Serendipity - Version Charlie
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We lay there for ten minutes after we finished having amazing sex, just breathing. Then she got up and put on the same clothes.
"I hope dinner didn't burn," she said, worried.
"It was worth it if it did," I said.
"Thank you, Sir," she dimpled. "Let's eat, and then I want to go swimming again."
"That reminds me," I said. "I need to tell you what I told them about us."
"You told them about us?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I had to tell them something. You were like a bomb, landing right in front of them," I said.
"Me?" she scoffed.
"Well, I had something to do with it," I said.
"Come eat and you can tell me all about it," she said. "I'm starving. Sex is hard work."
"Not so loud," I moaned.
"So you didn't tell them we were lovers, and that you're trying to get me pregnant?" She grinned.
"I gave mixed messages," I said.
"Oh my," she said. "All I did was flirt with the boys."
"You played your role perfectly," I said. "I was the one who almost screwed things up."
"Well, you just screwed one thing up," she said. She grinned again. "Me!"
I know she was trying to be cute.
But all I could think of was the Titanic, hitting that iceberg.
Over stew (which hadn't burned, by the way) I told her about how everybody in the pool had been aware of my erection, and described my conversation with Tony. She laughed.
"Do all men have dirty minds?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, firmly.
"I guess I should have taken care of that boner before we went swimming after all," she said, smiling. "Sorry."
"I think it turned out okay," I said. "Thanks to your performance. Which was brilliant, I might add."
"We women know how to act in situations like that," she said, adopting a superior tone.
"You do, indeed." I wasn't going to get into a gender based argument.
"So, do you want me to flirt with some of the boys tonight?" she asked.
"I told them you have a boyfriend, and were going to live with him at college," I said.
"Yes, but a girl might want to have a last fling before being tied down by one guy," she said, throatily.
I stared at her. "You're dangerous, you know that?"
"That's what Mom says," she smiled. "You know what she said to me as I got on the plane to come visit you?"
"She said, 'Don't be too hard on your uncle.'"
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just sat and looked at her.
"Don't you think that sounds odd?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said. "It sounds like something any parent might say."
"Yes, to a ten year old," she suggested. "But I haven't been ten for almost eight years."
"So what do you think it meant?" I asked.
"I think she knows how I feel about you," she said.
"What? No way," I said.
"I think she does," said Kat. She knows I'm not romantically interested in any boys my age. You're the only man I want to spend time with, other than Daddy."
"Then why would she let you come see me?" I asked.
"Maybe she thinks how I feel about you is ... okay," she said.
"Impossible," I replied. "There's no way she would agree to what we just did in that tent. Rather, I think she trusts me not to indulge your little crush."
"It's not a little crush!" she said, heat entering her voice.
"I know that," I said, holding up one hand to stop her. "But that's what your mother thinks it is."
"I hope not," said Caitlin. "That would be bad."
"Because if she doesn't mind me loving you, it will make it a lot easier to tell her I'm going to find a way to live with you forever."
After supper we went back to the pool again. A lot of other people had done the same thing, which wasn't odd when you consider it had topped a hundred and seventeen degrees that day. This time Kat wore a pair of her own running shorts and a T shirt, instead of the bikini. But she still had to get undressed to put them on, so I got a blow job anyway.
Tony wasn't there, but two other guys introduced themselves to us, and that led to other introductions, and the obligatory disclosure of much more information than strangers usually exchange. But, as I said earlier, people who gravitate toward the camping life tend to be a nicer class of folks. Even if you use an RV, camping is a lot of work, so the lazy, shiftless, uncaring kind of person is rarely found in a campground.
A couple of the wives were stand offish to Caitlin, initially, but she overcame that with her natural bubbly personality. All but one of the boys her age were back at the campsites, probably playing video games, or texting their friends or whatever. The lone wolf who was at the pool wandered over towards us, where we now stood in a group of six. I could see that he was trying to work up the courage to talk to her, and having a tough time at that. It turned out, though, that two of the six in our group were his parents, and when one of them said, "Jeff, did you know Caitlin is from Santa Barbara and surfs?" that gave him his entry point. He was from Lompoc and went surfing as often as he could. Soon they were standing a few feet away, speaking what sounded like a foreign language.
A guy named George announced that beer was needed, and said he had a cooler full at his campsite. With the setting of the sun, it had gotten cooler fast and just during the short time we'd been in the pool, it was uncomfortably chilly when we got out.
So there was a dash back to the tent to get into dry clothing.
Which led to Kat being naked.
And somehow she ended up on the sleeping bags, and I must have tripped or something, because I fell down and got my face stuck between her legs. She could cum that way, but it usually took a while, because when I was licking her quim she was never in a hurry for it to be over. So eventually she pulled me up, reached for my cock, and fed it to her hungry pussy. Making her cum that way was child's play. All I had to do was go in deep and then move sideways, or in circles, and she'd pop like a too-thin balloon.
Which is why, when we finally showed up at George and Nancy Carpenter's campsite, she had a pussy full of spunk.
"Where you been?" asked George, boisterously, handing us each a can of beer. I winced inside, but didn't say anything. Kat popped the top like a pro and took a sip. It was just one more thing for Hannah to yell at me about if she ever found out.
Then again, when compared with having wild, passionate sex with, and filling her baby girl up with sperm, a beer kind of paled to insignificance.
"We can't both change clothes at the same time!" yipped Caitlin. "Uncle Bob is a nice guy and all that, but I've seen him look at women and under that cool exterior, I have suspicions he might be a dirty old man."
There were several snorts of laughter. A couple of the men looked at me with pity in their eyes.
"Honey," said a woman we'd never met before, "they're all dirty old men when you peel away a few layers of civilization."
"I know!" said Caitlin, making it into a yelp. "That's why I've given serious thought to being a lesbian!"
One man spewed beer and started coughing. There was laughter, but it was uncertain laughter, and the mood suddenly became nervously tense.
"But I've got a good boyfriend," said Caitlin, apparently unaware she had said something a little outrageous. "As long as he keeps behaving himself, I think I'll keep him."
That relaxed things again. Kat sat down on an upended section of log and started sipping her beer. There were half a dozen lawn chairs free, positioned around the camp fire. Some kids were toasting marshmallows, making S'mores.
I ended up sitting beside a woman named Cathy, who I recognized from the pool earlier in the evening. Her husband was on the other side of her in one of those new zero gravity chairs. He was taking slugs from a pint bottle of bourbon, rather than drinking beer, though there were three empty beer cans lying on the ground between him and Cathy. As I looked past Cathy at him, I saw him tip the bottle up, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
"So," said Cathy, leaning toward me. "You're single?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Seems a shame," she observed.
"I guess I just haven't found the right woman," I said, using the standard line that usually ended that thread of conversation.
"So you're not gay?" asked Cathy, boldly.
"No," I chuckled.
A man named Terry told a joke, and that led to remembering campfire stories from people's youth, and time passed. Caitlin finished her beer and got up to dispose of the can. As if she'd done it a thousand times, she went to the cooler, opened it, and pulled out another one. She sat down in a vacant lawn chair across the fire from me and opened it. The woman sitting next to her spoke to her and they had a conversation I couldn't hear.
Time passed and eventually one of the women said it was time for "us" to go to bed. She and her husband stood, which led to another couple saying they were moving on the next day, and needed to get to bed too.
Cathy leaned over to me again.
"My husband is drunk," she said, in that voice that suggests she says that a lot. "Do you think you could help me get him back to our RV?"
I looked past her at the man in question. He was tipped back in the zero gravity chair and snoring.
"We can probably get him there," I said, judging the man to be somewhere around a hundred and seventy pounds.
"I'll make it worth your while," she said, softly.
Her meaning was crystal clear, even before she added, "It must be hard, a single man like you, with natural needs, around a little hottie you can't have, like your niece. You need to blow off some steam and I do too."
Now I don't want to sound like I'm tooting my own horn or anything, but I had been in this situation before. What I mean by that is that a few women had expressed interest in a sexual relationship, who happened to be women I wasn't really interested in having a sexual relationship with. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with Cathy. She was a nice looking woman. I admit, in fact, that she had very interesting looking breasts.
But as I said before, when I get to that stage of things, it's because I really like the woman and want to take the relationship somewhere based on commitment. And I barely knew Cathy. Not to mention the fact she was married.
I had developed a way of avoiding this situation, and had used it several times in the past with complete success. And that was to tell the woman that, because of a sports injury I had suffered, I was taking medication that rendered my male parts incapable of participating in the kind of games they wanted to play. I would thank them, and take a rain check, and then make sure I didn't take them out again.
But Cathy had been in the pool, and had seen the very obvious proof that such a story would be a bald faced lie. And I'm not that quick on my feet, in terms of coming up with some other reason why I didn't intend to accept her offer. Of course I could just tell her I wasn't interested, but flat rejection, without some kind of reason, just seems harsh, somehow.
It was then that I learned a valuable lesson in life.
Women have some kind of radar, or sonar, or something, that lets them know that another woman is poaching in their forest.
Caitlin appeared at my elbow.
"Hi!" she said, brightly, as if she hadn't seen me for days. "You about ready to call it a night?"
"This is Cathy. Her husband seems to have drunk too much, and she needs help getting him back to their RV," I said, being truthful.
"Surely the three of us can get him there," said Kat, helpfully. "If nothing else we can get a fourth and just carry him."
"I'm sure Bob and I can manage," said Cathy, tightly.
"Oh, I don't mind," said Kat, cheerfully. "This happens all the time to my surfing friends. We build a fire on the beach and people get drunk and pass out. You wouldn't believe how many guys I've helped carry to a car. We'll get him there in no time."
It turned out that Chuck woke up enough that another man and I were able to walk him home, with his arms over our shoulders. Cathy knew him well. I'm quite sure she knew that she and I could get him home, where he'd fall right back into a slumber that would let her blow off all the steam she wanted to.
I noticed that we put Chuck on the narrow bed in the RV, which left the king size bed at the back completely available for ... other things.
Apparently Caitlin noticed that too, because she drove the ice pick home before Cathy could thank me by offering a nightcap and suggesting that Caitlin could go on back to the campsite and I would be along later.
"We've got to get an early start in the morning if you're going to get me home in time for that surfing competition I told you about. I don't want to miss that. And you're not as young as you used to be. Now that we've done our good deed of the day, we need to get going."
Cathy wasn't happy, but then again Cathy probably did this a lot, so I was sure she'd manage.
"Thanks," she said, giving up.
"You're welcome," said Caitlin, sweetly.
Then she tucked her arm through mine, crushed her breast against my bicep, and walked me away.
"That bitch," said Caitlin under her breath, before we'd gotten fifty feet.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I know what she was trying to do," said Caitlin.
"How could you? You were clear across the campfire from us. You can't possibly have heard what she said to me."
"I didn't have to. I could see it in her actions."
"Of course," she said, rubbing her breast against my arm. "A woman can tell when another woman is making a move on her man."
"Don't you think she'll be suspicious that you were jealous?"
"I wasn't jealous," she said. "Did you see me slap her? No, you did not, even though that's what she deserved for trying to steal my man. I wasn't jealous at all." Her voice changed, and suddenly she sounded like the stereotype California surfer girl. "I was helpful, not jealous!"
My mind went back to everything she'd said ... which had been said in that same, cheerful, vacuous voice. I was momentarily astonished at her ability to play a role like that.
"Are you involved in the musicals and plays at your school?" I asked.
"No," she said, carelessly.
"You should be," I said. "Thank you for saving me, by the way."
"You're welcome," she said, rubbing her breast against my arm some more.
We hadn't anticipated how cold it gets at night in Death Valley, and we were both shivering by the time we got back to the tent.
But Kat wanted to do the same thing Cathy did.
So we didn't shiver for long.
It was our last night together. At least for the foreseeable future. Her home was only four or five hours away, and there was no way we could justify spending another night on the road. Not if anyone asked us where we'd been and what we'd seen. We were already going to have trouble describing the places we'd "visited". We'd spend the majority of our time having crazy, passionate sex, instead of seeing the sights.
That actually came up the next morning when, as she went limp under me and I started sliding in and out of her fast, trying to blow one last nut in the woman I loved, she stroked my sides and said, "I love this, but I think it would be more comfortable in a bed. We should have stayed in some motels."
"You were the one who wanted to camp out and see the west," I reminded her.
"That was because being in a tent is so much more intimate," she said. "I wanted to get you alone, in the night, almost naked, and tease you into doing something. I was going crazy. I've wanted to do things with you for years, and you just kept being a gentleman. ”
"A gentleman wouldn't do this to his niece," I gasped, and drove in hard, spurting happily. I didn't give a single thought to the fact that she was unprotected, or that what I was doing could be delivering the seeds of disaster. Quite literally!
"How am I going to live without this?" she moaned, milking my prick with her internal muscles.
"You'll find a way," I panted. "Please find a way."
"Don't worry. I will. I might be a slut when I'm with you, but that's the only time I'm a slut."
"You're not a slut," I admonished.
"I am with you," she sighed. "I even want to be a slut when I'm around you."
"I feel so special," I said, grinning.
"You are," she said, without a trace of jocularity in her demeanor.
Eventually I got off of her.
But getting dressed and ready to go took a while. Somehow, it always seemed to be time for another kiss. I sucked her nipples goodbye and she sucked my flaccid penis farewell, too.
Several times one of us said, "I wish we had more time," or "Maybe just once more?" or something along those lines.
But eventually our bodies were covered and the lust abated enough to let us throw everything into the trunk. Since I wasn't camping on the way back home, we didn't have to pack everything up as efficiently as we otherwise would have. You pack differently if you're anticipating setting up camp again, while you're striking camp now.
I don't remember what we talked about as the miles went by. I'm sure it was small talk. We didn't plan our future, or anything like that. By this time I had begun to accept that it was possible there was a future where, somehow, we could be together in some kind of misty, unformed way. That was enough for now.
And then we hit the outskirts of Santa Barbara, and Kat was back home, where things looked familiar, and she knew the streets. I don't think it was odd that she was excited to get home. She had a lot to look forward to. There was her senior year of high school, which is something most people remember for decades, either fondly, or not so much. And then there would be college. And in the meantime, there was surfing, and all her friends. And she was happy to be home again just because she loved her parents.
Santa Barbara didn't affect me that way, though.
It had quite the opposite effect on me.
As Kat pointed out this or that store, and directed me to her house, my future didn't seem nearly as bright. True, I had my business, which was doing very well. If things kept on like they were, I'd reach the goal I'd set for myself when I graduated college, to be a millionaire by the time I was forty.
I had my house, which was paid for. I had my pool. I had my job.
But I wouldn't have Caitlin.
Not there, next to me ... in bed with me, anyway.
And Caitlin was affected too, though I wasn't aware it showed. Hannah saw it immediately, or at least as soon as she stopped gushing over her daughter. You'd have thought she'd been gone a year, instead of just a month.
"Look at you," she said holding Kat back with both hands after a long hug. "What happened to you?" she asked her daughter.
"What do you mean?"
"You look ... different."
"I'm a whole month older," said Kat, proudly.
"Not older ... different," said Hannah. "You look ... happy."
"Of course I'm happy," said Caitlin. "I'm glad to be home. I do love you guys, you know."
"Of course you do. But didn't you have a good time with Bob?" That was when she looked at me.
"Bob!" She addressed me with an eyebrow raised. "You look like you lost your last friend!"
"Oh, he's just distraught because he's losing my company," said Kat, preening. "He's really sort of a troll, you know."
"Caitlin Marie Anderson!" barked Hannah. "That's a terrible thing to say about my brother!"
"I don't mean it in a bad way," said Caitlin. "What I mean is that all he ever does is work, work, work. It's like work is the bridge he hides under. And then along comes Goldie Locks." She pointed at herself with two index fingers and I admit I looked at her breasts. "That's me," she explained. "And he comes out from under his bridge and I make his life wonderful, and interesting, and fun. And now all he can do is go back under his bridge and be sad until I walk over his bridge again."
Hannah looked at me.
"I understand the look, now, Bob. But cheer up. You don't have to put up with her any more. You're free again. Go. Fly away free and soar like the eagle," she said, dramatically. "Except don't soar yet. I want to hear all about it. And I baked. Come inside. We'll get her luggage later. Come on, come on!"
So, having dodged that bullet, I tried to perk up a little.
The brownies were good.
We managed to get through talking about the journey by spending most of the time talking about the rafting trip, which Kat described in a way that reminded me of two fighter pilots talking about dog fights they have engaged in, using their hands to show how the plane was moving this way and that.
It was, in fact, her excitement in describing the rafting trip that undid us. Not in the telling itself. Rather, it was the emotions it evoked in Caitlin, as she remembered the trip ... and what happened after that ... in the tent.
When she wrapped up her descritpion, she said, "You want to see my room, Uncle Bob? I know what your room looks like, but you've never seen mine!"
She said it like any young girl might say that to someone that she actually wanted to show her room to. There was nothing suspicious about her offer at all. And Hannah didn't bat an eye at the suggestion. She did say, "Are you sure you want him to see the kind of mess you live in?" But Kat replied, "I cleaned my room before I left, Mother."
And so, she pulled me to her room, leading me like a lamb to slaughter. Once inside she closed the door and pushed me up against the wall where there was, of all things, a Strawberry Shortcake poster, next to a Star Wars poster.
"I'm so horny," she whispered.
"We can't do that in your room, Kat," I said, half believing she actually wanted to have sex.
"I know, but at least we can do this," she moaned.
And she kissed me.
Maybe we thought of that as our last kiss. At least for a while. A long while. Or, maybe the passion that was suddenly crackling in the room was just the natural reaction to what we were doing. Whatever the reason, it turned into a long, tongue-swapping, delicious osculatory exercise that went on and on.
Unfortunately, it was still going on when Hannah opened the door and walked in. She had Caitlin's suitcase in her hand. That's how long that kiss had been going on ... long enough for Hannah to go outside and find the suitcase and bring it back in.
And there we were, snogging like pros, not a foot from her.
Oh ... and did I mention my hands were on Caitlin's breasts, and her hand was rubbing my erection through my pants?
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