Fooling Around 101 - Version Bravo

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter 2

"You got your kiss," said Jill, her voice level. "Now go to bed."

"Mommy ..." Cindy's voice was so full of something that it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

"Go on to bed. I'll come talk to you in a few minutes. I need to talk to Bob first."

"Don't yell at him!" blurted Cindy. "He didn't want to."

"Go to bed!" barked Jill.

"Okay," sniffed Cindy. "You don't have to yell." She was about to burst into tears, but was trying hard not to.

"Apparently I do," said Jill, though she didn't yell it. "You're still not moving!"

Cindy struggled up off my lap, during which her hand landed right on my boner. Thank goodness she didn't squeeze it, because everybody in the room could see where her hand was. Of course as she removed it, everybody in the room could see what her hand had been on too, as Mr. John Thomas sprang up with a sigh. Had he been able to speak he'd have said something like "Thank goodness, I was about to suffocate! Now ... where's that cute girl I want to ravish?"

I figured I might as well just leave. It was pretty clear I'd blown it.

"I'm sorry," I said, getting up. "I'll just go. I won't come here any more."

"Oh shut up," groaned Jill. "Sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

"Look," I said. "You don't have to go through this. Really, I'll stay away."

"Won't anybody in this family listen to me and do what I tell them?" she snapped. "I was listening the whole time. I know what happened. I don't want you to leave and never come back. Now would you just shut up and talk to me?"

I was reflecting on the concept of being quiet and talking at the same time, when the "I don't want you to leave" part of her comment sank in. She didn't want me to leave?

"Okay," I said. "You start."

Instead of starting, though, she looked around. You know how someone looks both directions, like they think somebody else might be close, and might hear the conversation ... and they don't want that? That's what she did, though who she thought might be listening, I have no clue. Then she went to the stairs that led to the bedrooms, climbed them and peered down the hall. Coming back, she picked the recliner that sat perpendicular to the couch and settled into it. She pulled her legs up under her and turned to face me.

I need to note, here, that Jill got her jammies from the same place her daughter did, but in the ladies department, rather than the vamp section. She was wearing a long T shirt that, while she was standing, had been just long enough to make whether she was wearing panties or not a legitimate question. When she sat down, though, the lavender panties she was wearing became visible. I tried not to look, which meant I had to look somewhere else. I looked at her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra either. Her nipples were quite perky.

I know this sounds like I'm some kind of insatiable horndog, doing nothing but checking out any woman I happen to be around. Well, welcome to being a man. Biology demands you evaluate every woman you see. Psychologists love to talk about sex as an addiction. That's because the guy who invented that "malady" couldn't get laid. I'm just being honest about it. I didn't have a fantasy about her. I didn't dream about what she'd look like naked. I just did the evaluation and then looked at her face.

She, too, caught me looking.

"I knew this would happen some day," she said.

I assumed she meant she knew I would molest her daughter some day. It made me a little sad. Then again ... I had just molested her daughter.

"Why didn't you kick me out before this, then?"

She frowned. "Would you stop feeling sorry for yourself. I told you I was listening. I heard you trying to do the right thing."

"I'm confused," I said. "So far, what I've heard you say is that you knew I'd try something with her some day, and you've been pulling surveillance on me."

"Are all men as stupid as you?" she snapped. "I knew she would want to experiment sexually. I did not know it would be with you. I listened because, when she came into my room tonight and I didn't answer her whispered greeting, she said "Goody!" So I knew something was up, and I got up to find out what it was."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid. "Okay. I understand much better now."

"Do you?" The sarcasm dripped from her words.

"Look. I said I'm sorry. I don't know what you want," I said.

"I want my daughter to remain a little girl forever!" she snapped. Then she sighed and seemed to relax. "But of course that won't happen. If anything I should be happy she chose you."

"Wait!" I said. "You mean you think she did this ... on purpose?"

"Of course she did it on purpose, you idiot," she groaned. "She's curious. She wants to explore. I remember that very well from my own youth. The biggest decision was not what to do ... it was who to do it with!"

"But I'm way older!" I said.

"She knows you. She loves you. She knows you love her. You're not scary. You're handsome. You make her feel safe and secure. Need I go on?"

"I'm handsome?" I couldn't help it. A man never passes up a chance to hear a woman say that.

" She thinks so," growled Jill, "but then she's a teenager, and everybody knows how stupid they can be!"

"Okay. I guess I deserved that. I shouldn't have given in, and I really am sorry I crossed the line. I don't want there to be hard feelings between us."

I swear on Grandma Harker's grave that when I said "hard feelings" her eyes dipped to look at my crotch, before they bounced back up. She blushed, and that confirmed what my brain was just then reflecting on. But the fact that she wasn't screaming or calling the cops was something to be very thankful for, so I pushed on past that and asked her the most important question on my mind.

"So ... what do you want me to do?"

I imagined she would tell me what I could not do, and I was willing to agree to whatever it was.

Instead, she said "For now, just sit, while I think about this for a bit."

It was obvious, by now, that I wasn't in nearly as much trouble as I had thought I was. I thought about what Jill had seen and heard. I really had tried to talk Cindy out of it. Still, I hadn't expected - still didn't, for that matter - for Jill to cut me any slack.

I wasn't even close to being ready for what she said next.

"Maybe this isn't such a crazy idea after all. She's going to do it anyway, whether it's with you somebody else."

I didn't understand, so I just kept silent. She looked over at me. I felt like I was being inspected as her eyes ranged over my body.

"And you're obviously not averse to it," she said.

"Averse to what?" I asked, carefully.

"To doing things with Cindy."

"Things." My mouth was dry as cotton at that moment.

"Don't play innocent with me," she said. "I saw that kiss." She licked her lips. I'm sure it was unconscious.

It was impossible to miss what she was suggesting ... except that it was impossible that she was suggesting it.

"You want me to kiss her again?" My voice cracked on the last word.

"Do you honestly think kissing will be enough and she'll be ready to stop after that?" She looked disgusted. She might as well have said she was disgusted. I got even more confused.

"Well of course not," I said, trying to salvage some shred of my dignity. "But surely you can't be suggesting that I do other ... um ... things ... with her."

"Why not?" asked her mother, a woman I had known for some seventeen years or so, and who I thought I knew better than any other woman. "She's a teenager. It's normal for her to experiment and be curious about sex."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure normal extends to me helping her!" I said, carefully.

"That's the whole point," said Jill, standing up. She started to pace. Her bare legs looked long and smooth. She hadn't pulled the shirt down. Those lavender panties were lacy. I started to berate myself about noticing that when she continued. "You really would help her understand, instead of just trying to get whatever you could get from her. With you teaching her things, she'd have a chance to stop and think about it, and examine what was going on inside her, without the male pushing her on and on and on until she went way past her comfort zone."

"You're making this sound like the class is Fooling Around 101 and I'm the professor," I said, trying to make her see how ridiculous this idea really was.

She stopped and turned to look at me. "That's exactly what I mean!" she said, her face flushed. "If only I could have had a man I could trust to try things with when I was her age. It would have been fabulous, Bob! An experienced man. A gentle man. A patient man. Oh, what a treasure that would have been."

"Jill, honey, listen to yourself. She's supposed to save herself for her husband, not fool around with her uncle!"

She looked me up and down. "What planet do you come from, stranger? That might have been the plan in your youth, but things are different now."

"You want me to have sex with your daughter?" I asked, incredulous.

"Well ... no ... I suppose not that much," she said. "But there's no reason she can't do her petting and fooling around with you, so she can learn how strong the feelings are that are generated from that kind of thing. That's all. I just want her to be prepared for it when she feels that with ... whoever she's going to meet and fall in love with."

"You're insane," I sighed.

"No, I'm not," she said firmly. "If anything, this is the most sane way of looking at this problem, no matter that it offends cultural standards. Cultural standards are stupid sometimes. You know that. Of course it wouldn't work if Cindy wasn't attracted to you. But she is. Of course it wouldn't work if you were a bastard who just wanted to use her. But you're not. She has a real opportunity to learn some very valuable and important things from you."

"And you think I can just turn it on and off like a faucet?" I asked, looking at her like she had three eyes.

"Of course not," she said. "But you're a big boy, and women have frustrated you in the past. Plus she needs to learn how to give a man something when she's not going to give him everything. You can teach her to take care of your needs. This will work, Bob. I can just feel it!"

"I hope you saved me some of whatever you've been smoking," I sighed. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

"Oh knock it off," she snapped. "This isn't that big a deal. Millions of people do this every day."

"Yeah, well, millions of women get pregnant every day too. Is she on the pill?"

"No, she is not," said her mother. "Nor will she be. The whole concept is to learn about some things, not go hog wild. I'm not going to make it easy for her to just give in when she feels like it. That's the value of having you be her teacher. Other men, when she got all worked up, would use that against her. They'd let her make that mistake. But I know you won't. It's perfect! She gets to learn how strong those feelings can be, and you save her from them by giving her time to think and calm down."

"You sure do have a lot of faith in me," I sighed.

"I should," she said. "Other than your brother, you're the finest man I've ever met."

She stood, one leg akimbo. She was excited, and her T shirt showed it.

I was intelligent enough to know that nipples react to many things other than the sexual kind of excitement, so I didn't read anything into the fact that her nipples were spiked. On the other hand, I was taken back to a time when I didn't feel bad when I looked at her and ... appreciated ... what I saw.

When my brother started dating her, my own fantasies went pretty wild. She was gorgeous and sexy and nice. Even after they got married, I had the occasional fantasy about her. Knowing that my brother climbed on top of her - the kids were proof of that - made it easy to dream of doing that myself.

But when he died, that attraction felt like it dishonored his memory, and I learned not to look at her like that any more. I realized it had been five years since we lost him.

"Do you still miss him?" I asked, without planning on doing so.

Her eyes moved and I realized she'd been somewhere else in her mind, and that my question had brought her back. She knew exactly who I was referring to.

"Yeah, but it's not so awful now. I haven't cried in a long time." She looked sad.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She was still looking at me. "I know. That means a lot to me."

Suddenly she was moving toward me. I was sitting deep in the couch. To get up would have required that I move forward first, to get my butt on the edge of the seat, and then stand. But I didn't have time to do that. Suddenly she sank down to sit sideways on my lap, just like her daughter had, what ... only ten minutes ago? It turned out the lavender panties were somewhat translucent in the front. She put her arms around my neck, hugging me and kissing my hair.

"You mean a lot to all of us, Bobby."

That was an interesting twenty or so seconds. I was feeling a multitude of emotions, from guilt, to relief, to joy, to amazement, to arousal, to more guilt, to berating myself for confirming that mom didn't have on a bra, the same way I confirmed that her daughter didn't have one on earlier.

"Will you do it?" she asked, her face inches from mine.

"You need to get off my lap," I rasped. It would only be seconds before she found out, in a most personal sort of way, how happy Mr. John Thomas was in anticipation of "doing it," as she had so artlessly put it. Thank goodness she misunderstood and thought she'd smashed my balls.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she gasped, as she jumped up. She bent over and I swear I expected her to say, "Shall I kiss it all better?"

"It's okay!" I coughed. "I'll do it. Yes. I'll do it." I was babbling so, taking advantage of the injury I did not actually have, I rolled over and went fetal, groaning. "It's okay," I muttered. "I just need some time to recover."

It was decided that I would still spend the night. I had done that countless times, and we usually pulled the bed in the couch out. That night I just said I'd stretch out on the couch cushions. Believe it or not, I actually slept like a log. The stress of everything probably wore me out. Stress can do that, you know.

I was awakened by the smell of bacon cooking, and got up and went into the kitchen. Jill was in the same T shirt but, as she reached up into the cabinet for a plate, I saw that the panties this morning were white, with little red hearts on them. I was still in last night's clothes, of course, so I felt a bit like a bum.

She got the plate, looked over her shoulder at me, said, "Oh, I thought you were Cindy," and went back to the bacon. She didn't pull her T shirt down, which confused me. But then pretty much anything a woman does confuses me.

About ten seconds later Cindy came bouncing into the kitchen. She was dressed in shorts and one of those sports bras that can be worn as outside apparel, with her running shoes on.

"Oh!" she said, looking at me. She obviously expected me to be gone. Her mother looked over her shoulder again. "I told him to stay. You and I need to talk."

"Can it wait until after I go running?" she asked.

"Yes it can," said her mother.

And, with that, the beautiful teenager was gone, leaving me with her equally beautiful mother.

When I got served breakfast, and the cook sat down across the table from me, I asked if she had any ideas on what should and should not be included in "Fooling Around 101."

She told me that she would leave that up to me. I told her that was a bad idea, and she said, "No it isn't. Now, let's eat."

So we talked about other things while we ate. I don't remember what they were, but when we got finished she rinsed off the dishes and told me to go ahead and turn the water off, so I could get to work.

Four hours later I stood back and looked at the new water heater. It should have been a two hour job, max. But plumbing and I have never gotten along well, especially in an old house. But it was in, and in correctly. The boys had helped and had a good time, and I'd been able to teach them some things, so I was happy. They went to clean up while I double checked for leaks. I turned around to find Cindy, arms folded, leaning against the door jamb of the utility room, staring at me. She still had on the running outfit.

Without a word, she walked over to me, slid her arms around me, and kissed me.

French kissed me.

For a long time.

When she slumped, and her lips left mine, I opened my eyes to see hers were still closed. She licked her lips and opened her eyes.

"Mom said I could find out if the second time would be as good as the first was."

"Oh," I said. "So she talked to you?"

"It freaked me out," she said, in a completely un-freaked out way. "But pretty soon I saw the wisdom in it. I think this is going to be a lot of fun. I can't wait to get started!"

"Well, we need to talk about this, first," I said. "Before you go off on some tangent, we need to set up a few rules."

"I know," she said. "We talked about that too. I know I'm only allowed to pester you once a week. I know I have to obey you if you tell me to do something, or not do it. I know we're not going to go all the way. I'm kind of glad about that one. And I know that I might have to do some things that might seem yucky, but only if you really need me to. She wouldn't say what that last part was, but I think I know. I'll be honest. I don't know if I can do that or not."

"Do what?" I asked, automatically.

"Give you a blow job. That's what she meant ... right?"

"I don't know what she meant," I said, somewhat breathlessly. Here was my cute, fifteen-year-old niece blandly talking about whether or not she felt like she might be able to suck my dick, and I wasn't quite ready for that subject to be broached yet.

"Don't worry about that," I said. "If the time comes for that, we will have discussed it before hand."

"Good," she sighed. She leaned up and kissed me on the lips again. But this time it was just a "Hi, Uncle Bob" kiss, brief and light, more a brushing of the lips than a real kiss. "Thank you," she said. She frowned. "Oh yeah. Lunch is ready."

And then she turned around and left.

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