The Place By The Lake by JustSadeTo
Claire had been studying classical dance at EMU and her third year was more onerous than she thought it would be. It was exhaustion from the heavy workload and from the constant practice that made her want to visit her family’s summer home by Michigan Lake. It was a serene spot and the family had been going there together for years. Her mother had asked if she wanted company but Claire had declined on that. Really all she wanted was the natural environment, a bit of peace and quite and some time just to be alone with herself.
She’d only been in the summer home three nights though when the first visitor appeared and, as it happened, it was the worst person who could have shown up. The door was knocked raucously around midnight and Claire went to answer it. On opening the door her heart sank at the sight of him. It was her uncle, Malcolm and some other guy she didn’t know at all.
“Malcolm!” She said, “what are you doing here?”
“I heard you were up here for a few weeks,” Malcolm said through a slur of drink, “I thought I’d bring my buddy up to see the old place.”
Claire didn’t even want to let them in. They were drunk as fuck. Claire, just like the rest of the family, hated Malcolm. He was a hardened alcoholic and an ex-con. Completely disgusting and utterly different from the rest. Also, and she knew it shouldn’t have mattered, but he physically repulsed her. He was overweight and looked kind of unhealthy most of the time; probably because of the drink. His hygiene wasn’t the best and he smelled kind of musty most of the time. Claire had hated him since she first met him after he got out of prison and she’d only been a teenager then. Now, twenty two, her feelings towards him hadn’t changed.
“You better come in,” she said, just to be polite.
“This is Bret.” Malcolm pointed vaguely at the other man. He was a taller guy with long hair pulled back in a band.
She nodded at the stranger.
“Listen Malcolm,” she said to her uncle, “there’s spare rooms for both of you if you’re staying but I’m going to bed now okay. I’ve been out running today.”
Malcolm looked at her through a haze of drunkenness. He smirked a disgusting smirk.
“Okay, Claire,” he said, “we’ll just keep the party going down here then.”
She tried to ignore the comment. Any party Malcolm was at is one she would definitely steer clear of.
“Okay, goodnight.” She said flatly.
She went up the stairs to bed; uncomfortable that the men were even in the same house as her. She locked the door to make sure they would disturb her and then stripped off to her bra and panties. She got into bed and began to drift off as best she could. It wasn’t easy with the obnoxious sounds of the two men drinking and slurring their words downstairs. With any luck tomorrow when she got back indoors they’d have got bored of the place and moved on to some bar and out of her life.
*
Next morning she went a run down by the lake and when she got back, sure enough, their trucks were gone. Thank God, she remembered thinking. Having a room for them was one thing but she certainly didn’t want to talk to either of them.
She got in, showered and ate dinner. She’d just settled down afterwards though, to watch some TV, when the door went again. She answered it and there was Malcolm and his buddy Brett again. Wasted as usual. Too early for bed this time she sat with them in the living room; watching whatever dumb movie was on and counting the minutes until she could leave the pair of assholes. Malcolm produced a bottle of whiskey round nine.
“You mind?” He slurred at Claire.
She shook her head dismissively and Malcolm and Brett took turns at swigging from the bottle. They were getting more wasted and a little louder in the way they were speaking as the night went on.
“You know what that asshole says,” Malcolm said to Claire about an hour later, he was pointing at Brett, “he rides my fucking back all the time telling me I came from a nice fucking family and turned out a piece of shit.”
Claire was silent. She agreed. He did turn out a piece of shit and the family had nothing to do with it. Malcolm stood up and crossed the room; sitting down painfully close to his niece. So close she could smell that he hadn’t showered that weekend. The stench of the whiskey and yesterday’s food between his teeth was revolting.
“He says my family hate me.” He said. “we gotta prove this asshole wrong, Claire. You get me?”
“No,” Claire said, “you’re drunk.”
“We gotta show him so he stops riding me about this shit,” Malcolm explained, “we gotta show him my family doesn’t fucking hate me. Give me a hug and show this fucking asshole.”
“Drop dead Malcolm,” Claire said, standing up and walking away into the kitchen.
From in there she could hear Brett starting to laugh drunkenly.
“I fucking told you, man, your fucking family hates your guts!”
Malcolm said nothing but a second later Claire’s heart jumped into her throat when he stormed into the kitchen and grabbed her by the nape of the neck. He was unfit as fuck but strong enough to pull her around. He dragged her back into the living room.
“I’m fucking serious, Claire!” He bawled, “this fucker needs to see you guys don’t hate me.”
He forced her onto the couch and sat down as close to her as he could get. His flabby, hairy arm went round her body and he forced her head against his fat chest. The smell of him was overwhelming. Claire wanted to puke.
“Now stay there and let’s watch the movie!” Malcolm demanded.
“Fuck man,” Brett laughed, “she doesn’t want to be there; you can so fucking tell.”
Malcolm pulled her closer into his sweaty flab.
“She’ll get used to it!”
Claire was too scared to move so she just lay there; embarrassed as hell and forced against the man she’d hated for years. She stared at the screen, humiliated, and tried to zone out the feel and smell of her disgusting uncle and Brett’s eyed on them; his frequent laughter. Finally the movie finished. It must have been around twelve. Malcolm let her sit up on the couch; his fat arm remained around her shoulder.
“You believe me now,” Malcolm slurred, he used his free hand to pour a slug of whiskey down his throat, “my family like me fine.”
“Dude,” Brett said, “that fucking girl hates you even more than she did when you came in the fucking door. You’ve got shit for brains if you think any fucking different.”
Malcolm’s eyes got wide and angry looking. Then the most terrifying thing happened. He dropped the whiskey and reached down to the waistband of his pants; pulling out the gun that Claire never knew he’d brought into the house. He pointed it directly at Brett. Claire froze with the deepest fear of her life. Brett looked less impressed.
“You ain’t gonna shoot me.” He said.
“No, I’m not,” Malcolm said, shifting his fat body on the couch, “but I’m gonna prove to you my fucking family don’t hate me…”
He turned the gun on Claire; resting the muzzle against her collarbone. She tightened up.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Claire,” he said, “I just wanna prove to this asshole I got people who care about me.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Claire’s eyes starting to well up from the fear.
“Come on man,” Brett laughed, “you’re scaring the hell outta that girl.”
“Shut the fuck up!” A strand of slobber slipped over his drunk lower-lip as he shouted at Brett, “We’re gonna make him see you like me Claire… we’re gonna show him.”
Malcolm’s fat fingers twisted tightly in Claire’s hair, yanking her face close to his. Then a wave of repulsion hit her as he forced his slobber-coated lips onto her mouth.
“No!” she pulled away.
“Fuck!” Brett laughed, “I hoped we’d get onto this. Girl’s fucking hot dude.”
Claire was forced onto her back by Malcolm’s massive weight; his slimy fat tongue was lolling about on her face, trying to find an entrance to her sweet mouth. His dirty whiskey-fouled spit was smearing on her cheeks and chin. Brett watched and started to undo his belt; he pulled his boxers down a little and let his lank cock out of his pants, stroking it to a hard-on.
“This prove it,” Malcolm slobbered out, “this prove she fucking likes me.”
“Whatever, dude,” Brett was beating his boner pretty steady now, “just keep tonguing her.”
Malcolm forced the muzzle of his gun against Claire’s temple.
“Open it,” he shouted, “open your sweet mouth.”
“Please Malcolm! Don’t!”
He forced his fat fingers into her mouth and literally prized open her jaw. He made disgusting grunting, slobbering noises as he held her open and tongued her. She could feel his spit rolling in and out of her mouth with his huge tongue. She just lay there and cried hysterically.
“Fuck man, this is so hot!” Brett laughed, “is she fucking wet from this shit. Check her pussy man.”
Claire screamed in response to the statement. Malcolm looked across at his buddy, almost surprised himself, then he looked back down on Claire. He pointed the gun into her face.
“Listen Claire,” he said, “I’m gonna check your pussy… see if your wet…”
“Malcolm!” she forced herself to speak though all she wanted was to vomit, “I won’t tell anyone you kissed me… Malcolm, I’ll tell the police if you rape me.”
“That’s a little pussy I’d do time for,” Brett laughed.
Malcolm started to fumble with the button of her jeans.
“No!” She fought off his fat, ugly hands.
“What part of this don’t you understand, bitch!” He forced the gun hard against her chin, “I never came the fuck up here to this shithole to see the house… I came ‘cause I knew you’d be here and ‘cause you’re fucking gorgeous… I’ll go to fucking prison for a couple of weeks with you… now stay the fuck still!”
He used his gun-hand to force Claire’s face sideways on the couch; pushing down roughly. She just lay there helpless and crying softly as he grunted and rutted on top of her; shifting his huge weight and pulling at her jeans. All she could see through his fat fingers clamped on her face was Brett across the room jacking his dick off. Malcolm finally got his drunken hands in order and managed to pull her jeans over her hips. Next he dragged down her panties. She still lay; humiliated and crying and waiting for what was to come. He pushed her thighs apart with one hand and stared at her gorgeous little hole. It was fucking amazing. Pink and tight and so goddamn perfect he wanted to blow his spunk right then.