Uncle John's Bathroom Readers Novels & Stories

“If you need a drinking buddy, you should head to a bar. I’m done. Just tell me if you’re going to let me appeal without contesting or not.” “I don’t need a drinking buddy. I just believe alcohol has a way of making people tell the fucking truth,” he replies in a cold, almost breathless tone, staring icily into my eyes and that sends a quick shiver down my spine. What truth? What is he talking about? “I don’t get what you mean. What truth is that, that my dad didn’t do it?” “Don’t play dumb little kitten,” he says in the same icy low tone, maintaining the cold stare into my eyes. “The truth……the one where you used an uncle to get back at his nephew by fucking sleeping with him.”

“Tell me you’re not married to my uncle!” His eyes searched mine, but all I saw in his was pride… broken pride. “If this is your idea of payback because I told you the truth… then fine! But did you really have to climb into my uncle’s bed?” he sneered. “That’s just sick.” The moment Caleb said those words, the room broke into whispers. Eyes turned toward me—cold, judging, cruel. I could feel every stare like needles in my skin. They were tearing me apart without even touching me.

My uncle was dead, and now I’m stuck living with the man who killed him, the same man who threatened to kill me and who I’ve spent weeks secretly fantasising about. Could my life get any more ironic? The image of my uncle's lifeless body comes rushing back, and I feel a familiar churning sensation in my stomach, forcing me to jerk up and dash for the bathroom. I crouch over the toilet seat spewing up the alcohol mingled with stomach bile from last night. When I'm finished with my morning throw-up session, I groan and push down the flusher. My throat burns and my chest aches. All probable symptoms of someone who watched her uncle get shot. I fall to the bathroom floor and for a second I just

Everything about the night had been traumatizing… John’s Uncle, smashing the heirloom John was so protective of, becoming entrapped by him, and being treated like trash… At first, he had been so hurtful by telling me cheating was what every man did. He didn’t even sound genuine with his apology. He had sounded like I was overreacting. Then the stranger I had slept with had walked in, and he had turned out to be John’s Uncle. How could such a young man be his Uncle? How could I have slept with him?

A hand placement that I definitely did not like. But I'd like to remind myself again. It will end soon. As if the universe had grown tired of watching me suffer, it handed me exactly what I needed to win against my uncle. I stumbled on my uncle’s conversation with his secretary Josh who flew in this morning. Something about pills. He held out a small unlabeled container. My uncle had declined saying he was now in a good mental state and didn’t need them anymore. Unlabeled Pills. Mental Health. His impulsive character.

It seems like he has not shifted for years and my heart breaks for him. “I thought you were going to help him bathe.” Atticus says quietly, leaning against the entrance with a bag in his hand. “He needs some privacy and I am in no mood of cleaning a fully grown man.” I state, taking a cool bag of blood from the mini fridge and throwing it at my uncle. He chuckles, taking a straw and stabbing it into the bag like a juice box before looking down the hall. “You just didn’t want to wash his man bits.” He teases, making me blush while I focus on making this medicinal meal.

I was stinking with sweat from playing games with the twins. I slipped my clothes off my body carefully. There wasn't a mirror in this bathroom. I couldn't see my naked self. I turned on the tap to fill the bathtub with lukewarm water. I sat at the edge of it, watching as the water slowly rose. A dirty image suddenly flashed inside my head. I imagined my uncle being here in this bathroom, and fucking me inside the bathtub. How nice would that have been? He could just lay inside the tub, while I sat on top of him, his dick buried deep inside of me, the sounds of our bodies slapping against each other, moans, grunts, and the splashing of water.

Because he did, didn't he? She quickly finished herself off and then she put the DVD back where she found it. She went to bed and was busy making plans as she heard Uncle Dan return home. One of the features of the house where they lived was that it didn't have any en-suite bathrooms. The following morning Megan waited until she could hear her uncle moving around and then she headed for the bathroom between their rooms. She wore a thong and half covered her firm breasts with a towel. As she'd predicted she ran into her uncle in the hallway and she just happened to drop her towel. Uncle Dan stared at her as she made a big deal out of picking it up and eventually covering herself again before

I now expected my uncle to storm into the room mad like hell and kick the shit out of his nephew for doing what I was doing to his gorgeous wife but no door suddenly swung open. Aunt Karen stayed on me for a couple of minutes getting her breadth back, she now got off me, "That was nice John I think I'll have a good relaxed sleep now." Oh no god no surely she wasn't going to leave me like this, I looked at her and caught a glimpse of my own reflection in the wardrobe mirror, I looked like a puppy who has just had its favourite bone confiscated. Aunty Karen stood up, looking down at my cock which was throbbing like crazy covered with pre cum which was seeping out of the small pee hole profusel

I walked out of the closet dressed in a long floral gown and flashed him a smile, “Let us go find out shall we?” Together we walked out of the room and headed down the hallway. When Liam and I entered Uncle John’s study, the air was thick with tension. The room, with its dark wood panels and imposing shelves filled with old books, always made me feel small, like a child being called in for scolding. But this time, it was different. Uncle John wasn’t angry—he was smiling, and that made me even more uneasy. “Come in, come in,” he said, gesturing to the leather chairs in front of his desk.