Scumbag Confessions
Dear Playmouse,
I write this letter to you not to boast about my conquests, say how in awe I am of my fateful encounter with the female form, or even just to make something up to see it in print. Instead, I send this to you because of guilt. I must confess to someone.
I violated my best friend's kid.
No, no, it's not like that; she was nearly legal. I'm not such a foul creature. I mean... okay, here's what happened.
At the time, I was going through an unpleasant divorce. The sort of unpleasantness best illustrated by watching parents in a toy store three weeks before Christmas, battling over the last of that year's hottest new toy. It was a grave understatement to say I was frustrated, sexual or otherwise.
It was a Friday. I came home late from a hellish work week, anticipating a long weekend by myself. The only intention I had was to take nice, hot shower, sit down to a recorded baseball game, and have a leisurely masturbation session.
Just as I was settling in with your magazine and the female musk emitter, the phone rang.
"Hello?" I croaked into the phone.
"Heeey Uncle Tim," slurred the voice.
My ears leapt up, and I tugged my boxers back into place. "Heather?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, and her voice shook. Then she snuffled hard.
"What's wrong?"
A hard sob came through before she tried to pull it together. "I'm... okay, okay you can't tell dad!"
My stomach was seized by the pitiful shake of her voice. "I won't, just tell me what's going on."
There was a pause, before, "I wanna go home!" She snorted. "B-but I can't. I've had too much to drink. And I don't want anyone to find out."
Not great, but certainly not worst case scenario. "I'm going out the door. How can I find you?"
Heather's voice warbled. "At a party."
It didn't take a rocket surgeon to discern something else was up, but the first priority was getting there. Once she felt safe, I could ease the details out of her.
Robbie - Heather's father - and I have been close since high school. He was my best man. I played on his company baseball team. Our wives went antiquing together. They invited me over for Thanksgiving after The Cunt of Epic Proportions and I "took some time apart". I hadn't seen Robbie in a few months due to work, but our relationship was solid.
I arrived at the designated spot twenty minutes later. It was a challenge trying to see the squirrel in the rain, so I gave the horn two honks. Not a minute later I saw her huddled form scurry towards my car.
Heather yanked open the door and hurled herself inside. Immediately I turned the heater on. She gave me a thankful smile amid her shuddering.
I checked out the poor girl. Her face was sunken and tight with crying, and the little cosmetics applied were runny. She was wearing very little; a too-tight halter and a skirt that her mother certainly wouldn't have let her leave the house with. Even wet, I could smell the alcohol rolling in off of her. If it was soaked into her top, I couldn't tell; the transparency of the material let her ruddy brown fur show through.
We drove in silence for the first few minutes. I didn't say anything. She'd eventually cave. By the time she was starting to warm up, she moaned, "Boys suck."
"Yeah," I agreed without commitment.
"Bobby was all over this rabbit with big boobs. Cause she puts out. He doesn't want me anymore," she sobbed.
Like any male, tears immediately shut down my frontal lobe. Little red lights started flashing in my head, declaring it was time to panic. "That awful dick."
"Just like the other boys," she wheezed. "No one wants me."
Please stop crying, my mind begged. I'll say anything, just stop crying. "You're pretty, and sweet, and-"
"Not a slut," she sullenly interrupted.
How do you even respond to that?
"That's what boys want, though. Someone easy and sexy."
Even if I might've disagreed, I was too busy trying to un-swallow my tongue to contribute.
She looked at me with wet eyes, and said in the most fragile voice possible, "Do you find me sexy?"
I almost ran a red light.
Looking over at her in the passenger seat, I swallowed. One minute my best friend's daughter was sitting beside me, and in the next, there was a nubile, ripe young woman right there. If you had asked me if the stray thought of Heather had entered my mind before now, I'd have introduced you to my fist. I could take no such defense over the girls I'd seen her hang out with, however.
At this point I was heavily focused on the road ahead.
She suddenly broke down and started crying more. "You don't!" The hurt in her voice was like nails on a chalk board.
"No, I didn't say that!" I protested helplessly. "I mean, you're, you... I-"
"Then you'd have sex with me, wouldn't you?" The tone was an ounce of hope wrapped in so much despair. "I'm hot enough?"
"Yes!" Okay, I said that in panic, anything to comfort her and allow me to flee screaming into the night from this conversation.
Next thing I know, her hand was on my thigh. A tentative rubbing guided it from my knee to somewhere around the high point. She leaned against me, her small breasts pressed against my upper arm.
Beneath the fur, my knuckles must have been white from my grip on the steering wheel. "Heather..." and then nothing else wanted to come out of my muzzle.
"But you said," She whispered, her voice partly defeated and partly edging into betrayal-tempered anger. I knew in my gut that if I tried to deny it, she'd probably flick over to insulted fury. Of what I knew from Robbie, her mother did the same thing when upset.
I didn't say anything else, just kept focused ahead on the road. She pressed herself as close as she could and started nuzzling my cheek. Her nose pushed up along my jawline, butting against it hard, before poking along my neck.
"I'm not a virgin, you know."
Boy did that not help.
The lack of refusal from me must have encouraged her. Heather's hand continued to rub up my thigh, and she found the bulge of my erection pushing against my pants. When her fingers circled over it and squeezed, the car swerved just a little.
Her fingers captured my zipper, and with every little tick of the metal teeth my spine stiffened another inch. When her paw sank into the gap and grabbed my cock, a sound escaped me I'm embarrassed to report; it sounded like the combination of a whistling teapot and a little girl's scream.
Adding to my shame, Heather giggled. But she started stroking and squeezing. A little too hard for comfort, but I didn't really tell her to stop as my prick throbbed against her soft pawpad. She started nipping at my jaw, before burying her muzzle in my neck. The girl needed some practice with handjobs, given the way she was just slinging it around, but with my hands rooted on the wheel for dear life, I couldn't really give pointers.
Next thing I know, she was struggling to put her head in my lap. Emphasis on the struggle, because she had to get past my stiff arm on the wheel. "I don't think-" I started, intending to warn her of safety and integrity and the things that make nuns smile.
Heather's mouth went around my dick.
While I was having trouble forming words, she was arguing a great case for continuing.
Ignoring the cramped conditions, Heather's lips pursed and she suckled, licking aggressively. A slurp rose from my lap. She tried to bob, found it impossible, and worried my tip with her tongue. The effort was more enthusiasm than talent, but there is little compared to a woman who enjoys sucking cock.
I was thinking that if this road had a merging lane, a stop sign, or a curve of any degree, we were dead.
Then she surprised me. Turning her head a little, the girl pushed my tip into one of her chubby little squirrel cheeks, before sucking in strongly. The little pocket molded and stretched around me. The bumps of the road jarred me around inside the compartment.
I suddenly came right inside her cheek. Hunching over in my seat, the car slowing down, I unloaded into her mouth. All I could feel was tight and hot and wet, the occasional tug from a swallow.
She sat up some eons later. I stared out the windshield, my focus shattered into a happy, hazy cloud, and tried to keep us between the shoulders. If we weren't on the highway, I'd have kissed her, or stroked her hair, or something, but all I could do was reach out, brushing my hand across her thigh, letting her know I appreciated it.
We drove a ways in silence as I recuperated, the pattering thrum of the rain against the windows a pleasant rhythm. A mile later, I pulled onto a side road and slid behind some trees. For a moment we sat in the silence before I opened my door and got into the back, Heather mimicking me.
When sixteen, having sex in your back seat is unpleasant. At close to forty, it's a level of torment equal to watching golf. In German. God bless flexible youth and Heather's interest in gymnastics. She put her hands on the window, folded her knees up under herself, and lifted her ass.
Instead of just grabbing her, I had the wherewithal to be affectionate about it. I stroked the plush, damp mass of her tail, grooming through it. Working down to the root, I tickled it, sending her into a squirming, chittering fit, while in the relative darkness she spared me that irritated teenager eye-roll. My paws skimmed her back, giving a slow rub, and I put my weight on my hands as I kneaded.
Finally I said enough of that shit, and decided to get down to business.
I lifted her skirt and fuck, a thong. Seeing the white strip clashing with the rusty blonde of her tight, athletic ass, it inspired me to grab her bony little hips and rail her. But having had the steam blown out of me, there was more time to take. I slid my thumb up the crease of her ass, pressing the material down, and when I got to the waistband tucked under her tail, I started drawing it upwards.
The white cloth pouted against her lips, showing the distinct line of her vent amid the generous wet spot that had built up during our ride. While I highlighted Heather's cunt, the other paw slid own and squeezed the inside of her thigh before smoothing sideways to cup her pussy.
Looking over her shoulder at me, Heather's mouth parted â€" then her eyes got a bit wider in the dim light. I'd found the hood of her clit, occasionally bumping it while I rubbed my palm in a tight circle. Then I brushed the front of the panty aside, and sank two fingers in, but I didn't thrust at first, just continued the general peripheral attention. She tensed her thighs and squeezed my paw with them, and all I could do was pick up the pace.
Several minutes passed while I worked her over. No telling how long I'd have the opportunity to appreciate a fine body like this. And I definitely wanted to demonstrate what experience could do, given that there was no way I could match the enthusiasm and staying power of any boy who'd snuck into her panties.
Besides, the way she moaned â€" deep in her throat like she had a dull ache â€" left my ears high, and I grinned in pride. It was slightly high and chirpy, a slight variation from a girl rabbit, something I was much more familiar with, given that I was one.
By now I was more than ready to go. With her panties tugged aside and my pants pushed down, I got situated and grabbed her by the root of the tail, pulling her in close. Stuffing inside of her was a challenge, a juggling of flesh in the dark, but feeling our way through it, I slid inside.
My god. While I had gotten a good impression when I teased her, it still didn't prepare me; I hadn't had someone this tight and wet since college. She squeezed down on me, making my teardrop tail flutter. Initially there was just grinding, me rolling my hips sideways, while taunting the root of her tail with my thumbs. She wailed, and each little motion made her ripple around me. Clumsily Heather tried to push back, to do something other than sit there.
Then I fucked her like tomorrow I was going to prison. Hard and aggressive, the car bouncing around in protest underneath us, her nose banging against the window as I gripped her narrow hips and pounded until an explosion occurred in my crotch or my lungs. I honestly don't know if she came in the process.
Needless to say, it didn't last long, and I burst inside of her, bent over her, yelling into the tail crumpled between our bodies. I shuddered and rode it out on top of her bouncing, sliding body.
The next few minutes were kind of awkward.
We tried to clean up, but had nothing to clean up with except for some wadded up napkins in my glove box. We didn't talk, or really look at one another, which made the cleanup all that more difficult. The drive back to Heather's house was rather quiet, except for the rain beating on the hood, the wipers squeaking, and our breaths sucking in the cloud of sex-scents.
Before she climbed out, she gave me a hug, and I kissed her softly.
That was a few weeks ago. Heather has left me three messages, and I don't know what to say to her. I feel rather awful. Even worse, I'm excited at the prospect, and that makes me feel worse.
I hope at least you can approve, Playmouse Reader.
-Yours truly,
Uncle Scumbag