Serendipity - Version Bravo
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | Epilogue
Foreword: This story is written in three versions, Alpha, Bravo and bravo. You are reading version Bravo. 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.
I looked up from my comfortable chaise lounge beside the pool, as the three bikini-clad girls burst out of the patio entrance to the house, 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 been 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, Caitlin, and her two summertime friends.
Emma lived next door to me and was the first to form a bond with Caitlin when I took her in for the month of July so my sister could finish her doctoral thesis in art history. I gathered, at the time, that this process involved literally unbroken hours of final editing, and the fewer
distractions there were, the better the final manuscript would be. An active, ten year old girl can be quite a distraction, so I agreed to be distracted for a month so Hannah wouldn't be.
I think there was another reason for Hannah's request. Chad, Caitlin's father, had been killed in a motorcycle accident when Caitlin was
four, and she'd never had another man in her life, at least not for more than an hour at a time since then. I think maybe Hannah thought Caitlin needed a male role model in her life, and her brother, only four years older, didn't qualify. So I got the nod.
I gave more than one thought to the possibility that Hannah might also use this time out of her daughter's view to blow out her pipes, so to speak.
She was a vibrant, good looking woman, and I'd always been a little amazed that some guy hadn't snapped her up in the years after Chad's tragic death. I had only mentioned that to her once, though. Her reply had been, and I quote: "Bobby, honey, I'm doing just fine. How about you keep your nose out of my sex life and I'll keep mine out of yours, okay?"
In any case, that first month Caitlin stayed with me worked out rather well. I was an intentional bachelor, which left me both the time and money to go do whatever I wanted to, within reason. I loved camping and rock climbing, among other active pursuits, and Caitlin did too. She was particularly fond of shooting, something she never got to do in California, where they lived.
And, of course, I had the pool in the back yard, which was surrounded by a tall privacy fence. Caitlin surfed whenever she could get her mother to take her, so she loved water.
Yet another thing that happened that year was that Caitlin saw Emma sitting in a tire swing next door. The constant wind every Oklahoman is familiar with kept the swing moving slightly, but otherwise Emma was just hanging there, looking a little forlorn. I would find out years later that her mother had made her turn off the computer and go outside for some fresh air.
"Who's that?" asked Caitlin, as she carried a bag of groceries from the car into the house.
"Her name is Emma. She lives next door. I get the impression she's kind of shy. You want to invite her to go swimming?"
"How old is she?"
I had forgotten how much age mattered when you're young.
"Your age," I said, cagily.
"Okay, sure," said my niece.
I was the only one on the block who had an in ground pool, so Caitlin's invitation was eagerly accepted. As it turned out, they were like peas in a pod and the next thing I knew Emma was being included in most of Caitlin's plans. At least when the Wilkinsons let her. I had one of those nodding acquaintances with the Wilkinsons. His name was Jeff, and hers was Connie. I'm an architect and run my own business, so I'm home most of the time and see the other parents who are home during the day. Connie was one of those. She was a bright, goofy woman with hair that the wind constantly blew all over the place. Why she didn't put it in a pony tail I don't know. She had huge pink eyeglasses and slightly buck teeth, but she was a nice woman and we got along well on the relatively infrequent occasions we ran into each other.
I think one reason Emma took to Caitlin so quickly was that she only had one other friend in the neighborhood, a gangly girl named Ashley, who lived two blocks away. Our neighborhood was a little light on kids their age. There were a ton of teenagers running around, but ten-year-olds were relatively rare.
So, naturally, Emma introduced Caitlin to Ashley and, within two weeks they became the three musketeers. Their kingdom was my back yard.
That first year I wasn't really prepared to host a girl that age, much less three of them, at least in terms of planning out things they might like to do. So the pool, which is big enough to swim laps in, became the babysitter, so to speak, while I got more work done than I had thought I would. I did take Caitlin to a couple of the local attractions, but mostly she hung out with her two new best friends and there was a lot of splashing and screaming in my back yard.
She had a good time, which made me kind of inordinately proud for some reason. In fact, she had such a good time that the next year she asked her mother if she could to take a vacation at Uncle Bob's again. I found out when Hannah, who was now teaching classes at UC Irvine, called me.
"Hey, I thought I'd call you and make your day," she said as an opening.
"Okay, but wait a minute. Let me get out my Red Hawk."
"What's a Red Hawk?" she asked.
"It's a .44 magnum ... you know ... Dirty Harry? Make my day?"
"Ha, ha," she said, dryly. "How about I make your day without firearms being involved?"
"We can try," I said, trying to sound skeptical. "Give it your best shot." I laughed at my own pun. She ignored it.
"Okay. It just so happens it has come to my attention that my studly brother is popular with the ladies. How about them apples?"
"Me?" I blinked. I hadn't been out with a woman in months. It's not that I don't like women. I like them just fine. But a girlfriend likes to fill up your calendar with things for the two of you to do, and pretty soon there aren't any days to lie around the house in your underwear, just drinking beer. Plus my business was still growing, and needed a lot of time. If I couldn't give a woman what she really deserved, I didn't want to have the stress of that kind of relationship.
And, I admit, I was relatively happy with my sex life. I didn't get to have sex with a real live woman all that often, but the rest of the time there was my hand, and my hand was really good at it. Plus it never had a headache. So I wasn't unhappy at all.
"I think you have the wrong brother," I said.
"If only," she said, with a smile in her voice. "You have no idea how many times I wished you had a bigger brother who would treat you as badly as you treated me."
"I didn't treat you badly," I scoffed.
"Says the bully," she quipped.
"I never bullied you," I objected.
"No, you spent all that energy on any boy who was interested in me."
"I had to protect you from them!" I complained. "Dad told me that was my job. You think I wanted to spend all my time worrying about you instead of going out and having fun with my friends?"
"You had plenty of
fun, you jerk. You just tried to make
sure I didn't."
arguing?" I asked. "Because I
don't want to argue."
I'm just a little stressed. I
didn't call to talk about that. I called
to tell you that Caitlin had a
really great time with you last year, and has asked me to beg you to
come back this summer for a similar visit."
"Caitlin's the lady
I'm popular with?" I laughed.
"I can live with that."
"You're a strange
man, Bobby. Why don't you have a woman
in your life?"
"Why don't you have a
man in yours?" I countered.
"I don't have time
for a man," she said.
"So ... what do you
think? I know you were just doing me a
favor last year. You don't have to say
"I had a good time
too, Hannah. You have a lively and
interesting daughter. She wasn't any
trouble. Maybe this time I'll come up
with something more fun for her to pursue than doing cannon balls off the
"Thanks. To be
honest, I could use some me time."
"This is not a
problem at all," I said. "Just
have her call me and tell me when I need to pick her up at the airport."
And so a tradition was
born. I wasn't the only one to be glad she
came back for seconds. Caitlin and the other two musketeers did,
indeed, have a
fun-filled month, which included a trip to Six Flags over Texas. The following year we went rock
climbing in the Rockies. Emma and Ashley
didn't go with us on that jaunt. Rock
climbing, it seemed, was a little too intimidating for their parents,
in a state where the highest point in the geographical area was Black Mesa, which
pretty much impossible to fall off of anywhere.
Real mountains made them nervous.
But that was fine,
while Caitlin loved spending time with her two best buddies, she liked
things with just me, too. Part of that was because she always came with a plethora of questions to ask. They weren't necessarily questions that required a man to answer, though she asked a lot about why boys did this or that thing. I think she just reveled in having an adult at her fingertips, who wouldn't tell her he was too busy to spend time with her.
She also loved to camp out, and see lots of different places.
It was because of that that she asked me to drive her home that
of putting her on a plane. We toured
Yellowstone that year and it was great.
She was a certified tree-climbing tomboy in those days.
I guess you could say that I brought out the
tomboy in her, and Emma and Ashley nourished the girl in her.
It was a good match on all sides.
"jaunts", as she called them, were infrequent. We
were rarely gone from home for more than
three days. The rest of the time she
hung out in the pool with her cohorts.
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
nightmares, but I could still read and do lifeguard duty at the same
time. They wore bikinis which, had they
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
It was interesting in
several ways. As the years went by, 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
got bigger every year. The girls didn't
seem to notice, though. While their
bodies changed, they otherwise seemed to stay exactly the same when
gathered in the back yard to jump in the pool and play the kind of
that kids play everywhere.
When they were fourteen, 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
braces would simply help her teeth become as beautiful as the rest of
It was just an offhand
comment ... you know ... something designed to support her self image, 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
interest they had in me was that I had a swimming pool in my back yard
niece who was fun to play with while she was in town.
Another reason it was
obvious Caitlin's two friends had no interest in me was that once
Caitlin and I
got in the car to make the drive to the west coast, I didn't see them
rest of the summer.
Then, the year she was
fifteen, she arrived and, like magic, she was a young woman, with bulges in all the right places. I remember wondering how that
could have happened in just a year. I'm
sure I'd seen Ashley and Emma around.
Emma lived next door and more than once I'd heard her call out
Mister Simmons," but I hadn't noticed her flowering like Caitlin had.
The first time they came
to swim that year ... I noticed. They
had done the same thing Caitlin had done.
Have you noticed how a
girl who is fifteen these days, looks an awful lot like a girl who was
in the forties and fifties? They grow up
fast. It sounds silly, but if you've ever raised tomatoes, there's a point where the fruit has turned red, and you can't tell just by looking whether it's fully ripe, or not quite. It was kind of like that, looking at them. They looked like a women, but of course I knew they were just teenagers.
They had always been fun
to watch. Maybe a tiny bit of that was a
male, watching females, but I didn't think of them as sexual beings.
Not until that year, anyway.
When a girl has real hips, and real breasts,
and lips that are full, somehow, and look kissable, you can't help but
what happens when they go on dates.
Assuming they were
to date. I had no idea about that.
Another thing that
happened when I saw her for the first time that year was that I
Hannah calling me to ask if Caitlin could come back that second summer.
My sister had complained that I cramped her
style when we were teenagers. And I had.
It had been intentional, and not just because
our father had asked me to "keep an eye on her." Hannah
was the first adolescent girl I'd ever
seen naked. It had been an
accident. I'd walked into the bathroom
to pee while she was drying off after taking a shower.
She'd been so shocked she froze, and I got a
After that, the idea of
any of the guys she knew getting to see that just made my blood boil.
It wasn't that I wanted her to become a
nun. It was just that none of those guys
deserved a girl like her.
The year Caitlin was
fifteen, I had a few flashbacks to those days when her mother had been
age. Caitlin didn't ask if she could
date any of the guys Emma and Ashley knew, but I'd have said no if she
had. In any case, it didn't come up.
Ashley and Emma never talked about boys while
I was around.
The next year, when she
was sixteen, she looked even better. And
an odd thing happened. Just as she had
matured into a more beautiful, sexy, desirable young woman, my
her matured too. That was the first time
that I wished I could accidentally walk in on Caitlin, like I had
walked in on
her mother all those years ago. I
didn't, of course. I just thought about
it. And yes, I admit I thought about it
while I masturbated. So sue me.
That year, she came back
from being somewhere with the other two musketeers and, when she walked
happened to be cleaning my Rock Island 1911 pistol.
"You have a lot of
guns," she commented.
"Yeah," I said,
holding the barrel up to the window and peering through it so I could see if it was clean
"How come?" she
"It's fun to
shoot," I said. "Plus I'd like
to be able to protect myself if I ever need to."
"Everybody back home
says that anybody who owns a gun is a paranoid wacko."
"Do you think I'm a
paranoid wacko?" I asked, putting the gun back together.
"Of course not,"
she said. "Can I hold it?"
She had shot my .22 rifle dozens of times, but I hadn't put a pistol in her hand yet. I taught her how to lock
the slide back and how to determine it was empty of ammunition.
When I explained the slide release, she
pressed it and the slide snapped forward.
she said, pointing it at the couch.
"That helps absorb the
recoil of the round going off."
"Can I shoot
"You might turn into
a gun nut," I kidded.
"Are you a gun
"I suppose I
am," I said. "At least that's
what your surfer friends would probably call me."
"Then being a gun nut
can't be as bad as they say. I'm willing
to take my chances." She grinned.
So I took her to the
range. I didn't start her with the
.45. I put a Ruger Mark III in her hands
and, after half an hour of instruction, she started shooting better
I did. An hour later we'd worked our way
through my nine mil and a Taurus chambered in forty caliber, and the
Island was singing its song as if it had fallen in love with the girl
That's the kind of girl
Have you ever gone on You
Tube and seen those silly videos of girls shooting guns?
They're supposed to be sexy, but they're
usually not. I've broken them down into
two types. The first is the girl who
shouldn't have a gun in her hands, no matter how she's dressed.
She doesn't know what she's doing and all I
see when she's flailing away with her eyes closed is a dangerous
situation. But the second type are the
women who do know what's in their
hands and how to use it. Why they pose
in bikinis to do it is beyond me, but there's a difference between
and type one. It's hard to
describe. They are focused, for one
thing, with all their attention on working the tool in their hands.
Their stance is right, so they're not
wobbling around. They lean into the
recoil. It's just a thing of beauty.
And the type-two women
really do look a little sexy.
Caitlin wasn't wearing a
bikini, but she looked sexy as all get out, wearing a ball cap with her
tail through the hole above the adjusting strap in the back.
Quite suddenly, I wished
she was naked, even though those are the stupidest videos of all out
And yes, I know, she was
only sixteen, but like I said earlier, you couldn't tell it by
looking. On that day she looked like she
should be in
college, instead of finishing up high school.
Which brings us to this year. As a seventeen-year-old, she presented an image that I knew meant I was in trouble. She was bouncy, and sultry and sexy. She knew me well enough that she was comfortable with me under almost any circumstances. As an example, I'll just say that, as a ten year old, her PJs consisted of a long T shirt with panties on underneath. That hadn't changed, and she was just as comfortable being around Uncle Bob that way now as she was then. Except that now, under that T shirt, was a beautiful, full grown woman, rather than a cute little girl.
And her friends were
there with her. All of them had the lush
curves of young women ready for being mated with.
Still, I kept my
to myself, and tried not to let them catch me ogling them.
It seemed to work. Unless they
needed something from me, they
usually pretty much ignored me when they were together.
Which is why I was
somewhat surprised on this sunny day when Ashley changed direction from
other two and came running directly toward me instead of continuing to
pool. I saw a packet of paper in her
"Here's your mail,
Mr. Simmons," she panted, bending over and extending her hand.
I suddenly had a
premonition of what the Grand Canyon might be like as she held her
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, her breasts fell about a foot to land on my chest,
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 ogling her
breasts, there was this little half smile, a sort of almost smirk.
"Your mail?" she
I grabbed it.
"Thanks," I croaked.
she said, smiling normally.
I would never have known
anything was up, except that as she ran back to the group my eyes saw
they'd been watching this delivery of mail entirely too intently, and
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
physically. I was pretty sure that
Ashley Paddington, who had just gotten her driver's license a couple of
ago, had also just flashed me her boobs.
Okay, so it was only some of her boobs ... but it was on
And that wasn't the worst
part. The worst part was that, if my
instincts (and ears, of course) were running smoothly, there were other partners abetting her in that
Sorry. The word "crime" suggests there's a victim, and believe me, there was no victim 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
again, instead of seventeen. As I
watched, my niece reached back with both hands and did that thing girls
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
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
Caitlin's cool uncle, and that I had to satisfy all three of them that
I taught them how wonderful it was to have orgasms while full of hot,
So maybe that's what I was thinking about.
wasn't like that. Wasn't like that at
all. After splashing around for half an hour, they all ran into the
where I knew they were taking showers and getting dressed for whatever
was actually planned next. 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. As I said, Caitlin was a surfer, and
liked to stay in shape. And I know Emma
played softball. She had that muscled
slightly broad build that reminds you of those gymnasts in the
that her chest was way too busty for that particular group.
And when had that happened? I had a sudden mental image
of the girls
going into the Narnia closet, where they spent half a dozen years
before coming back out in what, to me, seemed like ten minutes.
Suddenly, my day was much more
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
brother got to do, and ran afoul of her mother's desire to protect her
harm in the process. American culture
wasn't too happy with her either, for that matter, because she loved
encroaching on what most people would call "male territory".
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 will 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
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 happened to be looking out the window at me from her
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
get a man to notice her. But it rarely
goes farther than that, at least when the man is almost old enough to
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 planet,
eventually lead to the creation of a hurricane on the other side.
And that little thing
I think changed everything for all three of the girls that summer
about the time I closed my book and got up to go inside and find
divert my mind from imagining those three little beauties frolicking
together in the big walk-in shower in the bathroom Caitlin had claimed
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 was slicing
the tomato and lettuce to complete the masterpiece when I heard a thump
upstairs. About a minute later, after I
had taken only one bite of a really delicious sandwich, Emma came
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
was no bra strap marring the smooth surface of her back.
I was thinking about what the front of that
shirt might look like when I heard Caitlin moaning in pain and forgot
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.
I asked, automatically being that adult who always wants to get to the bottom of things.
It showed how worried the girls were that they told the truth
making something up.
"She was jumping on
the bed and she bounced funny and that foot went on the floor instead
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 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
That's the "little
thing" I mentioned earlier. She
just happened to position herself with her legs spread.
I formed a cradle with my
hands and she gingerly let her calf down on one hand while I supported
heel with the other. The ankle was
but didn't show any bruising yet.
"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
At least that's what I
intended to do. Along the way, as my eyes
went up the length of her leg on the way to her face, they encountered
of the denim skirt she was wearing. That
skirt, had she been standing, would have come to a point maybe two
her knees. But she wasn't standing, and
the skirt had slid up a bit.
That wasn't the problem,
though. The problem was that my eyes
just sort of naturally followed the smooth, flawless skin of her inner thigh as
it led to
the juncture of her legs. I didn't mean to ogle her. It was
just a normal, instinctive thing for
any man to do ... you know ... get a shot of panties.
Except that she wasn't
That was the problem.
Dear, sweet, innocent
Caitlin was going commando.
More than that, because
her knees were a good foot apart, I got a crystal clear view of labia that belonged on a woman twice her age.
By that, I mean her outer lips weren't tight and rolled in to
classic camel toe. No, these lips were
pushed apart by inner lips that looked something like a bud, trying to
blossom. The blossoming inner lips were
composed of wrinkled skin that was full enough that I instantly
sucking them between my lips and sort of chewing on them. I literally couldn't help thinking of that.
Those lips were gorgeous.
They had nothing to do with an innocent
girl. They announced this girl was ripe,
and ready to be mounted as a woman. It
didn't hurt that there wasn't a trace of hair anywhere around that
grown up looking pussy.
I hate to break the
mood. I could sit, with my eyes closed,
and remember that little glimpse of her pussy for ten minutes and be
happy. Hell, I won't lie. I have sat for ten minutes while
remembering that lucky, serendipitous glimpse. More
than once. But it's important to clear
something up here. I don't want you to
think that Caitlin did this on purpose - exposed herself to me, I mean.
They really were jumping on
the bed, and it really was an accident that she
landed wrong and hurt her ankle. Now, she had put that skirt on without panties intentionally ... but not for the
of giving me a shot. That part was just
a happy accident. Not for her, of
But it was for me.
It was simple serendipity.
Suddenly, though nobody had planned it, I got
to see something I'd dreamed about for years.
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
that caused Caitlin to move her gaze from her injured ankle to her
face. I know this because I tore my eyes
away from her delicious looking pussy and finally looked at her face.
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 whispered, breathlessly.
Her meaning was obvious. If she
could see it ... I could too.
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
That's because I wanted to make it look like I was blowing the whole thing off. I also 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 just a sprain. I gently used
the hand cupping her heel to begin moving the ankle through larger and
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
looking lips would part and hint of the cavern my cock had stiffened
A second "little thing" happened at that point.
Caitlin, who had been in pain, and had been worried, and that
her to forget about her nudity under her skirt.
Now, however, she was well aware of what I (and Emma, who had
not moved) could see. She could have reacted like I
expected her to react. She could have
screamed and blushed and jerked her foot out of my hand.
She could have closed her legs and pulled her
skirt down to achieve some measure of modesty.
But she didn't.
And while you, the
have time to reflect on that, and make assumptions about it and so on
forth, I was in the heat of the moment, so to speak.
So was Caitlin. So were Emma and
Ashley. We didn't have time to parse it
all out. We just reacted.
Basically, I stared at my
niece's pussy. And, basically, she let
Which led to a third 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
Unlike my niece, I was
wearing shorts that covered everything up.
They were running shorts, to be exact, the kind that are mostly
but have some other stuff in them too.
They fit me pretty well, and they are in no way designed (or
to camouflage an erection inside them.
Such a condition is practically advertised, in fact.
What made it even worse was that, because I
had sat down while the thing was soft, it was aimed at the opening of
and when it decided it needed to be ready to plunder Caitlin's luscious
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,
up the one-eyed snake that had been trying to slither out to introduce
to the girls.
gasped Emma, who on this day, at least, had some strange compulsion to
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, or where said boner might be found.
My mind whirled.
While I didn't have the luxury of lots of
time to think about all this, that didn't mean I was just slobbering
staring. I didn't understand why she was
bare under her skirt. I didn't
understand why she hadn't reacted badly to me seeing she was bare under
skirt. But I knew there was the
potential for unhappiness in this situation.
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 flush bloom at the top of her chest, which was exposed by the tank top she
wearing. It was identical to the ones
her two friends were wearing, except that hers was yellow, while Emma's
powder blue and Ashley's was lime green.
My eyes were drawn to two distinct points on the front of that
just below that bloom of pink, and then I dragged them back to watch
stain her cheeks, eventually going as far as her forehead.
But she still didn't reach to press her skirt
between her legs, to obstruct anyone's view.
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 skirt 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 medicine cabinet. I'll wrap it up and we'll see
if you can put any weight on it. If you
can't, I believe there are some crutches out in the garage, too.
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
her skirt one last time. She watched me
do that and I heard her swallow.
welcome," I said, softly.
I looked at the other
girls, who were smart enough to know something besides the ankle had
happened. They had wide, round eyes.
And their nipples were
spiked as well.
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