Serendipity - Version Alpha
by Lubrican
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Epilogue
Foreword: This story is written in three versions, Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. You are reading version alpha. All the versions share some similarities or shared text in the beginning, but then they travel off in different directions. Moreover, the personalities of some of the characters differ from one version to the next, even though they have the same names.
There is a problem with the plot, but there's nothing I can do about it. When I first started writing this book, in early 2013, my research concerning states in which it was legal for an uncle to marry his niece revealed six states. I chose Texas to use in the book. In late 2013 the Texas legislature passed laws forbidding such marriages. I missed that. So this is an imaginary Texas in the book, or you can imagine the story to have taken place in 2012 instead of 2014, when it was published. You'll see why I couldn't correct this issue when you read the book.
Bob
Chapter One
I looked up as the three girls came running toward me, screaming as if they were being pursued
by ogres. I wasn't surprised.
It was the same three girls who had been
running around my back yard for years, screaming as if the world was
coming to
an end. It happened every summer, and it
should have seemed as normal as the sun coming up.
But
this time, as I looked
up, the book I'd been reading was forgotten as my eyes took in the lush
curves
and bouncing breasts of my niece and her two summertime friends.
Emma
lived next door to me and
was the first to form a bond with Caitlin (my sister's daughter) when I took her in
for two
weeks so my sister could go on her honeymoon with her second husband.
Those two weeks worked out rather well, and
the next summer the eleven year old tomboy asked if she could "have
another vacation with Uncle Bob".
Her mother agreed.
That
year Emma introduced
Caitlin to Ashley who lived two blocks away and was now Emma's best
friend. They became the three musketeers
and their kingdom was my back yard. Their "moat" is my in ground swimming pool, and it's big enough to swim laps in.
So
when Caitlin and I
weren't going on "adventures" there was usually a lot of splashing
and screaming in my back yard.
That
was all fine back when
they were prepubescent. They made a lot
of noise, and they dashed around as if they were running from their
worst
nightmares, but I could still read and do lifeguard duty at the same
time. They wore bikinis which, had they
been on
bigger, bustier girls, might have been interesting.
But on these girls they were merely strips of
cloth that covered the parts their mothers wanted covered.
I honestly think they'd have been just as
happy running around buck naked, like they probably did when they were
toddlers.
But
that year turned into a
"tradition", where Caitlin travelled from far away California to the
windy plains of Oklahoma each summer to spend two, then three, and
eventually
four weeks with her Uncle Bob, who treated her like an adult as long as
she
acted like one. What that meant was that
I didn't coddle her, or require that she behave in any particular way.
She was just Caitlin and we did whatever she
had the urge to do as long as it was safe.
What that means is
that she wanted to go rock climbing, and fishing and camping.
I had a dirt bike I liked to climb hills with,
and she wanted to learn to ride it.
Instead of putting her on my 450, I bought her a 175 and let her
learn
on that. She eventually moved up to a
two fifty, which was fine, considering all she weighed was a hundred
and ten
pounds.
And
then one year she asked
if I'd drive her back to California, so we could camp and see some of
the
national parks along the way. The first
year we did that, when she was fourteen, we did Yellowstone.
I booked us rooms in the lodge and we spent
two days there, seeing the sights. The
next year it was Big Bend, in Texas, taking the southern route back
home. The following year we toured the
Rockies and Mesa
Verde. That Christmas, when I Skyped
them for the holidays, she got in front of the computer and said she'd
already
decided what we were going to do the next time she came.
And that was tour the Grand Canyon and
Carlsbad Caverns on the way back home.
"But
this year we're
going to tent camp instead of staying in motels!" she said,
excitedly. "I want to rough
it," she had said. "You know, get a taste of what it was like for the
pioneers as they moved west."
But
looking at Caitlin and
her friends now, I had a glimmer of how easily things could all come
crashing
down. My niece was all grown up, and she
was a babe. Spending nights in close
proximity to her in a tent might have been disastrous.
But, at the last minute, I'd gotten a break.
She had some kind of sports camp thing she
had to be back in California for and, rather than cut her visit short
and drive
back, she had opted to stay just as long, and then return to the coast
by air, as she had done in the past.
Looking
at her now, I was
kind of glad about that, because I'd have been a basket case staying in
a tent
with her for four or five nights.
Yeah,
I know, she was only
seventeen, but you couldn't tell it by looking.
Suddenly she looked like she should be in college, instead of
finishing
up high school. And her friends were
right there with her. All of them had
the lush curves of young women ready for the adult dance of love and passion.
Not
that I hadn't noticed
this over the years before this.
Basically, I got a yearly update on how puberty was treating the
musketeers. I watched those polka dotted
bikini tops begin to show that there was actually something under them,
and
those mounds got bigger every year. The
girls didn't seem to notice, though.
While their bodies changed, they seemed to stay exactly the same
when
they gathered in the back yard to jump in the pool and play the kind of
silly
games that kids play everywhere.
When
they were fourteen and
fifteen, they seemed a little shier in some ways, a little less sure of
themselves, perhaps. Ashley had braces
and she hated them, thinking they made her look like a robot of some
kind. I told her that was nonsense and
that the
braces would simply help her teeth become as beautiful as the rest of
her.
It
was just an offhand
comment ... you know ... something to help her get through a tough time.
I had no idea it would have such far reaching
effects on my life. In fact, I didn't
even think she'd remember me saying it.
After all, I was thirty, practically ancient in their minds. The
only
interest they had in me was that I had a swimming pool in my back yard
and a
niece who was fun to play with while she was in town.
And
it was obvious
Caitlin's two friends had no interest in me.
Once Caitlin and I got in the car to make the drive to the west
coast, I
didn't see them for the rest of the summer.
Well,
I saw Emma, of
course. I mean she lived right next door
to me. I almost had to run into
her occasionally. But when I did all she
did was wave and say something like "Hi, Mr. Simmons" and that was
it. All they were interested in was
Caitlin, and my pool when Caitlin was in town.
Which
is why I was somewhat
surprised when Ashley changed direction from the other two and came
running
directly toward me. They'd been out somewhere and I took the opportunity of the peace and quiet to sit by the pool and read. I knew they'd eventually be back, and I knew they'd want to swim. They always did, and acting as the "lifeguard" was a habit, even though they were now old enough to take care of themselves. I hadn't heard them come in, but it was impossible to ignore them as they ran onto the patio, headed for the pool. I saw a packet of paper in Ashley's right hand as she trotted over to me.
"Here's
your mail, Mr.
Simmons," she panted, bending over and extending her hand. "We got it from the box on our way in."
I
had a premonition of what
the Grand Canyon might be like as she held her pose, bent over, waiting
for me
to take the mail from her hand. Then my
mind flashed through a little, admittedly silly fantasy, wherein her much too
small bikini top failed in its attempt to keep her entirely too
large
breasts cupped in their embrace. The
bikini parted between the cups and, in this fantasy, they fell about a
foot to
land on my chest, bouncing up and down like basketballs.
I
told you it was silly.
I
realized I was staring at
her cleavage, and that my mail was still in her hand.
I didn't know how long she'd been bent over
like that, but I knew it was longer than propriety demanded.
I dragged my eyes from her truly luscious
cleavage up to her face, whereupon I realized I was busted big time.
But instead of screaming at me for staring at
her breasts, there was this little half smile, a sort of almost smirk.
"Your
mail?" she
reminded me.
I
grabbed it." Thanks," I croaked.
"No
problem," she
said, smiling normally.
I
would never have known
anything was up, except that as she ran back to the other two my eyes saw
that
they'd been watching this delivery of mail entirely too intently, and
my ears
heard her excited whisper as she got back to them.
"You
were right! He did stare
right at them!"
I
heard one of the girls
say "I told you!" but I couldn't tell which one it was.
The
point is that, quite
suddenly from my perspective, the girls were all grown up ... and not
just
physically. I was pretty sure that
Ashley Paddington, who had gotten her driver's license just last year, had also just flashed me her boobs.
On
purpose!
And
that wasn't the worst
part. The worst part was that, if my
instincts (and ears, of course) were working smoothly, there were other partners
abetting her in that particular crime.
Hmmmm.
Bad analogy.
Sorry. There were no victims in
this little social offense.
No
sir. None at all. I almost called her back
to ask her to bend
over again so I could give her a second opinion.
But
I didn't. Instead I lifted the book, as if
nothing was
wrong, and pretended to read while I surreptitiously watched the three
hooligans over the top of the pages.
Their heads were together and they were giggling like they were
ten
instead of seventeen. As I watched, my
niece reached back with both hands and did that thing girls do to
reposition
their bikini bottoms. You know what I'm
talking about. They hook a finger under
the cloth and pull it away from the skin and down.
It's an unconscious thing most of the time,
just instinct encouraging them to be a little more modest or make
things more
comfortable. I'd seen these girls do
that at least a hundred times, if not more.
But
not since they were all
grown up and teasing me like Ashley just had.
I
know what you're
thinking. You're thinking they had all
decided to offer up their virginity to the older man they all thought
of as
Caitlin's cool uncle, and that I had to satisfy all three of them that
night as
I taught them how wonderful it was to have orgasms while full of hot,
stiff
prick.
Okay.
So maybe that's what I was thinking
about. But it wasn't like that.
Wasn't like that at all. They swam for all of fifteen minutes and then ran into
the house, where I knew they were taking showers and getting dressed
for
whatever was actually planned next.
Which wouldn't be their mass defloration, by the way. I knew that.
It might be a trip to the mall, or it might be a session of
(re)painting
each other's nails or doing each other's hair.
They might even go for a run together.
Caitlin was a surfer, and liked to stay in shape.
And I know Emma played soft ball. She
had that muscled slightly broad build
that reminds you of those gymnasts in the Olympics, except that her
chest was
way too busty for that particular group.
And
when had that happened? These
girls had all gone into a closet and
grown up before coming back out again to make my day much more
interesting.
Not
that I thought anything
would actually happen. I knew better
than that. Caitlin wasn't a vamp.
She was a sweet girl whose major struggle in
life thus far had been that she wanted to do whatever her older
step-brother
got to do, and ran afoul of her mother's desire to protect her from
harm in the
process. American culture wasn't too
happy with her either, for that matter. Girls are expected to want to do girly stuff.
In
any case, I was on solid
ground now. They'd been taking showers
(together?) for as long as they'd been using my pool, and I had
fantasized
about what that must look like for more years than I would like to
admit
to. Even at twelve, with those svelte,
curveless bodies, I'd wished I could watch them scamper around
Caitlin's
bedroom naked. And now that they had
found all those missing curves, it would be oh, so much better.
So
I thought about that for
a few seconds, and then adjusted the erection that had suddenly bloomed
in my
shorts, and went back to reading. If
they needed anything from me, they knew where I was.
What
I was not aware of was
that Caitlin was looking out the window at me from her bedroom when I
did the
adjusting.
And
she was completely
aware of what I was doing when I did it.
Things
might have ended
right there. After all, it isn't unusual
for a young woman to experiment a little with trying to see what it's
like to
get a man to notice her. But it rarely
goes farther than that, at least when the man is almost old enough to
be her
father. I certainly didn't expect Ashley
to do anything else, much less Caitlin.
At least not with me.
But
little things happen
that, like the fabled wings of the butterfly on one side of the earth,
can
cause a hurricane on the other side of the planet.
And
some of those little
things that I think changed everything for all three of the girls that
summer
happened just about the time I closed my book and got up to go inside
and find
something to divert my mind from imagining those three little beauties
frolicking together in the big walk-in shower in the bathroom Caitlin
had
claimed as her own while she was staying at my house.
The
diversion I chose was
to make myself a three layer sandwich of Black Forest ham, smoked
turkey,
cheese and Miracle Whip. I had the
cheese on it and was slicing the tomato and lettuce to complete the
masterpiece
when I heard a thump upstairs that was louder than the usual thumps and
bumps
these girls regularly produced. About a
minute later, after I had taken only one bite of a really delicious
sandwich,
Emma came tearing into the kitchen.
"Kat's
hurt!" she
blurted." She fell and hurt her
ankle! You need to come quick!"
I
put down the sandwich and
followed Emma, who was now wearing shorts and a tank top.
Her blond hair was cut in what used to be
called a pageboy style, and as I went up the stairs behind her I
noticed there
was no bra strap marring the smooth surface of her back.
I was thinking about what the front of that
shirt might look like until I heard Caitlin moaning in pain and forgot
about
Emma.
She
was lying on the bed on
her side, with her left leg out in front of her. She
was holding her ankle with both
hands. Ashley was beside her looking
concerned, but otherwise doing nothing.
"What
happened?"
I asked, automatically being the adult.
It showed how worried the girls were that they told the truth
instead of
making something up.
"She
was jumping on
the bed and she bounced funny and that foot went on the floor instead
of the
bed," said Emma.
"Jumping
on the
bed?" I asked, incredulous. These
girls were in high school, not eight years old.
"Is
it broken?"
asked Ashley, obviously very worried.
"Let
me see it,"
I said.
I
went to the foot of the
bed and sat sort of sideways while I reached for Caitlin's foot.
I didn't grasp it, but instead just told her
to lay it on my lap. She did that,
scooting around on the bed and ending up lying on her back with her
right foot
behind me.
That's
one of the
"little things" I mentioned earlier.
She just happened to position herself with her legs spread.
It was simple serendipity.
I
formed a cradle with my
hands and she gingerly let her calf down on one hand while I supported
her bare
heel with the other. The ankle was
swollen, but normally colored.
"Can
you move your
toes?" I asked.
Her
toes moved just a
little, then more.
"Yes,"
she said,
tears in her voice.
"Now
point your
toe," I instructed her.
Very
slowly she
extended. I watched the ankle, which
looked pretty normal, and then looked up to see what her face was
registering.
At
least that's what I
meant to do. Along the way, as my eyes
went up the length of her leg on the way to her face, they encountered
the
gaping leg of her oversized cargo shorts.
Those shorts were all the rage those days, having multiple
pockets and
being much too big around the hips. They
were made of thick cotton and had to be held on with a belt.
What
I saw through that
oversized, gaping leg opening was the fact that sweet little Caitlin
was going
commando.
More
than that, I got a
crystal clear view of pussy lips that belonged on a woman twice her age.
By that, I mean her outer labia weren't tight
and rolled in to create the classic camel toe.
No, these lips were loose and wrinkled, full enough that I
instantly
imagined sucking them between my lips and sort of chewing on them.
They were pale pink, lying nestled between
even paler thighs and there wasn't a trace of hair anywhere around them.
I
heard Emma gasp beside
me. She had ended up standing right at the
bottom of Caitlin's foot. When Caitlin
had pointed her toe, in fact, it was right at Emma.
So,
basically, Emma could
see exactly what I could see.
I
think it was the gasp,
combined with the fact that things didn't hurt as much as she expected
them to,
that caused Caitlin to move her gaze from her injured ankle to her
friend's
face. I know this because I tore my eyes
away from her delicious looking pussy and finally looked at her face.
"What?"
she
asked, sounding worried. She hadn't seen
anything wrong with her ankle, and the pain hadn't been bad.
But Emma's gasp had alerted her that something was wrong.
Emma
was apparently still
rattled, because again she just blurted out the truth.
"I
can see your
coochie!" she panted. Her meaning
was obvious. If she could see it ... I
could too.
"Coochie?"
I had to keep myself from laughing.
It actually helped calm me down.
"What?
Are you guys in third grade?
Let's worry about her ankle instead of her ... coochie."
I said the offending word in a high-pitched
voice, trying to sound very young. I
went on immediately without knowing why I felt that was important.
I've thought about it since then, and have
decided that something in my brain wanted to distract them from her
visibility
issues.
That's
because I wanted to
keep looking, of course, but I didn't realize it just then.
In
my defense, I did examine
the ankle. It was swelling even more,
but I was pretty sure it was no more than a sprain, if that.
I gently used the hand cupping her heel to
begin moving the ankle through larger and larger arcs of movement.
But
I confess I didn't look
at the ankle while I did this. Instead,
I used my side vision to stare at that luscious young pussy.
I was even so perverted as to move her ankle
away from me a little, probably trying to see if those sticky looking
lips
would part and hint of the cavern my cock had stiffened for.
And
that was another of
those "little things" that happened that day.
Like
my niece (though I
wasn't aware she was on the plan too,) I don't wear any underwear.
I just like the feel of the freedom of
movement. Makes going to the john
quicker too. You just have to ensure you
shake well.
Unlike
my niece, I was
wearing shorts that fit me snugly.
Running shorts, to be exact, the kind that are mostly cotton,
but have
some other stuff in them too. They fit
me pretty well, which means a boner inside them is very visible.
What made it even worse was that, because I
had sat down while the thing was soft, it was aimed at the opening of
the leg,
and when it decided it needed to be ready to plunder Caitlin's luscious
pussy,
and therefore stiffened, the tip peeked out of the leg opening.
I
heard Emma gasp again and
looked up to see her looking at my crotch.
That's
when I looked down
and learned what I just told all you nice people.
"Sorry,"
I said,
for some insane reason. My right hand
abandoned Caitlin's heel and reached to pull on the leg of my shorts,
covering
up the one-eyed snake that had been trying to slither out into the warm
sunlight.
"Oh-Em-Gee!"
gasped Emma, who on this day, at least, had some strange compulsion to
tell the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
"He's got a boner!"
She pointed, just in case anybody in the
room might not understand which "he" she was referring to.
I
looked up at my niece's
face. I loved Caitlin, and did not want
to hurt her feelings. Further, I didn't
want her to be afraid of me. We'd had
too many good times to fuck things up now.
I actually saw the pink blush bloom at the top of her chest, which was exposed by the tank top she
was
wearing. It was identical to the ones
her two friends were wearing, except that hers was yellow, while Emma's
was
powder blue and Ashley's was lime green.
My eyes were drawn to two distinct points just below that bloom
of pink,
and then I dragged them back to watch the blush stain her cheeks,
eventually
going as far as her forehead.
But
she didn't reach to
close the gap in the leg of her shorts.
She
met my gaze and I saw
what I almost thought was defiance there.
I don't know why, but I decided to mess with her a little.
I looked back at her stiff nipples, and then
up to her face. I was sure she saw
exactly where I was looking. Then I
looked up her shorts again, and back to her face. That's
when the blush reached her forehead,
by the way.
"I
think it's just
sprained," I said, looking right in her eyes. "I've
got an ace bandage in the
bathroom. I'll wrap it up and we'll see
if you can put any weight on it. If you
can't,
I think I've got some crutches around here somewhere too.
Okay?"
"Yes,"
she
said. Her breathing was both deeper and
faster than her circumstances would normally have suggested.
"Thank you," she added.
I
looked at the dimples her
excited nipples were making in the thin fabric of the shirt, and then
up her
shorts again. She watched me do that and
swallowed.
"You're
welcome,"
I said, softly.
I
looked at the other
girls, who were smart enough to know something besides the ankle had
just
happened. They had wide, round eyes.
And
their nipples were
spiked as well.
When
I returned with the
ace bandage I interrupted an excited conversation that was cut off like
the end
of a carrot with a meat cleaver. I
noticed the shorts had been rearranged, so all I did was pay attention
to the
ankle as I wrapped it. When I was finished
I looked directly at her still pink face and said "Gently, now ... try
to
put a little weight on it."
She
lifted her legs,
putting them together, and rolled to sit on the side of the bed.
Emma went to lend her a shoulder as she
scooted forward and touched the floor.
"It's
not so bad
now," she said.
Pervert
that I am, my mind
flashed to that same comment in a very different context, which
involved the
two of us naked, with me on top of her.
"You
want to try
standing up?" I asked.
She
nodded, looking down at
her ankle. I think the pain had all her
attention at that point. Ashley came
around and her two friends became her crutches as she stood, first on
one foot,
and then letting her weight settle on both.
"It
hurts," she
said." But I don't think it's
broken or anything."
"I
don't either," I said. "But we need to keep an eye
on it. First, though, let's get an ice
pack on it for a while. You can try
walking on it later."
I
went to put ice cubes in
a quart sized zip lock bag and returned.
My cock was under control now, and hanging harmlessly again.
"Twenty
minutes lying
down," I said, "before you try to stand up again. I'll
go look for the crutches."
"Yes,
sir," she
said, looking at me. I saw her blush
again. I wondered if something bad had
just happened, and I wasn't thinking about the ankle.
I hoped not.
I really did think the world of her, and the last thing I wanted
was for
her to decide that her summers with Uncle Bob had come to a screeching
halt.
"We'll
stay with
her," said Ashley, needlessly.
I
hadn't really expected
either of them to come help me search for a pair of crutches.
I
found the aluminum
crutches in the garage, right where I thought they'd be.
When I got back to her bedroom, the girls had
recovered their composure. I say that
because I didn't interrupt an excited confab this time.
They were confident again, and there were no
traces of giggling or foolishness, though all those nipples were still
erect. Now that I think back on it,
that should have been a warning. It
would have been better if they'd been a little giddy and "girlish"
about things, if you know what I mean.
But
young women who are
stretching their sexual wings, in an environment they feel safe in, are
often
less wary than would be wise.
Again,
I want the kind
reader out there to understand that I wasn't trying to help
these girls
explore their sexuality. Not at
all. But girls do that, just like boys
do, and they do it whenever and wherever they feel is the "right
time" to open up to new experiences.
So
all I did was deliver
the crutches, remind her to keep the ice on her ankle for at least ten
more minutes,
and call me if she felt like she needed to be seen at the hospital.
Then
I left them in her
room to return to my sandwich.
The
bread had dried out and
was all crusty.
I
sighed and ate it anyway.
I
was working on a project
in my CAD program when Ashley tapped on the open doorway of my office.
I'm an architect, and I have my own business,
so I get to work when I want to.
"She's
going to take a
nap," she said, leaning into the room just a little.
"We didn't know if we should leave the
ice pack on her ankle while she falls asleep or not."
"Won't
hurt a
thing," I said." No more
jumping on the beds. Got it?"
"It
was just this
once," she said, immediately.
"It was just to ..."
The
silence made me look
from the screen to the nervous looking girl at my office door.
"Just
to what?" I
asked.
"Nothing,"
she
said, obviously lying." We're going
to go now."
"Okay,"
I
said." See you tomorrow?"
I
don't know why I asked
that question. Maybe it was just me on
autopilot. The musketeers got together
every day that Caitlin was in town, unless she and I were doing
something that
excluded her friends. That didn't happen
all that often. We'd done all the
museums and sights-to-see things when she was younger.
"Really?"
She sounded worried, somehow.
"You're not mad?"
"Why
would I be
mad?" I asked." She jumped on
the bed, and now she's living with the consequences of it.
It's just a life lesson in making better
decisions," I said.
"Decisions,"
she
said, softly.
"Yes,"
I said,
looking at her. I suddenly realized she
was wearing a bra again under the tank top.
"You make decisions as you grow up, and then you have to live
with
the results of those decisions."
"Of
course," she
said." Okay. Good."
I
wondered what that meant,
but she turned and was gone like smoke from a good cigar in a cool
breeze.
I
gave it another twenty
minutes at the computer and then went upstairs to check on Caitlin.
She wasn't in bed.
I
found her outside again,
on a chaise lounge by the pool. The
crutches were lying on the concrete beside her, the ace bandage was
gone, and
the ice pack, or what was left of it, was draped across her ankle.
She was in her bikini again, laying out in
the sun, eyes closed.
"Well,
you made it
down here," I said.
She
opened her eyes." Yeah.
It's not as bad as I originally thought."
"Good,"
I
said." You need to take it easy for
a while, though."
"I know," she
said. Then, "Uncle Bob?"
"Yes?"
There
was a long pause,
until she eventually said, "Never mind."
Now
she wasn't so
confident. Gone was the brash young
woman who put herself out there to see what would happen and didn't
worry about
it before hand. It made me a little sad
to see that. I was used to the fearless
tomboy, who was willing to take on just about any challenge.
We'd always been able to talk about things,
just about anything, in fact, and I did not view her reticence now as a
good
thing. I think that's what made me say
what I said.
"You
want to talk
about it?"
"About
what?" she
responded, still firmly reticent.
"I
think you
know," I suggested.
She
blushed beet red, and I
knew she knew that I knew she knew.
"Maybe,"
she
said, softly.
"Whenever
you're
ready," I said." I'm going for
a swim."
"Is
it okay for me to
get in the water with my leg like this?" she asked, obviously glad that
the subject had been changed.
"Sure.
In fact that's probably the best thing you could do for it," I said. "The
water will support your weight, and you can work the ankle, loosening
it
up."
"Will
you help me get
to the water?" she asked, sitting up.
"You
don't mind if
your pervert uncle touches you?" I
couldn't resist it. Don't ask me why.
Her
eyes widened. I knew she was shocked that
I was that open
about things. Then that stubborn tomboy
appeared suddenly on her face.
"I
don't think of you
as a pervert," she said, firmly.
"Maybe
you
should," I shot back.
That
got her, but not for
long.
"I'm
not worried about
being around you," she said.
"In fact ..." She
closed down, and then hastily said, "Never mind. Help
me into the pool, mister pervert."
I
helped her to the pool
with her arm over my shoulders and my hand on her side, my fingertips
just
below her breast, lying on her ribs. It
was so tempting to cup that breast ... but I didn't.
She hopped along to the edge of the pool and
then let go of me to fall in, body extended.
She landed on her back, arms spread, bad foot up in the air.
I saw the cups of her top float briefly to
the surface before being dragged down by her descending body.
The water cleared enough for me to see her
naked young breasts as she grabbed for the errant top and tried to put
things
back into place while holding her breath and staying off her bad foot.
She
came up, spluttering,
arms behind her and kicked, like she normally would.
That hurt the ankle, though, and she went
under with a gurgle.
I
jumped in, dove under her
and pushed her up with one hand on her firm bubble butt.
Her arms had left off trying to get modest
again, in support of not drowning, and the bikini top was again
floating in the
water. From where I was I could see her
breasts and they were just as delightful as her lower parts had been.
I pushed off the bottom to come up
beside
her and gripped one of her upper arms, pulling her toward the shallow
end.
She
struggled at first, and
then realized what I was doing, and went limp, knowing it would be
easier for
me to tow her like that. She spent plenty
of time in the ocean and was well trained about water safety as a
result.
I
got her to where we could
stand and put her on her feet. Her hands
covered her breasts as she stood up, but the instinct to wipe the water
out of
her eyes was too strong and her breasts were left briefly bare as she
cleared
her vision. Then the hands went back to
cover her nipples.
"I've
seen them
before," I said, calmly.
"When?"
she
gasped.
"Not
yours," I
laughed." But I've seen other
breasts on other women. Coochies too,
for that matter." I said that
intentionally,
emphasizing the word I was deriding.
"That's just the word we use in private," she barked.
"And
you're old enough
to use the proper word," I suggested.
"Vagina
sounds so
stupid," she shot back.
"I
was thinking
pussy," I said.
"Uncle
Bob!" she
gasped.
"Well,
when you flash
yours at someone, don't expect them to call it by any other name," I
said,
grinning. This didn't seem so terribly
serious now. It was more like before,
when we were able to talk about other things most people don't talk
about. Like the time she'd been watching a
DVD and I
told her I was going to the grocery store and asked if she wanted
anything.
"Tampons,"
she'd
said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
In truth I think she was distracted by the
movie, and that lowered her inhibitions.
"I've
never bought
tampons before," I said. "Are there more than one kind?"
She
had blushed then, and
said, "I'll just go with you."
But
on the way I'd insisted
she teach me all about tampons. By the
time she was finished, it didn't seem so strange any more.
That kind of atmosphere asserted itself now,
as odd as that might sound.
"I didn't flash it at you," she said. "I mean I didn't mean for you to see me there."
"Why didn't you cover up, then?" I asked. It was a legitimate question.
"I don't know," she said. "Now turn around so I can fix my suit."
"No," I said, calmly.
"What do you mean no?" she asked, staring at me.
"You turn around and I'll tie it for you," I said.
She blinked several times, looking confused.
"Okay," she said.
She turned and arranged the suit to cover her breasts. I reached around, inserted my fingers under the edge of the bottom of the cups, and then slid them back to find the strings. My fingertips brushed the bottoms of her breasts in the process and she sucked in air and moved backwards. All that did was make her run into me, and that bubble butt pressed right on my cock.
Thankfully it wasn't hard at the time.
"I thought you weren't afraid of me," I said, pulling on the strings.
"I'm not!" she barked, looking over her shoulders at me. "You just startled me, that's all."
I tied the strings in a bow and pushed her away from me. She turned, looking disgruntled.
"You're a beautiful young woman," I said, calmly. "Don't be surprised that, like any other man, I'd be more than happy to view that beauty any time I get the chance."
She
was startled. That was plain.
I would find out later that the bouncing on
the bed business was for the purpose of exploring what bouncing breasts
looked
like without a bra on. The idea was for
them to watch each other and say whether it looked sexy or gross.
The going commando part (they were all that
way too) was just for the excitement of doing that.
They didn't intend anybody (me) to see them
like that, and when it had happened, it had all seemed out of control
to
them. They weren't ready for that much
exposure, but when it happened, it was something none of them could
ignore. They were still processing the
results, and she didn't expect me to approach the subject so boldly.
"Thank
you," she
said, somewhat dazed. I think it was
just her mother's training on what to do when one complimented you.
"You're
welcome. I've abused you more than enough
for one
day. I'll go get something ready for
supper."
I
had the sliding door open
when she called out to me and I turned.
She was standing there, looking at me.
"You
didn't abuse
me," she said.
"I'm
glad," I
responded.
Next Chapter >>
|