Say Uncle

SAY UNCLE: STEP-SEX #3 by Erika Masten

SMASHWORDS EDITION Copyright © 2011 Erika Masten. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Erika Masten [email protected] http://erikamasten.com

Published by Sticky Sweet Books. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Smashwords Edition License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons or events are purely coincidental.

Warning: Explicit content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted herein are 18 years or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature. This is a work of erotic fantasy. In real life, please protect yourself and your lover by always practicing safe sex.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Say Uncle: Step-Sex #3 Excerpt From Special Treatment: Uptown Sluts #2 Excerpt From Private Box: Uptown Sluts #4

SAY UNCLE: STEP-SEX #3 I slam the backdoor and stand with my hands on the curve of my hips, huffing a long stray golden hair out of my face. My eyes scan the backyard. Where is he? A movement to my left catches my attention—the tail of a blue work shirt fluttering with the breeze, just visible through the open garage door. Stomping down the porch steps, a dangerous feat in 5-inch heels, I say, “Chris, you have got to have a talk with Janet! She was just on the phone telling me I can’t go with Todd to the party tonight!” Inside the garage, my stepfather, Chris, is leaning over the engine of his cherry-red vintage Ford truck, his back to me. “Chris! Are you listening to me?” When he turns around, it’s not Chris at all. “I’m listening,” he says, “but you’re not talking to me, and definitely not in that tone, little girl.” Same light brown hair as Chris, same sky blue eyes, same tall, lean frame and a tendency to tan well most months out of the year, but Chris has dimples that make him look sweet and dorky, whereas his younger brother has the slight cleft in his chin that makes him look like a Hollywood leading man destined to play the bad boy roles. “Oh. Paul. I didn’t know you were here.” “That’s Uncle Paul to you, Lauren,” he says, in the mellow, slow-talking way he has. He leans back against the grill of the truck and wipes engine grease off his hands with a rag. “What’s with calling your mom and stepdad by their first names?” I fold my arms and cock my hip, noticing Paul giving me the once over, from the long tousled hair to the ultra-short white shirt dress and the white high heel sandals. “You haven’t visited in more than a year, and the first thing you want to do is scold me?” “Wow,” he says with a smile that flashes white teeth, “that’s a whole lot of attitude. You get that for your eighteenth birthday?” I lift my chin. “No, I got a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday, and Janet had a meltdown when she saw it yesterday. I think that’s why she won’t let me go out tonight.” Paul shakes his head. “Didn’t I call you for your birthday just a couple of months ago? I

spoke to a very sweet young lady. And in a few short weeks, you get so big that you can’t call your parents Mom and Dad, you get a tattoo, and you decide the boys in your senior class are too immature compared to the college guy you met when you snuck into a frat party.” “Sounds like Chris has been ratting me out.” This makes Paul laugh. “Sounds like you’ve been getting a little too big for your britches.” “Huh.” I strut into the garage and pop myself up onto the work bench, knowing Chris keeps it cleaner than anything in a garage is meant to be. Crossing my long legs, my tan set off by the white dress and heels, I say, “Shows what you know. I’m not wearing any britches.” My stepdad’s younger brother—only by a couple of years, making him thirty-eight— saunters around the truck to stand in front of me. Parting the blue work shirt to reveal a white tshirt stretched tight across his muscular chest, he puts his hands on his hips. “I seem to remember when my brother married your mom, you were about four, and they couldn’t keep your panties on you then, either. So not that much has changed after all.” My jaw drops open, drawing another grin from Paul. “You are such an ass,” I tell him, laughing despite myself. “Yeah, well, you live with my older brother, so you should be used to that by now.” This gets a snicker from me. Chris is completely anal. Paul’s the kind of guy I’d want to take me out to get me drunk on my twenty-first birthday, but preferably sooner. “So where is your brother? I need him to smooth things over with Janet.” Paul shakes his head at me, probably at my persistence at using my mom’s first name. “Your stepdad headed off to the auto shop and the scrap yard trying to get parts for this monster.” “Why didn’t you go with him?” There’s a mischievous gleam in Paul’s eye. “Because I’m pretty sure I can fix the problem without the parts he thinks he needs before he gets back, and I never miss a chance to trump my brother.” “That’s classic Paul.” He takes a step toward me, almost touching my legs. I’ll admit it, with the brooding gaze and the dazzling smile and the abs for days when he takes off his shirt, Paul is hot. I’ve known this for a couple of years now, even before half my friends spent my sixteenth birthday party drooling over him. It’s fun in a really strange way I’ve never felt before, being flirty and suggestive with him. It probably shouldn’t be, but it’s not like he’s my uncle by blood, and it’s

not like anything is going to happen between us. “Uncle Paul,” he corrects me. I shake my head no, keeping my mouth clamped shut. His warm hand comes down on my leg, and the slightly rough pad of his thumb strokes the inside of my knee. I freeze as this sends a shiver of excitement up my leg directly to my pussy. “I’m going to have to insist you say uncle.” He’s staring at my flushed face, and my lips are parted. I lick them nervously. I get the feeling Paul is turning my game against me, maybe to teach me a lesson. He probably has no idea how wet he just made me. The wise thing would be to ease up on the prima donna act—that’s what Janet calls it—and chill out, but I’m going through a bit of a bad girl phase. If I shouldn’t do something, I usually will. It doesn’t help that my skin is so hot I’d think I was drunk. I have poor impulse control when I’m drinking and when I’m turned on. Leaning forward, flashing enough skin down the neck of the dress to let Paul know I’m not wearing a bra, I say, “I’m not four anymore, Paul. I don’t always do what I’m told.” Paul takes a good long look down my dress, a hint of a smile crossing his face when my nipples get hard and peak against the thin white cotton. It feels like my breath is thickening in my throat, as I wait for him to speak. What the hell am I doing getting horny from teasing a man more than twice my age and who has known me since I was a toddler? Then he crooks his fingers on my knee in just that certain way that tickles like crazy. I squeal and jump, trying to get away. Paul advances on me, pinning my bent legs between him and the edge of the work bench, and keeps tickling the inside of my knees. “You still scream like you’re four when you’re getting tickled,” he says and keeps after me mercilessly. I push on his shoulders and squirm, laughing and crying and protesting all the while. It’s no use. “Say uncle,” he tells me. Gasping for breath, I shake my head no. Paul launches a full-scale tickle attack, his fingers playing over my waist, along my lower back, against my neck. “Say uncle.” “You’re such…a bastard…Paul…I swear!” I throw myself against him, hoping to catch him off balance and gain some room to wiggle free. Instead, Paul uses my momentum to scoop me up in his arms. I pant, my sides aching, as he carries me toward the back of the garage. Triumphantly, I declare, “I didn’t say it.”

“You will, little girl.” The tailgate of the truck is down, held horizontal by the chains at each end, and Paul sits down on it. He shifts, and I assume he’s going to let me off his lap, but he flips me over so that I’m bent over his legs instead. “Hey, what the—?” I feel Paul pull the back of my dress up to my waist, baring my ass, and I suddenly can’t talk. I twist to look at him, finding him gazing down at my ass. I’m expecting a comment about going without panties, but what I get is his warm, firm hand low on my rounded right cheek. “A cute little heart with wings,” he says, casting me a wicked sidelong glance. “That’s not quite the tattoo I’d expect to find on such a bad girl.” I jerk in his arms in surprise when I feel him begin to trace the design softly with one fingertip. My cunt lips twitch, and I can imagine all too well that same touch along my wet slit. “Looks like it’s pretty well healed. Still tender at all?” Before I can answer, before I can tell him the joke is over and I got his point about playing the bad girl, he raises his hand and brings it down against my ass and the tattoo with a stinging smack. I stiffen and yip in pain. The tattoo is still tender, and that slap really smarts, and it is a little too freaking weird being draped over his lap like this—and kind of…kind of liking it. I open my mouth to protest, but not fast enough. Another hard smack bites the other cheek. “Ouch! Paul!” “Uncle Paul?” he asks. My mouth falls open. I’m indignant. I’m not calling him Uncle Paul while he’s spanking me. That’s just kinky. I would tell him so were it not for the smacks on my ass taking my breath away, making me arch and squirm. Paul is not relenting, and the blows come faster and sharper. He’s a lot stronger than I would have guessed, and he holds me down effortlessly with one arm while he warms my ass with the spanking. All my wiggling manages to do is push my butt up for him. Smack! I’m mewing and pouting, which brings another crooked smile to his handsome face but doesn’t convince him to stop. Smack! “That’s it,” he says. “Spread those legs, little whore.” Only when I hear this do I realize I’ve gone from pressing my knees together to parting my slender thighs wide and clinging to his leg. “Paul,” I cry out, more in distress at my own behavior than anything else. My ass and my pussy are burning hot. The stinging slaps have

started feeling good. “Uncle Paul?” he asks again, and now he pauses to rub his hand roughly over my reddened cheeks. He squeezes and pinches, cutting through the haze of my shock and my arousal with a hint of pain. His thumb grazes my asshole. “Uncle!” I gasp. He smack my ass again and then presses his thumb firmly against my tight little anus. “Uncle Paul?” He shoves his thumb up my virgin asshole. “Uncle Paul!” I’m looking over my shoulder pleadingly. Only, I’m not sure what I’m begging for exactly. The idea of having something jammed up my ass makes me panic, but the actual feeling of pressure on the tight hole makes me tense up and want to push back against his hand. Paul’s joking expression has disappeared. His eyes are dark and glazed with hardcore lust as he withdraws his thumb slowly, pausing to press and pull at my puckered anus. He stops holding me down and uses the fingertips of both hands to force my asshole open. It’s only a little, but the pain is sharp, and the sensation is unbearably dirty and vulnerable, my body’s reaction too whorish. “Uncle Paul,” I whine. His fingers stop tormenting my hole, and he grabs me by the arms to pull me up and settle me back against his chest, so I’m facing away from him with my legs spread on either side of his. He pulls my dress up to bare my pussy, and I watch breathlessly as he runs two fingers along my shaved, glistening slit. My stomach tenses at his touch, and I can’t help humping my hips up. Paul brings his fingers to his lips and slips his tongue out to lick the juice from them. I smell myself—musky pussy cream and peach body wash. “Liked that, did you, little girl?” he whispers in my ear. I stammer, making no sense. Paul grabs one of my high, firm tits through the dress, the other hand sliding down my stomach, back to my cunt. I moan when he pinches my nipple while squeezing my sticky-wet pussy lips. There’s nothing to prepare me when he raised his hand and spanks my cunt. I cry out and buck against the lump I feel pressed to my ass, his dick growing hard in his jeans. The next slap, rather than making me press my legs closed, has me spreading myself wider. Watching my slutty reaction, he slaps my stinging snatch again.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan. I turn my face toward his, pleading with my eyes. “I said uncle.” For a moment, his hand comes to rest over my inflamed mound. “You want me to stop, Lauren?” I open my mouth but can’t bring myself to say stop. After a few seconds, he goes back to spanking my cunt, our gazes locked all the while. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” he asks, and I hesitate, then bite my lip and nod. A mixture of humiliation and desire burns my cheeks. He smacks my pussy harder and faster. The stinging is all heat and pleasure now, all hungry throbbing. I hunch back against him to push my mound up for his hand. The next few slaps have me reeling and whimpering, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on my forehead from the effort of all my wriggling and tensing. Paul’s hand comes down over my swollen pink cunt again. I don’t expect him to shove two calloused fingers deep into my aching pussy, and I cry out and arch and go still with shock. My Uncle Paul is finger-fucking me. I think this over and over as I gasp for breath and instinctively spread myself for more. He’s teasing the lobe of my ear with his teeth and has pulled open the front of my dress to get his hand inside and squeeze my tits. My bad girl act has gotten my ass and my dripping wet pussy spanked, not by a high school kid or a college boy, but by a real man who doesn’t play games with naughty little girls. And I really fucking like it. “What do you want, Lauren?” “I want to come.” I sound like such a whore saying this, but it’s true. I want Paul to get me off, then let me show him how good I suck cock—one useful thing I have learned during my bad girl phase. “Please, make me come.” “Please what?” he says, and I look wide-eyed up at him. “Uncle Paul. Say it.” My mouth goes dry, but my stomach is fluttering with excitement as I whisper, “Please make me come, Uncle Paul.” “That’s better,” he says, his warm breath against my neck. He draws his wet fingers out of my slit to rub my clit. His strokes are rapid and rough, driving me to the edge of orgasm hard and fast. I tense as I feel the sensation about to overcome me. Paul pulls his hand away from my pussy before I can get off, and I whine and pout up at him. “Demanding little thing,” he says and puts his fingers to my lips. I hesitate. “Lauren,” he breathes, “you know what I want. Open your mouth.” The heady scent of my own cunt on Paul’s fingers, Paul smelling of soap and dark beer, the

slight chill of the air against my wet slit, the deep burning ache inside me—it’s more than I can take in all at once. I can’t resist acting like his little bitch in heat. I open my mouth, and he slides his fingers inside, against my tongue. It makes my cunt twitch, hearing him moan as I seal my soft, plump lips around his fingers and suck my pussy juice off them. “You suck cock that well, little girl?” I suck harder in response, winning a groan from him. His shifts to grind his hard-on against my ass. With another flare of panic and deep, secret longing, I wonder if he’s going to put his cock inside me. I bet Uncle Paul doesn’t fuck like a college boy. Too far gone to care how slutty I’m acting, I bend my knees and put my spike heels up on the tailgate for leverage. That makes it easier to pump my hips while I rub my own clit, still sucking Paul’s fingers. He draws them slowly out of my mouth. “Keep rubbing your clit,” he says approvingly, then shoves his fingers back up my cunt. Within a couple of strokes, he adds a third finger and starts pumping them faster, harder. Without his fingers in my mouth, I moan and gasp aloud while he mercilessly works my aching hole. The more furiously Paul fingers me, the rougher I am with my clit. Just as I reach the point of pain, my orgasm crashes over me, washing my whole body in a surge of searing pleasure. My knees snap closed, my fingers still digging against my abused slit, Paul’s hand trapped. His fingers curl inside me and rub a spot that makes me cry out and pump my hips, like an orgasm inside an orgasm. He keeps strumming that spot, every few seconds, as I’m trying to come back to myself. Each time he does, I shake and buck and bite my lip. At last, I relax my legs and slump back against my uncle’s firm chest, spread for him again, watching his fingers casually pumping my tingling pussy. Paul kisses my neck, and I tilt my head for more. “You put on quite a show, Lauren.” Then he pulls his fingers out of my soaked cunt and gives the inflamed lips another light smack. “Stand up, little girl.” I move languidly, like I’m just waking up, and slide off his lap. On the way down, I make sure to press my ass hard against the bulge in his pants. This gets a groan and a chuckle and a slap on my butt. The heels seem too high now as I try to stand after that orgasm. My knees feel unstable, but I carefully test my footing before turning around to face Uncle Paul. My gaze flits instantly to the huge hard-on straining the denim at his crotch, and I lick my lips.

Paul gets my attention by roughly pulling the shirt dress open. The buttons give way as obligingly as I have, and he takes a nice long look at my naked body before leaning in to suck one of my tits. His mouth draws hard on my tender nipple, and his tongue flicks it, inducing a warm, velvety pleasure. Then he twists the other nipple until I whimper. The combination of sensations makes my knees weak again. I grab Uncle Paul’s shoulders and lean toward him, trusting him to do terrible, delicious things to me. He releases my nipples, pausing for a few fluttery licks, then slaps my ass. He points at the concrete floor. “Down, Lauren.” I crouch in front of Uncle Paul, and he slides forward until he’s just leaning back against the tailgate. While I swallow hard, my face burning with desire and embarrassment again, my trembling fingers go to work on the buttons of his jeans. He pushes his hips up, helping me slide his pants and briefs down to free his thick cock. He doesn’t have to tell me this time. I immediately start licking his stiff dick, coating it in my saliva, eager to please him. His cock is firm and hot against my tongue, velvety against my hand as I pause to jerk him off. The college guy I’ve been seeing likes to have his balls sucked, and I suspect the same of Paul when I see he keeps himself trimmed. I strive to impress, sucking first one ball, then the other into my mouth, looking up into his eyes all the while. Paul gathers up my long wild hair in one fist, getting it out of way. “Mm, little Lauren has been learning all sorts of things, hasn’t she?” he asks. The husky edge to his voice thrills me. My response is to go down deep on him, taking more than half of his cock into my mouth, until the head hits the back of my throat…and an inch more. Paul sucks his breath in through his teeth, his head falling back for a few moments. The taut lines of his face are gorgeous when he’s in pleasure. “That’s it, bad girl,” he groans. “Suck my cock. The harder you make it, the harder I’ll fuck you with it.” Uncle Paul talking dirty to me, the rumble of his deep, teasing voice, makes me want to spread my pussy open and beg for him to ream me with his big dick. Instead, I make myself concentrate on sucking and tonguing it, squeezing the base of his shaft with one hand and playing with his balls with the other. “Choke on it for me, Lauren,” he says. His hand tightens in my hair, and he pumps his hips forward quickly. The urge to resist as he jams his cock down my throat is strong, but not as

strong as my desire to please him or the perverted thrill I get from crouching legs-spread in fiveinch heels, half-naked in the garage while my gorgeous, cut Uncle Paul gags me with his dick. I try not to squeeze my eyes shut, even as I’m couching and tearing up. He relents after a couple of very long minutes and slides his cock out of my mouth. I gasp for air. Staring down at me, breathing hard, he holds my head still with his fist in my hair and rubs his dick over my face. “You’re very good at being a bad girl, Lauren,” he says. I smile at his praise and stick my tongue out to lick his cock. He teases me, pulling it away, then bringing it back almost within range of my tongue. “Uncle Paul!” I protest with a mock frown, pushing out my lower lip just a little. Paul pulls me to my feet and overwhelms me with a hard, mouth-fucking kiss. Again, I go weak against him, clinging to his chest. I love the feeling of his fist in my hair, pulling gently, directing me. Trusting that he’ll keep me from falling if my legs give way, I slip my hands up his back under his t-shirt, drawing a low moan from him. As he’s teasing my lower lip with his tongue and his teeth, I reach down to grab his tight, muscled ass and dig my nails in just a bit. He breaks the kiss and looks down at me. “Feels like you’re ready to go again, little Lauren.” And with that he lets go of me. “Uncle Paul?” I say as he turns and walks away. He turns back smiling broadly, holding an old blanket that has been stacked on the storage shelves along one wall of the garage. After letting the tailgate off its chains and folding it down, and draping the blanket over the edge of the truck bed, Paul runs his hands over my face. His thumbs wipe the tears that no doubt smeared mascara down my cheeks. “Aw,” he says softly, “don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you in need, little girl.” At Paul’s direction, I sit on the edge of the truck bed. He puts his hands under my knees to bend my legs, so I’m leaning back with my pussy spread and my spike heels planted under me. “Fuck me, Uncle Paul,” I say, impatient as he pauses to peel off his work shirt and the white t-shirt. The sight of his tanned chest, his rippled abs, his smooth stomach leading down to his erect cock, makes me bounce my hips a little, my weight on my arms and heels. “Fuck me hard, please. Don’t be gentle with me. Work my pussy, Uncle Paul.” This makes him grin. He grabs me under my hips and drags me closer, until the shaft of his dick is laid out along the length of my slit. “You don’t have to convince me, little girl. I love you, honey, but I didn’t raise you. I have no problem giving you the good rough fuck you’ve been

asking for.” I bite my lip and hold my breath in anticipation as Paul grasps his cock and lines the head up with my wet cunt. He works the head in slowly, then grabs me under my hips again. I cry out as he surges forward and buries his thick, rigid dick halfway into me in one stroke. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, Uncle Paul!” I throw my head back, panting, arching. “It’s so big. Oh, god, yes. You’re splitting me open.” He stops at one thrust, now just nudging his hips back and forth so slightly, sending spasms of pain and electrifying pleasure through my aching core. He’s gritting his teeth, like it’s an effort to restrain himself from hammering my vulnerable cunt. “You’re tighter…a lot fucking tighter…than I thought you’d be. My bad little girl…hasn’t been fucking around…as much as she wants people to think. This will hurt.” It’s a struggle to speak, but I desperately need Uncle Paul to ride me and do it now. “Do it,” I plead. “Fuck me like your little slut. Give it to me.” Paul’s gaze locks on mine, his expression a mixture of hunger and familiar mischief. “Bad girls always get what they ask for,” he tells me before he slams his cock into my pussy all the way down to his big balls. My eyes roll back in my head and I cry out his name. He wastes no time with letting my cunt relax to accommodate him. My pussy is burning and throbbing as he pumps me with long, thorough strokes that slowly gain speed. Every fourth or fifth stroke, he jerks my hips hard for several deep, furious thrusts that feel like he’s impaling my stretched, helpless cunt. My round tits jiggle and bounce as he jerks my body up and down on his cock. Paul eases back for the long strokes. “Is that what you want, bad girl?” I barely hear him through my raptured haze, but I nod. “Yes,” I rasp. Then I feel his thumb worrying my clit with quick circles as he launches the next barrage of feverish pumping, and another orgasm strikes like a lightning bolt through my tensed body. “Fuck!” he groans. “Yeah, squeeze that cock with your tight little cunt. Milk it, Lauren.” The idea of taking Uncle Paul’s cum up my pussy cuts through the dreamy pleasure of my climax. That edge of need, of slutty desperation and dark longing, returns. I concentrate on tensing my pussy. Paul moans loudly, and I know he felt it. “You like that idea, little girl? You want your uncle to shoot his cum deep in your cunt?”

“Oh, god, yes!” I tense the muscles again, over and over. He leans over me, still pounding my trembling hole. “You’re a dirty little girl, Lauren. Say it. Tell me what you want.” “Come inside me, Uncle Paul,” I beg. “Come inside your dirty, slutty little niece.” Paul buries his face in my tits, lashing my nipples with his tongue, as his hips shift into overdrive again. All I can do it hang on, ride the waves of sensation emanating from my tingling breasts and my throbbing pussy. Uncle Paul doesn’t let up, driving deeper and deeper into me. Then his stomach tenses, and he hunches his back, and his cum shoots into my cunt in an eruption of liquid heat. I wrap my legs around his waist, clinging to him as his hips jerk, as his dick spurts the last streams of his cum into me. He groans my name as he relaxes against me. Slowly, we both stop panting and tensing with aftershocks of pleasure. Underneath him, I am still, my face burning. I just fucked my Uncle Paul. He gaged me with his thick cock, and I begged him to fuck me and come in my pussy. It was beyond wrong, perverse, and the only thing I can think of is how much I want it to keep happening. I’m disappointed to feel Paul straighten up and pull his dick out of my sore cunt. I sit up and watch as he stuffs himself back into his briefs and fastens his jeans. He notices me watching and smiles. “I’ll see if I can get Chris to talk to your mom about letting you go out tonight,” he says, sliding his white t-shirt over his head. I frown slightly at this. College guys don’t measure up to the fucking Paul just gave me. “Yeah, the party,” I mutter. Uncle Paul pulls the edge of my dress closed and slides one button through its hole. “No party for you, little girl.” I tilt my head, confused. “Oh, you’ll tell your mom you’re going to the party all right, but then you’re going to drive to my motel room.” My face lights up so dramatically that I can feel it, and he grins. “I have plans for that tight little ass tonight.” I can only imagine the rough handling my virgin asshole will get…and I’ll be thinking about nothing else all day. Thankfully, I’ve finished dressing and am folding the blanket back up as my stepdad’s car starts to pull into the drive. I cast a secretive glance at Paul. “Sorry you didn’t get to show up your brother.”

Paul laughs. “Didn’t I? I had his daughter screaming my name with my cock up her pussy. I’d count that as a win for me.” “Mm, for me, too.” “You,” he says to me, motioning toward the house as Chris is getting out of his car, “get out of here before I get hard again. That would be difficult to explain to my brother.” “Yes, Uncle Paul,” I say, smiling as I slip past him. “You remember that, young lady,” he mutters under his breath. “That’s what you’ll be saying when I’m balls-deep in your tight little ass tonight.” I don’t doubt that one bit. THE END

AN EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S SPECIAL TREATMENT: UPTOWN SLUTS #2 Nick shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Staff told me the Atwood girl was being a bitch and demanding special treatment again. I expected to find Cece here. What’s going on, Karin? You never act like this.” I try to look relaxed as I shrug. “I guess I wanted to be the one getting special treatment for a change.” That doesn’t sound the way I wanted it to. I’m dancing around the point too much, but I’m too chicken to come out and say exactly what I mean. Nick takes a few steps toward me and folds his arms as he stands considering me. He shakes his head again, and only then does his gaze travel from my face down to the bikini top barely containing my tits. His focus pauses for several long seconds on my hardened nipples, standing out against the swimsuit fabric, before sliding down my stomach to the tiny triangle of material covering my pussy. As he takes a deep breath, he looks back up to my face. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, Karin, but we’re going to forget about today, and this isn’t going to happen again. No more champagne for you. You’re only eighteen. I’ll have one of the club cars take you home.” No, this is not the way this is supposed to happen. “I saw you,” I blurt. “Saw me?” My heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it in my burning cheeks, in my throat and my fingertips, in my ears. I’m really doing this. “Last month,” I tell him, “when Cece made such a fuss before the birthday party she was throwing, because the club didn’t have the right shade of pink balloons or the table runners she wanted. I saw the two of you.” Now it is Nick’s turn to freeze. He remains so only for a moment, though. Before I know it, he’s closing the distance between us, and I can’t help retreating until my back is pressed to the edge of the bar. He is only a couple of inches from me, close enough to kiss. Slowly, gently, he takes the sunglasses from my face and puts them behind me on the bar. He puts his hands on the counter

on either side of me, penning me in, and looks me in the eye. When he speaks, his tone is soft and controlled. “What exactly did you see, Karin?” It takes several seconds for me to gather up the nerve to speak. “Cece sent me out to get different balloons,” I stammer, dimly aware that’s not what he asked. “I came back in through the service entrance. I thought there was no one else around, but you and Cece were there. You were scolding her for always expecting special treatment, and she got attitude with you and…” “And?” he asks—whispers it, really. “You told her you’d show her special treatment…and bent her over one of the tables.” There. It’s said. Now he knows what I mean. “And?” he asks again. And? Surely he knows what I saw, but he stands there so still and patient, green eyes scanning my face, my lips. I struggle to speak again. “And you pushed her skirt up.” There is a moment’s pause before he says, “And?” I’m sure I can’t speak. Yet I do manage to rasp, “You pulled down her panties.” “And?” “You…” I’m not sure I can say it. The way he’s looking at me makes my knees weak. I just want him to touch me. “You fucked her.” Nick leans in a little closer. I can feel his breath against my face. He smells of expensive, subtle cologne, with mandarin and something woody. “You mean you saw me pumping my cock into your sister’s cunt?” My lips part, but I swallow the moan that rises up my throat at the sound of Nick talking dirty. Very slowly, I nod. “And you didn’t try to stop me, did you, Karin?” I shake my head no. “And you didn’t tell anyone else about what you saw, did you?” “No.” “What did you do, Karin?” I don’t want to answer that. “You kept watching us while I screwed her and slapped her ass and told her she was a slut, didn’t you?” I feel myself blush furiously. That’s all the response he needs.

“You were wearing that light purple silk dress that day, weren’t you? The short one?” Nick asks, and I’m stunned he would remember that. “Yes.” “Did you touch yourself while you watched me fuck your sister? Did you pull up that pretty dress and put your hand into your panties and rub your sensitive little clit?” The way he says “clit” makes it hard for me to breathe. But what’s the point of hiding it, especially after everything I did to get Nick all hot and bothered and alone here with me? “Yes,” I admit. Yes, and I would give anything to get you to put your hand in my panties. Nick lets his breath out, a warm caress against my cheek. “Did you play with your nipples through the dress?” he asks. “Did you finger your pussy until you came?” I nod my head, and he watches me with hooded eyes, his lips slightly parted. His mouth looks so soft. I want to suck his lips. I want to feel them sucking my clit. “What is it you want, Karin?” Breathlessly, I answer, “Special treatment.” For a moment, that reserved expression Nick is wearing falters, and there’s a hint of disbelief. “You want me to do to you what I did to Cece?” I lean toward Nick and whimper, almost inaudibly, when my rigid nipples brush against his chest. “Yes.”

AN EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S PRIVATE BOX: UPTOWN SLUTS #4 Just as I’m about to ask when they get off work, when they can get me off—hell, if there’s a storage room with some crates they can bend me over to take turns on me—the main show starts on stage with a loud guitar riff and a deafening roar from the crowd. The few fans still mingling on the VIP deck swarm toward the railing or hurry to their suites to watch the show. No one sees Max take my hand and lead me away, Lee following hard on our heels. At the far end of the VIP deck, we pause at the door to the next to last luxury suite, and Max flips through his options on a key-ring to find the right one to open it. Not waiting, Lee buries his face in my neck from behind and reaches under my short dress to rub my pussy through my damp panties. I gasp and shiver, pressing back against him and finding a huge hard-on nestled against my ass. Good brother, indeed. With the door unlocked now, Max demands my attention, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me away from his twin, into the darkened room. The lights from the show stream through the glass panel at the opposite end of the suite and sweep across the walls in multi-colored shards. Lee slips in and locks the door behind us, leaving the interior lights switched off. Max draws me tight against him and begins kissing my ear while he feels up my ass through my dress. I smile when I discover another way he and Lee are twins—Max’s cock, digging into my stomach, feels just as big and hard as Lee’s. Between the kissing and the warm breath on my neck and his hands on my body, I’m starting to feel drunk with desire. It’s definitely more than the champagne. “Now what was I saying about a party in your private box?” he asks. I tilt my face up, and Max’s mouth comes down hungrily over mine. He licks my lips with the tip of his tongue, and I suck it into my mouth. So caught up in the kiss, I’m unprepared when Lee pulls my hips back so he has room to slide up my dress. He reaches around to dip his hand inside my panties and stick two fingers up my pussy, making my hips jerk in delight. “Mm,” he groans into my ear from behind. “That is a hot, tight little box.” I run one ankle up the inside of his leg, spreading my thighs for him. He responds by adding a third finger and thrusting them deeper into my slit.

My head falls back against him. “Oh, fuck, yeah. More. Harder,” I tell him, surprising myself with my demands and the ferocity of my need. Max kneels before me and peels my panties down my wet thighs. He smiles when he sees my shaved snatch. “I guess we’ll never know if you’re a real redhead.” He adds two fingers to those already fucking me, and I squeal and thrust my hips. With both twins fingering my aching cunt, I relax back against Lee and let my body buck and squirm as much as it needs to. “Oh, yeah,” Max says, that devilish gleam in his eye again. “You can take both of us, can’t you, baby?” “Both of you?” It takes a second for his words to register through the haze of lust and hunger clouding my head. “I thought you’d just take turns fucking me.” “What’s your name, baby?” Lee asks, but he starts to thumb my clit, and I can’t answer for several agonizingly blissful moments. “Holly,” I gasp. Lee purrs and nips gently at my earlobe. “Max and I aren’t good at waiting our turn, Holly. A girl who spreads for us has to be prepared to get fucked by both of us at the same time.” I’m not sure if they’re talking about a double-penetration or about both of them shoving their cocks up my pussy at the same time, which are acts I’ve never tried, only seen in porn movies. Anxiety washes through me but can’t overcome the waves of lust rippling out from my pussy as these blond angels pump it hard with their long fingers. Shocked, I realize both ideas turn me on. Fuck, I really am a slut. “I’m not sure I can take both at once,” I say, leaning weak and panting against Lee’s firm chest. “Oh, you will, baby,” Max assures me before removing his fingers from my dripping cunt. With that decadent glimmer in his eye, he licks his fingers and then puts them to my lips. “Taste your pussy. It’s so fucking good, baby.” He slides his fingers into my mouth, and I suck them, tasting the sharp tang of my own slutty cunt. Lee slips his hand from my slit as well, which makes me whimper in disappointment. He sticks his tongue out and slides the tip slowly and deliberately along his fingers, and he smiles. “I have to eat that pussy.” I suck hard on Max’s fingers, and he moans under his breath. “Feel free, little brother,” he says. “I’m getting my cock in that mouth right now.”

They work as a team, Lee unzipping the back of my dress in one quick sweep, Max sliding his hand to the back of my neck to unclasp the halter. Then Lee finishes the task by unhooking my strapless bra and tossing it aside. For a few seconds I’m nude and trembling, pressed between two fully-clothed, gorgeous men. I feel like a total fucktoy, and I’m a little surprised how much I like it. Max sweeps me up in his arms and carries me across the room to deposit me on the leather couch. I yip as my skin comes in contact with the cold surface. I forget my discomfort, though, as the twins shirk off their shirts to reveal hard, toned bodies. Max is the first to get his cock out. If he’s going to do all the things with it I suspect he will, I’m glad to see it’s long and stiff but not overly thick. “Open up, baby,” he says as he kneels on the couch and presents his hard cock for sucking. I lap at the head and the shaft, getting it as wet as if he’d just pulled it out of my cunt. Then I take it slowly into my mouth, inch by inch, sucking hard. “Oh, yeah,” he groans, reaching down to toy with one of my tits, teasing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. I arch to his touch, wanting him to squeeze harder and pinch my nipples. Max pushes his hips forward. “More. Take it all. Swallow that dick. Mm, good girl.” He is just getting into the rhythm of fucking my mouth when I feel Lee’s fingers spreading the lips of my cunt and his tongue dart inside for a series of quick butterfly-gentle licks before diving in with deeper kisses. I gasp and choke on Max’s cock, overcome by the compulsion to pump my hips toward Lee’s face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Max playfully slap Lee on the back of the head. “Dude, you’re fucking up my blowjob.” Lee lifts his face, wet with my pussy juice. “Can’t be helped, man. This cunt is begging to be tongue-fucked.” And he proceeds to do just that, alternately thrusting his warm tongue into my hole and drawing rough circles around my clit.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I’m the girl-next door with an unexpectedly wicked mind (and an addiction to sexy high heels). There’s nothing quite like the thrill of turning forbidden desires and secret fantasies into erotic tales with literary flare and a dirty mouth. Let me tell you a naughty story… Erika Masten [email protected] http://erikamasten.com