“Oh, holy fuck,” Meg hissed under her breath. Her roommate, once again, had the music blaring, her boyfriend’s hands probing underneath her clothes as they necked on the sofa like no one was watching. Meg closed the front door quietly, not wanting them to know she had returned from the college library after hours of study and disappeared into her bedroom.

She placed a stack of textbooks on her dresser and looked at her face in the mirror. Lack of sleep from sharing a dorm room with a party girl left her with dark circles under her eyes. She was not happy.

You look like a goddamn zombie, Meg.

Meg Harris stood almost five-foot-six, with long, brown hair usually tied in a ponytail. She applied herself in high school and was able to graduate early. Now she was starting her first semester at the state college, majoring in business.

She took another moment to look the rest of herself over. She wore what most other girls donned on the weekend when not attending class. A white, cotton tank top fit not too snugly over her torso and a loose pair of navy blue shorts disguised what charms she had below. In her state of fatigue, she had trouble recognizing herself.

God, who are you?

Meg wasn’t a raving beauty, but how many girls were? The dominant genetics came from her mother’s side of the family, so she vaguely resembled a pale Audrey Hepburn, with doe-like eyes and a beautiful smile. Her body was on the slimmer side with some curves. Her breasts had swollen into at least a C-cup and she wasn’t sure if they were done growing, much to her delight, with delicate, pale-pink areolas centered by small nipples. She cultivated a neatly trimmed thatch of pubic floss, as it made her feel all grown up, which she was.

A loud groan emanated from the next room, then another, much to her annoyance. Rolling her eyes, she pushed the bedroom door shut. Kicking off her shoes and socks, she slid up on the bed, rubbing her face back and forth against a pillow, holding another against her body.

Sooo tired. Gotta get some sleep.

Still, she could hear the rhythmic creaking of her roommate’s bed as bodies urgently coupled. At least they had the decency to take the final act to Terry’s bedroom.

Shit, Terry! Can you make it any more obnoxious? Hope you’re on the pill with all the fucking you do. A baby bump would totally destroy that hot little cheerleader bod. 

What compounded insult with injury was a whole month had passed since she had seen, or touched, either one of her boyfriends from high school, Bill or Michael. Although she was decidedly the shy, studious type, Meg still had a healthy, teenage libido, and loved the steamy sex play, kissing, holding, sexy talk, and more. She couldn’t get enough of their hands on her body and having her nipples pleasured. Bill and Michael both understood her desire to remain a virgin, but they did just about everything else.

They masturbated each other almost always and, in time, Meg learned how to give head. She could never forget looking up at Bill’s face, feeling his swollen little cock in her mouth, as he gave up a load. That first time, her instinct was to spit, but she swallowed instead. Such was her love life until she left home to enter college.

Now under the blankets, she closed her eyes, trying to relax, but the thump thump thump of Led Zeppelin kept pounding on the wall. Finally, she had had enough. Jumping out of bed, she bolted into the common room and, in one swift motion, jerked the stereo’s power cord out of the wall. Against her better judgment, she pushed Terry's bedroom door open.

“For Christ’s sake! Can’t you two fuck without music? Some of us need to sleep!”

“Okay! Okay!” Terry and her boyfriend looked back like deer in the headlights, both buck naked in the missionary position. In her state, Meg couldn’t help but take a second look at the lovers.

Goddamn it, I need some of that. Tired of being a virgin!

Meg slammed the bedroom door behind her, getting back into bed. Daylight was still intruding through the drawn blinds, so she reached into the nightstand to pull out a sleep mask and earplugs. They weren't perfect, but they shut out most of the cacophony surrounding her. Still, her brain was all wound up.

Motherfucker, I should report her. Get her kicked out, or at least have one of us transferred to another room, but that would be such a pain in the ass and I might be labeled as a snitch, and what about my pills? Son of a bitch, I just want to study and get laid in peace!

One thing about Terry, although she was a terrible roommate, she had one redeeming quality. She got Meg hooked up with a very understanding local doctor who provided both of them with birth control pills. Although Meg’s sex life was non-existent at the moment, she still took them, hopeful for an unexpected rendezvous.

Back in the now, Meg squirmed and fidgeted, wound tighter than a dick’s hat band.

There’s only one thing…

Still underneath the blankets, she removed her tank top and bra, leaving her naked to the waist.

Ahhh, that’s better.

Meg started to writhe, a serene smile on her face. She loved how the cotton sheet caressed her bare skin, rubbing against her breasts and sensitive nipples.

Feels so good, yes!

Luxuriating in the sensation, Meg’s ass started to gyrate, slowly and surely, in a steady rhythm. She spread her knees apart, imagining Terry and her boyfriend and what she witnessed only minutes before.

Good fucking…good, satisfying sex.

The sensation sparking in her nipples arced down to her throbbing, wet pussy. A pair of slender fingers slipped beneath her waistband. “Ahhh…” the young woman exhaled, mouth agape, as she found her slick, swollen rosebud. She bit her lip as she circled it, stoking a familiar fire. “Good, good pussy. Oh, so wet and messy,” she whispered to no one. As pleasure built deep within, she thought of her boyfriends and how much she missed them.

After graduation, Bill enrolled in trade school to become an electrician while Michael received a scholarship for a university two states away. Meg was five hour's drive from her hometown, making distance from Bill a formidable factor, and visiting Michael at the University? She was shit out of luck.

Letters came occasionally, and there was a long-distance phone call or two, but that was from the communal phone in the student center. The ambient noise and complete lack of privacy prohibited any sexy talk. The sad reality was both young men were busy with their educations, precluding any clandestine visits to Meg to satiate their mutual needs.

They’re probably masturbating themselves raw, or maybe they’ve found new girlfriends.

Frigging away, she let out a sigh.

We never made any promises or held to any commitments. I’m just glad somebody’s getting something.

Then there was that big thing that happened in May, something that occupied her waking thoughts and permeated her dreams. She had a brief, unplanned incestuous interlude with her Uncle Philip. He had come to attend Meg’s high school graduation, staying at the house for a few days. The handsome, single fortysomething man was decidedly the black sheep of the family, at least that’s what Meg’s mother thought. After some prodding, Lois confessed to her daughter what Philip did for a living.

“He’s a pornographer,” she said that morning in the kitchen while Meg sipped coffee.

Meg said nothing about her and her uncle sharing orgasms only an hour before, not to mention Philip initiating the relationship the previous night while the whole family watched television.  Meg was startled, and somewhat frightened, but succumbed to her uncle’s touch. With her libido awakened, their sex play continued until they finally went to bed in separate rooms, then continued the next morning while her parents were out of the home.

There was no doubt Philip would’ve taken her cherry that intense Monday morning of discovery, but Meg held firm about not going all the way, mostly because there were no means of birth control in the house and she was damn well not going to get pregnant. Yes, she would give up her virginity in time, but not yet. Still, they managed to have a final mutual climax before Philip returned home. There was no question Lois would have killed Philip if she knew.

Uncle Philip surged into Meg’s thoughts as her fingers blurred away against her pussy, pressure building. She envisioned his firm body laboring away between her open thighs, his hands and mouth caressing her, pleasure surging through her young body, spurring her on to multiple climaxes.

“Oh, Philip, goddammit…take me…TAKE ME!!!”

Then it came. Meg tried not to cry out as her body convulsed under the blankets. The orgasm was deep, solid, and intense, just like the ones her uncle coaxed out of her body.

“Fuck…fuuuck…ohhh,” she whimpered.

God, I need sex. I need to give up my cherry so bad.

Still, she vowed losing her virginity would be a special occasion, and whoever did it would be someone she chose. There would be no sticky fumblings in the back seat of someone’s car.

Meg carefully moved her hand up from underneath the bedclothes, sniffing her pungent fingers before she licked and sucked the juices from them, happy in the moment, peaceful in the aftermath. Sex dreams danced in her head until she fell into a deep sleep.

Although her absentee boyfriends had been fairly dutiful in communicating with Meg, Uncle Philip had not. In time, that really pissed her off! During the summer when she still lived at home, she tried calling her uncle several times. She was smart, though, and didn't use the family phone. A long-distance call to Philip showing up in the bill from Ma Bell might make her father suspicious and would surely set her mother off, so she biked to the nearest phone booth about a mile away.

“I’d like to place a collect call to Philip Harris in Winfield, please. Cypress Five-five-oh-six-eight.” She repeated the same words into the mouthpiece several times over the summer with the same result.

“I’m sorry, his answering machine picked up.” The operator’s tinny voice crackled over the wire.

Finally, Meg got a roll of quarters and fed the pay phone herself. The phone rang on the other end six times then, as expected, Philip’s machine picked up.

“You’ve reached the offices of Argosy Productions, Philip Harris, President. I’m unable to come to the telephone right now, so please leave your name, number, and a brief message. Thank you.”

The moment the machine beeped, Meg left a very direct message, one that surprised even her. Anger and resentment had been building up for some time, and hearing his recorded voice triggered the unexpected.

“Philip, this is your niece, Meg. Remember me? Where the fuck are you? You fuck me, then you abandon me? Who the hell do you think you are, you son of a bitch? If we’re through, have the fucking balls to tell me to my face, bastard!”

The sturdy handset made a satisfying clang as she slammed it into the metal holder. “Motherfucker!” She fumed, returning home in record time, legs angrily thrusting away at the bicycle pedals.

Days passed, and still no response from Philip, so Meg made the decision to drop the matter, quashing any expectation that their relationship would continue.

This has to stop. My heart can’t take anymore.

She told herself what she and her uncle had shared in that roughly eighteen hours was it. It irked Meg that she couldn’t stop thinking about him and what could have been if they met again, this time in a place where they could be free to explore. She had to admit warm, romantic feelings still lingered in her heart, mind, and soul for Philip.

Goddammit, I can’t believe I’m so hung up on the asshole.

Bill and Michael were preparing for their own post-high school odysseys, so Meg took full advantage of the short time they had remaining, stealing away to familiar haunts. Michael would meet her behind the bleachers in Wildcat stadium, the same place where they had just graduated. He still had a key from being the coach’s student assistant, but would have to return it eventually.

Bill had his own car, a beat-up Studebaker jalopy, which they put to good use. Meg would leave the house on her bicycle under the guise of visiting what few female friends she had. After a few blocks, she would chain the bike to a telephone pole where Bill was waiting to whisk them away to a secluded place.

Still, as she moaned and whimpered with her guys, panting in ecstasy as they shared carnal bliss, Uncle Philip dominated her thoughts.

The day came for the big move to college. Dad rented a U-Haul trailer and hitched it to his beige Delta 88. Meg didn’t overthink the process and loaded a minimum of items, although it was tough to convince her mother that certain things, in particular her large teddy bear, were not making the trip.

“Oh, my baby’s all grown up.” Lois’s eyes teared as she clutched the bear tightly against her bosom.

Back in the present, she awoke from heady sex dreams to the street light’s pre-dawn glow outside her window. The sleep mask had come off sometime in the night, and her right hand still cupped her downy mons pubis. The earplugs remained, keeping her in silence as she looked around the murky details of her bedroom. She didn’t feel at home there, not yet, if that would ever happen, so there were no posters on the walls or knickknacks on her dresser. It felt like an alien landscape.

I so miss Mom and Dad. Home held so much more for me than a bed and comfort. It’s tough becoming an independent woman.

Taking steady breaths, her fingers again started moving in a very familiar way.

Maybe I’ll never see that bastard Philip again, which is fine by me.

Her left hand began squeezing a breast, toying with an erect bud.

I’ll meet guys here on campus. I just have to get myself out there and circulate.

She bit her lower lip as she found her rhythm, pleasure welling up inside her body. She left a thumbnail untrimmed to torture her favorite nipple.

Uncle, goddamn it, that big prick would’ve felt sooo good pushing into my body, taking my cherry. Why have you forsaken me? Why?

The climax didn’t take long to hit, surging through her body as she tensed repeatedly, trying not to cry out in agony and dismay.

Why, Philip…WHY???

She had slept well, which was rare, what with Terry and her shenanigans in the next room, but Meg couldn’t shake the general malaise that permeated her spirit. Days blurred together, punctuated with occasional letters or phone calls, and none of them from Philip. She would read the letters several times and, if they were from her boyfriends, would sniff the paper for a hint of aftershave. A knock sounded at her door. It was Phyllis, the resident assistant.

“Meg, you have a phone call, honey.”

In her bare feet, she padded down the hallway to the yellow wall unit.

“Hello?” She expected one of the usual suspects, but what she heard next made her heart jump and her body flash hot.

“Meg?”

She hadn’t heard that particular voice in so long, a moment passed before she realized who it was. The voice sounded again.

“Hello?”

Meg took a deep breath. Her head was spinning with both rage and joy. She felt her nipples harden against the fabric of her top, her pussy clenching repeatedly.

Goddamn!

“I’m here.” She fought to keep a neutral voice. There was zero privacy on that hall phone!

“I have to talk to you, honey. It’s very important. I have to explain myself to you. Can we meet?”

Another pause. The young woman’s heart raced and she couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat.

“Hello? Meg?”

Meg took another deep breath. She wanted to unleash a stream of pent-up curses and annihilate Philip through the phone’s copper wire. Finally, she spoke.

“Sure. Why not?”

“I’m at a motel outside of town, or just the student center is fine. You choose.”

So kind of you to give me a fucking choice, Uncle Philip.

Emotions had seized up her insides in an attempt at self-preservation. Her voice sounded dead.

“Whatever. Pick me up in front of the student center.”

Autumn made its first announcement with a mild chill in the air, so Meg dressed in some sensible clothes, jeans, a button-up blouse, and a light sweater. She hadn’t washed her hair in a few days and looked somewhat bedraggled, but even in her distressed state, she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

Son of a bitch doesn’t even deserve that.

She sat on one of the concrete benches in front of the student center until Philip’s silver and maroon Seville pulled to the curb. With her arms wrapped around a large, brown leather purse pressed against her breasts, she eyed the vehicle askance, debating on whether or not she wanted to bother. The tinted passenger side window lowered, revealing her uncle gazing out, face expressionless.

Oh, what the fuck.

She hopped into the Cadillac, looking straight ahead, still holding her purse tight.

“Hello.” Philip almost touched her shoulder, but sensed the mood and refrained.

“Hello.” The passenger side window closed with a hermetically sealed thump.

“Honey, I…”

He didn’t have a chance to say another word. The purse slid to Meg’s feet as she turned to face him. A loud smack punctuated their ears as her right hand made contact with Philip’s face. Then another. Stunned, he started to lift his arms in defense as she landed a third slap on his stinging cheek.

“Motherfucker!” She screeched. “Son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Before she could strike again, he lashed out, grabbing her throat, pushing her against the passenger side door, dark eyes blazing angrily. Meg couldn’t breathe as she clawed at his arms helplessly, unable to reach his face. Terror seized her and, for a moment, she thought his strong hand was going to crush her throat, and that would be it.

This is how...