Uncle’s Hypnosis Game 4
* * *Can I really do this? my mind blares as I walk nude out of the bathroom to find my uncle.
A part of me is really scared by the way I’m behaving—like a desperate slut that needs all her holes filled. I don’t even want to take a cock up my ass, but if I don’t then I can’t get my breeding pen, and then all my hard work in FarmerVilla will be for nothing. A good farmer needs to produce new and improved livestock, either to sell or to raise up. And a good slut needs cum in or on them….
Besides, it’s not like the game has asked me to lose my actual virginity. What’s giving my ass to my uncle really matter, in the long run?
It means everything, you dumb slut, a cold, reasonable part of my mind tries to warn me. Don’t do this!
I shove those thoughts down, knowing that they can only lead to my self-destruction (or rather to the destruction of everything I’ve worked so hard for) and I can’t let everything I’ve already done be in vain.
“Uncle Frank?” I call out tentatively.
No one answers me. I try calling out again, louder, but only hear the rumble of the washing machine in return. It was nice of him to launder my dirty underwear and dress—but I have the distinct feeling he’s avoiding me.
Maybe he’s outside . . . calling your dad, a cold thought nags me.
It’s really too late to be worried about all that. My finger-fest video is all over the internet (and although my insides tighten up anxiously at the thought, a warm flush also goes through me that I’m probably pleasing thousands of strange men—ones that want to watch a schoolgirl frig herself in a public classroom), so my dad will probably catch wind of it sooner or later.
If he kicks me out that will suck, but I’m pretty sure someone will help me make my way to my mom’s place across the country. Or maybe I can make enough money whoring myself out to get my own apartment here.
What the fuck, Stella? my mind hisses. Why would you ever consider doing that?
(Good sluts sell themselves for money, a warm thought answers.)
Right now I don’t even want to sell myself. Actual prostitution sounds horrible, despite the urging in my mind. I just want Uncle Frank to let me blow him and then for him to give me my first true anal experience while I record it for my game. Is that too much to ask? I’ve never recorded myself with someone else before. An empty pit expands in my stomach, because maybe that’s expecting too much from my uncle . . . and maybe it’s going a little too far altogether….
Not to mention you’re terrified at the thought of someone fucking your ass, my mind blares, my butthole clenching tight.
Shoving the candle up there was a weird experience, but having an actual cock thrusting in and out will probably be intense and painful. Especially if I have to irritate Uncle Frank into doing it.
“Good sluts are calm and relaxed,” I tell myself.
I search the house, tiptoeing around the strange space and balking as I see photographs laid out of my uncle and a pretty, blonde woman decorating the walls, the mantles, and other random spaces. They must be fairly serious, and here I am, trying to seduce him away from her for my own gain.
“It can’t be helped,” I whisper to myself, my pussy dripping down my thighs in anticipation.
I need to fulfill my missions. I need my breeding pen and to succeed in FarmerVilla. I need Uncle Frank’s cock.
“Frank?” I call out as I open the front door, since I haven’t found him to be anywhere in the small, ranch house.
I see him flinch and wave at me from a distance away, his phone clutched to his ear and his face pained.
“She’s alright, Tom,” I hear him say into the receiver as I walk over to him, and my gut turns to cold lead as I realize that he is, in fact, talking to my father. “She’s just scared to come home.”
I know I should turn around and disappear inside, but the warmth in my brain compels me to keep walking towards my uncle. He waves me away again, his eyes wide (and latched on my bare, swaying breasts), but I can’t listen to his nonverbal warnings. My mission drives me forward.
“Please help me,” I mouth at him, sinking to my knees.
“Yeah, I’ll tell her,” he croaks as he watches me begin to play with my large, jiggly tits. “She can get her GED or something, sure.”
“Let me pleasure you with my mouth,” I tell him breathily, flushing when his face turns tomato red and he hastily hangs up the phone.
Uncle Frank turns on me, his eyes spitting daggers. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get me kicked out of the house?”
“No, I need you,” I beg prettily, pouting and batting my eyelashes.
“I was talking to your dad, you moron,” he grouses, but his eyes drift from my bedroom eyes to my voluptuous tits, following the way I tweak and pull at my bubble-gum pink nipples. “He still wants you to come home . . . Jesus, Stella….”
“I want to suck you off,” I whisper, letting one of my hands drift down to play with my raised, pink clit.
“You’re really quite the slut, now, aren’t you?” He sounds angry and aroused all at once. “I’m nearly engaged, kiddo—and you’re my niece.”
The reasonable part of my mind burns with shame. What the hell am I doing? Frigging myself in front of my uncle and begging to suck him off? I’ve still never even kissed a boy before, and now I’ve been turned into a mouthslut (sucking off both Uncle Joe and Billy), as well as letting handfuls of strange men ejaculate all over me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Get your ass in the house,” he scolds, snapping his fingers at me. “Now!”
I scuttle into the house like a kicked dog, my head bent down and tears welling up in my eyes.
But I know what I need to do. I need to set up my phone in the corner of some room to record anything that might happen between me and Uncle Frank. I decide on the main bedroom, positioning my phone towards the bed but hiding it mostly behind a photo of Frank and his girlfriend (soon to be fiancée, my cold mind whispers). With the recording feature pressed, I lay on the bed and begin to masturbate, moaning loudly.
“What the fuck, Stella?”
I don’t even cringe as my uncle storms into the room, getting a full view of me frigging myself naked on the bed he probably fucks his girlfriend on. The game has burrowed into my skull, pushing me to do what I’d normally never dream of. I need to suck my uncle off. I need to get him to fuck me up the ass.
“I need you,” I moan lustfully, spreading my legs wider. “Let me pleasure you!”
“You’re lucky I don’t smack some sense into you!” he shouts.
But he doesn’t move towards me to hit me, only standing awkwardly in front of the bed with his pants tented out. I keep rubbing my aching clit and drowning in the mushy warmth of my mind, hearing a strange thrum of all the commands blurring together like a chanting mantra inside my skull: Good sluts play with their pussies. Good sluts love to please men. Good sluts love to be ejaculated on. Good sluts love to drink cum. Good sluts NEED cum in or on them….
“Oh please, oh please!” I moan sluttily, dripping juices all over the lacy, white duvet.
I feel the bed dip down just as a hot wave of climax hits me, making me tremble and squeal. A warm, calloused finger pushes up into my orgasming cunt, and my unfocused eyes take in my uncle’s resentful yet enraptured face.
“If a teenaged cumslut is all you want to be,” he whispers, shoving a second finger into my soaked pussy, making me cry out as he leans over my shaking body, “then we’re both damned if it’s on me to stop you….”
“I don’t—” I whimper, clenching around his thick fingers. “I don’t want to stop….”
Everything feels so good inside me that I can’t stop cumming. Warmth balloons in my mind that I’m winning over my uncle, and hot lust tells me that soon I’ll have his cock somewhere inside me, too. I squeal as he leans down and sucks one of my nipples into his warm, wet mouth. The clean scent of shampoo and soap lingers in the air, but with each press of his fingers, I can smell the sharp musk of my girl-juices coating his hand.
“You’re so wet,” he growls, nipping my tits affectionately. “I want to feel you squirt around my cock.”
Oh no, an icy thought blares, that won’t work—it’s got to be in my mouth or ass to count!
“Let me taste you,” I beg, sitting up shakily so that his fingers slip out of me.
He frowns but doesn’t resist as I get on my knees to fumble with the fly of his jeans, his cock twitching with my eager, jerky movements. I know he’s probably thinking that this is what I did with his older brother, and that he’s probably kind of put off by that, but I know as soon as I sink his erection down my throat that he won’t care anymore.
“Wow,” I gasp as I pull his dripping cock free; it’s a lot bigger than the other ones I’ve seen—including his older brother’s—and I’m not sure how I’m going to fit it anywhere.
“Yeah,” he says, his mouth quirking in both wariness and pride. “Should have warned you maybe….”
I can tell he’s about to make some excuse to stop what we’re doing, so I dive in, opening my mouth wide to suck in his engorged cockhead.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his hands flying to my shoulders.
He squeezes as I bob up and down, trying to hold me in place as I moan whorishly. I sloppily blow him like my life depends on it. The warmth hums all through me, and I feel completely blissed out knowing that I’m completing my first mission, and knowing that I’m video recording myself being such a slut for my uncle’s pleasure. I hope the camera has a good angle on this. I hope it’s catching every twitch of his body as I try to suck him down deep. I hope it captures all my soft gagging and the gluck-gluck-gluck sound of my throat as I begin to really deepthroat him.
“Jesus,” he hisses with a low groan. “You’re made for this. You’re such a good—”
His words cut off as he inhales sharply, his cock spasming deep in my throat.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, his fingers bruising my shoulders as he ejaculates in my warm, willing mouth.
I mewl desperately as his hot cum sprays down my throat, wishing that he would have finished his praise for me. It would have been nice to squirt with him if he’d called me a ‘good slut’. My pussy feels so wet and tight and on edge that just feeling his cock flex and spurt in my mouth nearly has me cumming, and so I keep drinking him down eagerly, desperate for all the little pulses and dribbles as he drains himself dry. It tastes so strong and bitter, but the pulsing warmth inside of me can’t get enough of it.
“God, that was good, kiddo.” Uncle Frank sighs deeply, gently pushing my face away with one hand while he pets my head with the other. “I don’t the last time someone blew me so eagerly.”
“Good sluts love to drink cum,” I murmur at him, my jaw aching nearly as much as my overly aroused pussy.
“Oh yeah?” He grins down at me, brushing my swollen lips with his thumb.
“Mmhmm.” I look at his handsome face pleadingly, thinking: Say it. Just fucking say it! CALL ME A ‘GOOD SLUT’!
He taps my mouth, his green eyes hardening. “Well, bad sluts mess up my girlfriend’s bed and get me into trouble. I’m going to let you wash this damned blanket you messed up. Your clothes should be about ready to switch over to the dryer. I’ve got to head back to work for a bit, kid. Can I trust you not to wreck the place or run away or something?”
“Yes, sir.” I try not to sound too defeated, but I can tell from the flash of confliction on his face that I’ve made him feel bad.
Really, I can make myself cum after he leaves, and I should be overjoyed that I’ve both pleased a man and fulfilled my first mission towards getting my breeding pen in FarmerVilla. I should also feel kind of shitty that I tricked my uncle into being recorded; I know he’d probably hate that. Actually, he’d definitely be furious with me and think I was trying to blackmail him or something. So, I can’t let him find out. I need to check my phone and make sure the recording is done and sent, pronto.
He rights his clothing and then squeezes my shoulder, again. “I won’t be gone too long. A few hours, tops.”
“Sounds good.” I put on a cheerful smile, nodding. “I’ll wash the bedding.”
I’ll wash it after I check on my game, of course, I think to myself as he leaves.
The game rewards me with a burst of joyous music, doing a quick replay of the video I just ed. For some reason the system was smart enough to cut out the bad parts (like Uncle Frank cursing at me or threatening to hit me when he found me naked on his girlfriend’s bed) and only shows a niece seducing her uncle successfully. I watch the young teenager playing with herself on the screen, barely recognizing myself as the big-titted brunette, who moans and begs to suck off an obviously older man that stands stiffly, watching the show. Lust rolls through me as he gets on the bed and begins to finger her while she orgasms loudly, her large tits jiggling as she shakes, her slim legs spasming outwards.
“Wow,” I gasp as the video moves on to showing the teen gulp at the thirty-something-year-old man’s obscenely large cock.
It looks like a fleshy mini-bat—all veiny with a ruddy pink head—and the teenager on the screen takes it down her throat like she’s done it hundreds of times before. Like she’s been trained for it.
Is that really what I look like now? A cold burst of shame wars with a hot burst of pride. Part of me knows that all of this is hellishly wrong. I shouldn’t be that girl—that whorish girl depicted in the video. But another part of me is thrilled that I look so good and well-trained, almost like I’m a pro. Almost like I’m a pornstar.
Warmth hums through me, buzzing in my mind: Good sluts love to please men. Good sluts love to drink cum.
“Good sluts also don’t get men into trouble,” I tell myself as I set my phone down to strip the top blanket off the bed.
It’s wet from my juices, and I know that Frank’s soon-to-be-fiancée’ would flip her shit finding her own bed stinking from sex that she’d not had with him. How long is she supposed to be out of town, anyway? What if she catches me here—doing laundry? I diligently swap my clothes over to the dryer and start the blanket in the wash. All I can do is hurry, I guess.
While I wait for the washer and dryer, I eagerly check back in with my game, noting that it still has the prompt on the side to the anal video to claim my breeding pen, but it still lets me play the other parts of it. I’m soon lost in the farming and feeding aspects, zoning out in bliss, as the cheerful music plays in my ears.
This is so calming and nice, I think dreamily, riding around on my bay stallion as I tend to my farm.
Soon I’ll be able to make him have adorable foals with the mare I’ve upgraded for him. Soon everything will be perfect.
Hours by like a gentle breeze, but then I hear a loud sound outside of my headphones—like someone is knocking on the door.
Did Frank lose his keys? I wonder as I tear my headphones off.
I quickly find the towel I used to dry off and wrap it around me, just incase it’s not my uncle, and head to the front door. It seems weird that anyone but him would be knocking at the door, but it also seems completely strange that he’d have to knock. His girlfriend shouldn’t need to knock either—since it’s her place—so who the hell could it be?
“Hello?” I say through the door.
When I only hear a muffled reply, I crack it open and peer out, my eyes latching onto a man in his late sixties with tan, leathery skin.
“Oh!” he says in confused surprise, his grey eyes searching mine. “Are you Jessie’s friend? Is she home?”
Jessie—who’s Jessie? my mind whirs, but then I realize he probably means Uncle Frank’s girlfriend.
I want to lie, but find I can’t, so instead I say, “I’m her boyfriend’s niece. She’s not in right now, no….”
“Ah, I’m her father—just dropping by to check on the house. Does she know you’re here?”
“No, sir,” I it, blushing.
He can only see my face by the way I’m holding the door, but I suddenly feel very vulnerable standing in front of him in only a fluffy, wet towel.
“Is Frank here, too?” he asks.
“No, sir . . . he should be back from work soon.”
He stares at me in confusion, obviously wondering what the hell I’m doing in his daughter’s house, so I open the door wider, but scuttle further behind it so that he can come in without seeing me, and ask, “Would you like to come in?”
Why the hell did you offer that? part of me shrieks, while the other part consoles me that I should be accommodating and welcoming to all men.
“Are you waiting for Jessica?” he asks, stepping slowly inside, and then his eyes widen as I close the door and he sees what I’m wearing.
Or rather what little I’m wearing.
“No, sir,” I whisper, my entire body flushing with heat. “Uncle Frank took me here to get cleaned up—my dress got dirty….”
None of that is a lie, but none of it really makes any sense either. I can see that the old man is confused and worried over the entire situation, and I desperately want to make it better—but how can I without lying?
“I’m just doing the laundry until he gets back, which shouldn’t be long,” I offer in way of explanation, although I know it doesn’t explain enough.
When he makes a humming noise of acknowledgement, but is looking everywhere but me, I feel even worse. Now I’m making Frank’s fiancée’s dad feel awkward and weird and suspicious—and there’s not really anything I can do about it. Or is there?
“I got my dress dirty by being a slut,” I say suddenly, and I have to bite back my own gasp, because I hadn’t really intended on saying such filth. More comes out before I can stop it, “I blew a boy at school. Then I let some other men ejaculate on me.”
“I—I beg your pardon?” he rasps, his eyes latching onto mine.
“It’s all true,” I say, my insides turning into lava. “And I’m sorry for not introducing myself properly….” (Because old people like that, right?) “My name is Stella Copeland.”
I offer out my right hand, which he seems to automatically take and grasp briefly—his warm, heavily calloused hand encasing mine—while he dutifully responds, “Henry Edwards.”
Something awful in my mind insists that he might be the natural way of things to complete my breeding pen missions. I try to ignore the sudden pulsating warmth expanding inside my mind, but can’t, and so I smile at him seductively, giggling as he pulls away.
“You’re very handsome,” I say.
He stutters something, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at me in wide eyed shock.
I take his hesitation to undo my towel, letting it fall to the floor as I whisper, “No one will be home for a while. Do you like what you see?”
“I—I—” he stammers, gasping noisily.
For a moment I fear that I’m going to give this poor old man a heart attack, but then his eyes go glassy as he takes in my perky, tear-dropped shaped tits.
“Mmm,” is all he hums, going still and silent.
“Would you like to touch them, sir? I’m eighteen and legal.”
I know that I must look like a baby to him, at least in the face, so I want to reassure him that anything that happens between us is above board. Are old dudes even interested in anal sex—or is that a sin? I wonder as I push my jiggly breasts together and towards him.
For a moment I worry that he might drop dead or run away, but then his hands come out of his overall pockets, tentatively reaching out to squeeze my offerings.
“Ohh,” I moan deeply and sluttily, horrified and mesmerized all at once by the way his aging hands feel against my youthful tits. “That feels so good….”
I begin to rub my clit with one hand, grasping one of his leathery wrists with the other to keep him from pulling away.
“I’m so horny, sir,” I whisper, pleading at him with sultry, bedroom eyes.
“I’m supposed to check the house,” he rasps, still squeezing with the one hand I have trapped, but dropping the other to his side. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”
“Yes, yes,” I swear to him, moaning again as his thumb swipes tentatively over my left nipple.
I can see his cock hardening in his overalls, even though his forehead breaks out in a sheen of nervous sweat. He’s actually kind of cute, I think, and obviously a very nice man. So how am I going to get him to take me up the ass? Obviously, I need to keep seducing him.
“Can I take you to bed, sir?” I keep fingering myself and staring lustfully into his eyes, my mind working a million miles an hour on what I need to say to convince him. “Please, I’m so horny. No one will be home for hours….”
That last part isn’t entirely true, but only a brief flare of pain goes through me before the warmth floods it out, knowing that I’m only doing what I need to do to fulfill my mission.
“You’re very young,” he says softly, but he doesn’t try to pull away.
“Please?”
He nods, looking awestruck and guilty. There’s a gold wedding band on his finger, I realize as I grab his left hand and lead him towards the main bedroom. This should make me feel like shit but it only makes me feel victorious. What the hell is wrong with me? I let his hand go as I spring forward to go set up my phone and the recording feature, having to double back moments later to fetch him standing unsurely before the bedroom door.
“Are you sure?” he asks. He doesn’t seem to realize what I’ve done with my phone. “Do you want money or something?”
“No!” I lean up on my tip toes to brush my lips across his, knowing that I need to reassure him, but also horrified that I need to kiss him to convince him that I’m not a whore looking for a john. It’s my first kiss, although I’m sure it doesn’t count. “I’m just really horny. It can be our little secret.”
He seems to soften at my brief affection and promise, letting me lead him to the bed. I don’t even have to help him undo his overalls, watching in satisfaction as he unbuckles them and pushes them down to expose his tighty-whities. His cock lurches out, straining against the cotton fabric, making a wet spot.
“Sit on the bed,” I tell him as I reach forward and yank his underwear down. “I’ll take care of you.”
There’s no need to remove his flannel shirt or have him undress fully, I decide. I’ll just ride his cock like a good girl—and hopefully he’ll be none the wiser that I do it with my ass. Even though the thought terrifies me, I know it’s what I need to do—the warmth inside me keeps pushing me towards it. I gently push him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then I straddle his bony legs, wrapping my arms around him and arching back so that my tits are in his face.
“You’re a naughty thing, aren’t you?” he whispers huskily, burying his face in them.
I moan ‘mmhmm’ as he mouths my tits, stroking his short, grey hair. My cunt leaks all down my thighs, excitement flooding through me that I’m about to complete my last mission of getting my breeding pen, while also getting my ass filled with this old man’s twitching erection. It’s not as huge and scary as Uncle Frank’s. Instead, it seems more normal sized, jutting out of a bed of grey curls, the pink turtlenecked tip gleaming with arousal. I rub my clit up and down Henry’s uncircumcised head, moaning and shivering with pleasure, and then I gently push him along my wet fuckhole, careful not to let him actually penetrate me.
I need to get his shaft really wet, I think to myself, grinding all along him as he groans.
“I’m so horny,” I keep murmuring to him. “I’m so horny for you.”
He lifts his head to mouth at my neck, and before he can rise further to kiss me, I push his cock into my puckered asshole, biting back a noise as he slips slowly into my ass. It burns a little, but for some reason, it also feels good.
“Ah!” he moans, his eyes closing in bliss.
It’s likely been forever since he got to fuck anyone, much less someone as young and nubile as me. This is probably one of his wettest dreams come true.
Or it would be, if you weren’t tricking him into sodomizing you, my mind whispers meanly.
But the warmth pulsing through me doesn’t care as I begin to anally ride his cock, moaning and whimpering as he stretches me out, pierces me deep. It doesn’t take long. Everything’s so wet that I can’t help but enjoy the weird feeling of him filling up my ass. It feels like sex, just more dirty and wrong and wild. His arms come around me shakily, his body tensing with my every movement, and soon I feel his cock flexing inside me, and warm gushes of sperm coating my insides as he gasps.
“Christ,” he groans, clutching me to him.
“I’m a good slut,” I moan back. “Tell me I’m a good slut!”
“You’re a—ah, a good slut,” he says shakily, as though he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to.
Ecstasy rolls through me, hot girl-cum spraying out my cunt as I slam down on him one final time, my ass clenching around his throbbing cock. He gasps and his eyes roll back in his head, and I can tell he’s draining the last of his balls inside of me by the way his entire body shudders. I lift off of him a second later, rushing down the hall to grab my towel so that I can wipe him off before he notices that my ass instead of my pussy did all the work.
“Thank you, sir,” I gush, as I towel him off quickly.
He seems to be in a daze, just watching me as I do it, but unable to speak.
“It’s our secret,” I tell him again, giving him a sultry wink.
“Right.” He rises and pulls his underwear back up, then redoes his overalls, still seeming confused by the entire situation. “I should get going. Tell Jessie I stopped by to check on the house.”
“I will,” I promise, although pain flares through my head as I realize that I’m lying.
I have no intention of sticking around to see his daughter. All I care about now is getting him out of here, and then checking on my game (to make sure I’ve achieved my breeding pen). After that there’s just dealing with Uncle Frank . . . and after that maybe my dad….
That’s for later you to worry about, I reassure myself as I lead Henry back to the front door.
“You won’t tell anyone?” he asks me, his eyes dropping to the floor.
“Of course not.”
He frowns. “You don’t want any money?”
I shake my head and open the front door, hardly able to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading across my face as he slowly walks out. I’ve finally fulfilled my last mission to get my breeding pen. Really, if anyone owes anyone money, it would be from me to him! I can’t believe my luck that he happened to come by, especially when I needed a willing participant so badly.
Well, he wasn’t really that willing though, since you had to trick him, my mind flares achingly.
“Shut up,” I tell myself, hearing Henry get into his truck and then the truck rumble away.
My mind whispers, I did what I had to do. And God it felt filthy and good. Didn’t it?
It’s not long after the old man leaves that I hear my uncle’s van pull into the drive. I rush to pull on my dry dress and underthings, switching the wet blanket to the dryer, while praying that he doesn’t notice the new sex smell in his fiancée’s bedroom.
* * *