Me and My Uncle Ch. 11

"Lyn, what kind of trouble are you in?" she said.

"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe a lot, maybe none at all. But I'm not sticking around to find out."

"Lyn, please be careful," she said, and I told her I would.

My next visit was to my advisor, and he also gave me a letter of recommendation, as did Dr. Lawson, who had been my favorite professor. They both asked me about the discoloration on my face, the bruise on my cheek and the shiner that still colored the area around my eye. But I just said I didn't want to talk about it, that what caused it was in the past, where it belonged.

Then I drove Janelle's car to my bank, where I had deposited three years worth of grant money. I closed my account and walked out with a cashier's check in the amount of $17,000, with another six grand or so in cash.

That would be enough to get me started anywhere I chose to go and to live on until I found a job. I drove to the bus station and bought a ticket for the first bus leaving the next morning for St. Louis, which would be pulling out at 6:45.

It was about 3 o'clock when I picked up Janelle. It was a warm late spring day, so we drove down to the park by the river, got out a blanket and walked to a secluded spot under a large oak tree. She spread the blanket out and we lay back on it. It was obvious that she wanted to talk, and I was in the mood to listen.

"Lyn," she said, and I could tell she was having trouble holding back her tears. "I wish you wouldn't go."

"Janelle, I have to," I said gently. "I can't stay here. It's too close. He's going to come looking for me, that's certain. And if what I gave him last night killed him, then the law is for sure going to be sniffing around. I don't know how long it will be before they put me together with Sophie Trotter. I can't let you get in the middle of my shit. It's best this way, safer for me, safer for you."

"I know," she said, and now the tears were rolling down her cheeks. "But you have to know how much I love you, how much I want to be with you. I've cried every time you've left me to go back home, wishing we could be together as a couple. I love you so much, and I would do anything for you. Anything."

It was true. Janelle was a true lesbian and I had always known how crazy she was about me. I had to be careful with my next words, because I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I didn't want to string her along, either. I knew we couldn't have the kind of relationship she wanted, and she needed to know that. But I also wanted her to know that I did love her in my own way.

"Janelle, sweetheart, you already have done something precious for me," I said. "You came to get me yesterday, no hesitation, no question. I needed you and you came. I literally owe you my life, and I will always love you for it."

By now she was in my arms and she was looking up at me, crying freely now.

"But I can't love you the way you want me to," I continued. "I'm not that way. Oh, I'm good at the act, good at sex with another woman. I've had a lot of experience, and I enjoy it in its own way. But I'm heterosexual at heart. I want a husband. I want a husband who loves me and respects me, a husband who will be faithful to me and give me children. Janelle, my love - and I will always love you - but I would be living a lie if I stayed with you. You have meant so much to me, and I can never repay all that you've given me. But I have to go."

"I just wanted to love you," she said, in a blubbery way.

"And you did, and I do love you in my own way," I said. "With you, I could be myself. You love me for me, not for what you can take from me, what you can use me for. With you, I can have sex with no strings, no exploitation, just two people who care for one another giving each other pleasure. You have no idea what that means to someone whose love, whose sex, was sold one slice at a time for four years."

I think she understood, then, because she buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed, holding me as if she never wanted to let me go. Finally, I pulled her face up and kissed her, and honest to God, the look she gave me just melted my heart.

"Janelle, just because we can't be together as a couple doesn't mean we can't be friends," I said finally. "You're the best friend I've ever had in this world, and I'm not about to let you go. I owe you my life, and I can never forget that. Come on, let's make the time we have left together something special."

We walked back to the car then, got a bite to eat, then went back to her apartment.

We were trembling in lust, in anticipation, as we shut the door to her apartment. Even though we had made love plenty of times over the months that we'd known each other, there was something about this night that made it so much more intense.

Our lips met and we kissed, softly and tentatively at first, but as our tongues began to work together and our lips sucked at each other, the passion began to mount.

Janelle held my face as she softly kissed my bruised face. I shivered as a feeling of lust slithered down my spine from the sensual way she was ministering to my wounds. It was like she was trying to use her kisses to try and heal me, and I couldn't stop my tears from falling at the gesture.

We just stared at each other as we simultaneously reached for each other's shirts. We undressed each other slowly, savoring each inch of flesh as it was revealed. Her chocolate-colored skin seemed to shine as if it was reflecting the lust - the love - she had for me.

My pussy was wet as we brought our naked bodies together and kissed again. I could feel her fat nipples sliding against my smaller - but rock-hard - tips. I bent my head slightly and sucked first one, then the other of her tits into my mouth, and I felt her shudder in passion.

I loved her tits, the round mounds that had first drawn me to her, squeezing, licking, sucking, then she did the same to me, practically inhaling all of my breast flesh in her voracious mouth. I gasped as the feeling swelled in me.

"Let's go to bed," I said softly. "We have an early day tomorrow, and there's a lot I want to do with you tonight."

We lay across her double bed; our hands touching each other all over as we kissed with a passion that made me tremble. I slid my hand between Janelle's legs, feeling her kinky, well-trimmed pubic hair and her rich, full lips, brimming with promise.

She was wet to the point of flowing, and she gasped as I slid two fingers in her hot pussy and rolled my thumb around her clit. Then I gasped as her fingers found my sex, and she slid two hard digits in and slowly worked them in a rhythm that mirrored the way I was working her.

Sinuously, like two creatures with one mind, our bodies moved until we were in a 69 position. I lifted her right leg and just stared at the dusky lips that framed her hot pink insides, which shone with the dew of her arousal.

I slid my tongue down her furrow, seconds before I felt her tongue delve into my hot little cunt. It felt so good, but I was having trouble keeping a spark lit on my climax. It was like Janelle's tongue, lips and fingers would get me to a point where I usually started losing control, then I just seemed to fall away from it.

Looking back on it, I realize that this was the first time I noticed my body rejecting sexual pleasure, for want of a better way to put it. And this goes to core of some of my problems with achieving an orgasm. It's like my body associates an orgasm with the insane things I did to it and the violent things that were done to me when I was Uncle Bill's whore.

Ironically, it seems like now I can only reach a climax when I recall some of my exploits during that time, and that scares me.

I've come to live with it and accept it somewhat now. At the time, however, it frustrated me, so I doubled my efforts with Janelle in hopes that she would be able to get me to where I wanted to be. I lashed her pussy with my tongue, sucked her pink flesh with my lips, fucked her hot depths with my fingers.

And she tried her best to keep up with me, but finally, I could feel her body giving way, I could hear her moans and cries of passion. I was almost angry as I rolled her onto her back, slid between her legs, picked up her butt and dove face-first into her creamy pie.

I ate her out with every bit of skill I could muster, sucking her whole pussy into my mouth, fucking her with my tongue, licking her clit and nipping at it with my teeth. Her body writhed and twisted as she climbed higher and higher.

"Oh God, Lyn!" she wailed. "Ohhhhh baaaayyyyybeeeeee!"

By now, this was all about Janelle getting her pleasure. I really didn't care if I came or not. I just wanted to give this sensuous creature, this beautiful woman, something to remember me by. And I did.

Janelle's body seemed to hang on the edge of a precipice, then suddenly she exploded in a powerful orgasm. Her whole sweat-covered body shook with the thunder of her climax and she screamed and cried, moaned and groaned.

I kept my mouth clamped on her pussy and drank her essence like it was the nectar of the gods, and what I couldn't get in my mouth, I let cover my face. Finally, Janelle shuddered once and fell back on the bed; her long, kinky hair scattered in every direction on her pillow.

"Wow!" she panted, as I crawled up the bed and settled in her arms. Then she looked at me, at the intense, almost disappointed look on my face. "You didn't come, did you."

"It's OK," I said. "I don't know what's wrong. But it's OK. This was for you anyway."

"Nonsense," she said with determination. "Lie back and let Janelle get you off."

I settled back on the bed, and tried to relax. For some reason, I was nervous and not a little frustrated. I had never before had this much trouble achieving an orgasm, even in the years before I went to work for my uncle and I masturbated in my little bed.

Janelle's tongue traced a wet line down my neck, to my little titties, which still stood up in a state of arousal. She slowly, sensually sucked each of my tits into her lips and rolled her tongue around the trembling flesh. I gave a satisfied moan as the sparks of sensation crackled from my nipples through my body.

I stared down at Janelle as she licked and kissed her way down my flat stomach to my abdomen.

Suddenly, I felt her fingers once again parting my wet pussy lips, moving up to circle my clit as she placed little butterfly kisses down my abdomen.

I was grateful for the fluttery feelings of lust that began to well inside of me. Janelle's tongue moved slowly down between my legs, which she opened as wide as she could. I groaned as she lashed my clit before sliding down to lick my opening.

As her tongue worked at my lips, her fingers slid into me and she began to methodically finger-fuck me while she licked all around my burning crotch. I could feel myself climbing toward a climax, but I couldn't seem to get close to a peak, and I ground my pussy onto Janelle's face in hopes that I could jump-start my orgasm that way.

Bless Janelle's heart, she stayed with it, working her mouth on my pussy, and even licking my ass at my request. I was trembling and groaning, but I just would not come.

Finally, I begged her to slip a finger in my ass and fuck me while she ate me out, in hopes that would do the trick, and at last it did.

As Janelle's tongue worked vigorously at my pussy and two fingers pumped back and forth in my wet ass, I finally gave a heavy sigh and my body shuddered as an orgasm rippled through me. It wasn't anything like what I'd been used to, but at least it was some relief.

Janelle and I held each other, our naked, sweaty bodies clinging together, and we talked about what I'd gone through and why I'd had so much trouble getting off.

I didn't understand it, and in a way, I still don't, but I enjoyed the closeness, the intimacy that came with lying together with someone I truly cared for.

Janelle cried again as she told me how much she loved me and how much she was going to miss me, and I cried too. I was leaving my past life behind, leaving behind my best friend, and I hated it.

But it had to be done. I had to get out of Missouri, and I had to find my own way. I had been so dependent on the care of others, so needy, that I had been led into a very bad decision, into a lifestyle that had nearly killed me.

Going to college, however, and slowly building an independent life had given me the means to break free of the bonds of sexual slavery that my uncle had tied me down with. I now felt I could live alone and make a life for myself without depending on anyone else.

My last words to Janelle before we drifted off to sleep were prophetic.

"I'll never let anyone have that kind of control over my life again," I said.

I meant it, and I've successfully lived my live that way. Not even my husband controls me the way Uncle Bill did when I whored for him.

The next morning, early, Janelle drove me to the bus depot in silence. Everything that needed to be said between us had been said the day before. I hefted my backpack over my shoulder and we walked hand-in-hand to the bus.

"Promise me you'll write when you get settled," she said.

"I promise," I said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

She laughed then, a sad laugh, but still it was a laugh. Then the driver called for us to board, and in front of some rather startled passengers, she pulled me to her and we kissed deeply, like the lovers we had been, but would never be again.

I have to admit, I cried halfway to St. Louis.