Fooling Around 101 - Version Bravo
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I said that nothing new happened over the next three months. What
that means is that there was no escalation of our activities. She
did not pull back from me or anything, but she was busy at school, and
I had some projects that needed extra time to get done, so I spent a
little less time at their house. I knew things were okay between
us, because she still gave me long, passionate kisses in the hallway,
or if we were in some part of the house alone.
So I was pretty sure that, if getting my semen on her had freaked her
out, she'd gotten over it. That was confirmed the next time we
got some extended time alone. Basically, she had me masturbate
her to several orgasms (we made out for half an hour and I supplied her
usual nipple foreplay) and then she wanted to try getting me off
again. She was better this time, and had obviously grasped the
concept of the fantasy, because she teased me.
"So you want to put this big, nasty thing in me? You want to have sex with me? You're so nasty. And you'd put it in me
bare. You'd make it squirt inside me, wouldn't you!
You'd actually put your sperms
She got me close enough that I didn't want to stop to 'arrange' things,
so I just gripped her hand in mine and got to the point where it
started spewing. She giggled maniacally and kept on pumping,
making spunk fly in all directions, chanting "I did it! I did it! I did it!"
But we only went deeply into things about once a month. It wasn't
nearly as easy to get time alone as one might think. On one
pretty important night, she had come over to my house "to do her
homework" because "her brothers were making too much noise and she
That was the third time we played our little game, and her vocal
delivery of lines designed to get me to spurt, was much more
polished. Also, she had developed some masturbatory muscle
memory, and didn't have to spend as much attention on her hand.
That let her brush her lips against mine, talking into my mouth.
We were lying side by side, that time, and she brought me all the way
with no help whatsoever.
She was elated. The only problem was that she had been so busy
kissing me, that she didn't pay any attention to where, on her body,
she was aiming my penis. As a result, those pouting pussy lips
got drenched. She also demanded that I clean her up, each time,
and had a little spiel she went through while I did that, telling me
how naughty I had been, and how sweet and innocent she was, until I
spunked all over her. And this time, as she lay there, waiting
for me to clean her up, telling me how terrible I was to threaten her
virginity, she wasn't prepared for the washcloth to touch her sexual
opening. It had always wiped across some other part of her body
"What are you doing?" she gasped, as I carefully peeled her pussy lips
apart, only to see that the semen had acted like glue, and had seeped
past those gates.
"Be still," I said, trying to figure out how to clean her out without
shoving it even deeper. "You got it in the wrong place."
"Is it in me?" she gasped,
jerking so that my fingers slipped.
"It wasn't!" I snapped.
"Until you moved after I told you not to!"
She went very still. "Is it in me now ... Uncle Bob?" she
"Don't panic," I said. "I have a plan."
I put my hand on her stomach as I said that, because I was pretty sure
she was going to do something stupid, like move around, which would
only suck that semen deeper into her sexual opening. I was
right. I had to hiss at her to get her to stop.
"I wasn't going to do this to you," I said. "What I mean by that
is that you have no business doing what I'm going to do on any
date. Not until you're a whole lot older."
"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice full of angst.
"I'm going to get that semen out of you," I said.
"How?" she whined.
"Like this," I said.
I wiped the washcloth through her furrow, and then leaned down and
sucked her sweet little pussy for all I was worth. I was trying
to get every drop of moisture from her pussy into my mouth, swallowing
and sucking like an industrial grade vacuum cleaner. I didn't know if it
would work, but it was the best I could do, under the circumstances.
I was so intent on that, that I sort of blocked out the sounds she was
making, or the fact that her fingers gripped my hair hard enough to rip
some of it out. When she bucked so hard that I lost my lip lock
on her pussy, that's when I figured out she was having a heck of a good
At that point, I had either gotten all my semen out of her ... or it
was impossible to do so ... so I concentrated on technique for a while,
until she finally pushed me away, moaning "Stop! I can't breathe!"
I stayed where I was. She tasted really good. Her chest
heaved as she caught her breath, and she lay, limp and satisfied.
"I never thought anybody would ever do that to me," she sighed.
"Wrong," I said. I licked her split one last time. She jerked,
but then relaxed as I did a pushup and she could see I was stopping.
"That was amazing," I said.
"That is also dangerous," I said. "I don't recommend letting boys do
"You don't recommend letting boys do anything." She smiled
"They can kiss you, and buy you pretty things," I said.
"But if you let them do that, there is a point in time where you are so
distracted that they can move up and put something besides their tongue
in you, while you're not paying attention."
"I believe that," she said, no trace of humor on her face or in her
"Good," I said. "I hadn't planned on doing that to you, but under
the circumstances ..."
"I can't believe there has been semen inside me." Her voice had a
dreamy quality to it. "Uncle Bob's semen."
"Let's not do that again," I said.
"I can't believe you put your mouth on me!" she moaned.
"Ewwwww. And with your stuff down there too! Ewwwww!"
"Don't be silly. You taste delicious. I don't know what I
taste like, because there was a lot more of you than there was of
me. I'd be happy to eat your pretty pussy every day of the week."
"Really?" That dreamy tone was back in her voice.
"Except, of course, that's way out of line."
"Of course," she said. She reached between her legs with a
finger. "It doesn't feel any different."
"It's not," I said.
"It sure felt different while you were doing it."
"I'm sure it did. A woman's mouth feels completely different on
Mr. John Thomas than her hand does."
There was a long silence.
"Are you asking me to give you a blow job?" Her voice was low,
and guarded. At least in my imagination, it was.
"Of course not. You need to save something to learn how to do
when you're older. Don't jump ahead of your educational comfort
zone, girl. You have all the time in the world to perfect
sex. All you need to know now is how to kiss and fool around a
little bit. A little
"Okay," she said. Her fingertip moved in a circle around her
clit. "I agree. After tonight, you won't get your semen in
me, or put your mouth on me any more."
I fell for it like a third grader. "Right."
She reached for me and pushed me down between her legs.
"I'm really happy tonight isn't over yet," she said.
There was a subtle change to our normal relationship after that.
I think she knew that we had taken things to a point where anything
further was going to be really important, as opposed to fooling
around. She understood that fooling around was one thing, but
that beyond that, it could complicate her life significantly.
And I think she took that philosophy with her on her dates. She
never wanted for a date. In the past, she had actually turned
down dates so she could spend time with me, "practicing," as she put
it. But as she finished her junior year, that changed, and she
spend less and less time with me, and more and more time with boys her
That was appropriate, of course. I had already been incredibly
lucky, having access to young pussy, to put it crudely. Most guys
don't get that lucky. And even though I wasn't fucking that young
pussy, that didn't matter. If anything, I was glad about
that. As best I could tell, she had
actually learned a lot, without it messing up her mind. And that
was important to me, because I loved her.
This is not to say things cooled off between us, though. She had
one well-defined habit. Whenever Cindy and I were alone, even if
it was only for twenty seconds, she kissed me. And they were the
good kisses, not the uncle
kind. Each time she did this, she whispered "Thanks" when it was
over, and grinned and went on about her business.
Once I smacked her on the ass after she did that. It was a nice,
full contact, perfect slap, that had to sting, because I didn't hold
much back. I don't even know why I did it, other than the fact
that she had a bubble butt that packed a pair of jeans in a way that
made me want to howl at the moon. Maybe I thought it was a
reminder that I was the Alpha male or something. That kind of
thing is built into males. She stopped, as if she had been flash
frozen, with her back to me. I expected her to complain, or maybe
even be outraged. I was sure if she dropped her pants, my
handprint would be on her ass cheek.
But the look she gave me when she turned around was one that suggested
hungry lioness, and I was the rabbit. Or ibis, or whatever
lionesses eat. She clearly
wasn't unhappy about it. I was reminded of Jeanette, a woman I
went out with for a while, who liked to be spanked as a prelude to what
she called making up. If I got her butt nice and pink and
mottled, she was so wet we needed a towel. When I spanked
Jeanette, she wanted it bareback. And the look on Cindy's face
was that look.
So I resolved never to do that
again. After all, that wasn't part of Fooling Around 101. That was
part of an upper division class.
I honestly think things would have stayed that way, with Cindy learning
something with me, and then exploring it further on her dates.
When the summer got there, she spent the whole day with her friends, or
some boy, usually both at the same time. Kids these days date in
Normally there is safety in the herd. And I think adults look at
those groups of kids and think "They're in a big group. Good. No
privacy to get in trouble. Good."
But think about it. When you were growing up, adults went to
great lengths to assure that you had no private time with a member of
the opposite sex. Right?
But you engineered it anyway.
And now that kids present the illusion that they're always in a group,
I think their parents are less vigilant. I know the teen
pregnancy rate hasn't dropped much in the last four or five
decades. It's gone up, if anything.
But, as I was saying, I think things would have perked along like that
until she went off to college, except for the accident.
It happened while Jill and the boys were at Southwestern, getting them
enrolled for the fall semester. On the way back, Dennis was
driving, and some asshole who was texting while driving, drifted into
them in their blind spot, and sent them into the ditch. The car
rolled four or five times.
Mark was in the back seat, and was not strapped in. His body
became the projectile that broke his mother's arm, but she became the
airbag that saved his life. Jill also broke a lower leg, but it was
clean and didn’t punch through the skin. Dennis got some broken
ribs from the driver airbag and his own seat belt. The car was
totaled, but they were basically okay.
I found out about this by virtue of a worried girl, who showed up at my
house in a panic. It seems that after everybody got processed
through the emergency room, Jill was sedated, and Mark was actually
released, but stayed anyway, glued to a chair in Dennis' room. He
didn't have any way to get anywhere anyway. Nobody thought to
call home until they were overdue by five or six hours. Then,
when Mark finally thought of it, Cindy was at my house, crying because she
couldn't find her family. I was thinking about who to call
myself, when my own phone rang and Mark gave me the update, saying his
sister wasn’t answering at home.
They let Dennis go two days later, after they were sure he didn't have
a concussion. He was taped up, but he had a 24 hour nurse in his
twin brother. Cindy and I picked them up and took them
home. They wanted to keep Jill for another week.
The boys were wigged out. Kids think they're bullet proof, and
something like this can hit them pretty hard, when they are faced with
their mortality. So Cindy and I took care of finding out
where the car was, and dealing with the insurance company and all
that. I think it distracted her.
And she decided to stay at my house until such time as her mother was
Not only that, she wanted to sleep in my bed. She said she needed
somebody to hold her.
The first couple of nights after the accident, when she stayed with me, all we did was hold each
other and sleep. I think there was a subtle, but fundamental
alteration in our relationship, during that time. There was no
fooling around, even though we both went to bed naked. That
activity had always been based on a light, almost playful mood, and
neither of us felt playful until we were sure the others were going to
be all right.
That change in our relationship, however, was momentous, because we
grew closer together in ways that I don't think either of us was aware
of, right away.
Then the boys went home. Cindy told them that my house was closer to the hospital, and that's why she was still going to stay with me. But that night, after the boys were home, when we got into bed, and she snuggled into my arms, her first kiss was an attention
getter. She wasn't frantic, or scared, or horny. She wasn't
playing, or relieved or trying to deal with stress. Or
maybe she was all those things, and more. All I know is that, for
the first time, what we were doing was important ... instead of just
It is said that mortal danger sometimes ignites emotions in us that
might otherwise never have come to the surface. What they are
referring to is documented cases in which men and women, most of whom
were not previously lovers, or even close acquaintances, and who were
in situations in which it was likely they might die, engaged in sexual
intercourse. It seems ludicrous for a soldier and a nurse to have
sex while they're pinned down in a mortar attack, or for two people
trapped in a collapsed building, to suddenly tear at their clothes and
It is anything but ludicrous, though. Mortality demands that
there be new life, and new life is created in sexual congress.
The species must go on. This is precisely why women in countries
where famine is common, bear three times as many children as the land
will support. And that biological imperative dismisses rational
thought completely. Those women know most of their babies will die. If they have enough, though, maybe some will live. The soldier and nurse are fully aware they
will probably die. They don't intend to get married. They
are not choosing each other as the best possible mate. Rather,
they seek what small solace they may find as they stare Death in the
face. And making love in that situation is a little like flipping
Death the bird.
It doesn't make a lot of sense ... but it sure makes you feel a hell of
a lot better.
It is possible that her glimpse of mortality, on the part of her
brothers and mother, may have triggered that drive in Cindy. I
don't know. And near death situations can affect people ...
meaning myself ... in ways that we don't understand at the time.
All I know is that, somehow, while we were seeking solace in each
other's embrace, I ended up inside her.
It wasn't planned. Neither of us reached for my penis and
positioned it. I wasn't on top of her, exactly. It was more like
I was leaning on her. She might have been humping me, which was normal
for her. I don't know. All I know is that, suddenly, my
prick sank into a furnace and she gave a sigh that was so full of
pleasure that my balls almost burst right then and there.
"Ohhhhhh, Uncle Bob," she groaned into my lips.
Her kiss became more urgent, and her hands went behind my head and
pulled. She did not, in any way, shape or form, try to get me out
of her. I felt her inner muscles tense, and then release, and she
groaned as I instinctively rolled further onto her and thrust, going
And then I was in the saddle, and her legs were spread. Her hands
were still behind my head, but her hips lurched upwards as I finally
sank fully into her sex. She chewed my lower lip, while I pulled
back, in preparation for sliding into her again. Her hands came
to my shoulders and pushed hard enough to get my face away from hers.
"Don't you dare stop!" she panted.
I slid back in and mashed her clit with my pubic bone.
"Ohhhh fuck," she whispered, her eyes open wide. "I didn't know
it would be like this."
"We're not supposed to be doing this," I panted.
"Don't you dare stop!" she gasped, and her legs wrapped around my butt.
I didn't. I tried to make it last. A lot of things went
through my mind in those first few minutes of our joining. First,
I thought about getting her off, and then stopping. Then I
thought about getting her off and pulling out when it was my turn, so I
could shoot on her stomach, or something like that. As she
writhed against me, however, it got harder and harder to think at all,
because it was quite plain she was having a wonderful time.
Her orgasms, with me in her, were different, of course. When I
got her off with my fingers or mouth, she was loud and thrashed and
beat the mattress with her hands. Her head rolled back and forth
and she flopped like she was having a seizure. But when she had
an orgasm with me in her, it seemed like all that energy went to her
vaginal and pelvic muscles. She froze, and then mewled
pathetically, whining and cursing softly as her internal muscles
spasmed and went nuts. It was an amazing thing to witness, and a
mind-blowing thing to be involved in.
Then, quite suddenly, while I should have been making a decision about
what to do, I thrust one last time, and what felt like my entire
insides flowed through my penis and into her no longer virgin
sheath. I didn't even feel bad. It was something I just had
Maybe it was that drive to beat death. I don't know. I knew
I should have pulled out, but I just couldn't.
As I said, that drive leaves no room for rational thought.
What was odd about the whole situation was that, as we caught our
breath, neither of us said anything at all. I don't believe it
was one of those situations where neither person knew what to say, or
was tongue-tied. I don't remember feeling that way.
I rolled us sideways, still in her, and we fumbled for pillows to try
to support us in this position. I could feel myself slipping out
of her. There was nothing I could do about that. Being
pressed close enough to stay in her would have required effort, and we
were both very relaxed.
And, without a word as to what had just passed, we fell asleep in each
If you think back to the time(s) when you first had sex with someone,
and stayed the night, you may remember how awkward it can be when you
wake up the next morning. There is the usual morning
breath. There is the fact that her pussy was a mess, if you
didn't use a condom, or the fact that you have a messy condom on your
cock (or lying in bed with you somewhere) if you did. There is
this new thing has happened, and about which neither of you knows quite
what to say. There can be an elephant in the room, as they say.
All those things were there when we woke up, but it wasn't awkward at
all. Her comment "Sex makes a mess!" was followed by her simply
going to the bathroom to clean up and brush her teeth. Meanwhile,
I got up and stripped the bed, using the sheets to wipe myself down a
bit. After dumping them in the hamper, I went into the bathroom
and used my own toothbrush. Cindy was in the shower,
humming. She didn't sound unhappy in any way.
"Is there room in there for me?" I called out, tentatively.
"Ohhhh yeah," she said.
I went in. We washed each other. We kissed. She said,
"Thank you. I'll never forget last night." I said, "Neither
will I, trust me." And then we got out, dried off, got dressed,
and she cooked bacon and eggs while I got some coffee brewed.
We ate in a companionable silence. Finally she sat back.
"A girl could get addicted to that."
I knew she wasn't talking about the breakfast.
"Hence, my plan not to take things that far."
"I'm really glad you're a terrible planner."
"I didn't plan that."
"I know. That's what I mean."
"So," I said. "What do we do now?"
She looked right at me. "Well, I move back home, for one thing."
"I see," I said.
"I doubt that seriously," she said.
"Explain it to me, then," I said.
"If I stay here, we're going to do that all the time. And I know
we can't do that. So I need to move back home, where you will not
be there to tempt me twenty-four hours a day." She smiled.
"I agree," I said. I admit it was difficult to say it.
"I love you, Uncle Bob," she said. "But my mother would kill me
if I had your baby, and I need to go to college and there are just all
sorts of reasons I should stay out of bed with you. And I already
know I'm not going to be able to stay out of bed with you completely,
so the goal now is to manage this addiction so that it doesn't do bad
things in our lives."
"That's a very adult way to look at things," I said.
"Thank you," she said, sounding quite mature.
Do not ask me how it happened, but about fifteen minutes after we
arrived at all those mature, sensible, adult decisions, she was naked
again, and under me as I powered into her, trying to get as deep into
her as I possibly could.
So much for deciding to do the sensible thing.
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