motioned to me.  “Come on, kiddo.  We have a date.”

Uncle had a daughter, Betty, going on fifteen, with whom I was playing checkers left-handed when he called.  She glared at him and said, “That’s what I want!”

He grinned at her.  “A date?  You want to go steady, dear?”

“With Mark,” she said, “not you.”

He put his hand on his heart.  “That callow youth?  I’m devastated.”

“He’ll do what I say,” she explained that a twinkle.

“You’d have to make him a blueprint.  Come on, Don.”

In the bathroom he’d already drawn a tub half full of warm water.  He helped me undress and eased me into the tub, careful to keep the cast elevated on the far side.  He took off his shirt.

I admired his chest.  “Will I get muscles like yours, Uncle?”

“Why not?  Close your eyes tight.”  He used a dipper to wash my hair with hand soap, following with a rag on my face and ears.  He washed my torso and arms with his hands.  It felt good and I must have smiled with pleasure.

“You don’t think this tickles?” he asked curiously.

“No.  Your hands feel good?”

“Do they indeed!  Okay, let me help you rise up on your knees.  That’s right: brace on your elbow.  Now tell me if this tickles.”

His hand scrubbed my buttocks and a finger plowed my ass crack.  I couldn’t remember anyone touching me there.  It felt strange and oddly personal.  I’m sure he saw my eyes widen.

“How about this?”  He rubbed more soap on his other hand and cupped my ball sack.  The heel of his hand compressed my dick and he massaged the combination while his furrow finger felt my asshole sphincter.  I can recall holding very still.

“How does that feel, nephew?”

“Oh, oh!” was all I could say.  My little dick was firming up as it had been doing for a good while when full of piss in the morning.

Uncle chuckled.  “I could almost believe this surprises you!”

“Oh, Uncle!”

“Tell me how it feels, if you can.”

I could answer that.  “It’s the best thing I ever felt.”

“Really?  Better than Christmas morning?”

“Better than anything!”

He opened his hand and leaned closer.  “Well, well, what do we have here, Donnie boy?”  He caught my throbbing dick between thumb and forefinger.  “Quite respectable for your age too!  How often do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“I don’t believe this is your first hard-on.”

“It gets like that in the morning.  Don’t stop, Uncle, don’t stop!”

He chuckled again and raised up to look in my eyes.  “You want me to believe you don’t jack off?”

I’d heard that phrase on other boys’ lips but never had the guts to ask what it meant.  Maybe he would tell me.  I said, “Jack off?”

Uncle grinned with anticipation that even I could see.  “Why, Donnie boy, you sweet little cherry, I wonder if …”

Hands on my hips turned me towards him.  His face dropped and he slurped my dick into his mouth.  I twitched with surprise and started to force his head back but a powerful thrill stopped me.  His tongue on the sensitive head quickly raised the thrills to an unimagined peak.  My sphincter tightened repeatedly and I sagged backward into the water, unable to believe the intensity of absolute pleasure.  My good hand went to my dick and rippled the water, jiggling fiercely to sustain the pleasure, but that was unbearable.

I finally looked up into his grinning face and dared to curse.  “God, Uncle!”

“Oh, yes,” he said, licking his lips.  “Godly indeed!  That’s what was really hanging from the Tree of Good and Evil, you know.  And I do love cherry juice!”

“What happened?”  I couldn’t believe the sweetness that lingered in my belly.

“My boy, you have just entered upon the best that life has to offer.  And I’m tickled to have been your doorman, especially if you’ll confirm something for me.”

“I’ll do anything for you, Uncle.”

He chuckled.  “Feel a little gratitude, do you?  That’s my boy!  Tell me something.  Have you been jacking off?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Like this.”  He caught my dick again and jacked it a few strokes, even so soon generating a renewed thrill.

“Oh, oh!” I said again.  Now I began to understand why it was such a frequent subject of conversation among my schoolmates.

“Guess that’s answer enough,” he said with a grin.  “Then for sure you never ejaculated before.”

“Never what?”

“For your information, Donnie boy, when you get that good feeling — I should say, great feeling — that you just enjoyed, your cock expels a whitish fluid that some call ‘man juice.’  When squirted into a cunt, it can cause a baby to grow in a woman’s belly.”

“I do that?”

“You sure do!  You just did.  Your cherry juice whitewashed my tonsils very nicely.”


“In regard to sex, ‘cherry’ means the first time, especially for girls.  I believe that just now I got your cherry juice.”

“What did it taste like.”

He laughed.  “When you get in bed in a few minutes, jack some out for yourself.  Now raise this foot out of the water.”

But my curiosity was aroused.  “Do all men ejag— ejack—”

“Ejaculate.  Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.  Did you get these scratches when the car hit you?”

I had thought of asking to taste his but he diverted my attention to the care of my injuries, on purpose, I think now.  As I said, Uncle enjoyed sucking immature dicks but not the reverse.  Except for that one quirk he was far from queer.

A few days later he gave me a second bath.  When he soaped my genitals, my dick sprang right up of course.

He jacked it a couple times and said, “You been treating this fellow right?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Even left-handed, eh?  How many times a day?”

“Three — no, four yesterday.”

“Good.  It needs lots of attention.”  And he went on, scrubbing my thighs.

“Uh, Uncle,” I said diffidently, “wouldn’t you like to taste it again?”

He laughed.  “The real question is, wouldn’t you like for me to?”

“Oh, yes!”

He shook his head.  “No, Donnie boy.  You can only lose your cherry once.  As to what you’re asking, you won’t have to look far to find it.”

My ears perked up.  His wife had died several years before from polio, of all things, which in those days was quickly fatal in the rare adult case.  Until we came he had been alone in the house with Betty and a visiting housekeeper.  I was confident he didn’t mean the middle-aged housekeeper, which left …

The woman kept me company during the day but left as soon as Betty got home from school.  She was a sharp girl.  Uncle had said, “Betty is 14 going on 30,” which I had almost understood.  She routinely beat me at checkers, but I was getting better.

The next afternoon, while pondering a king trap, I said to her, “How’s it going with Mark?”

“Funny you should ask,” she said, looking up.  “You might help me there.  Would you tell Dad if I let him come by in the afternoon?”

Vistas opened in my mind.  I said, “Three can’t play checkers.”

“They could take turns.”

“I guess.  Three could do a lot of two-things if they took turns.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Like what?”

“How about boy-girl things?”

She laughed.  “You’ve never even touched a girl.”

“I guess you’ve touched Mark.”

“Oh, yeah!”  Her eyes lit.

“Kissed him, I bet.”

“At least!”

We were sitting on the floor, facing each other across the chessboard.  I had never met Mark but having seen my dick in the mouth of her father, whose features she had inherited, I could well imagine an anonymous dick in her mouth.  My equipment started to rise.

She was studying me.  Her eyes twinkled.  “You’re not really thinking about checkers, are you?”

“I’m thinking about you and Mark.”

“What are we doing?”

“You’re …”  I licked my lips.

“More than kissing, you think?”

“Sort of kissing.”

Her eyes settled in my groin and she giggled.  “He did it, didn’t he?”

“Who did what?”

“Dad’s been giving you baths.”

“So what?”

“So he showed you a trick.  Oh, Donnie!  I’ve been waiting for that.”

“You have?”  What could she know?  Did the bathroom have a spy hole like the one I used to spy on Mom?

“I figured he’d do it, like he did Cousin Matthew.”

“Who’s that?”

“Mama’s sister’s boy, one of them.  I got him to tell me all about it, like you’re going to do.”

“I am?  What did he tell you?”

“That his first cocksucker was Dad.”

To hear her say that was my second huge surprise in this house.  We had been playing games and bickering like siblings for months and this was the first obscenity I’d ever heard pass her lips.

She giggled.  “Why, Donnie, I believe you’re blushing.”

“God, Betty!” I said.

“It got hard when he washed it, didn’t it?”

“How’d you know?”

The giggle became a laugh.  “And so did his.”

“His dick?  I don’t know.  He kept his pants on.”

“Well, it did.  He told you he liked cherry juice then sucked yours out, right?”


“And swallowed every drop.”  Her expression was intent.  She had stopped laughing.

I said with conviction, “Matthew told you.”

“And you wanted to taste his but he wouldn’t let you.”  Her giggle returned.  “You’re blushing again.  Gotcha!”

It was like embarrassment but a lot more.  My dick was tingling.

“Take off your clothes,” she told me.


“Nevermind.  I’ll help you.”

At that time I wore a child’s bathrobe with one sleeve hanging because shirtsleeves wouldn’t fit over my cast, plus briefs and slippers.  I stood up and shrugged out of the robe.  Her hands at my hips pulled down my briefs.  She steadied me while I stepped out of them and the slippers.  Then she gently took hold of my dick, now sticking straight out.

“This is a sweet little cock,” she said.  “You’re what — twelve?  It’ll grow.”

Her fingers were imparting little thrills.  I said, “How about your clothes?”

“Why not?  Too bad you can’t help with the buttons.”

She was a pretty girl with a round face who attended a Catholic school and wore the uniform but was adept at reaching the many buttons on the back of the blouse, some by going over her shoulders and the rest with arms behind her back.  She wore a bra over puffy, double-coned tits that I immediately wanted to suck.  Auburn hair in her crotch matched that on her head.  She had laid her clothing neatly on the couch.

She threw out her chest and let me look.  “I really am your first girl.  Right, Don?”

“Yeah,” I admitted.  “God, Betty, you look great!”

“Thanks.”  She grinned.  “And I like boy juice too.”

She pulled up a footstool and sat on it.  Her arms went around my butt and my dick went into her mouth.  All of it.  Her nose poked my belly.  I won’t say her mouth felt better than Uncle’s, but this time the act was familiar enough for me to appreciate it better.  I decided that he was right: this had to be the best life could offer.  I’ve never had reason to change my mind.

When I began to squirt, she quit sucking and just bobbed her head a little, then resumed for the dribbles.  I’ve since learned how artistic such cocksucking is, allowing for the extreme sensitivity at the end.  A female who knows to do it has been expertly coached.  Of course at the time I had no idea of my good fortune beyond the sense of having died and gone to heaven.

“How was that?” she said, grinning up at me and licking her lips.

“Wonderful!” I managed and promptly sat down on the floor.  My legs were suddenly weak.

She slid down on the floor in front of me, spread her legs apart and leaned back on the footstool.  “How about returning the favor?”

I barely heard her.  My eyes were riveted to her pussy.  I’d seen Mom’s hairy groin through the bathroom spyhole but never this close.

Finally her words penetrated.  “What do I suck?”

Betty pulled the lips open, exposing wet pink flesh, and giggled at my pole-axed expression.  She said, “Lick, not suck, the lump at the top.”

I was willing.  I leaned forward and began to lick.  The odor was strong but not enough to stop me.  She tasted of piss.  She raised her heels onto my back and I was committed.

“Long strokes,” she ordered and soon began to shudder.  I looked up without stopping my tongue.  Her teeth were exposed and eyes clenched shut.  “That’s it, Donnie.  Right on the nub.  Oh, god!”  She moaned in a lower pitch and her cool thighs closed on my ears.

After a moment of that her hands lifted my head.  Her eyes burned on mine.  “Now fuck me!” she said, elbowing the footstool back and sagging to the floor.

My dick was plenty hard.  Her hand guided it into her with no problem and I enjoyed my first real fuck.  Over and over Betty’s hips rocked me while she moaned then lay like a log until the next spasm.  This was a hot little number that my dick appreciated even if the rest of me didn’t have a clue.

Of course I was a while coming the second time.  Feeling the now expected unbearable tingling after the squirt, I sat back on my heels.

She glared at me.  “You came in me, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said happily.

“You bastard.  Don’t do that!”

I was woefully ignorant.  This was before sex education in the schools.  I said, “Don’t?”

“I don’t want a baby, you dumb shit.”

I remembered Uncle saying man juice could make a baby in a woman’s belly.  “Oh,” I said.

“Except for that” — she reached out and caught my wet dick — “this little item did a real good job.”

“It did?”

“Too good.  Made me forget.”  She scrambled to her feet and ran to the bathroom.

I just sat there, idly stroking my dick, feeling very pleased with it, thinking about how much it had learned this week.  I became curious.

When Betty returned, she grinned at me.  “You never did say how you liked it.”

“I think not as much as you,” I guessed.  “Tell me something, did Uncle Albert give you a bath too?”

“After Mama died?  Why not?  He’s my daddy.”

“What’d he do to you?”

She grinned.  “Besides wash me, you mean?”

“For sure he didn’t suck your dick.  Oh.  I get it.  He licked your pussy like I did, right?”

“Not like you did.”

“How did he do it?”

“Lots better.  You’ve got a lot to learn, Donnie.”  She grinned.  “I think teaching you is gonna be real fun.”

And it was, for both of us.



Corey said, “I can just imagine how Uncle Albert taught her first.  Did she ever talk about that?”

“Betty wasn’t a tattle-tale but she let things slip.  Her mother died when she was nine.  Albert was licking her twat before that and fucking her up the ass.  He didn’t take her cherry until after her first period.”

“He must’ve taught her to suck cock.”

“Yeah, beginning at age nine.”

“So he was a pedophile.”

Don chuckled.  “You say that like, ‘The weather’s good today.’”

“I don’t condemn it.  Innocent stuff has a special appeal.”

Jenkins mused, “I never had the opportunity.  But you’re right, I don’t think loving fucking hurts anybody at any age.”

“Unless it’s forced on you,” said Marco.  “Men that force kids to fuck deserve what the law does to them.”

“We can agree on that,” said Don, looking around at the others, who nodded.

“The trouble comes,” groused Corey, “in how you define ‘force.’  If you fuck a 15-year-old who’s begging for it, that’s statutory rape and they’ll put you away for 20 years.”

The men thought about that.  Jenkins said, “Suppose it was your daughter?”

Marco laughed.  “First they got to catch you!”

Contact kellis@dhp.com