Flirting With Catastrophe

I’d chosen that blouse on purpose because it let my boobs hang out.  Now, as I leaned over the work bench, I felt deliciously self conscious as the front of my shirt gaped open.  I knew he could see my boobies hanging down, and that knowledge made me bold, horny and wet.

“Did you really rape a girl once?”

Uncle Tim sighed and put down the small engine he had been tinkering with.  “No,” he said with a sadness and certainty that made me hate myself for asking, “I have never raped anyone.  Who gave you that idea?”

“Mom.”  Uncle Tim was short, barely half an inch taller than me, but with his shaved head and muscles and all his tattoos he looked powerful and frightening, and I could easily imagine him raping someone.  “She didn’t exactly say so, but she, um, strongly implied it.”

“Ah,” he sighed again, and went back to removing the motor housing.  “I see.  Hand me that screwdriver, wouldja?”

Uncle Tim had huge hands like the paws of a grizzly bear that could be surprisingly delicate.  I could also imagine those hands punching through my bedroom door, shattering the wood, tearing the door off its hinges.  The thought made me shiver.  The words “LETS FUCK” were tattooed across his knuckles in faded blue ink, crisscrossed with a web of thin white scars.  I could easily imagine Uncle Tim raping me, a thought that made my clit twitch and my cunt drool.

“What was it like in prison?” I asked, bending suggestively over the workbench again, just in case he had missed the view the first time.  Under my skirt, the crotch of my panties was wet.  I’d chosen the panties carefully, a skimpy red lacey pair that I thought made my ass look pretty hot when I checked myself out in the mirror.  I’d considered going commando, but chickened out at the last minute.  I wasn’t wearing a bra though.  Even Mom said I didn’t need one.

“It sucked,” he said, not looking at me but fiddling around with the guts of the motor, “It was dehumanizing.  I guess that’s how it’s supposed to be.  Mostly it was incredibly boring.  People would get in fights just to relieve the tedium.  Sometimes it was scary.  Long periods of crushing boredom, punctuated with bouts of ass-clenching terror.  That about sums it up.”

“My mom doesn’t like me hanging out here.”

“No kidding?”

He’d make me suck his dick first.  He’d take me by the hair and force me down on his cock, cramming it into my mouth and down my throat until I choked and then brutally face-fucking me.

I wondered what his penis looked like.  I bet it was like his body: short, but thick and solid.  Uncircumcised, with a bulbous head like a ripe plum, and a compact set of balls.  I wondered if he’d come in my mouth.  I imagined what it would be like to have him flood my mouth with hot sticky semen.  I bet there’d be a ton of it.  I wondered what he sounded like when he came.  Would he call me a bitch, a slut, a fucking whore?  Would he growl like a wild animal?  Or would he come silently, mashing my face into his pubes as he wordlessly pumped hot come down my throat, holding my head in those giant hands until I had swallowed it all?

Uncle Tim seemed to have found the part that was giving him trouble.  He removed it, a tiny little copper fitting, and held it up, squinting at it intensely.  It was amazing how those huge hands with those thick sausage-like fingers could be so careful, so delicate.  I climbed up on the workbench and sat down on the plywood tabletop, casually letting my knees spread apart.  I felt cool air waft up my skirt, caressing my sweaty inner thighs and I knew that if he looked he could see my panties.

“Did you really kill a guy?”

“Is that coming from your mom again?”


“No, that’s not true.”  He set down the little bushing or whatever it was, carefully in a little plastic tray.  “I did hurt a man really bad once, and I’m not proud of that.”

He was standing so close to me I could almost feel his body heat.  I could see his package, an enticing lump in the front of his dirty faded blue jeans.  I was helpless down here in the basement with him.  If he wanted to take me, there was nothing I could do about it.

“Is it true that you were a drug addict?”

“Yeah, your mom got that much right.  For a long time I was on dope.  It was easier than coping with reality.   I don’t advise it, but you gotta choose your own path.”

He selected a new part and carefully inserted it into the guts of the torn-open motor.  I spread my legs a little further apart.  My naked calf ‘accidentally’ brushed against his denim-clad leg.  Concentrating on his work, Uncle Tim didn’t even seem to notice.

“So when was the last time you did it with a girl?”

Uncle Tim set down his socket driver and looked at me seriously, like a butcher appraising a slab of meat.

“Are you sure you’re old enough to be asking me that kind of question?”

“How old do you have to be to start knocking over gas stations?”

“Touché.  Ok, fair enough.  But it was liquor stores, not gas stations.  They keep more cash in the till.  And to answer your question, it’s been a very long time since I was with a girl.”

I felt a thrill of terror run up and down my spine, making me shiver deliciously.  My clit felt fat and hot inside my damp panties.  He might take me right there on the work bench, sweeping the tools and parts aside with one brush of his ropey, apelike arm.  He could undress me as I sat on the table, unbuttoning my blouse with his huge clever fingers while I sat mesmerized by his steel grey eyes, unable to protest.  He would take my skirt off, pull my panties down, sniff the wet crotch and smirk crudely at me, knowing me for the horny little slut that I am.  He’d paw at my breasts, fondling me roughly, twisting and pulling on the nipples for the sheer pleasure of making me squirm and cry.

Then he’d get undressed.  He pull of his t-shirt, black with the white logo of some 1980s hardcore band on the front, exposing his pale flesh, his jailhouse tattoos, a wicked-looking half-moon scar across his chest, his flat pink nipples, his beer belly.  He’d pull off his jeans and his underwear, and there would be his cock, jutting out at me like a spear, hard as diamonds, swollen red and eager.

He’d push me down on my back on the tabletop, covering my face with his huge hand, and he’d climb up on top of me.  I’d feel his bulk above me, the heat radiating off his body, his cock brushing against my sopping-wet pussy.  He’d nudge my thighs apart, and I’d be powerless to resist.

His hard steel eyes staring pitilessly into mine, he’d pierce my virgin cunt with one cruel thrust.  It would hurt, but not too much, and even as I screamed into the slab of his hand, the pain would be washed away by waves of pleasure.  He’d fill me up entirely, skewering me with his cock.  He’d take his hand from my face and replace it with his mouth, kissing me forcefully, brutally as he fucked me.  Almost against my will, I’d feel my body responding, fucking back against him.  He’d sense my orgasm coming, and hold back his own climax, torturing me with his cock, fucking me slow, slow, slower, pulling it almost all the way out and waiting for me to beg for it before shoving it back deep inside.  At last when I could bear no more, when the whimpers and cries of fear and distress had been replaced with gasps and screams of pure pleasure, he’d surrender control, fucking my cunt hard and deep and we’d come together, my pussy milking his cock as he pumped gobs and gobs of semen deep deep inside me.

Or maybe he’d want my ass.  After clearing the work bench with one sweep of his giant arm, he’d lift me bodily up and place me on all fours on the table top.  He’d tear the front of my blouse open, scattering buttons all over the cement basement floor so my tits hung down.  He’d pinch and pull the nipples, chuckling as I squealed and tried to pull away.  He’d lift up my skirt, tear my panties off, exposing my secret parts, my wet pussy and my tender little ass.

He’d spread my ass cheeks with those inexorably strong vice-like hands, exposing my most private places, and I’d bury my face in my arms, powerless to resist.  He’d draw his finger all the way down from the base of my spine, along my ass, over my asshole and into my pussy, and he’d chortle out loud as I whimpered and wiggled at his touch.

I’d feel the red-hot pressure of the head of his penis pressing up against my anus, and I’d swallow hard, panting like a steam train, trying to force my body to relax, dizzy with fear and lust.  And then, lubricated with nothing more than spit and my own pussy juice, he’d slide that big fat cock right up my asshole.

The sensation would be unlike anything I’d ever felt before: not painful, but a kind of intensity that I could only just barely stand.  I’d choke out a strangled little scream, and he’d only grunt and shove a little bit more up inside.  By the time I’d feel like I really couldn’t take any more, like I’d burst, like my poor ass would be split in half, he’d kind of sigh and I’d realize that he was all the way up inside me.

I’d reach back to pet my clit, hot and swollen and needy, coated in the slippery juices that were leaking so copiously from my cunt.  He’d be there already though, his huge finger gently caressing my exquisitely sensitive button, drawing tiny little circles on my clit, bringing me right to the edge.

Slowly, very slowly, he’d start fucking my ass as he fingered my clit.  At first he’d barely move.  The sensation would be amazing.  I’d be groaning now, begging for it, humping back against him.  He’d get more and more excited, forgetting to be gentle at all, fucking my ass harder and deeper.  He’d slide one of those huge fingers up my cunt, and then just when I thought I really couldn’t take any more, he’d slide a second one in alongside the first.

He’d whisper my name, over and over in a low throaty growl as he fucked my ass, and his thumb would keep bumping into my engorged clit, totally sending me over the edge.  I’d come on him, a long, drawn-out wailing orgasm, and my spasms would set him off.  He’d fuck my ass hard with abandon, taking his pleasure in my body, ignoring my screams and pulling hard on my hair until he came, shooting his come straight up my butt, his cock twitching as he came, gallons and gallons of semen, and that would make me come again, and then at last he’d collapse on top of me, panting and sweaty, his massive bulk almost crushing me, our bodies pressed together on top of the worktable, his lips in my tangled hair, his hot breath on my neck, his slippery cock between my ass cheeks, a big wet sticky mess.

My panties were really drenched.  “Uncle Tim?”  I desperately hoped I didn’t sound desperate.

He almost had the motor housing reassembled.  “Hmm?”

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

He set the motor down and fixed me with those steel grey eyes, and I experienced another jolt of raw fear.  “Sweety,” he said gently, “Didn’t your mother tell you I’m gay?”


“Hand me that screwdriver again, wouldja?”  He tightened up the last couple of screws and wiped his greasy hands on his black punk-rock t-shirt.  “Whaddya say we go get lunch?”

Later on, after cheeseburgers down at the diner, as we sat across the table from each other and sipped our Cokes, I once again squirmed under his inscrutable steely gaze.  The tattooed words on his knuckles taunted me.

“I feel like a total asshole” I told him.

“Go easy on yourself Sugar,” he said, “You put it out there, and that counts for a lot in my book.  Hell, you had me halfway there, and I don’t even do girls.”

That made me feel a little better.  That was one of the things I liked best about Uncle Tim; he never talked down to me.  He always treated me like an adult.

“Hey Uncle Tim, if I bought something on the internet, could I have it shipped to your address?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “What, something you wouldn’t want your mother to see?  Sure, no problem.”

We finished our Cokes in silence.

“Uncle Tim,” I asked after the waitress had taken away the bill, “If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?”

“I wouldn’t have got caught.”



  1. […] Flirting With Catastrophe. […]

  2. smutkitten said

    This is so hot! I love you cleverly managed to fit all the sex in whilst giving it a funny twist for an ending. It felt more realistic that way and made it more unique and interesting. I love it!

  3. ElsieFanny said

    Thanks for the clever, funny, and completely anticlimactic ending.

  4. Random creepy dude said

    I hate your stories! I cannot help but check every few hours for a new one, and catching up on old ones is killing my productivity at work.

  5. Oti said

    I expected the girl to “do” Uncle Tim with a strapon. Think about it for the next story

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