Fiddling Around With Uncle Bob
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In the night time, Bob got hot. His dreams were of two girls, splayed out in front of him. Their hands weren't covering their pussies, this time ... they were holding their pussy lips open, welcome in their eyes, their breasts heaving. He did some tossing and turning in his sleep, which was fitful. His normal morning boner found escape through the fly of his boxers. It was pure, dumb luck that had him flat on his back, when the girls awoke, and got out of bed. It was their gasps of surprise that awoke him. He opened his eyes to find two scantily clad girls, standing by his bed, leaning forward slightly, their mouths open and their eyes wide, as they stared at his jutting member, proudly displaying itself against a background of white cloth, covered with little red hearts. The boxers he had on were a gift from his sister. She had asked a nurse to order them for her, and presented them to him as part of her thanks for taking the girls on tour.
"He's awake!" shrieked Daphne.
She scared Bob so badly that his whole body jerked. His stiff prick waved drunkenly above the hearts.
Both girls fled to the bathroom, making little high pitched noises in their throats, like they'd seen a ghost, and were running from it.
Bob lifted his head and stared at his leaning prick.
"Well, here's another fine mess you've gotten me into, Stan," he said to his manhood. He let his head flop back down, and pulled his boxers up to cover his erection, laying if forward on his abdomen.
"Did you SEE it?!" Daphne panted, once they were in the bathroom.
"Of COURSE I saw it!" squealed Gabriella. "I was standing right there beside you!"
"It was HUGE!" sighed Daphne.
"How do we know?" asked Gabby. "It's the only one we've ever really seen."
"It LOOKED huge!" moaned Daphne. "Can you IMAGINE? Something like THAT going up in you?" she squeaked.
"Wow," said Gabby softly. "I didn't think about it like that." She looked stunned. "Wow! My fingers barely fit!"
"I KNOW!" moaned Daffy. "It would split a woman APART!"
"It doesn't split the women in the pictures apart," said Gabby, looking thoughtful.
"They're not that big!" objected her sister.
"It did look awfully big," admitted Gabby.
"I wonder if he ever did it?" sighed Daphne. "You know ... for real ... with a woman."
"Of course," said the older sister firmly. "All adults have done it."
"No they haven't," argued the younger one. "Nuns and priests and people like that have never done it."
"OK," said Gabby, showing some frustration. "All NORMAL adults have done it."
"It looked smooth, kind of. I wonder what it feels like." Daphne's voice was soft, and her eyes were glazed.
"Well, you'll never find out," snorted her older sister.
"Why not?" asked Daphne, her eyes clearing. "We thought we'd never see it either."
"He didn't SHOW it to us," said Gabby.
"How do you know?" asked Daphne. "Maybe he had it out there on purpose ... you know ... just so we COULD see it. And it was HARD!" she went on excitedly. "That means he's horny ... right?" She sounded a little doubtful.
"Uncle Bob wouldn't get horny over us," snorted Gabriella, feeling older and wiser.
"Why not?" asked Daphne. "We get horny over HIM!"
"We're not supposed to," said Gabby, feeling guilty.
"That doesn't mean anything!" yipped her sister. "What happens happens, whether it's supposed to happen or not. I think he's a hunk. You do too. Don't lie about it. I saw you last night, and it wasn't the performance that got you that way!"
"OK, OK, so I go a little excited about him," said Gabby, speaking low so her voice wouldn't carry through the door. "That doesn't mean you can go grabbing it, just to see what it feels like."
Daphne's eyes went out of focus again. Her hand drifted to the front of her panties. "He was pretty cool about what happened last night. We both thought he'd be really mad, but he wasn't. And when we said we wanted to do it again ... he LET us!" Her eyes focused again. "Maybe he'd be cool if we just asked him about it."
"You're crazy," moaned Gabriella.
"Maybe ... maybe not," said Daphne, resolution in her voice. "All he can do is refuse to talk about it. He SAID he'll always love us, no matter what."
"Well, if you're stupid enough to ask him, don't do it while I'm there. I've been embarrassed enough on this tour to last me a lifetime!" Gabby's voice was just as resolute.
"OK ... chicken." Daffy grinned. She was the adventurous one, and whenever they got into trouble, it was usually Daffy that got them there.
"You can call me anything you want," said Gabby, folding her arms under her small breasts. "When he's paddling you, and you're screaming, don't ask ME for help!" She put on a superior look. "And when he tells Mother what you did, don't expect me to come visit you while you're grounded for the rest of your life either!" She put her nose in the air.
"Chicken," teased Daffy, unfazed. "B-cuck, cuck, cuck." She started strutting around, making clucking noises, her hands under her arms, waving her elbows like wings.
Gabriella went for her, hands out like claws, to tickle. Daphne screeched, and darted for the door. She almost made it out when Gabby's hand latched onto the lacy top. There was a ripping snap, and Daphne stumbled into the room topless. Bob had just put on his slacks, trying to get dressed while the girls were occupied in the bathroom. He stared at Daphne's lush breasts, with their dark, puffy nipples, as her eyes went wide and her arms came to cover them.
"GABBY!" she screeched.
Gabriella thought it was funny. Daphne was so impulsive, and went off half cocked so often, she thought this was deserving punishment. Besides, her little sister never listened to her wisdom.
"Go on, Daffy ... ask him!" she giggled, waving Daphne's top in the air like a flag.
"What's going on!" Bob said sternly, staring at the half naked girl cowering in front of him. "Ask me what?" he went on instinctively.
"Gabbeeeeeeeee" whined Daphne, turning her back to her uncle. She suddenly felt like a little girl, not desirable at all, and foolish. She had no way of knowing that Bob, seeing her smooth back, with only panties covering any of her skin, threatened to inflame him again as his eyes caressed her curves.
"Knock it OFF, you two!" yelled Bob, trying not to stare at his younger niece. She was gorgeous, with her hair falling all over her shoulders, shy and virginal in front of him. He realized his shirt was in his hand, and stepped forward instinctively to drape it across Daphne's back. Her hands came and wrapped it around her. She turned to glare at her sister.
Gabby was enjoying her sister's discomfiture. She had no way of knowing how regal she looked, standing there, her nipples popping the tips of her sleep wear out, her flat belly sloping down to where panties covered her slim hips. "Go on ..." she taunted. "Ask him, Daphne!"
Daphne shot a look at Bob. Her eyes were brimming over. She was obviously terribly embarrassed by this, despite her saucy attitude the night before. His heart went out to her and he took her in his arms. He realized instantly that it was a mistake, as her arms slipped under his, and around his back. Her lush, naked breasts were suddenly two hot points against his chest. Her shoulders started shaking as she began sobbing. The shirt fell, to hang by Bob's hands, where they were pressed to her back.
Helplessly, Bob looked over at Gabriella, who had a stricken look on her face as she realized Daphne was crying. She took a step forward as Bob's body lost the battle, and the warm girl in his arms caused him to react naturally.
"I'm sorry, baby," crooned Gabby, stepping up to hug her sister, from behind. Her arms had nowhere to go, except to Bob's shoulders. "Don't cry Daffy," she moaned.
"Does somebody want to tell me what's going on here?" groaned Bob, feeling his prick begin to press against his younger niece.
"I was teasing her," moaned Gabriella, again the loving sister. "I'm sorry, baby," she moaned into her sister's dark hair.
Daphne stiffened, and pushed away from Bob angrily, turning to face her sister. Her face was suffused with blood. The shirt dropped to the floor behind her.
"I'm NOT A BABY!" she screeched. She stood there, her eyes shooting sparks almost, and her chest heaving.
Gabriella stared at her sister, and her eyes dropped, significantly to Daphne's breasts.
Daphne was still mad, though, and her anger overrode her embarrassment about being topless, with her uncle only two feet away. In fact, her anger caused her to do something she'd never have thought to do in a million years. Her hands came up to cup her bulging breasts.
"SEE?" she growled. "THESE make me a woman ... not a BABY! AND ..." she went on, snarling, "I've got a LOT more than YOU do. YOU'RE the baby here!"
Almost as soon as it was out of her mouth, Daphne wanted to take it back. She saw the hurt in her older sister's eyes ... saw them filling up, like Daphne's had during her embarrassment. Bob felt the explosion coming, and shouted.
It was so loud that both girls flinched away from him. He stood there, bare-chested, his own lungs pumping with the adrenaline his shout had released.
"That will be ENOUGH!" he thundered, taking a step to get between them.
He pointed to the bed. "Sit down ... BOTH of you!"
As they went to the bed and sat, side-by-side, looking scared, he bent over and picked up his shirt from the floor. He tossed it to Daphne.
"Put that on," he said. He didn't give either of them time to say anything. He just launched into a pep talk, telling them he didn't know if their mother put up with this kind of crap, but he sure wasn't going to. He reminded them that they loved each other, and that sniping at each other was not only cruel, it was juvenile as well. He paced in front of them, telling them they had such a priceless talent, that they should be eternally grateful to each other for sharing it in a way that made them both brilliant. He reminded them that, while he loved them very much, they somehow knew how to make that very hard to do.
Then, like a gym teacher, he tried to find out who started it.
"Ask me what?" he said, staring at Daphne.
She had put on his shirt, and buttoned the bottom two or three buttons, but she was still showing a lot of her young cleavage. Part of Bob's mind noted that Gabriella's nipples were still stiff and pointy, and he wondered if they were like that all the time, or if she was excited, for some reason.
"About your penis," said Daphne, sulking. She was sulking so much she said it without meaning to. Her hand clapped over her mouth, and her eyes went wide.
Gabby suddenly looked scared, and darted looks between her sister and uncle, like there was a ping pong match going on.
"My what?" Bob asked, weakly. He didn't mean to say that either.
"Well ..." stammered Daphne. "This morning ... it was ... hard."
Bob's right hand came up, his thumb pressing against his right eye and his first two fingers pressing against his left. "Oh," he said faintly.
He didn't scream at her, and, from Daphne's perspective, that meant he wasn't mad for her asking. Except she hadn't actually asked him anything yet.
"I said you were ... horny," said Daphne, her voice very young. "But Gabby said you weren't, so I said we should ask ... and she started making fun of me ..."
"Horny," moaned Bob, wanting to crawl under the bed.
"Were you?" asked Daphne. She looked at her sister, who still looked horrified, and stuck out her tongue. Gabby elbowed her sister, who yelped when the hard joint rammed into her ribs.
Bob's hand came down from his eyes at the sound, and he saw them getting ready to go at it again.
"Stop," he said.
Both girls looked up at him. He saw curiosity, primarily, on their faces. He didn't see cunning, or guile. They really didn't know why he'd been erect in the morning. He knew they'd been home schooled ever since they were very young and he knew that his sister would never in a million years have discussed erect penises with them. On the other hand, if what the girls said was true, his sister knew that these two girls masturbated like crazy after their concerts. She hadn't mentioned that to him, of course. She simply told him to leave them alone for fifteen minutes after the show was over. That brought to mind her admonishment to leave them alone for thirty minutes BEFORE the performance.
He imagined the curiosity in their eyes being mirrored in his own. They weren't vamps. They weren't playing some silly game. They just didn't know anything about ... men. They were aware of their own sexuality, but only in-so-far as it pertained to their music.
"What do you do before your performances?" he asked suddenly.
The girls looked at him blankly.
"Your mother told me to leave you alone for half an hour before each concert. She said you'd be in your dressing room, and for me to leave you alone. Why?"
Both girls dropped their gaze, and blushed. They looked at each other, and then at their laps.
"Gabby?" he prodded. She was the elder, and should be willing to talk more easily. She didn't, though.
"Daffy?" He changed tactics. "You asked me to answer a personal question. I will, if you answer mine. What do you two do in your dressing room before a performance?"
Daphne looked up at him, and then back at her lap.
"We look at pictures," she said.
Gabby elbowed her again, and Bob told her to stop.
"What kind of pictures?" he asked.
"I don't want to tell you," she said softly.
"Naughty pictures?" he guessed.
"Yes," her voice was tiny.
"And your mother knows?" he asked.
"Yes," came her voice, a little stronger.
Bob thought about the music he had heard the night before ... about the passion that was in that music. In a flash of insight, he realized that they had stumbled upon a way to enhance their music with raw emotion, stoked before the concerts, and assuaged afterwards. Now he understood the kisses they had given him, just before the encore. They had been horny out of their minds. Playing the last piece so slowly and tenderly must have been pure torture for them, knowing that, as soon as it was over, they could scratch that awful itch that had helped their music soar to unimaginable heights.
"It gets you excited," he said. "And then you play better."
Both girls looked up, their eyes wide.
"How'd you know that?" asked Gabby.
"I'm not stupid," he said. "I heard you play. It was magnificent. You don't play like that at home."
"We don't look at the pictures at home," said Daphne, feeling better. He knew! He understood! "We only do it for performances."
"And then ... afterwards ..." he said. "You're so fired up that you have to do something about it."
"Fired up?" asked Daphne, sounding confused.
"Horny," he said.
Now she looked up and he saw relief on her face. He even got a little smile.
"Yes, horny," she confirmed.
"Is that why you wanted to know if I was horny?" he asked.
Daphne nodded. "We've never seen a real one ... only in pictures."
"THAT's what the pictures are of?" he gasped, feeling weak. The thought of his virginal nieces staring at pictures of rampant boners threatened to get him going again.
"Only some of them," said Daphne, thinking she needed to mitigate his obvious shock.
Bob realized that he was suddenly treading on very dangerous ground. These girls were much more aware of things sexual than he would have imagined in his wildest dreams. That they didn't understand, completely, what was going on, only made it more hazardous. He could talk to them ... teach them things ... and it might help. Then again, it might spiral out of control, and he could ruin everything. That their rituals worked was plain. He had seen it work ... heard it work. The thought of ruining that amazing talent by doing the wrong thing made him want to cringe. It was that, more than anything else, that made him answer her question.
"OK, here's the deal," he said. "When you get up in the morning you have to pee, right?"
The girls looked at him in confusion.
"Well, when guy has to pee really bad, it makes his penis get hard. That's what you saw this morning. It happens to all guys. It doesn't mean they're horny. It just means they have to go really bad."
"Oh," said Daphne. The disappointment in her voice was obvious. Then she perked up. "What about the first night we were here? It got hard then too. Was that because you had to pee really bad too?"
Bob thought furiously. He didn't want to lie to them. He didn't like lying at all, and didn't respect people who did that. And they obviously understood what a stiff penis was for, if they were using pictures of them to get excited before a concert. It couldn't hurt anything to admit that a man could become excited when he was around beautiful women.
"No," he said slowly. "You two were running around half naked, and you are both very attractive. Any man who saw you like that would get ... horny."
Bob didn't know what to expect from the two girls, at his admission. What he DIDN'T expect was for Daphne to cross her arms under her generous breasts, turn her face to her older sister and say: "I told you so." She was on a roll. She had asked the question. True, she didnít actually mean to, but she had done it. And he had answered her. Not only that, he had confirmed that he got horny over his nieces. She was definitely on a roll, and she tossed the dice again.
"Can we see it again? Can we touch it?"
Warning bells went off in Bob's mind. Where had his virginal young nieces gone?
"Absolutely not," he said firmly. "Looking at pictures is one thing. Playing around with the real thing is NOT something you're going to do ... not on MY watch. Your mother sent me along to take care of you, not molest you."
"It isn't molesting if we ask you to," whined Daffy.
"Daphne," he said, his voice heavy with warning.
"OK, OK," she said. "Thank you for talking to us. Mom never talks to us about stuff like this." Daphne sounded a little sad.
"I thought you said she knows about your ... habits," said Bob.
"She does, but she doesn't talk about it with us. She found out and ever since then she just kind of ignores us, or goes off and does something else while we're ... calming down."
"Oh," said Bob.
"I'm really, really glad you're not mad at us," said Daphne, rising from the bed.
"Me too," whispered Gabby, speaking for the first time. "I can't believe you're being so cool about this. Daffy said you would be."
Bob had to stifle a laugh. "I just admitted to my underage nieces that they turn me on," he said to the room at large. "And they think that makes me cool."
"You ARE cool," said Daphne, coming closer. "Hug?"
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea at all," sighed Bob. "I'm not supposed to get horny for you two, and when you hug and kiss me like you have been, I can't do anything about it."
Daphne walked right up to him and put her arms around his waist. She pressed her body to his, her face in his bare chest.
"We get a little bit horny for you too," she said into his chest hair. "We talked about your boner before we played last night. We didn't look at very many pictures at all, because we were already horny."
"You're not making this any easier for me," sighed Bob.
"You love us," said Daphne, kissing his chest. "And we love you. Why is it so hard if we're a little horny for each other?"
Gabby had stood, but was shifting from one foot to the other, uncertainly. She eyed her sister, hugging her uncle, and she wanted to join that hug, but his words made it sound like he didn't want them. Bob saw the indecision in her eyes.
"Being a little horny is OK," he said finally. "But I'm not going to show it to you, and you're certainly not going to touch it, OK?"
"But we can still have hugs and kisses?" asked Gabriella.
"Hugs and kisses are all right, I guess," he sighed.
Gabby almost ran to join the hug. She pressed herself against his left side, while Daffy slid away from her. Bob felt those hot breasts rubbing against him, through his shirt. The girls smelled wonderful. He sensed the danger and kissed each on the top of her head.
"Now, don't we have places to go, and things to do?" he asked. "I'm starving, for one thing."
The girls scampered away from him. He was feeling much better about things, until Daffy threw his shirt to him. She was standing there in just her sleeping panties.
"You saw them before," she said. "It's no big deal any more."
Bob turned away, to avoid watching, in case she stripped naked to get dressed again. While his back was turned, both girls got dressed.
Neither of them went into the bathroom to do it.
The limo was waiting for them after breakfast. The morning was scheduled for sight seeing, but no specific destinations had been identified. Bob, for lack of anything else to do, suggested to the driver that he take them places he'd show someone who was visiting him. What that resulted in was something other than the ordinary tourist would see.
They were taken, for instance, to a tiny museum, in the basement of a house, where the curator, if that's what you wanted to call him, had built recreations of every torture device he could find out about. He restricted his activities to times prior to 1700, he said, winking, because people had figured out too many ways to torture each other after that. He couldn't fit them all into his cellar.
They got to see how beer was made, which was a big hit in more than one way. It was a big hit with the girls, who got to take tiny sips of different kinds of beer. Mostly they screwed up their noses, but they liked honey mead, for some strange reason. It was also a big hit for the employees, two of whom had attended the recently held concert. They were escorted around like royalty, and the employees had a great time hob-nobbing with someone they considered very important.
Their scheduled river trip down the Thames was cancelled, on advice from the driver, who hooked them up with his cousin, who owned a small motor launch. It went faster, and what was supposed to be a stuffy litany of pointing out important buildings turned into a chance for the girls to stand in the bow, the wind blowing their hair back, and plastering their shirts to their young bodies. Bob sat in the back, with the boater, sipping Scotch.
All in all it was a good morning. Part of that was because no one got horny. They all just had a good time spending time doing interesting or fun things. It was a nice emotional break for all of them.
They had lunch at a fish and chips street stand and then the afternoon routine kicked in. The girls weren't horny, and Bob could immediately tell the difference in the way they played. It was good, technically speaking, and beautiful in the way good music is almost always beautiful, but it wasn't inspired. He began to see the odd wisdom in what they had learned to do to inspire themselves, and his sister's odd wisdom in ignoring what they did.
Bob, however, could not ignore it. That was the problem.
While he sat and listened to them practice, the thought about what they'd be doing later. That caused him to wonder as to exactly what kind of pictures they looked at. Since they were busy, and since hardly anyone was around, he sidled off to their dressing room to snoop.
They had thought out things very well. They traveled to various countries, and their performance luggage was handled by strangers each time. It took him some time, but, inside the cello case, he found a compartment within a compartment. There was a flap in the bottom where sheet music could be stored. On the bottom of that, there was a piece of red velvet that looked like it was fastened to the outside of the case. By pinching it, though, he found that it could be removed. Under it, were the pictures.
He'd expected pictures of men with erect penises. There were a couple of those, the men expectedly buff, with rippling muscles, and strong, long pricks. There were many more of just the penis itself, though, and there were all types and sizes. The ones that astonished him, though, were the ones that were inserted into a vagina. They were all basically the same, with the penis half inserted, or the head spreading open a pair of pussy lips, about to be inserted. What took his breath away, though, were the pictures like that where semen was in evidence. Either it was in a ring around the half- inserted penis, suggesting that the ejaculation had taken place, but the fucking was still going on, or it was a prick, at the entrance of a pussy, in the act of spurting. Then, below those, were the pictures of pregnant women. All of them were naked. Many of them were artfully posed, to use shadow and light to accent various things. In one, a dripping breast was lit better than the belly below it. In others, the belly was the most eye-catching part of the photograph.
It didn't take long for Bob to determine that what turned on these girls was the concept of being made pregnant by a spurting prick. It wasn't just "sex" they were excited about. It was the purpose of sex that turned them on and filled their music with magic.
By the time he was done snooping, and had returned everything to its proper place, he almost laughed as he realized there was a hard prick in his pants. He wished there was some way to take a picture of it, and slip that picture into their secret stash. Would THAT rock their boat, or what?! Then, his laughter died.
They had asked to see his.
What if he COULD slip a picture of it in there?
He checked with the stage manager and found that there were still two hours scheduled for practice. The limo sat outside the whole time, in case plans changed. He went out and the limo driver took him back to the hotel, where he borrowed a digital camera. In the room, he found his heart-encrusted boxers, in his dirty clothes bag, and put them on. His hardon was gone by now, of course. He pulled his cock and balls through the fly and began playing with himself, but it did little good. Then, in a flash of insight, he found the girls sleep clothes. One sniff of the panties Daffy had been wearing that morning when she crushed her naked breasts to his naked chest, did the trick, and soon he was hard as a rock.
It took six tries before he was satisfied with what he saw in the little screen on the back of the camera. He deleted the rest of the photographs.
At the desk, he was relieved to find the same young man who had welcomed them when they arrived.
"I have a photograph on this camera that I need to print, but it's a very sensitive one ... trade secrets kind of stuff," he said. "I can't leave it with a vendor. Is there any way I could print it here?"
The clerk called someone to cover the desk, and took Bob to an office. He sat at the computer and pressed buttons. He plugged the camera into the computer with a cord, rather than removing the memory card and inserting it into the computer. Then, explaining to the clerk that the photo he wanted to print was private, he was allowed to upload the shot onto the computer and print it.
"I can access the image this way, using this program, without actually downloading it onto our computer," explained the clerk. "I can do a direct print that way, and the digital information will never be recorded anywhere except on the card in the camera. You won't be able to crop it, or manipulate it or anything. Is that all right?"
That was fine with Bob. He stood at the printer and picked the print up as soon as it popped out. Then he deleted the photo from the memory card in the camera and returned it to the clerk, with his thanks, and a tip.
Back at the concert hall, Bob went and inserted the picture at the very end of the ones that were just of hard dicks, and put everything back together again. He felt nervous as he left, wondering if he'd done something stupid or not. It was too late, though, because the girls wrapped up early, and were ready to go.
He was antsy the rest of the afternoon, especially at dinner, in the hotel dining room. The girls, with their hair done now, looked elegant, even though they were dressed like American teenagers. Gabby was wearing a shirt with a wide mouth on the front, a long tongue hanging out and curved, as if around her left breast. She didn't need a bra, but he wished she'd wear one, just to hide those electric nipples of hers. Between those, and tight, faded jeans that clung to her slim hips like a second skin, Bob was having trouble keeping his prick under control.
That evening, when the girls retired to their dressing room, Bob was so nervous he fled to the lighting booth again. He chatted with the tech, about politics and world events, wondering what the reaction in the dressing room would be. He hoped he hadn't made a huge mistake.
Gabby was naked, her performance dress laid neatly out so she could step into it at the last minute. She pulled the cello out of the case and, ever practical, tested the tuning, making two small adjustments. Daffy was already pawing through the pictures, arranging them in the order they both liked. They started by dreaming of seeing a real, rigid penis, that they could touch, and kiss and handle. From there they liked to look at the stuff those penises were rumored to produce. Seeing the creamy ivory or white colored stuff made them touch their clitties lightly. They didn't masturbate. They had tried that one time, with disastrous results. When they went on stage they were almost bored, and the music suffered as a result. Since then, they touched only to bring themselves to a fever pitch. Then, they prolonged it, until it was time to slip into their dresses and skip on stage, to use the sexual energy they had created.
"Oh ... my ... GOSH!" squealed Daffy.
Gabby turned to see Daffy, standing there, with several pictures in one hand. She was staring at the top of the pile that was left.
"Oh, my GOSH!" she sighed again. "C'mere," she said, breathlessly.
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