Sheri Frick - Lust Against Her Will

He walked strangely.

Nickie moaned and stirred, wakefulness coming to her for the third time that day. She turned over onto her side and looked at the clock.

It was well past noon. Uncle Ernie would be back soon. She swung her long, slender, shapely legs over the side of the bed and felt a tiny ache between, just a twinge at the stretching.

She remembered.

Had it been a dream, a vivid, lifelike dream?

She touched her thighs. No, not a dream. She could feel the roughness where her own secretions and Bob's overflow of come had dried.

She shivered; it had been soooo good.

Nickie stood, a little uncertainly, and quickly pulled on her nightgown and panties-in case Frank or Uncle Ernie came in-then finally responded to the gnawing in her stomach.

She scampered quickly down the stairs, her bare feet pattering softly, lightly, sweetly on the hardwood floors.

After a quick breakfast of cold cereal and milk, she wandered into the sitting room and tried the television. Nothing there in the way of entertainment.

Snapping off the big color set, she stood in the center of the room, thoughtful, a vision of lovely youth only slightly concealed by her lightweight shortie nightgown and panties.

What she was in the mood for was a book, she decided, a good book to curl up with in the sun-and if it was a little racy, well…

She giggled and began exploring the big house. The last time she'd visited, she'd glimpsed her uncle's study through an open door and remembered the towering shelves filled with hardbound books. Maybe there, she thought.

Ernie's study was a big, high-ceilinged mom about twenty feet on each side. Three of the walls were covered with shelves and cabinets; the fourth was a single huge window with open-weave drapes shading the great area of glass.

Nickie savored the feel of the thick shag area rug underfoot as she went along the shelves, examining the titles there. It never occurred to her to investigate the contents of the cabinets.

Most of the books didn't interest her. But then she came across one that intrigued her: Adventures of a Nymph.

Curious, Nickie took the book down and went over to the big leather-covered couch with it. She made herself comfortable, careless that her panties were exposed in a way that would have been indecent if any male eyes had been about to see.

The book, according to the flyleaf, was a private printing. Her curiosity truly aroused, she began reading-and found, to her delight and surprise, that it was a most explicit story of a seventeen-year-old girl's sexual adventures as told by the girl.

Nickie was so quickly caught up in the story that she never thought to wonder what her Uncle Ernie was doing with such an obviously expensive book on such an obvious prurient subject.

She was so thoroughly caught up in it that she wasn't really conscious of the car she heard pulling into the drive. Or the front door opening and closing. Or the steps in the hall outside the study.

But when the door of the study opened and she heard the hearty voice of her Uncle saying, "Well, now we seem to have a little blonde bookworm here," she became most acutely aware of her surroundings, her dress and the tingling arousal coursing through her veins in response to the book in her hands.

"Oh! Uncle Ernie?" she said, standing with her back to the window and not really cognizant that her uncle's eyes were lustily absorbing every one of her clearly outlined charms through her unconcealing garment. "I-I hope you don't mind… I, uh, was looking for something to read and, uh-"

"Fine fine!" Ernie said expansively and took a step towards the nearest cabinet. He opened it and poured himself a drink from one of the decanters there.

Nickie realized, then, that his slightly uneven speech and barely perceptible sway were due to drunkenness. Suddenly she remembered dimly overheard conversations at home about "Ernie's problems with the booze."

"Well, I don't want to bother you here," she said. "So, I think I'll go change and let you take care of your-well, whatever you were going to take care of in here." She turned to replace the book, but Ernie stepped up to her, drink in hand, and pulled it away from her.

"Oho!" he said, reading the title. Ernie searched her face for a moment. "I didn't know your taste in literature was so discerning," he said. "How did you like this little masterpiece?"

She fidgeted, not sure what to say.

"Myself," he said overloud, "I think it's a great book. Let's talk about it."

Nickie was very aware that her firm little breasts kept drawing her uncle's eyes back like moths to flame, and felt her tiny nipples stiffening, aching with blood-and knew that he could see them as clearly as she could feel them.

With one massive hand, he pushed her back onto the couch, "What did you think of the story?"

She tried to act cool. Nickie shrugged-and she could feel her uncle's eyes lock onto her jiggling boobs with the movement, "It was, uh, interesting," she mumbled.

"Interesting? Interesting? Ha-ha-ha?"- Ernie found that amusing, laughing loudly. He drained his drink and went back to the cabinet, pouring another.

"Tell me," he said. "What did you think of the things she did? Did you find that interesting-or did you think she was a bad girl?"

Nickie didn't like the way his questions were going. "I don't know," she said. "She was just a girl and maybe she shouldn't have done all those things."

Ernie stood before her, towering high into the aft, He was a big man to begin with, and from Nickie's perspective, he seemed like a giant, "Well, they didn't hurt anyone, did they?"

"Uh, no, I guess, not," she answered, beginning to blush.

"And she seemed to enjoy them, didn't she?"

Nickie nodded, mouth dry. She definitely did not like the direction of the conversation.

"But then, you might not be able to make a fair judgment on what she did-especially if you've ever wanted to do those things: Or have you actually done them?"

She said nothing, suddenly fearful.

"Now, now, you can talk to your Uncle Ernie," he said in a voice that made her shiver. "I understand how it is-especially with young boys. They know just enough to get a girl all hot and excited. They're just impetuous enough to want to do things that are done much better by an experienced man. Don't you think so?"

She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling the thick, cool leather upholstery pushing against the oversensitive lips of her fledgling cunt through her thin panties.

"Has some young man gotten you so hot that you couldn't resist… doing what comes naturally? Is that why you seem so uncomfortably and ill at ease with your Uncle Ernie?"

His eyes were riveted to the inviting slender line of her creamy throat and followed it to her swelling boobs.

"Yes," he said, his voice dropping and becoming almost angry. "Yes, I know how it is with young boys." He turned and paced back and forth in front of the couch. She felt trapped.

"Yes, I know how it is," he continued, his voice hard and knowing. "They wait until you're alone together, with no one else around to protect you, A boy will wait until you're busy doing something, maybe just picking up a piece of paper or reaching for a book. He'll have his eyes watching your behind, all cute and innocent and firm, watching the way it moves inside your clothes.

"And," Ernie said, stopping and facing her for a moment "He'll picture it in his mind-bare and soft and smooth-and he'll reach out and put one hand on each cheek and squeeze them."

He resumed his pacing.

"You'll stand up straight and say something meant to make him stop, maybe that you might get caught-but you'll know as well as he does that there's no chance you'll be caught. And just thinking it might be a little more dangerous will make it more exciting for him, make him have to do it.