Me and My Uncle Ch. 05

It didn't take long for word to spread about my sexual talents, and my availability for a fair sum of money.

I made the rounds with Uncle Bill's friends, usually fucking them gratis the first time, to establish in their minds just what I could do. After they had me once, they always came back for more, but for a price.

Like I've said, I was good. I loved sex, and I didn't mind being known as a whore, at least not initially. Somehow, in my mind, I believed it was what I'd always been. I was just being honest about it now, rather than denying it, and getting paid for it, to boot.

By the time I graduated from high school, Uncle Bill's new bar was just about completed, and over the next few weeks, we established our routine and started building up our clientele.

The location helped us. In this part of the country, there are no strip joints, no such thing as escort services, nor are there any real prostitutes readily available.

So when word got around that a young, good-looking girl who loved to fuck was available for a reasonable price in the middle of nowhere, men started coming from all over the place to see me.

Bill and I quickly established a fee structure, and we never deviated from it. Twenty bucks got you a handjob, and it was $50 for a blowjob, $60 if you wanted to cum on my face. Straight sex went for $100, and it was $200 for anal.

During the summer, I got Sunday nights and Mondays off. During the school year, I took off those two days and Tuesdays. I was expected to get any serious studying done on those nights, freeing me up to work the other four nights.

I usually started around 6 p.m., after the store closed. I'd work the bar, done up in one of my whore dresses, making the rounds for an hour or so, letting the customers get a good look at what I had to offer.

When we had a half-dozen or so lined up, I'd take them upstairs, one after the other, and start working them, giving them whatever they wanted. No money changed hands until after they got upstairs, and they had put in their order.

We set a half-hour limit on each encounter. I figured that if you couldn't cum in that space of time, you had more problems than I could fix. I usually got 10-15 minutes between clients to give myself a chance to clean up a little bit, either a quick shower or a douche.

Saturdays were often a little different. After awhile, Bill started selling me to clients for special occasions. For $1,000, you could buy my services for the whole day and night to do just about anything you wanted.

For the most part, these were clients who didn't want to be seen at Bill's Place, men, women or couples who would have had a lot to lose if it got out that they were partaking of a prostitute's services.

Of course, there were others who liked to role-play, men who got off on the idea of fucking a girl who looked underage. They could have the fantasy of sex with a girl who appeared to be very young and virginal, without breaking the law.

That was a part I could play easily. For a long time, I could pass for a 15-year-old, until I was older, and the psychic and emotional weight of what I was doing began to show on my face.

There was an element that was missing, however, and that led to the first really intense night of my new career.

Uncle Bill and I had talked about how long it would be before the sheriff's department started sniffing around, and how we would react when it did. This was not the problem it would have been in some other jurisdiction. Or, rather, it wasn't the same problem it might have been somewhere else.

During the whole time I lived in that part of Missouri, the county was under the firm control of the sheriff, Charles Henning. By 1988, he'd been the sheriff there for 14 years, and his control was total.

Mr. Charley, as everyone called him, was an average-sized, pleasant-looking man in his mid-50s. He was soft-spoken and quite gentlemanly - until you crossed him.

Behind that pleasant exterior was a man who kept the whole county under his thumb. Nothing went on in that county that he didn't know about, and there were whispers of kickbacks and payoffs for protection, and worse. Some girls at school told stories of being stopped on county roads and being forced to have sex with deputies.

My Uncle Bill, however, was convinced that we could do business with Mr. Charley. He believed that if they came around, we should be ready to pay them off in some way. As it turned out, I was the one who provided the payoff, and it was some kind of experience.

It happened on a Monday night in mid-July, when the bar was closed and Uncle Bill had gone to Kansas City for some supplies.

It was about 8:30, and I was reading a book in the den. I heard a knock on the door, and nearly jumped out of my skin. I have to say that I was afraid. All sorts of thoughts crossed my mind as I slowly walked to the door. I mean, that place was pretty isolated, and I wasn't expecting anyone to come by.

I looked out the window, and my blood ran cold. There was a man in the uniform of the sheriff's department standing by the door. I vaguely recognized him as one of the deputies who sometimes came around for coffee in the morning. I opened the door, hesitantly, but refused to open the chain.

"Y-y-yes, what can I do for you, officer?" I said nervously through the cracked door. He was a tallish man, with dark hair that was slightly receding from his forehead, a dark moustache and sideburns.

"Sophie Trotter?" he said in a flat voice. I answered yes, and he continued. "I'm Bob Wilson from the sheriff's department, and I've been ordered to bring you in for questioning about the business y'all have going on out here."

Although his voice was a monotone, he had such an obvious leer on his face that I knew something was up.

"Now?" I asked, still a little fearful.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Sheriff's orders."

"Am I under arrest?" I said.

"Not if you cooperate," the deputy said, with just a trace of menace in his voice. I felt a trickle of fear run up my spine at the way he emphasized the word, "cooperate." I knew exactly what that meant. But I also knew I was helpless, so I had to go with him.

"Let me slip some shoes on," I said. "I'll be right out."

I slipped on a pair of sandals, grabbed my keys and my purse, turned out the lights, locked the apartment and left with the deputy.

Deputy Wilson opened the passenger's side door to let me in, then he climbed in, but made no move to drive anywhere. He looked over at me with this sickening grin, and reached for me.

"Like I said, you've got to cooperate," he said. "So what are you waiting for?"

"What do you want?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"Suck my dick," he said roughly. I gazed into his lap and saw that his hard-on was already making a bulge of his uniform pants.

I reached down, unzipped his pants and his cock sprang out like a jack-in-the-box, hard and an angry red color. I bent my head into his lap, slid the head of his dick between my lips and began to suck the hard flesh.

He wasn't real big, but he wasn't a pee-wee, either, probably 5-5 1/2 inches and fairly fat. I gave him my very best blowjob, licking all around the shaft as I worked, hoping that was all that would be required. But in the next moments, the deputy laid those hopes to rest.

"A couple of us have to stay out on patrol," Wilson said, panting as I worked my mouth up and down on his cock. "So we can't join in the party we've got planned for you back at the office. So this is my reward for bringing you in."

My blood ran cold at that, but I also felt a quick flash of heat between my legs. I was a little bewildered at that reaction, but I guess I knew in my subconscious that I was about to get supremely fucked, that I didn't have any choice in the matter and that I might as well get ready to enjoy it.

Just then, the radio crackled.

"Unit 15, come in," the dispatcher said. "What is your 10-20?"

"I'm at the subject's location," Deputy Wilson said into the mike.

"And is the subject ... cooperating?" the voice from the radio asked.

"Oh yeah, she's cooperating quite nicely," Wilson said. I had stopped working his cock momentarily, fascinated by this exchange. "Don't stop, honey, keep right on cooperating."

He cackled then, and put a hand to the back of my head and began to work me hard up and down on his cock. I could feel the telltale twitter in his cock that told me he was close, and I redoubled my efforts, in order to get him off as quickly as I could.

Those efforts were quickly rewarded, as I heard him gasp, and his hips thrust upward hard, seconds before his cock exploded in my mouth. He filled my mouth with a goodly amount of hot, thick cum, which I swallowed expertly. I kept my lips pursed around the base of his cock and milked him of every bit of his cum.

When I released his cock, and it flopped limp between his legs, I smacked my lips to make it seem like his cum was ambrosia. In reality, the nature of this encounter had been disgusting and fearsome, but the deputy didn't need to know that.

Wilson pushed his cock back into his pants, zipped himself up, turned the ignition, and we headed off toward town.

"You are a good little whore, aren't you," he said with a tone of disdain, and I felt a hot flash of anger.

"Was that cooperation enough for you?" I said, with more sarcasm than I intended. He immediately pulled the patrol car to the shoulder of the road and stopped. He looked at me angrily, and I shrunk back toward the door in fear.

"Listen to me, you little slut," he said forcefully. "We're not going to put up with any attitude from you tonight. Unless you want me to strip you down right now, handcuff you and throw you in the jail with the drunks, the dykes and the dopers, you'd better keep a civil tongue in your head. Do you understand me?"

"Y-y-y-yes s-s-s-sir," I said, trembling. He genuinely frightened me, and I had to wonder just what exactly was in store for me that night.

We arrived in town, and drove to the sheriff's office, which was located in an annex behind the old courthouse. We parked in front, and got out.

Wilson took my arm and led me into the office, and I noticed there was an unusually large number of deputies hanging around, about seven or eight. They all looked at me with undisguised lust in their eyes, and I had a feeling building about what they had in mind.

But he led me down the hall, to the door at the end, which had the sheriff's name on it. Now I was really scared, because it appeared that I was being brought before Mr. Charley himself. Sure enough, Wilson knocked on the door, and a soft voice told us to come in.

Mr. Charley's office was surprisingly spare for someone in his position. There were a few of his degrees on the wall, a couple of commendations and a large framed photograph of Busch Stadium in St. Louis. But other than that, the place was sparsely furnished. I was led in, Wilson said, "here she is," turned and left the office, shutting the door behind him.

"Have a seat, young lady," Mr. Charley said in a pleasant voice, and I took a seat on a leather-bound chair next to his desk, facing him. I sat down, feeling very inadequate. I wasn't exactly dressed appropriately for a meeting with the most powerful man in the county - shorts, tank top and sandals.

He was dressed casually; khaki slacks, crisply pressed short-sleeve shirt, and he sat back in his big leather chair and just gazed at me with his sad eyes. I felt a real sense of foreboding at the way he was looking at me.

"Relax," he said finally. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Y-y-yes sir," I said.

I was still feeling nervous, but Mr. Charley had a way of disarming your fears. He was a politician of the first order, and he knew how to make people feel comfortable in his presence - when it suited him.

"Sophie, isn't it?" he said. I nodded, and he continued, still in a pleasant tone of voice. "I've been getting some reports about some, uh, activities that are going on out at your uncle's place. What do you have to say about that?"

"W-w-what kind of activities do you mean?" I said. Mr. Charley smiled at that, but it was a pretty mirthless smile.

"Come on, Sophie, I think we all know what you're doing up in that apartment, while your uncle's tending bar," Mr. Charley said. "Word gets around this county pretty quickly, especially when a sweet-looking thing like you starts whoring for a living."

"It ... it was Uncle Bill's idea," I said. "We're trying to find a way to pay for me to go to college, and ... and h-h-he thought that would be the best and easiest way to get up the money. We're not hurting anyone."

"I'm not interested in why you're doing it," Mr. Charley said. "What's important is what you're going to do about it."

"What do you mean?" I said. He stood up then, and walked over to where I was sitting. He ran a finger along my jawline, very lightly, sending shivers up my spine.

"You're a very pretty, very sexy young woman," he said softly. I happened to glance down, and saw a fairly impressive bulge in his slacks. "I want to see if you're worth going out on a limb for. If you pass muster with me, and my men, you'll be allowed to stay in business indefinitely. If you don't..."

He didn't have to finish the statement. I knew right then that my future, and probably Uncle Bill's as well, depended on how well I fucked the sheriff and his deputies.

I should have been more nervous, but I was now on familiar ground. As far as I was concerned, the sheriff and his men were now just clients, like any other john I'd encountered. The sheriff was going to pay me for sex by providing protection, and I was going to respond just like I would for anyone else.

Of course, I didn't realize quite what that was going to involve, but I figured it was best to go with the flow, and take whatever came. At that moment, I wondered if Uncle Bill knew what was going on, whether he'd actually set it up.

Well, it didn't matter. It was going to happen, whether he'd known about it or not.

I stood up and drew the sheriff to me. I pulled him down and we kissed, hotly. Mr. Charley was actually a pretty nice-looking man, with a lot of charisma, and I wasn't the least bit shy about showing him how I did things.

I pressed my body to his, and made sure I worked my tongue in his mouth, like a good whore. I ground my pelvis into his groin, and felt his hard cock pressing into me.

We broke our embrace, and he just stared at me.

"Take off your clothes," he whispered. "Let's see that hot little body that everyone's been talking about."

I did as I was told, pulling off my tank top, my sandals, shorts and panties. I stood naked in front of the sheriff, and he looked me up and down.

"Kind of small, aren't you?" he said, as he filled a hand with one of my tiny tits.

"My best feature is here," I said seductively, as I took his other hand and brought it down between my legs, where my pussy was beginning to bloom with the early stages of intense arousal. "I pack a lot of wallop in this little body."

Mr. Charley's fingers slid between my bubbling lips, cruised over my clit and plunged into my pussy. He worked two fingers around in my throbbing-hot box as I pulled him down for another hot kiss.

"You are a hot one, aren't you," he said, after we'd kissed with mounting urgency for a minute or two.

"I'm the best," I whispered back to him.

"Let's find out, shall we?" he said.

Suddenly, Mr. Charley turned me around and leaned me over his desk. I heard his zipper open, then felt the head of his cock sluicing through my drooling pussy lips. I gasped as he abruptly pushed the head of his cock slowly, but effortlessly into my cunt.

Like the deputy earlier, Mr. Charley wasn't real big, but he was long enough, probably 6-7 inches and thick enough to suit me. He grabbed my hips and quickly got into a steady fucking rhythm.

I could feel my rock-hard nipples sliding along the smooth surface of his wooden desk, and I groaned as feelings of intense pleasure began to mount in my hard core. I worked my hips back in tandem to his hard, steady inward thrusts.

Mr. Charley was good, very good, and he worked that cock steadily back and forth in my sizzling cunt, and I grunted and groaned as he filled me with every stroke.

I picked up my right leg and draped it on the desk, opening myself up a little more to his in-and-out motions. I gripped the desk and clenched my eyes shut as a really nice orgasm began to come to a peak.

I was gasping and moaning, and I could hear the sheriff grunting hard as his motions become harder and faster. I could tell he was getting close to the nut strokes, from the nervous twitching of his cock, and I reached under my body to roll my clit around, so I could come with him.

That did the trick for me, because seconds later I felt a rush of sensation rip through my body as my climax exploded in me. I writhed and convulsed on the sheriff's desk, and the contractions in my body must have pushed Mr. Charley over the edge, because moments later, I felt his hot cum shooting deep in my spastic hole.

We gasped and groaned as we worked through our climax. Finally, Mr. Charley pulled his wilting cock from my pussy, pulled me back, I guess, so I wouldn't get cum on his desk, and staggered back to his chair.

He wasn't quite as cool and collected as he had been earlier, but he quickly recovered his composure. I was left standing there, trembling from the effects of my orgasm, with cum slowly trickling from my pussy and down the inside of my thighs.

Mr. Charley reached for the intercom, and called for someone named Caleb to come and get me. I gathered up my things, and started to get dressed, but the sheriff told me not to bother.

"You're just going to have to take them right back off again," he said, with a wicked grin as the door opened and a huge black deputy came in. "I'll see you again soon."

"Come on, Missy," said Caleb, the deputy who came to get me. He looked at me with burning eyes, and I felt a queasy feeling in my gut at the look in his eyes.

I was led naked down the hall, feeling very self-conscious, until we came to a door, labeled "Interrogation Room." We entered, and I was stunned by what I saw.

All of the deputies who had been hanging around the office were in the smallish room, and they were all naked, except for Caleb.

"Time to party!" I heard one voice say, and then I was surrounded by naked deputies.

"Look what I found!" yelled one man, who held up two slimy fingers after reaching between my legs. "Looks like the boss has been busy!"

They all laughed, then I was picked up and laid back on the table that dominated the room. I barely had time to put my purse and my clothes on a chair before the gangbang commenced.

I should point out that up until that moment, my only previous encounter with multiples had been several threesomes. I had not yet been the center of a true gangbang, and that's what this was.

Like every other significant sexual encounter in my life, going back to Schultzie, I remember just about every little detail of that night. I've always had that ability. I have almost a photographic memory for really important things, key moments. It's one reason I succeeded in school, and a reason why I've been successful at my job.

I could listen to a lecture, or I can work a program, and remember virtually everything that was said and done.

And I sure do remember that night at the sheriff's office, remember it like it was yesterday. I felt hands all over my body, smearing cum all over the insides of my legs, all over my abdomen, squeezing my tits and pinching my nipples.

I managed to look down, and an older man, a rather portly fellow with a stubby cock, walked up between my legs and slid his dick right up my dripping wet cunt. At the time, I didn't know any of these men by name, but I would subsequently come to know them all quite well.