The real identity of Uncle Anon
Hello from Uncle Anon.
WARNING. This update is tl;dr, and might very well be the last. At least, the last long one.
I’ve had a pretty bad week, /b/. It’s totally my own fault, of course; I’ve let things too far with my niece, and now I’m paying the price. No, I’m not v&, or b& from seeing her, but I’ve made some astoundingly stupid decisions that sounded good at the time (probably because I’ve been in a state of 20 perma-boners for so long), and it’s really caused a lot of chaos and heartache for me. A couple decisions in particular are sure to come back and bite me in the ass. Oh well.
To begin, I took what was said at last week’s update to heart: what I’m doing with my niece is just unacceptable. I’m not exactly leading her on, but I’m certainly troubling her, emotionally, with the kisses and sheer amount of physical contact I’m giving her. However, I can’t help myself when I’m around her. Call it what you will, but I simply feel the need to hold her whenever I can. Oh, and it bears repeating that these desires don’t translate to wanting to grab random lolis elsewhere. I honestly pay very little attention to other girls around my niece’s age; it’s all about her. The problem, though, is that I don’t know for sure that I can restrain myself anymore. This last time was too close. So I made up my mind afterward that I would get a girlfriend, treat my niece more niece-like, and try to salvage what small amount of normalcy might be possible from our relationship.
On Friday, I asked out one of my co-workers. She’s not the girl I mentioned earlier – the one who tried to hook me up with her friend – but she’s made it pretty obvious that she thought I was cute. I never made a move on her because a.) She’s kind of boring – she talks about her cat constantly, given the chance, b.) She’s not that easy on the eyes. Not fat, not ugly, but just a total galactic average. I wouldn’t really call her cute, either. And, of course, c.) She worked at the same place I do, so if we didn’t work out, there would be awkwardness. Nevertheless, I invited her out for drinks. She was surprised, but she seemed ready to accept until she remembered that her sister’s family was coming over tonight. She said that she couldn’t that night, but Saturday would be fine. I told her that’d be great, pick you up at eight, etc. etc. I’m not real happy with these memories, so I’m going to try to be as brief as possible while still giving you the details.
After I picked her up, we drove to one of classier establishments I used to frequent a few years ago, when I was with my previous girlfriend. We chatted about work, talked about her folks, and after a couple of drinks, we got to the flirty talk. She was definitely starting to get buzzed after three drinks, but I wasn’t feeling anything – due to chronic whisky consumption, my liver is more fierce than a coked-up Mike Tyson, and it easily defeated the drinks I sent down to it. One thing that she had talked about earlier was her office chair (??? Yeah, I know), so she started complaining about her chair and how it hurts her back, and demonstrated (with ample cleavage-showing off) how no matter how she twists around, she just can’t quite reach the spot that’s giving her trouble. I smoothly offered my skills as a universe-tier masseuse, if she needed someone to ‘work that muscle’ for her. She smiles, laughs, and nods agreement, complete with lip biting. Bingo. A few more drinks and she’s ready to go home.
I ask where she’d like the massage – her place or mine. Well, we end up going back to her place. It’s not a bad little apartment; she’s got a cat, of course, but she keeps it pretty neat. Anyway, she can’t decide where a good place to have a massage would be, so I suggest that she’d be most relaxed on her bed. After she lay down, I positioned her pillows so as to keep her comfortable (I’ve done this sort of thing before, of course). She’s still dressed, but I start the massage anyway. She’s definitely enjoying herself, and it’s not long before I start removing her clothing. No objections. I’d scavenged some baby oil from her cabinet before we got started, so I warmed up some oil in my hands and started lubing her up with it. I massaged her back and neck, unstrapping her bra. I massaged down her butt, thighs, ankles and feet, spending a little more time on the inner thighs than was technically needed. After about ten, maybe fifteen minutes of this, I ask if she wants me to do her front, too. She “mmm”s in agreement, and I help her flip over.
She’s got a nice set of titties – I can’t fault her there. She shaves, too – which is damn nice. I massage some oil into her tummy, sides and shoulders, and then (just to make sure we’re both on the same page), I lean over and give her a kiss. She returns it, so I start with the boob massage. I alternate massaging boobies, running my hands along her legs and thighs, giving her make-out kisses, and even some nip-nibbling. She’s clearly enjoying herself, so after a longer kiss I tell her I want to taste her. She gives me the green light. I go down on her (as an aside, I should mention that I wouldn’t have done so if she was hairy. Sorry ladies, but cavewoman bush is just nasty.), and it’s not long before she’s moaning and contracting in an excellently rhythmic way. I can’t vouch for all guys, but I really get hot from getting girls off. So, after she finishes, I pull out a condom* and wave it at her, giving her the Groucho Marx eyebrows. She’s all for it.
- By a condom I mean a box of 20 condoms, of course.
Afterwards, as I lay there with her, I completely failed to bask in the afterglow of some great sex. I mean, it wasn’t bad; she was tight, didn’t just lay there like one of my ex’s, and made some noise to let me know I was doing it right. She had no grievances with our romp, and neither did I. Besides, I hadn’t been inside a girl for over two years, so I shouldn’t complain – sex is sex, right? Yeah. Except it wasn’t with someone who I really cared about, though. It was meaningless. When it comes right down to it, it was just an animal act of release; completely unfulfilling. I found myself thinking of someone else – I think /b/ can guess who – and wishing that I had been with her that night. The more I thought about it, the more incensed I became, both at my own selfish desires for my niece and at my belated using of my nice coworker girl. At that moment, in this girl’s bed at 1 am in the morning, I knew exactly what Tyler Durden was talking about when he said he simply felt like destroying something beautiful. I felt a hollow, directionless hatred well up in me. I looked over at this girl, whom I’d known for over two years (my girl, if that’s what I wanted), and watched her quietly and happily resting beside me. I wanted to rage like /tg/; to rip and tear like the Doom Guy. But instead I shook my head and forced myself to calm down. I needed to quit with the emo bullshit – this is for
the best. This is what needs to happen. I need to move on with my life.
Skip cut-scenes to Monday. Co-worker girl (AKA new girlfriend) came over to my place after work, and I made us some dinner (OMGWTFBBQ MAN IN KITCHEN?? Yeah, well, think of me as Bobby Flay). We played the Wii (she seemed mildly amused by it – she’s not a gamer) and we had sex, though not at the same time. She didn’t stay over, though, because she said her cat would miss her. Whatever. My mind badly needed distraction, but instead of trying to Spy during Pyromania in TF2, I gave my brother a call. Looking back, I think I was somehow hoping that my niece would pick up, actually. Anyway, we shoot the shit for a bit, and eventually I shamelessly mention my recent antics with my coworker. My bro hadn’t forgotten what I’d said about her before – that I didn’t think she was someone I was interested in. He asked me why the change of heart. I said no reason; I just like doin’ things like that.
Before we hang up, my bro asks if I could come over again and watch [Niece] tomorrow. Reason dictates that I should say no – I can’t, I’m going to spend time with [GF]. Instead, I’m all SURE! No problem, dude, what time do you need me over there? He asks if I could get there right after work, and watch her till 20:00 (basically four and a half hours). No problem, I say. Oh, and as an aside, apparently either there was no camera set up or they didn’t catch me last time, because my bro didn’t mention anything about kissy-facing or crotch-bouncing lolis. So I agree to watch my niece.
Tuesday cometh. At work, I tell my new GF that I’m watching my brother’s kid tonight, so we’ll have to catch up later. She asks about Wednesday evening. Hah. This sounds stupid, but I said I’d be busy after 22:00 with some internet-related stuff, so that wouldn’t work, either. We settled for dinner at her place on Thursday. When it was Work Completed time, I headed for my brother’s place. As I drove, I felt like a two-timer who was on his way to meet his other girl. Sure, that’s an awful way to think about it – after all, she’s my niece, not my lover. But that’s how I felt.
My niece is waiting for me in the driveway when I pull up (around seven or eight – yo Holmes, smell ya later, etc., etc.). I see bro’s wife’s car, so she must still be here. “[Uncle]! You’re here!” says an angelic voice, and I get tackle-hugged. I use her momentum to give her a spin-around, which she loves, of course, and tells me to do again. I say no repeat performances, and ruffle her hair a little. Naturally, her little arms go up immediately as we start toward the house. “Carry me!” comes the usual request. I’m a little wary, since if she goes to kiss me while her mom’s peeking out the window, it could be trouble, but I had nothing to worry about – she either expected this or had the same notion, because she rubbed her face against mine, but made no effort to kiss me. Inside, her mom’s getting ready to go. She gets her work stuff, says her goodbyes, gives me the evil eye, and leaves.
Once Mom’s out of the way, my niece shifts into Alone-with-Uncle mode. Since we’re both standing, she tries to jump up and throw her arms around me. I catch her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. “I missed you so much, [Uncle],” she says. I say that I’ve missed her too. She smiles and goes for a mouth-kiss. Before she can connect, I turn my head. Somehow, kissing my niece after having kissed my new GF (on more than just her mouth) seemed dirty – like throwing a carpet-M&M back into the bag. My niece looked at me questioningly, so I nuzzled her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then one on the forehead. She looks at me at first with surprise, then a sort of aghast, wide-eyed shock. “Wh- Why did you kiss me there? You’re supposed to kiss here,” she says, pointing at her tiny mouth. She tries to kiss me again, more urgently than last time, but I loosen my hold on her and she slides down my body – she’s not tall enough to kiss me without help. She seemed almost frantic. “What’s wrong? I didn’t tell my Mom anything! I love you, [Uncle]! Please don’t turn away; let’s kiss. Let’s go play, okay?” She motions at the sofa, tugging at my hand. Her panic chokes me, and I feel like I’m dying inside. My stomach is in a knot, and I can feel a sharp headache behind my eyes. Resolute, I continue, despite feeling slightly dizzy.
I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I say. I know you liked how we played on the sofa. I really liked it too. (At this point, I can see the fear and pain and what promises to be tears in her eyes.) I do still love you, more than anything. I’ll definitely come to your birthday party, and I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. It’s just that we, ah, need to do stuff more like what other relatives do. That means no naughty stuff, and no long kisses. Little kisses are still okay – but we were kissing a little too much. You’re only nine, sweets, and I’m – well, I’m too old to be giving kisses like those to you. (“No you’re not!”) I think we need to tone it down for a while. I’m not – I’m not sure I could keep holding myself back, and I can’t hurt you. I just can’t.
Her hands are in fists, and her voice is a soul-shattering mix of rage and sadness. “You liar,” she yells. “You said you loved me but you don’t.” That’s not true, I start, but she cuts me off. “I hate you, [Uncle], I hate you,” she says as she runs to her room and slams the door. Those words that I couldn’t bear to hear. Those words that /b/ warned me I would hear. I got the bad end, I realized. I failed her as an uncle. I sat down on the sofa and replayed her words in my head, over and over. My eyes were burning.
Sorry, this is difficult for me – the memories, I mean. Anyway, after a while I knocked on her door and asked if she wanted to go see Wall-E or something. She doesn’t answer. I want to beg her not to hate me, to forgive my fear and understand that I’m just as torn about what is right and wrong as she is. But I don’t say that. Come on, let me make this up to you, I say instead. Let’s go watch a movie, or get some fresh air or something. “Go away,” she yells. Let me come in, sweets, please? I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t lie to you; I really do love you. That will never change. We just have to be more like – like friends, I say, rather lamely. She opens the door. She has puffy eyes, scraggly hair, and murderous intent on her face. I crouch down so we’re eye level. “Damnit,” she says, and looks away from me. “Sorry’s no good. I’m not going to forgive you,” she says. I put my arms around her. I almost cry when I feel her return my hug.
We went to see Wall-E, but it wasn’t playing at the time, and since we didn’t feel like waiting around for an hour, we went to the mall and did some shopping, and then grabbed some dinner. My niece seemed a little more energetic, but I could tell that she was still very unhappy with the situation, and no amount of presents or food was going to change that. I got her home a little bit late (I’d left a note saying where we went) but my bro didn’t do more than give a raised eyebrow to the dangly earrings (my favorite on girls, and yes, my niece has pierced ears) I bought her. I explained why we went shopping (no movie) and he seemed okay with that, though. When I left my brother’s place, I hugged my niece tightly, but we gave no kisses goodbye.
There’s probably more that I’m forgetting, but this has taken me more than two hours to write, and I’m emotionally drained from it. Take from this what you will, /b/. I’ll answer for you tonight, but I can’t guarantee that there will be anything to write about in the future. That is, my story will continue, but I don’t think I’ll be Uncle Anon anymore – it seems that the time of 20 boners might be at an end. I’ll let you know next Wednesday if there’s moar to say. If not, then this may well be the bad end that /b/ predicted; she ended up hating me, after all.