Uncle Bob Ch. 22

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Chapter 22. The Wild West

Author’s note:

Yes, folks, it’s taken a long, long time, but we’re finally approaching the end of the Bob ‘n’ Stacey saga. Just one more chapter after this, and that should be ready to be posted in a couple of weeks. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey and feel it’s been worth the wait.


Monique looked pretty on FaceTime. Some people – me included – look a little weird on an iPad camera. (Some people think I look weird in real life – whatever that is – but that’s just because reality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be). Sometimes it shows up too much detail, too many blemishes. Stacey, of course, always looks flawless – especially to me. Monique looked cute. Her CV implied she was almost my age, maybe twenty-nine or thirty, but she looked younger. And she had an intriguing mix of Polynesian and European features.

“Yes, my mother was from Moorea and my father from France, near Lyons,” she explained in her delightfully French-accented English. “I studied at the Sorbonne but came back here because I missed the climate and the ocean and the peace.”

“Excellent. Well, we’d like to get married in your homeland for the same reasons,” I explained. “How long have you been a wedding planner?”

“For nearly five years. I studied business management and English in Paris, but the businesses here, they are very small. They do not employ very many people. So I had to try something of my own. Many people, they come here to get married, but when I worked at one of the big hotels in Bora Bora for a while, I kept seeing people who had come all that way and felt – how you say – ‘disenchanted’? Our islands are magical. The bride should have a sublime experience, and the guests should all feel it was worth the long journey. So I started my planning business on a – quel est le mot? Ah, oui – a part-time basis. It seems people like what I can offer. I think they find it more authentique.”

“Monique, Stacey and me, we really like what you’re saying. You’re the third planner we’ve tried, and the others wanted us to wear suits and exchange standard vows under a beach gazebo…”

“Ah, oui! I have seen many of these. It is like – un tapis roulant – how do you say this in English?”

“I think you mean a conveyer belt.”

“Ah oui, c’est ça. Your email said you wanted a secluded island.”

“If possible. We’d like to keep the ceremony as private and personal as possible.”

“Do you know much about the Tahitian chain?”

“Not unless it’s some kind of S to be on, like, an island with just the people we love, dressed, like, really simply and saying vows we totally believe in. I so don’t want a big wedding with hundreds of people, like Dad had. It just felt like it was showing off how rich he was. I want people we love to see how much we love each other and love them. Y’know, that’s the thing. It has to be about love. Our love.” She kissed me. And I kissed her back.

The conversation stopped around then, and resumed maybe two hours later, when we were snuggled, naked in our bed, after I’d cleaned most of the jizz off her body.

“See, I read about Captain Cook and the Bounty and all that for a school project. We watched the Mel Gibson film, and the native girls were, like, naked above the waist. And Gaugin went there and painted all the native girls, and they were just wearing, like, grass skirts or sarongs, and they weren’t hiding their titties ‘cuz, like, what’s to be ashamed of and anyway, it’s too hot for clothes, and…”

“Woah, Stacey. So let me get this straight. You want to be married on a beach, wearing nothing but a grass skirt and flowers. Oh, and, I guess, some sunscreen. Is that right?”

“Yeah. Taksim escort That sounds so cool. And so us.”

“OK. And what should I wear? A tux? A Scottish kilt? A wetsuit and snorkel mask?”

“I like the idea of the kilt,” she replied with a straight face. “But, like, Polynesian. Like a skirt or, or…”

“A loincloth?” I considered it for a moment, and the thought that finally appeared was ‘fuck it, why not?’ “OK, we can do that, if that’s what you want. But what about the guests? Do we give them a dress code or are we expecting them to turn up in suits and dresses?”

“I think they should dress the same as us,” she said with a wicked grin.

“So all the ladies will wear grass skirts and leis and have their titties on display?”

“Sure,” she said with a completely serious expression. “See, Hannah is gonna be my maid of honor, and she’d be totally cool with that. And Amy-Beth can be a bridesmaid, and maybe Barbie too. They would look awesome dressed like that.”

“And your mom? You are intending to invite her, aren’t you?”

“Of course. And sure, I may have to, like, persuade her a little, but if everyone else is doing it, and you have so fucked her and seen and played with her titties, I think she’ll agree.”

Any wedding more complicated than a brief civil ceremony or a Las Vegas travesty takes some time to arrange and a lot of planning. So having finalized the broad shape and location, we settled on Spring Break as the best time. This would interfere a little less with Stacey’s studies and we could plan around my increasingly-busy work schedule. We also agreed that there was less chance of it driving us both to a breakdown if we handed the job to a wedding planner.

And we were so fortunate to find Monique. She understood us best of all the people we spoke with, and could provide what we really wanted. We discussed the catering and the logistics of getting the guests to and from the motu, and the accommodation. Then she asked “Will you need somewhere to change? Sea water will ruin the fine fabrics of a wedding dress. We can bring the dresses earlier and you can change on the motu.”

“Oh no, that’ll be cool. I’ll be wearing, like, a grass skirt, with flowers around my neck and woven in my hair. Hannah will help me do that, or maybe you could. And we’d kinda like you to provide the flowers. And Bob will need, like, a loincloth in some nice fabric…”

“I see. So you wish for the ‘native Polynesian’ style. That’s fine. But what about the top? Other ladies have tried half coconut shells, but they can be uncomfortable. I have some nice, softer imitation ones that…”

“Oh, that’s fine but I won’t need them. We’re so gonna keep it simple. Just a lei and some flowers in my hair.”

“Excuse-moi, Stacey? So you are saying that you will be married in just a grass skirt and flowers? You will be – how you say? – bare-breasted?”

“Sure,” Stacey said with her usual cute smile.

“But what about your guests? Won’t this shock them? And also, do I not need to make arrangements for them to change?”

“Nah, they’ll all be wearing the same. We checked. None of them are ashamed of their breasts.”

“But – but – isn’t your mother one of the guests? What will she think?”

“She’s already agreed. And she has lovely titties. She’s happy to bare them for the ceremony. And Bob’s seen them before anyway.”

Monique’s expression was briefly one of confusion. But I could see she was an experienced businesswoman. She understood that if the customer wants something, however wacky, it isn’t actually stupid and you can provide it, you just go ahead and provide it. Simple.

“Very well. As you wish. Taksim escort bayan It is your ceremony. But – but I will also be at the ceremony to organize and to ensure that all goes well. Should I also be bare-breasted? I’m not ashamed of my breasts.” I could detect a slight note of sarcasm in her voice.

“That would be cool,” Stacey replied, apparently not noting Monique’s tone.

“Monique, please don’t let our quirkiness put you off. You seem like the ideal person to organize this for us. No-one else seems to understand that we really want something unique to us, so please just let us know what you’d recommend. Yes, it may look like we’ll be a little under-dressed for the ceremony. But we’ve spoken to all of the female guests we’re intending to invite, and to most of the men, and they not only agree to our rather wacky dress-code but understand it and embrace it.”

I looked at Monique’s expression, and I could see she was feeling a little uncomfortable. But if she was going to organize our wedding, in just the way we wanted it, I felt she would need to understand, so I took a deep breath and continued.

“You see, Stacey and me have an unconventional relationship. We’ve been in love for at least a dozen years – just the normal kind of love between an adult and a little girl growing up, only maybe even stronger, like I was her dad and her big brother rolled into one. Recently we made some discoveries that allowed our relationship to evolve into romantic and sexual love. And along the way we found that it was even more fun if we shared our love, and our adventures, with some special friends. So the people we’ll be inviting are all part of that weird, erotic and very loving little community – almost like a family, if that doesn’t make it sound too perverted – that has grown around us. We’ve enjoyed close and usually sexual relationships with most of them, so none of us is embarrassed to be naked or semi-naked with the others. If you decide you want to share that freedom, that relaxed nakedness, with us, you’d be very welcome. I can see that you’re a beautiful girl, if I’m allowed to say that, and you’d fit in well with all the other beautiful women who’ll be there. But if you want to be a little more, kinda ‘normal’, that’s OK too. We just need your help to make this occasion as special as we need it to be. So, will you help us? And if so, can you please send us a short plan and cost estimate for us to agree, so we can get things moving?”

Monique looked a little surprised but, if I’m any judge of a woman’s expression on FaceTime, not shocked.

“I think I understand, and I will do my best for you. I’ll send you some ideas and estimates by email in a few days.”


I’d made it a priority to get some accommodation and business premises, once I realized that I had to move to California. I’d been fortunate, in that I’d found us a nice big house in Manhattan Beach within a few weeks of arriving. It had five bedrooms and views of the ocean. One bedroom, although quite large, didn’t have a bathroom, so I decided to make that my office. But most importantly, the house had a basement, cut into the hillside, which was ideal as an equipment room. And it had an enclosed pool house with a large pool deck that extended outside, so we could use it all year round. It was ideal. The house could serve as both home and business premises until I could find something larger and maybe more central, so I took out a six-month lease.

Luis moved in to the second bedroom, and together we found the kit we needed; servers, routers, good desktop machines, storage, test-rig software, a decent printer and scanner. We took nearly a month installing Escort taksim and commissioning the equipment, partitioning the different environments we’d need and setting up the work-sharing with Brad and his team in Florida. I also got a large table so we could use one of the downstairs rooms for meetings with customers and team members and (hopefully) to interview prospective employees as the business grew.

And being me, I also took the opportunity to play out a ‘dirty secretary’ fantasy with Stacey the next weekend, and fucked her on our ‘boardroom table’ while Luis was out. She wore a cute little skirt with a white blouse, stockings and heels, and a pair of big glasses. She, of course, omitted panties and opted for a butt-plug and some hot, red lipstick. When we’d finally finished – with my dick pulsing deep in her ass, while she screamed “YES! Harder, deeper in my ass, please sir!” – I looked down to see the residual lipstick traces around the base of my cock; the rest of that organ was buried to the hilt in her butt. Fuck, I’d definitely chosen the best possible girl in the world to marry.

A couple of weeks later, as we’d found that the commute to campus wasn’t too bad, I persuaded Stacey and Hannah to give up their dorm room and come over to occupy my house, which saved a little on their costs. Hannah had bedroom three, while Stacey (of course) moved in with me. Our meeting room was transformed into a study center when Amy-Beth and Martin came around to join us.

The place was also a nice weekend hang-out. We used the pool house and deck most weekends, often gathering there on a Saturday evening. Sometimes we’d sit outside around a firepit when it got a little cooler. The girls would play and sing – it turned out that Amy-Beth was more than competent on keyboards and had a decent voice – while Luis and Martin would barbeque some steak or shrimp and I’d rustle up some vegetable accompaniments. We’d then enjoy the sunset over some beers or wine, good food and great company.

And, of course, there was also some pretty-good sex. At first, Hannah and Martin would head for Hannah’s room, and Stacey and me to mine, leaving Amy-Beth and Luis to talk by the pool. The first time this happened, Luis drove Amy-Beth back to campus around eleven. The second time, they came down to breakfast together the next morning, looking slightly embarrassed but also pretty pleased with themselves.

“He’s a little like you,” Amy-Beth confided privately to me over coffee by the pool a week or so later. “He’s kind and gentle and he wants it to be good for me. And it is, Uncle Bob. He usually makes me cum – I showed him how I like him to rub my clit – and he holds me after we’ve – after we’ve fucked, and it feels – it feels nice.”

“Luis is a good guy. Sure, he’s an IT nerd, and that’s held him back from getting to know girls. But you two, you seem good for each other. But how’s Sigma Epsilon Chi going? Are you still organizing it, and do you have any more orgies planned?” I could always live in hope of getting an invitation to something like that and having the opportunity to fuck some more hot coeds. OK, so I’m one greedy fucker, but a guy’s gotta dream, right?

“Er, not so much. See, that last time, with the KOK guys, it was like, OK, but, like, Martin was the best one there, and he isn’t even part of KOK. And now I’ve found Luis, and after you fucked my butt so beautifully, I don’t think I want to continue with it.”

“That’s cool,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “But I’m really glad you’ve hooked up with Luis.”

“So you’re not pissed that he’s, like…” She lowered her voice. “That he’s fucking me? You know, like you and me did?”

I kissed her – a friendly kiss, the kind a loving uncle routinely gave his cute little niece, not so long ago. “Sweetie, I just want you to be happy. I want all my friends to be happy. It looks like you are, and Luis definitely seems to be, so it’s a win-win as far as I can see.”

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