Say Uncle
by LuckyNumber9 ©
My uncle and I have a very interesting relationship. When I was a teenager 
we drew very close. He lived across the country, but would call me at home 
in southern California at least twice a week. He was a night owl. He would 
sneak out of his house in upstate New York and take a path out through his 
wooded neighborhood, to a high point in the road where he could get a 
decent signal on his cell phone, and call me. I had my own private line, 
and would wait for him, lying in bed with a book, phone muffled under a 
pillow, until it rang.

We weren’t exactly related. His wife was my father’s sister, so there was 
no shared blood between us. They’d always lived on the east coast, and my 
father and I had always lived on the west. We saw each other at family 
reunions once a year, and the few times when my uncle would get sent out 
to LA for business meetings. 

I’m not entirely sure when our relationship took its turn from innocent 
and detached uncle and niece to flirty, bawdy, unbridled desire. I do know 
that he was the first to notice this attraction between us, and definitely 
the first to mention it out loud. I was about eighteen when our nightly 
meetings began. Each secret phone conversation made us both more brave. We 
talked about a lot of things we’d never told anyone else. I spoke to him 
frankly about being a virgin with a body full of lust, and he told me 
intimate things about his wife and their sex life. Soon enough, he began 
complimenting me, making little comments about how he thought I was sexy. 
Finding the perfect word to describe me, ‘yummy’.

I have to admit, I was not the most beautiful teenager. Tall and skinny, I 
had olive skin and green eyes. My hair changed color constantly, usually 
just different shades of red, and I never wore makeup. I had a fondness 
for tight baby tees and big baggy jeans. My skirts were always too short, 
and my nose a bit too big for my face. My breasts were barely a B cup, and 
although I thought of myself as somewhat pretty, the boys at my school 
never seemed interested in me. My uncle’s confessions of lust gave me 
delightful boosts of self esteem. My heart would race when the phone would 
ring, and I’d giggle for no reason. 

Yes, he had a wife. And he was my uncle. I understand that some people 
would frown on our relationship, but it began so innocently, and brought 
us so close together, that I cannot think of it as bad. I do not think my 
uncle was a pervert of any kind. He fell in love with me when I was just 
eighteen, with my body, my youth, and my spunky personality. In some ways 
I was in love with him too, in the romantic, forbidden feel of it, the 
secrecy, the confessional nature of it all. I spoke to him like I was 
writing in my diary. I told him of my fledgling attempts at masturbation, 
tried to convince him that marijuana was fun. When he visited on his 
business trips, a country-wide away from his wife, he would lavish 
attention on me. He’d take me on road trips, staying in beautiful hotel 
rooms (with two beds, of course), and spending as much money on me as 
possible. Never once did he touch me. Our conversations and manner around 
each other in person, even when we were alone together, was always 
friendly, but never more. Our attraction for each other and our honesty 
were left to our phone conversations. 

I was young, shy and afraid of my feelings. I felt like I should be 
disgusted with him, but I wasn’t. I was egging him on. 

When I finally lost my virginity, I couldn’t wait to tell him. Afterwards, 
he got quiet, and murmured, almost sheepishly, something about his fantasy 
ruined. I brushed the comment off with a light laugh. He’d never outright 
made a comment about us having sex, and it surprised me. It made me wonder 
how often he thought about me, what he thought about me. He had confessed 
once to having a fantasy where we both masturbated in front of each other, 
and I had brushed that one off too. I was too scared of where the 
conversation would lead.

Years went by and eventually our conversations tapered out. When they 
finally had stopped, I hadn’t really noticed. Other events in my life 
begged my attention. Almost ten years after our first talk, it struck me 
that my uncle was acting weird. He never called anymore. The few times I 
caught him on the phone, when he called to speak to my father about 
something or other, he was polite but not overly friendly. I spoke to him 
like I always had, cussing and telling dirty jokes to try to break the 
ice, but he was determined. He completely closed himself off to me. When 
he came out on business, he didn’t spend much time visiting with me. He 
never took me out anymore. His conversations were dry and boring. 
Strictly, ’How’s the family,’ type of talk.

This dramatic change really dawned on me at our family reunion. For some 
reason, this year I was particularly nervous around him. I couldn’t stop 
staring at him when I was sure no one was looking. I’d give him coy smiles 
when I walked past him, alone, on the lawn outside where everyone was 
staying. He smiled back, and I think I caught him looking at me a few 
times, but that was it. Whenever I showed up within three feet of him, 
he’d immediately leave, saying he needed to find his wife. We had a few 
starchy conversations, where he was polite as all hell, but for the most 
part he avoided me. For some reason, this was particularly maddening to 
me. I finally felt like I was brave enough to really take this bull of a 
relationship by the horns. I was a good match for him now, not shy and 
scared, but open and feeling some lust for him too, not just for his 
words. My stomach was in a queasy state all week, keeping me awake at 
night, lurching around during the day. Whenever he was near I could feel 
him, imagining his eyes on me, trying to make my every move cute and sexy. 
I was never obvious about it, but I imagined he knew it, that our bond was 
not completely severed.

When I arrived home from the reunion, I sunk into a deep pit of despair. 
It all hit me at once -- He didn’t love me anymore. Or maybe he did, but 
couldn’t show it for some reason. His wife? Did she find out about our 
conversations somehow? Did she have her suspicions, and force him to tell 
her everything we talked about? I felt a horrible wave of embarrassment, 
which quickly turned to anger. If he told her all the private things I 
told him, I swore I’d make him regret it. But maybe he was feeling guilty. 
Maybe he feels like our attraction for each other is wrong. I found a song 
that best described my feelings and listened to it incessantly. In it, the 
man is in love with a girl he knows can never truly love him back, that 
although he could make her miserable, he could never make her love him and 
stay with him, not for all the world. This was how I felt. I curled up 
inside my romantic anguish for about a week, then woke myself up and 
resolved myself to the situation. He didn’t care for me. He wasn’t even 
attracted to me anymore. He’d become his wife’s puppet, hiding his 
feelings inside himself. If this was the way he wanted it to be, so be it.

I tried to ignore my hurt for awhile. Eventually I began fantasizing about 
ways to trap him, to force him to feel that lust for me again, to make him 
act it out. When I learned that he would be coming to visit on business 
for a week, and staying at our house, I made my move.

First I assessed myself in the mirror. I was now twenty three. I was still 
tall and thin, but my bony body had filled out in the hips and thighs, 
giving me the most gorgeous pert ass. Besides my long legs, it was my most 
sexy feature. No one’s ass looked better in tight blue jeans. My breasts 
were still small, but there was nothing I could do about that. My skin was 
tan and smooth, my hair longer than it had ever been, shiny, thick and 
soft, the color of honey. My green eyes were bright, and a light 
spattering of freckles dusted my cheekbones. I’d taken to wearing a very 
small amount of makeup, a pale sparkle of eyeshadow, a touch of mascara to 
make my eyelashes stand out, and a kiss of lip balm. 

In my own opinion, I looked much prettier now than I had my entire life. 
Feeling that I was armed well against my cold hearted uncle, I took one 
last stare in the mirror, smiling wickedly, and left the bathroom, 
deciding to ransack my closet.

The day my uncle arrived, I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner and 
sipping on my second margarita. I was wearing a short worn jean skirt and 
a comfy tight tee shirt. My feet were slipped into flip flops and my hair 
was tied down into two long girlish braids. The second margarita was 
taking its effect on my body, making my cheeks pink and my movements 
slightly clumsy. I was also giggling profusely at the rather mundane story 
my father was telling me about his day at work. He was sitting on a bar 
stool at the island I was cooking on, drinking a beer and pleasantly 
ignoring my tipsiness. As the doorbell rang, my dad got up and trudged out 
towards the front door, letting in my jet lagged uncle.

Throughout dinner I lavished attention on my father, coldly ignoring my 
uncle. The few times he said anything to me I gave him a short answer, 
never looking him in the eye once. I decided to see if treating him the 
short way he’d been treating me would affect him the way I had been. It 
seemed to be working. As I stood at the sink doing the dishes, (my father 
must have been wondering what had come over me, cooking dinner and doing 
dishes) my uncle came to stand at what he must have thought was a safe 
distance beside me, picking up a towel and drying the pots and pans.

“Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” He said, with the same caution 
he had been treating me with for the past few years. I took a step closer 
to him, placing a wet pot on the counter in from of him.

“Not a problem, I like to cook. I don’t do it enough these days.”

I set to work trying to wash the pans faster than he could dry them, using 
the opportunity to step even closer to him while placing the clean wet pan 
on the counter. 

“How’s college going? What classes are you taking?” He sounded and looked 
nervous. He tried to shift to his right, away from me, but the dishwasher 
was open at his shins, pinning him in.

“It’s August. The semester ended in May.” 

I took another step, and our shoulders were pressed together. Again my 
uncle tried to sidestep towards the dishwasher, but I had him trapped. 
Finished with the pots and pans, impressed with myself, and sipping 
quickly on my fourth margarita, I grabbed a plate, rinsed it off, and 
turned towards my uncle. He avoided my gaze. I brushed the tips of my 
breasts against his arm and leaned behind him, grabbing his elbow with my 
left hand to steady myself, slipping the plate into the dishwasher. As 
soon as I straightened myself, my uncle excused himself and left the room. 


When I was finished with the dishes, I walked upstairs to my bedroom. I 
slipped into my favorite pair of pajamas, which admittedly were too small 
and hugged my ass and breasts and showed off my tan tummy, and headed back 
downstairs. I made sure to take the route through the family room, where 
my dad and uncle were sitting on the couch watching television. As I 
passed in front of them, somewhat scantily clad, I smiled at my uncle. He 
looked up at me and swallowed. I swore I could smell his fear. My dad 
leaned around me, trying to see the television, and dryly said, “You make 
a better door than a window, honey.”

I was foraging in the freezer when my uncle stepped in, presumably for 
another beer. I didn’t want to get my hopes up that he just wanted to see 
more of me in my sexy sleepwear. He waited patiently for me to find what I 
was looking for, reaching way into the back of the freezer, my pajama top 
lifting up so high he could almost see my ribs, my cold nipples hard as 
rocks and screaming to be noticed. I pulled out a banana Popsicle, long 
and slim and oh so wonderfully phallic. 

Stepping out of the way with a satisfied smile on my face, I watched as my 
uncle opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a beer. I peeled off the 
wrapper of my frozen treat, gave it one big lick from base to tip, staring 
right into my uncle’s eyes, then ferociously bit an inch off the top.

“Nighty-night, uncle.” 

I turned on my heel and left the kitchen. I was not too convinced my uncle 
wouldn’t cry himself to sleep that night, in utter frustration. 

The next morning I got up fairly early for me, the infamous sleeper, and 
took a shower straight away. Stepping out of the bathroom, clad only in an 
impossibly small towel and drippy long hair, I ran into my uncle who was 
coming out of his room with some travel size toiletries in hand. He smiled 
nervously, and I gave him a sultry look. The steam escaping the bathroom 
door around me could not have better suited what I was convinced was a 
very erotic image. 

“Good morning, uncle. Bathroom’s all yours. I even warmed it up for you.”

I swear I could detect a rosy blush on his cheeks before I turned away and 
headed for my bedroom. 

At breakfast my uncle began telling my father of his business plans for 
the weekend. He had a few meetings early the next morning in Santa 
Barbara, and a business dinner that night. He would be staying in a hotel 
there for tonight and the next night, driving back to our house the 
morning after the dinner, and leaving on a plane back to New York the next 
day. I was greatly disappointed on hearing he’d be gone for two days. I’d 
assumed he’d be at our house the whole week, with a few meetings in LA and 
plenty of time left around the house, where I could continue my torturous 
teasing. 

“Santa Barbara, eh?” My father was thinking. You could practically smell 
the wood burning. “Pity you’d have to go by yourself. Why don’t you take 
her with you?” My father gestured towards me. My heart leaped.

“Uh, well I don’t think it would be much fun, and the company’s already 
made hotel reservations for one room.” My uncle was politely trying to say 
no way in hell. Alas, my father was determined to have two nights alone in 
his house for the first time in months.

“Oh that’s no big deal, I’m sure she’d find plenty to do in Santa Barbara, 
and she can just get one of those roll away dealies. You really shouldn’t 
have to go by yourself, it’s no fun traveling alone, and it’s a few hours 
drive from here. Yes, that would be very nice for all of us. I mean, both 
of you.”

I think it was pretty obvious to my uncle that my father would not take no 
for an answer, not without feeling offended. My uncle agreed, and told me 
we’d be leaving that evening after dinner. I went upstairs and packed, 
slipping in two books to read on the way: Anais Nin’s Erotica and 
Nabokov’s Lolita. 

As we hit the road, I made myself comfortable, my right foot propped up on 
the dash, revealing a creamy expanse of inner thigh. I pretended I didn’t 
see the frequent glances my uncle gave my exposed flesh, trying to hide my 
giddy smile. I pulled out Lolita first, leaning the car seat back a bit, 
stretching out the leg on the dash, and pretending to smooth down my 
skirt. The window was open and a salty breeze would blow in from time to 
time, lifting the edges of my flirty miniskirt and giving my uncle a 
peepshow of my white panty lined crotch. My heart was skipping in my 
chest. My entire body was aflutter, excited about my naughtiness, 
anticipating the night ahead. In truth, I didn’t really expect to have sex 
with my uncle on this trip. I merely wished to either know he still lusted 
after me, or torture him viciously as he tried to deny it. I figured the 
torture should come first, then perhaps later he could have a chance to 
redeem himself. 

Once we were about three quarters of the way there, I tucked Lolita away 
and pulled out the erotica. The book was clearly titled, and out of the 
corner of my eye I could see his eyes widen a bit. He shifted in his seat. 
We’d been chatting off and on during the ride, a few safe conversations. I 
didn’t try to steer the conversation to that of a more sexual nature, I 
simply relied on my bared skin and reading material to keep him 
deliciously uncomfortable. 

I wiggled around in my seat while I read the short stories, licking my 
lips from time to time, sighing very softly off and on, even sneaking in 
the quietest little moan, my uncle probably thought he imagined it. I let 
the backs of my fingernails play along the inside of my exposed thigh, 
rubbing lightly back and forth, moving slightly closer to my pussy with 
each pass. Then I ran my hand up along the side of my neck, dropping it 
down to my collarbone, still rubbing softly, then down between my breasts, 
all the while making it look nonchalant, as if I wasn’t even aware of it. 
I could feel my cheeks grow pink, my nipples harden, and my pussy lips 
begin to swell from the stories. I could faintly smell a girlish warmness 
down there, and wondered if my uncle could smell it too. My mind began to 
run it’s own path, fantasizing about my uncle doing to me what the men in 
the book were doing to their lovers. 

As my imagination went wild, my conscious mind began to forget about the 
presence of my uncle in the car next to me. My eyes closed, the hand 
holding the book going limp at the wrist. I ran my fingers over one of my 
nipples lightly, rubbing the tip through my shirt. I moaned a little, not 
even realizing it, and pressed harder. I tweaked the nipple, dropping my 
book from my other hand, and sent that hand running down between my 
thighs, heading for my knickers.

The car pulled quickly into a driveway, narrowly missing an exiting car, 
and braked hard in front of the hotel. I was jolted out of my reverie, a 
bit embarrassed at how far I’d taken it, and scrambling to get my stuff 
together. My uncle was moving very quickly, not looking at me, red in the 
face. As he stepped out of the car, much as he tried to hide it, I could 
see the outline of his erection through his pants. 

We checked in, then took the elevator up to our room. My uncle stood far 
away from me in the elevator until a young couple got on and pushed us 
closer together. The couple looked like they’d just arrived from the Prom, 
dressed in tuxedo and frilly Cinderella dress. They couldn’t keep their 
hands off each other. I watched them openly, getting the feeling that they 
wanted us to. The boy had his date pinned to the wall of the elevator, 
knee pressing between her thighs, lips devouring hers. He was even so bold 
as to slide a hand inside her low neckline and attempt to cup her bare 
breast. The girl slapped his hand away, and the elevator doors opened at 
their floor. They ran off down the hall together, giggling.

“Looks like they’re going to have some fun tonight,” I murmured, watching 
the numbers climb towards our floor. My uncle glanced quickly at me, then 
turned away. He had his hands clasped in front of him, shielding what 
quite possibly could have been the same erection he’d had in the car. 

Once we got to our room it was fairly late, and as I was coming out of the 
bathroom, teeth nice and minty clean, my uncle mentioned he had a meeting 
very early, so he was hitting the hay. 

“Okay,” I said slowly, smiling at him, and standing too close for his 
comfort as usual. “Let’s go to bed.”

He rushed into the bathroom to change. I sat on the edge of the bed, 
staring at the roll away. I knew I should sleep on it, being the uninvited 
guest and all, but I was also supposed to be torturing my uncle. In the 
end, I took the scandalous route, turned off all the lights, stripped 
naked, and crawled into the bed. I lay on one side, leaving plenty of room 
to suggest that I wanted him to join me, my back towards the bathroom 
door. I pulled the sheets up to cover my ass and breasts, leaving just my 
back bare to his eyes. 

I was very nervous. My intentions were merely to drive him wild with lust, 
perhaps so much so that he wouldn’t be able to sleep like I wasn’t able to 
at the family reunion. I wondered what I would do if he really did crawl 
into the bed beside me. What if he crawled in naked as well? Was I really 
prepared to fuck my own uncle? I calmed myself down, reminding myself that 
he had been acting like a castrated coward for the last few years. There 
was no way he’d have the nerve to even sleep in the same bed as me, much 
less fuck me. 



The bathroom door quietly opened. I could feel the shaft of light move up 
my body as the door opened, from my covered hips, up my bare back, 
glinting in my thick hair that was scattered across the pillows. I heard 
his sharp intake of breath. He seemed to stand there for a full, long, 
excruciating minute. I imagined his eyes on the curve of my hip, the small 
of my back, my shoulder blades, the tip of my pink ear and the length of 
my neck. I held entirely still except for my breathing, which I tried to 
make slow and sleepy, despite my racing pulse. I didn’t have to touch my 
pussy to know it was soaking wet. Fear, lust, and maybe even a little 
shame coursed through my veins.

Eventually, the bathroom door closed, drenching the room in thick darkness 
once again. I heard my uncle feel his way to the roll away through the 
darkness, bumping into the bed once, waiting to see if he had woken me. I 
feigned sleep still, now just wishing he’d get into the roll away and kill 
the suspense and apprehension that had washed over me. He made it there, 
crawled inside, and I saw through slit eyelids that he’d turned his back 
to me and was trying to sleep. 

Not entirely sure if I was relieved or disappointed, I closed my eyes 
again and tried to turn my mind blank. I needed sleep. It had been an 
exciting day and my poor adrenaline soaked body needed a well deserved 
rest. Somehow I slipped off to sleep, into a frisky dream featuring, of 
course, my uncle and myself. 

In the dream we were in the car again, me reading my erotica, my uncle 
driving quietly. I was touching myself carefully, softly, as if I was 
afraid of waking myself up. I began to get bolder as I began to get more 
turned on, slipping my hands over my breasts that magically became 
unclothed, rubbing my pussy through knickers that dissolved at my first 
touch. I could smell my pussy, that musky smell of feminine arousal, all 
around me. Soon I had more hands, all trailing over my now naked body, 
rubbing myself between my legs, a fast approaching orgasm making my 
breathing ragged.

I woke suddenly from the dream into a situation I couldn’t believe. My 
arms were pinned above my head at the wrists, my naked body stretched out, 
breasts jutting up into the air. It was still pitch dark but I could see 
the faint outline of a figure above me, feel the warmth of bare skin 
laying between my naked thighs. The sheets were gone and I blinked, 
wondering if I was still dreaming, when suddenly my legs were spread wider 
and a hot hard prick was slipped inside my soaking wet pussy. I tried to 
cry out, but a hand clamped over my lips. My uncle’s cock clipped slowly 
into my cunt, stretching it and causing me a little bit of pain. I hadn’t 
been ready for it. In the surprise, my vaginal muscles had tightened, and 
now as my uncle tried to push inside of me, it hurt. I wimpered under his 
hand. He moved slowly until he was all the way in, his balls brushing my 
ass cheeks. My vision was clearing, adjusting to the darkness, blinking 
away the sleep. I began to see his face. His eyes were looking straight 
into mine for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long.

“It’s just me. Calm down. Breathe.” 

I realized I’d been holding my breath, letting it go in a long sigh out of 
my nose. 

“I’ll take my hand off of your mouth, but you can’t scream, okay?”

I nodded as well as I could. My uncle took his hand away slowly. He lay 
there for a minute, his naked body pressed to mine, his hot cock 
penetrated deeply into my cunt. It felt like it was burning a hole through 
me. He still held my wrists above my head, his hands tight and a little 
painful.

“You deserve this, you know,” He said lowly, roughly, still openly staring 
into my eyes. 

I was breathing heavily, panting really, from fear and pain. My body was 
adjusting itself to the intrusion. A wave of shame washed over me and my 
eyes welled up with tears. 

“I know,” I whispered, a tear spilling out and running down the side of my 
face. My uncle saw this and his face softened. He kissed both of my 
eyelids, then planted a soft, warm kiss on my lips. I shut my eyes and 
relaxed a little under his lips, his tender and loving kisses stopping my 
tears. 

My uncle broke the kiss, withdrew until only the head of his penis lay 
inside me, then slammed back in to the hilt. I cried out in a mixture of 
pleasure and pain, and he began fucking me in a frenzied pace, clutching 
my body tight to his, burying his face between my breasts, slamming the 
headboard against the wall. My body began to catch up, the pleasure 
rushing through me, catching my uncle’s furious passion. I clamped my legs 
around his hips, stretching my arms even higher above my head so that my 
nipples brushed his chest with each thrust, moaning and squealing and 
panting. 

My uncle was moaning as well, one hand painfully gripping my wrists above 
my head, the other clutching the back of one thigh, pulling my leg up 
higher. He slipped the leg over his shoulder, laying into me once again, 
and started an even more desperate pace. This position stretched the tight 
skin at the opening of my pussy, causing me some pain again. Then, as my 
uncle slammed into me repeatedly, biting down on my leg that was over his 
shoulder, pushing it even closer to my chest, his penis began to pound 
even deeper into me, rubbing against a spot on the walls of my pussy that 
made me feel this incredibly warm, melting sensation. I closed my eyes, 
giving my body over to him completely, submitting to his body and whatever 
he had planned for mine. 

“I’ve been wanting you like this for so long,” His husky voice breathed 
into my ear, his lips then trailing kisses down my neck. I couldn’t reply, 
I was too caught up in my body and it’s mounting pleasure. Off and on his 
abdomen would bump and drag across my clit, making it sing. I could feel a 
tremendous orgasm building, and as my uncle kept whispering into my ear, 
fucking me with wild abandon, the pleasure built and built and built until 
finally it crashed over me. A broken moan of pleasure burst from my 
throat, I twisted in my uncle’s grip, arching my back and turning my head 
from side to side. My pussy clenched his pistoning cock in spasms. He 
plunged into me, deep, one last time before he cried out and came as well, 
splashing my insides over and over, his body collapsing onto mine, his 
hand releasing it’s grip on my wrists. He clenched my hips in his hands, 
his face buried in my neck, panting and clutching me tight. 

My belly was warm and squishy feeling. No one had ever come inside me 
before. It was the oddest feeling, and made my heart jump up into my 
throat painfully. I wrapped my arms around my uncle’s shoulders, holding 
him tight to me, feeling his heart slowing down. He was falling asleep. I 
was overcome with a rush of love and affection for my uncle that was 
stronger than anything I’d felt for him before. My body tingled and I 
yawned sleepily, letting my head fall to the side. I could feel my uncle’s 
soft penis still a bit inside me as I drifted off to sleep, wondering for 
a second just what tomorrow would bring.