Erica's Passion

Lubrican

Niece's Passion

by Robert Lubrican

zbookstore Edition

License Notes

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Rights to use cover art purchased at freepic.com

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Table of Contents

Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen

Eighteen | Nineteen | Epilogue | Afterword

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Foreword

The original concept of this story was edited to comply with the publisher's standards. All characters in this book are fictional and are at least eighteen years of age. This may result in sections where the context seems odd.

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Chapter One

Bob Carpenter had a sister and two brothers and while all of them got married and had kids, he never did. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in women. He was plenty interested. But he never seemed to run into a woman who he felt so strongly about that he'd give up all the others and become a one-woman man.

That was all fine and good when he was in college and young and buff and lots of women found him attractive. Add a dozen or so years, though, he suddenly found himself in a world where the hot women (his age) were all married and other guys like him were living a life more like a monk than a stud.

He didn't complain about it, though. If he was a monk he was a randy, naughty one. You see, it turned out that when you're at the top of your class and get an IT degree from a technical college, that college might hire you to work on their equipment. That seems counterintuitive when you think about the fact that the university had several professors who could fix anything that was wrong with the school's computer system. But actual work is way below the pay grade of the professors (as they see it) and you don't want less-than-fully-trained students working on your very important IT infrastructure. So Bob was on contract to do upkeep on the school's equipment. He wasn't a staff member, so he got to flirt with all the coeds as much as he wanted to. It also turned out that some young women recognized that an older man (relatively speaking) can offer certain advantages to a girl "on the prowl" who isn't looking for a committed relationship; not at that point in her life, anyway.

To be clear, "girls who go wild" still expect to eventually find a guy closer to their age to hook up with for the purpose of having children and making a home and all that. But that's in the future, and getting involved with men their age can often lead to commitment issues they aren't ready to deal with, yet. Some of them are, however, more than willing to get their itch scratched by a guy who's eight or nine years older than they are, and whose stomach isn't so flat anymore ... and who doesn't care about commitment. And who, by the way, really knows his way around a woman's body.

Those young women were wrong, though. Bob did want to find a life mate he could grow old with. He was just very picky about making sure he chose the right woman; assuming he ever ran into her. He knew he was fortunate to get the attention of hot, young girls who wanted to play bedroom games and, sure, he knew that the fact that a few of those horny young women would come back for seconds or thirds meant they liked him, but as soon as feelings developed they ran for the hills.

Basically, he was alone. Basically, he was lone-ly.

Which was why Bob Carpenter masturbated a lot. And by a lot, I mean twice a day, most days, unless he had a date with one of those hot girls.

Masturbation is insidious in that it is easy, quick, and uncomplicated, and the variety of women you can think about while you do it is infinite. It's easy to get into the habit of jerking off, rather than going to the effort to get a real woman in bed. There are men who actually get to the point of "Who needs women? I got everything I need on the end of my arm."

The problem with all that is that humans need interpersonal relationships in their lives, even if those are short term and complicated. We need the closeness that brings hugs and kisses and all that. That's why having a ton of Facebook friends doesn't replace having one or two you can sit with and be close to on a physical level, or even just have a cup of coffee.

And that brings us to the thing that happened between Bob and Erica. Erica was his niece, his sister-in-law's daughter. Erica had three brothers, all older than she was and they'd made her life tough. Erica was just shy of her nineteenth birthday at the point where things between Bob and her changed.

The changes weren't obvious, at first. Julie had married Bob's brother, Paul. While still in high school Paul popped the question and, just after they graduated, Julie's parents moved to a retirement complex. Her mother had early onset Alzheimer's and her father insisted on being with her to help care for her. So Julie was given the family home, which was good for them because it was paid for, a big plus to a young couple starting out in married life. Not that they were married, yet. Paul had his life all mapped out in a way that would allow him to get married and support his wife. He joined the Marine Corps as soon as he was out of high school. Julie was already pregnant when he graduated from Marine boot camp and they had one of those ornate military weddings, with the tunnel of swords and all that. Bob was a year younger than Paul and, of course, knew Julie because his brother had dated her for almost a year. He was Paul's best man. One of Paul's classmates also stood up with him at the wedding.

A year later, when Bob got his high school diploma, he stayed in town, too. He went to the local technical college and learned all about computers and web design. He was the star pupil and the college recruited him as soon as he got his degree (from them) to keep their computer infrastructure and web site up to snuff. He bought a house cheap that had been repossessed by a bank. It was run down, but in a nice part of town about five blocks from his brother and sister-in-law's house.

That turned out to be important, because for the next twelve years, while Paul was off "meeting interesting people and killing them", as he loved to quip, Bob was around to help with Chad, their first child and then twin boys named Robby and Randy, and finally a cute little girl named Erica.

Then Paul was killed by a sniper, in Afghanistan.

Bob shared Julie's grief, and made a point of being available to her for whatever was needed. Mostly that was riding herd on the kids while Julie dealt with all the red tape that results when a person dies.

As time went on Chad made some spending money by mowing Bob's lawn and raking his leaves and those kinds of chores. When Chad became a senior, and was involved in varsity sports, he was no longer interested in wanting Bob to hire him. Robby and Randy, the twins, were juniors but had no interest in mowing lawns and such. Erica was thirteen at this point, and to be honest, Bob didn't consider asking her if she was interested in replacing her older brother's efforts.

If you were to look at Julie and Erica standing side by side you wouldn't think they were related. Julie's body was lush and she was athletic. She played softball when she was young and still had that buff-but-feminine physique that draws a man's eye. She was obviously highly-sexed, too, since she got pregnant even before she married Paul and then started popping out babies at a prodigious rate.

Erica, on the other hand, was thin, with no hips and flat as a board. Now, even at eighteen, she was willowy and when men looked at her, they thought "cute" rather than "young woman with sexual potential." She wasn't, however, a fainting damsel in distress. With three older brothers tormenting her on a fairly regular basis, she was tough and wiry, with muscles that didn't show through her smooth skin. She was definitely a tomboy, or had been, but never good enough at sports that she got respect from her brothers. Now she was at that awkward time in a young person's life where the law considered her an adult, but she didn't feel like one. That would pass. Time would take care of it, but there might be some painful interludes before Erica felt like she was a grown woman who was in control of her own destiny.

Whether it was because Julie told them to "watch out for" their little sister, or whether it was just instinct, her brothers had "protected" their sister like the Taliban protects its women. They loved her and cared about her, but their paternalistic behavior towards her was stifling. Even Bob saw that, but he didn't worry about it because she was just in high school at the time.

That behavior, however, played a substantial part in why her relationship with Bob became so important.

When Paul died Bob became the rock Julie needed to lean on for the first year or so. Chad was twelve at that point and he tried to become "the man of the house" but he was way out of his depth. Losing his father was traumatic enough. He didn't want to lose his support systems, too, which meant that his teammates at school became more important than they had been. The twins were just kids, too, and had their own difficulties in processing the death of their father. Erica was almost ten, and her father's death set her adrift in the ocean that was the world. Julie threw herself into supporting the kids, emotionally, and that mission was probably what saved her from depression. Bob wasn't a professional, but that's what he thought.

Bob's role in all this was to help out, but mostly to just be there. Paul's job had kept him away from home a lot, so not having an adult male around all the time was something they were all used to, on one level. Bob had helped with that role, too - adult male role model - but he didn't try to take Paul's place. Still, he spent a lot of time with the kids both before and after Paul died. He was there to do things with the kids, mostly, and take their minds off of things for a little while. Julie had a lot to do in terms of legal issues, notifications, taking his name off of credit cards, bank accounts and car titles, and a dozen other things, so he kept the kids busy while she took care of all that. Later, he was just an adult male they could talk to if they needed someone. That included Julie, who thought of him as "brother" rather than "brother-in-law."

A significant event during all of this was Paul's burial. That might seem like a "Duh" thing to say, but when they presented the flag to Julie and the coffin was lowered into the cold ground, the group hug that they all shared made instant bonds that were still strong as steel. The six of them became one unit.

As the years passed, the boys were nicer to their sister, but "nicer" is still a relative term. What should be said is that they cared more about her on a conscious level than they had in the past. She was still excluded from joining the boys in their sports pursuits, but that was a function of latent misogyny rather than a logical assessment of her talent and ability. Why Julie never got her into girls' softball was unclear. Maybe, as a single mom of a bunch of teenagers, she had too much to do to think about that. Maybe it was because the boys' pursuits didn't need much supervision or time on her part. Being a softball mom, on the other hand, takes a lot of time.

Erica tried hard to rise to the level where her brothers would include her, and that's where Bob came in. He exchanged tosses of the football with her, and got one of those basketball goals that's portable, in theory. Once you fill the base with sand and water it becomes almost impossible to move, but that didn't matter because he put it on the side of his driveway. He lowered the basket to eight feet and Erica spent hours shooting hoops with him. They went running together, too. Julie had kept running as part of her private physical fitness regimen, but she was one of those runners who doesn't play well with others while engaged in that pursuit. She liked to set her own pace, and if she ran with anyone else she had to speed up (rarely) or slow down (usually) and she didn't like that. Bob, on the other hand, only ran because Erica loved to run. She ran circles around him, quite literally, but she didn't mind because she talked nonstop while she was doing it. His side of those conversations consisted mostly of grunts because he needed all the air in his lungs just to keep going.

Erica was why he didn't go to fat as he got older. He didn't love it at the time, but he knew it was good for him. More importantly, it was good for her.

They talked while they shot hoops, too, and while they sat on his porch drinking lemonade during breaks. The twins were never interested in mowing his lawn, like their older brother had. They were into video games and soccer and were inseparable. When Erica wanted to earn money by mowing his lawn, she was still almost too light to muscle the mower around the yard, but she set her mind to it and, at sixteen, became his gardener.

All this is to establish (again in a long-winded kind of way) that Erica and Bob were buddies, pals who could and had talked about anything. They had this free and easy relationship that was comfortable and important to both of them. They spent a lot of time together and Bob was intimately aware of all her trials and troubles. Most of those were little things, from an adult's perspective, but Bob knew how serious they were to her, so he gave her advice, and they assessed together how good that advice was. Assuming she followed it, of course.

Bob knew, for example, that the girls in her class had made fun of her because she didn't even need to wear a training bra. Julie had gotten her one, but Bob thought it was more from a sense of motherly duty than any real need. Erica had bumps, rather than breasts. That was her own assessment, by the way, and not his. Her "friends" all had bulging breasts and rounded hips and Erica had neither. Some of those girls looked like they had already graduated from high school. That was Bob's assessment, by the way.

Up to the point that this is all getting to, Bob was like other men when he looked at Erica. She was "cute" rather than "a young woman with sexual potential," as mentioned before. She had big eyes, a pug nose, a spray of freckles across that nose, and an almost dainty appearance. She didn't act "dainty" of course, but that's how she looked to someone who didn't know her. She was vaguely interested in college, but was taking a gap year to think about what direction she wanted to go. And she needed to save up anyway. The family finances weren't going to pay for things all by themselves.

Then one day during that gap year she appeared on his doorstep and he could tell she was depressed. It was summer, and her only comment when she drifted in through his door, was, "You got anything I can do to make some money?"

"How much money do you want to earn?" Bob asked.

"I don't know. How much does makeup cost?"

"Isn't that something you should ask your mother?" Bob suggested.

"Mom doesn't wear much makeup. She doesn't need it," was Erica's reply.

"And you think you do?"

This was curious. Erica had never seemed to be interested in "girly" things before.

"Why don't guys notice me?" she asked, abruptly.

"Why do you think they don't?" Bob asked.

"Why do you always answer my questions with another question?" she growled.

"I'm just trying to get enough information to figure out exactly what we're talking about," he said, grinning.

"What we're talking about is that in high school boys slavered over Cindy Thompson and Emma Parks and Cathy Richardson, and nobody even leered at me," she complained.

"And you wanted boys to leer at you?" he said.

"When they hang around those girls down at the drive-in the guys all get boners," said Erica, frankly. "Nobody ever got a boner for me."

Bob was shocked. While the array of things Erica and he had discussed was wide and deep, there had never been anything along these lines. Sure, he knew her friends were mean about her physique, but he thought of that as normal childhood cruelty, rather than a comment on her sexuality.

"I think this conversation needs lemonade," he said. Their deepest, most important discussions seemed to take place while they were sitting on the porch with lemonade.

"I don't want to make a big deal out of this," she complained. "I just want to know why guys don't notice me."

"I will be happy to discuss this with you," he said, "but it's going to get complicated. Do you have time to get into a complicated discussion?"

"I have all day," she said. "Mom's at work and I can't talk about this to my brothers."

"Okay!" he said. "Porch or living room?"

"It's getting hot out," she said. She went to his recliner and flopped down on it, cycling the mechanism until she was practically lying down. Bob got the lemonade out of the fridge and then sat in an overstuffed chair that he'd gotten at the Goodwill store when he first got the house. It had an ottoman that went with it. He looked at his niece and, for the first time, tried to evaluate her as a female of the species, with all the baggage that carries with it.

What Bob saw was a girl who was not arranged in a modest or ladylike posture. One of her legs was straight and the other bent at the knee, which was flopped sideways. She was wearing cargo shorts that he suspected were hand-me-downs from a brother. They were too big for her and they were held on by a belt cinched tightly around her waist. The leg opening of the bent-knee side gaped and he got a clear shot of white panties with little red, blue and yellow flowers on them. Her T shirt was several years old and tight on her adolescent body. Her "bumps" were now "swells" but there were bumps on the swells that suggested there were puffy nipples causing them.

She stared at him from an elfin face, framed by wisps of hair that had escaped being included in her ponytail. He was startled to realize that her lips looked full and soft. She was chewing gently on the lower one.

Basically, Bob saw potential. She was killer cute and he suddenly wondered why men didn't notice her.

Unless, of course, they did and she just wasn't aware of it.

Bob decided to take that tack and that, brothers and sisters, is what changed both their lives forever.

"What makes you think men don't notice you?" he asked.

"What makes you think they do?" she shot back. She was using his answer-a-question-with-another-question technique.

"You're very cute," he said, diplomatically.

"Cute?" It sounded like she was scoffing.

"Yes," Bob said. "You're easy on the eyes."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"This is where it gets complicated," he said. "When a man looks at a woman, there are some things that happen instantly, and things that evolve, over time. The instant things involve putting the woman in one of several categories. The things that evolve are what changes a woman's category."

Bob was proud of himself for making something so complicated sound simple.

"Explain," she ordered. "What are the categories?"

"Well, one category is that she's interesting on a ... um …" he stopped. The next words in his mind were "sexual level" but he wasn't comfortable saying that to her. "He's interested in getting to know her better. You know, go out on dates and all that," he substituted.

"You mean he wants to bone her," said his precocious niece.

"Where did you hear that term?" he asked. He was surprised; nay, astonished.

"Chad," she said. "When he talks to his friends, they all talk about who they want to bone."

Bob was pretty sure Chad didn't know his little sister was listening in on such conversations. But she was, and she had knowledge that, before this, he hadn't thought she had. He realized this was going to be a more adult conversation than he had originally intended to get involved in.

It turned out to be the most adult conversation they'd ever had.

"Okay," he said. "We can use that as one category. That happens on an unconscious level, at first. When a man sees a woman, she's either in that category or she's not."

"I never am," she sighed.

"First of all, being in that category may not be a great thing," he said. "Like, for instance, if a man sees a married woman and he puts her in that category, it's not helpful to either of them."

"I am not married," she said, her voice flat.

"You're also barely out of high school," he said. "Why would you even want a guy to want to bone you?"

"I didn't say I want guys to want to bone me," she moaned. "I just want them to be interested in me."

"Interested how?" he asked.

"You know," she groaned. "I want them to like me, and want to take me out and stuff."

"How many dates have you been on?"

"Two," she said. "Both were to school dances and not real dates. The guys didn't even kiss me."

"And you wanted them to do more than that," Bob suggested.

"I didn't want them to do more. I just wanted them to want to do more."

"So what you want is to be in the category which for lack of a better term, we'll call 'potential bonee'."

"I don't think that's a word, Uncle Bob."

"It is for us. That category is when a guy thinks there might, at some future time, be a relationship in which boning will occur."

"Why is it that all guys think about is boning?" she complained.

"That's just Mother Nature," he said. "Look. Nature is responsible for that instant categorization. Nature wants the species to go on and the way that happens with most organisms is sexual reproduction. So when men look at women, the first thing that happens is deciding whether that woman is a potential mate or not. If the answer is 'not' then he looks on, at other women. No sense wasting time on a non-bonee. If the answer is 'yes' then he tries to figure out a way to mate with her. You can't avoid that. It's just Nature."

"But we're not just animals," she complained. "I mean we are animals, but we have brains and can think and reason. We can rise above those natural instincts."

"You're right, to a degree, but you have to understand that underlying everything we do are our natural instincts. They motivate us and they affect how we reason and act. It is for that very reason that I know boys notice you."

"Okay, but they all put me in the 'no-boning-going-on-here' category."

"Again, I would suggest that it's a little early in your life to want guys to slaver all over you in that way," he said. "Imagine if there were two or three guys who all wanted to bone you. They'd be after you all the time. If you did go on dates, they'd want to get you alone so they could hit on you. You'd have to push their hands away from your girly parts and resist their relentless attempts to get in your panties and all that. Does that sound like fun to you?"

"Are there other categories, where a guy is interested in a girl but doesn't want to go all caveman on her?"

"Sure," he said. "One category is friendship. It's like you and me. We're friends. We don't want to bone each other, but we like spending time together and we're close and all that."

"Okay," she said. Bob could see her mulling that over. "What else?"

"Well, there's a category that is disinterest. He isn't interested in her at all and isn't likely to get interested."

"That's the category I'm in with all the boys I know," she sighed.

"I think you're wrong," he insisted. "Part of why this gets complicated is that some guys are aggressive in their response, but other guys are shy. They're interested, but don't have the courage to approach the girl they're interested in. Is there a guy you've noticed and are interested in?"

"Well … sort of ... I guess."

"What's his name?"

"John Simmons."

"And you've gone up to him and talked to him, right?"

"No way!" she said. "I don't want to get laughed at!"

"And you have just proved my point. What if John Simmons feels the exact same way about you do that you feel about him?"

"What if he doesn't?" she said.

"How will you know if you don't try to find out. And if you do, and you don't mesh, then you tried and it didn't work out," he said. "Relationships always involve some risk, but it's worth the risk when you run across someone you're compatible with. If you never try, though, then you'll never meet mister right."

"I'm not looking for mister right," she snorted. "I just want a guy to get a boner for me, that's all."

"Where did all this boner stuff come from, anyway?" he asked. "Why are boners suddenly important to you?"

She dithered for a moment, but then explained.

"I was at the swimming pool yesterday, and Carly Richardson and I were in the changing room. She left before I did, and when I got to the door Wally Brown had her up against the wall in the hallway and was talking about how he had a boner for her and rubbing all over her. He's her boyfriend and she was laughing and pushing on him but it was obvious she liked it. I stood there and watched while he humped her and they didn't even notice me!"

"And you want some guy to treat you like that?" he asked.

"No!" she groaned. "I just want some guy to want to treat me like that!"

Bob realized she didn't know quite where to land on the 'wanting a guy to want to bone her' thing, but he also realized he was dealing with an adolescent girl, with all the hormones that rage through the veins of adolescent girls. Logic is not involved. Just hormones. And maybe a little blood. Some oxygen is required to keep the organism alive, but the bulk seems to be hormones.

"There are men who want to do that to you," he said with intentional firmness in his voice. "They're just too chicken to approach you about it."

"Come on, Uncle Bob," she sneered. "I'm not like Carly. I don't have boobs. If I don't wear a belt my pants fall off. Why would any boy want to hump me?"

"You don't understand," he said. "This is where things get complicated. There's a category for women who are interesting because of things other than their body. A woman's personality can make her attractive and it doesn't matter what she looks like. Guys want to be around her because she's fun and ... well ... just interesting. And what complicates all this even more is that there are guys who prefer women with small breasts. You have the kind of build that some guys go after. You don't have to have big boobs for a guy to be interested in you. Some guys notice a woman's legs, or her butt, or whatever. For some guys a woman's eyes are what does it for him. You don't need to look like Carly to get a guy. I promise you that."

She looked doubtful.

"Is this one of those times you're saying things just to make me feel better? I didn't come here for BS, Uncle Bob."

"I promise you there are guys who find you sexy and would love to hump you," he groaned. He didn't really think about what he was saying. He just said it to reassure her.

"Okay," she said, folding her arms across her flat chest. "Prove it!"

He blinked.

"How am I supposed to prove that?" he asked.

"I don't know. Find a guy who wants to hump me."

"Come on, Erica. How in the world could I do that? You want me to walk up to every guy we see and ask him," Bob lowered his voice and made it raspy, "See that girl over there? You want to bone her, man?" He tried a grin. "That would go over like a lead balloon, don't you think?"

Erica stuck her chin out. She wasn't letting up.

"I don't care how you do it. You find me one guy who gets a boner for me and I'll believe you. Otherwise, you're full of sh-" She stopped. "Crap," she finished.

"How did I become the bad guy?" he complained. "All I did was tell you there are guys who think you're sexy!"

"Yeah, but you can't show me one!" she challenged. A tear welled from one eye and ran down her cheek. "It's all bull shit!"

He was shocked by her use of the full term. He knew his sister was death on cussing at home. There was a cuss jar, but it didn't cost people any measly quarter or dollar. If you were fined for cursing at the Carpenter home it cost you five bucks. And it applied to any friends her kids brought home, too. If they didn't pay up, they were banned from the home.

"Hey," he sighed, opening his arms. "C'mere."

She got up and walked to him on wooden legs as he stood, too. Her stiffness evaporated, though, and she melted against him once he wrapped his arms around her. His nose pushed into her hair as he murmured that it would be okay. Her arms went around him as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, or conditioner. His hand slid across the back of her shirt and felt no bra strap.

And, whether it was kismet, or something else, Bob Carpenter got an erection. It happened so quickly, and without any thought at all, that he wasn't prepared for it. That and the fact that he felt such empathy for his young, wounded niece added to the fact that she was crying, and perhaps it warped his brain a little. Bob was a basket case around any woman who cried. He always had been.

Whether it was because her crying made him frantic, or for some other unconscious reason, Bob identified his erection as the answer to a problem. He didn't think about it first. If he had, he almost certainly wouldn't have done what he did.

But he did it.

He reached for her hand and molded it over the lump in his trousers.

"See? There's your proof. When I hugged you, I got a boner for you. I think you're sexy, Baby."

Almost instantly he recognized his actions as insanity. He jerked her hand away and stepped back, trying to separate himself from her.

"I'm sorry, Erica!" he gasped. "I don't know why I did that!"

She, however, had not let go of him with the arm that was still around him. Her hand had felt the long, hardish thing and her brain, which hadn't been quite ready for that scenario, was just now catching up. Her hand had, in fact, been in the act of squeezing, to explore this thing it felt, when it was jerked away by the same hand that had pushed it there in the beginning. In her brain, the exercise was unresolved ... incomplete ... merely a trailer for the movie.

"Wait!" she yelled.

Bob froze. He was terrified that he'd just ruined his relationship with his niece - and possibly his sister-in-law - forever.

"Let go!" yelled Erica, shaking her hand loose from his unconscious grip.

As soon as she was free, her hand zoomed back to the front of his slacks and behaved like a little Pacman, opening and closing, as if it was trying to eat through the cloth, until she found, again, his erection.

Now she let go with the other arm and stepped back, without releasing her grip on the hard shaft in her grip. She leaned down to peer at the front of his pants.

"No way!" she squealed.

"I'm so sorry, Baby," he groaned. He didn't know what to do with his hands and they waved at his sides. "It just happened. I didn't mean it!"

"So it's not for me," she said, steel in her voice as she looked up at him from her semi-bent over posture. She stood, but still didn't let go. "It's for some other woman?"

"No!" he blurted. By now his brain was turning to mush.

"It is for me?" She leaned toward him and squeezed.

"Yes!" he gasped. "But it shouldn't be!"

"It's for me?!" she yipped, obviously excited now. "Show me!"

Chapter Two

"No!" he groaned. "I can't do that! I can't show you ... that, Erica!"

"Why not?" she demanded. "If I caused it, then I should get to see it!"

"But I'm your uncle," he whined.

"Of course you are, but that's not important, now. What's important is that a man finally got a boner for me and I want to see it!"

She squeezed harder and he jerked. She didn't stop, there, though. Her other hand came to his belt and fumbled with it.

"You can't!" he moaned.

She stood and she put her face an inch from his.

"You are going to show me my boner!" she yelled.

His eyes darted from side to side. They were alone in the house, but she'd yelled loudly and he was afraid someone could have heard. He could never explain to anyone why she had said that, or what was going on. Nobody would understand, no matter how hard he tried to articulate and clarify what had led to this point in time. But the train kept hurtling down the tracks and Bob felt like he had no more control over this train than a passenger would.

"All right!" he gasped. "Just keep it down!"

"Hurry!" she said, as if she were worried that what she sought might evaporate into thin air.

It wasn't about to evaporate, though. Not only his adrenaline rush was keeping it alive, but the hands of the cute girl trying to get to it helped, too.

"Don't be scared," he gushed, as he heard his zipper being lowered.

"Scared? Of you?" She laughed and he felt diminished. Not that he wanted her to be afraid, but he at least hoped that when she saw his manhood she'd, at the minimum, be awed. Or at least impressed. Maybe even scared a little! He did want her to view it as dangerous, so she'd back off and leave him alone.

He yelped as her fingernails, which felt like little knives, scraped the tender skin of his hips as she jerked his pants and boxers down. Then everything stopped, including her hands and her breathing.

"It's fantastic!" she sighed.

"No it's not," he gasped. "It's dirty, filthy, awful!"

"It really got hard like that for me?" she moaned. "Wow! This is sooo cool, Uncle Bob!"

"Erica," he said, as his voice finally firmed. She wasn't reacting like he'd hoped. Not only that, but she sounded ... interested! "It is completely wrong for me to have reacted like that to you, and it's completely wrong for you to be having fun looking at it. Now, knock it off and let me pull my pants back up."

She stood and her face appeared in front of his again. She was smiling.

"Okay," she said. "But on one condition."

"What?"

"I get to do this."

She grinned as her hand found his rod and gripped it again, this time directly. She didn't squeeze so hard this time and her eyes widened before she glanced down.

"It's hot!" she breathed. "It feels hot!"

"It's 98.6 degrees," he said, trying to recover some dignity.

"It feels like it's about a hundred and fifty," she said. Her hand moved toward him and she looked down again. "What happened? The skin moved!" She bent over again and peered at his penis. Her hand moved away from him and she gasped. "The skin is all loose and it covered up the tip. How cool is that? Man, I wish I had one of these."

"No you don't," he said. "If you did, you'd be a boy, and if you were a boy, you'd be playing with another man's penis. That would make you gay."

She laughed as he mentally berated himself for babbling.

"Please let go, Erica. I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

She stood again, but didn't let go.

"Okay, but on one condition," she said.

"You already had one condition. What now?" he groaned.

"I get to look at it again, some time."

"If your mother found out what just happened she'd cut it off," he said. "If the cops found out, they'd take me away in handcuffs and throw me in jail."

"Why? You didn't do anything. All you did was get a boner. That's not against the law. I'm the one who got it out and looked at it."

"I don't think they'd see it that way. All they'd see is that we're related."

"Are you unhappy that I got to see it?"

He heard something in her voice that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He hadn't forgotten her angst about boys, and not being noticed like her friends were noticed.

"Look," he said. "I like you. I do think you're cute. That's probably why that happened. It was a natural reaction to how I feel about you. And that's my point. I'm not the only guy on Earth who thinks you're hot and will get boners for you. This proved my point. You don't need to worry. You're young and you have plenty of time to make a hundred guys your slaves. Just be patient and believe in yourself, okay?"

"It won't stay hard, will it?" she asked.

"No," he said, telling the truth. "It will go soft."

"But will it ever get hard ... I mean for me ... again?"

"Probably. When you get one boner for a girl, more are likely to follow."

"So this is the first one you ever got for me?"

"Yes!" he said, firmly.

"Do you promise it will get hard for me again?"

Again he heard something in her voice that demanded he be sensitive. The problem was that being sensitive - like this - was frowned upon.

"Probably," he caged. "I can't promise, but if I know me ... and I do ... then it will probably happen again."

"And do you promise to tell me if it does?"

"Erica, why would you want to know that? I'm old enough to be your dad."

"My dad isn't here anymore. You're old enough to be my uncle, but I don't care. You made me feel good today, Uncle Bob. Thank you."

Finally, she let go of his penis. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly on the lips. It was a much longer, much more passionate kiss than she'd ever given him before. When she pulled away she licked her lips.

"That was kind of nice, too. Why haven't we done this before?"

"Because the world hadn't gone crazy before," he sighed.

"Want me to help you put it away?" she offered, eagerly.

"No! I can take care of that myself," he said, hastily.

"Okay," she said, happily. "Thank you. I'm going to go, now. Mom's probably looking for me. I left in kind of a bad mood. But I feel much better now. You made me feel tons better."

And with that she ran for the door, leaping like a young fawn.

He was left with his pants around his ankles and his erection as hard as ever.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hey. Why has it been so long since I've seen you?" asked Julie. "I'm starting to feel like I don't actually have a brother-in-law."

"I'm not staying away on purpose," said Bob into his phone. "I guess things just happen and I don't come around as often."

"So can you come to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Sure. Want me to bring anything?"

"Nope, just your handsome self. Oh, and thank you, by the way."

"You're most welcome. What did I do?"

"You worked some kind of magic with Erica yesterday. I meant to call you and ask you what you did. When she left the house she was in so foul a mood I was sure it would last a week. Then she came home all bubbly and happy and glowing and when I asked her what happened, she said you happened. I was so happy she was in a better mood that I just hugged her and said I was glad she'd gone to see you. So how do you do that?"

"I don't do anything," said Bob. "All we did was sit around and talk."

"Would you be violating any pact of secrecy if you told me what got her panties in a wad in the first place?"

"No," said Bob. "It was just about boys ... er … men."

"I was afraid of that," moaned Julie. "She's always had problems with boys and there wasn't anything I could do about it to help her."

"Yup," said Bob. "I don't envy you."

"Well, whatever you did, and don't realize you did, it meant a lot to her. She's baking you a pie."

"Really?"

"Yes. Strawberry rhubarb. She's made dire threats to her brothers about what will happen to them in their sleep if they get into it. She says it's strictly for you."

"Strawberry rhubarb has been my favorite since Paul and I were kids. It's been a long time since I had pie," he said. "In fact, it might have been years."

"It was six months after Paul died," said his sister. "I made one to thank you for everything you'd done for us."

"So, haven't I been helpful since then?" he hinted.

"You have, but that was also Paul's favorite pie and I get a little weepy whenever I make it. That's one of the first things your mother taught me when we got engaged. The only reason you're getting one tomorrow is because Erica insisted I teach her how to make it. Actually, I should thank you for that, too. Helping her make one wasn't as bad as doing it by myself. You motivated her and it helped me, too."

"I'm always happy to help two damsels in distress," said Bob.

"See you at six tomorrow night. Come early if you want. I love you."

"I love you, too," said Bob.

After they hung up Bob sat and thought about things. Obviously Erica hadn't told her mother the details of how Uncle Bob made her feel better. It also sounded like her mood was upbeat and happy. That suggested that the girl wasn't traumatized by what had happened. He mused about this new relationship he had with his niece. She would be looking for feedback from him about her attractiveness. She wanted that feedback ... needed that feedback. And he was quite sure he'd be able to give it to her.

The issue was how to do that without alerting anyone else that he was doing it.

He didn't worry about having to manufacture interest. After yesterday he was pretty sure any time he was around her, he'd be ... interested. He didn't have any idea how he'd communicate that to her. He couldn't just whisper in her ear that she'd given him another boner every time that happened. People would notice all the whispering.

He was thinking of codes he could use, like touching one finger to the side of his nose, when the phone rang again. It was one of his clients, who had a problem with his website and needed Bob to troubleshoot it.

Erica and boners and codes were forgotten as he got to work.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bob was a little worried, when he went to supper the next night, that Erica would give something away by her behavior towards him.

Other than a somewhat lingering kiss on the lips when he got there, though, she didn't act any differently than she had in the past. Chad was out with his friends, as usual, and the twins were glued to the video game monitor in their room when he got there. Julie was in the kitchen, so nobody saw the kiss.

Dinner was completely normal, so much so that Bob began to think maybe he'd hallucinated the whole thing with Erica examining his cock. It wasn't until he was getting ready to leave that something happened. The boys had retreated to their rooms and Bob had helped Julie clean up after supper. At the end of that Erica appeared, wearing her sleepwear, and said, innocently, "Will you tuck me in before you go, Uncle Bob?" Julie just smiled.

Once in her room, Erica's behavior changed substantially.

"Did you get a boner for me since you got here?" she whispered.

"I did not," he said, in a dignified voice.

"Awww, why not?" she asked.

"The occasion for you to act sexy and get me going just didn't happen," he said. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure it will happen a few dozen times before you go to college."

"What would it take right now?" she asked.

He looked at her and decided he'd give her a shot in the arm.

"You're worried that your boobs are too small, right?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Let me see them," he whispered.

Her eyes widened, but she grasped the hem of her PJ top and pulled it up to expose two nice swells of breast flesh. They had puffy nipples on them that were the same color as the quarter-sized areolas that comprised about half of them.

Bob licked his lips.

"Gorgeous," he said, softly.

"Really?"

"I want to kiss them and suck them," he sighed.

"Uncle Bob!" she whispered anxiously.

"Well, you wanted to see my dick," he said. "Why wouldn't I want to play with your beautiful little boobs?"

She blinked about five times, still holding her PJ top up.

"Okay," she said in a gush of air.

Now it was his turn to blink.

"Really?"

"It will feel good ... right?"

"I hope so," he said.

"Okay. Do it!"

"Get in bed. Have the covers ready to pull up to your chin," he said.

She scrambled into bed and arranged herself as he had instructed, with her breasts still exposed.

He leaned down, but kissed her on the lips, first. Only then did he move his lips to her nipples. He had to suck hard to get anything in his mouth because she was so flat. She gasped when he did that, and arched her back.

"Oh fuck!" she yipped, softly.

He lifted his lips and said, "You owe the swear jar five dollars."

"It's not my fault!" she said. "You surprised me."

"I would hope so," he said. "I hope nobody has ever done that to you before."

"Nobody has ever even touched them before," she breathed. "Do it again, please?"

He nursed at both nipples, alternating back and forth. He found his hand stroking her abdomen and stopped it from dipping lower. She hummed and whispered about how good it felt. Then he moved to her lips again and kissed her long and hard.

"You have given me a boner, little girl," he said, softly.

Her hand shot to the front of his pants to find and squeeze his bulge.

"I love you so much, Uncle Bob," she sighed. "I can't wait until you can tuck me in again."

"If I start showing up to tuck you in all the time your mother is going to get suspicious," he said.

"Then I'll come mow your lawn and you can tuck me in at your house," she said.

"That's probably not a good idea," he said. "If I start tucking you in at my house, I'm going to want to do a lot more. You have no idea how sexy you can be, Erica."

"We'll see. What you did tonight makes me think I might want to do more, too."

"We can't go too far, Baby," he whispered.

"I know. We won't. But you can make me feel good and maybe you can teach me how to make you feel good, too. That will be enough for me."

He didn't argue. He adjusted his cock in his pants so his erection wouldn't show and just stuck his face into the living room where Julie was sitting, watching TV.

"Thanks. We need to do this more often," he said.

"You are correct about that," she said. "Don't be such a stranger."

"I won't."

"I love you," she said.

He felt the odd sensation of his cock jumping as the mother of the girl who'd given him an erection said the same thing the girl had.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As he left, he wondered how Julie was dealing with her own sexual needs. He knew she didn't date, which was a bit of a mystery because she was good looking. Erica hadn't gotten her female attributes from her mother. Julie had big, (probably) firm breasts and wide hips. Of course she'd given birth to four kids and breastfed them all. Even the twins hadn't been able to milk her dry. He only knew that because she complained about it, saying they got sore sometimes from being overfull. She was cheerful and had a great personality, too. Bob was sure men had approached her. But she didn't go out with them. Maybe she had a big, fat dildo. Or maybe she had a secret boyfriend on the side, maybe a guy at work.

On his way home his mind tried to figure out how a passenger on a hurtling train could do something to slow it down.

When he got home he lay on his bed and stroked his cock slowly.

The problem was, the woman in his mind kept shifting from Erica to Julie and back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two days later was Saturday. Erica showed up at nine in the morning, which was when Bob had just gotten out of bed. She didn't knock at the front door, and she didn't knock on his open bedroom door, either. He was yawning and stretching as she wandered into his bedroom. He slept nude, so Erica got exactly what she'd come for ... sort of.

"It's all soft!" she squealed.

Bob jumped and opened his eyes, which had closed during his languid stretch.

Erica came closer and bent over to examine the faulty body part.

"I don't like it when it's soft," she observed. "It looks like one of those sea slugs you see on the Nature Channel."

"I don't watch the Nature Channel," growled Bob. "Of course it doesn't stay hard all the time. It would be dangerous if it did."

"Really? Why?" asked Erica in a chipper voice. She was now examining the rest of her uncle, walking around him like he was a manikin, wearing clothes she was interested in. Except he wasn't wearing clothes. She reached to touch his butt cheek with one finger and pushed, gently. Now it seemed he was a strange vegetable or fruit of some kind and she was testing it for ripeness.

"Stop that!" he barked. "You can't just come over here anytime you want to … explore."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice still happy.

"Okay … well ... what if I had a woman here?"

"A woman? Who?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. What if I met a woman I liked and brought her home and we slept together?"

"I'd hate her," said Erica. Now her voice wasn't so friendly.

"Why? You can't hate some stranger just because I decided to sleep with her!"

"Of course I can," said Erica. "Would you be happy if I brought some boy here and let him climb on top of me and have sex with me?"

"That's totally different, Erica," groaned Bob. "Not the same at all. Apples and oranges. I'm much older and you still have college ahead of you."

"I'm eighteen," she argued. "That makes me an adult. I have a driver's license and I can vote." She stuck her jaw out.

"You still live at home with your mother," he argued back. "She would not be excited about you just deciding to start having sex!"

"It doesn't matter," she sniffed. "I don't want to have sex." She frowned. "Especially with you!"

The world shifted a little as Bob's mind tried to make sense of the "conversation" they were having. How had him having sex with another consenting adult and her not having sex at all come around to her emphatically saying she didn't want to have sex with him?

"Of course you won't have sex with me," he said, wondering if that was the right response.

"You are just so … stupid!" she yelled.

Then as swiftly as she had arrived, she stomped out of his house. She didn't even close the front door.

Chapter Three

It took Bob maybe ten minutes, as he got dressed and popped a bagel into the toaster, to parse out what he thought was going on with his niece. In less than a week she had gone from "Nobody loves me or ever will" to "My uncle gets boners for me and sucks my nipples and I love it!" He could see how that might skew a young girl's perspective. He didn't question his own sexual interest in her. He was a man. Men noticed cute women, regardless of age. And regardless of familial relationship. That's why he had thought about Julie, too. Granted Julie was only his "sister" by marriage, but he still felt like it was wrong. He'd had a couple of hot fantasies about her when his brother was dating her, and that had felt wrong, too. But the fact was that it didn't matter that one of them was voluptuous while the other was practically board-flat. The major component of his interest wasn't their physical sexual attributes, it was who they were; what their personalities were like. Of course the attributes they did display were also important, even if they were opposites of each other.

Basically, Bob decided that his niece had a crush on him, and that was why she was acting so strange.

He didn't see this as a real problem. Girls got crushes and they got over them when they got a crush on a different man, right?

The problem was the image she'd put in his head about some man being on top of her with his penis violating her virgin pussy.

That's what it would be, as far as he was concerned: a violation. And he didn't like that image at all.

It never occurred to him that a man could have a crush on an eighteen-year-old girl, too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He was mowing his lawn when Erica appeared again. She stalked up to him and pushed him away from the handle of the mower.

"I'll do that," she announced. "You're supposed to call me when you want this done."

He stood back as she tried to push the mower. It had drive wheels in the front that had to be engaged by pulling a lever. If you didn't do that, the front wheels didn't want to turn and the mower was difficult to push. She was still distracted enough - by what, he didn't know - that she didn't pull the lever. He let her strain and grunt for half a minute before he stepped forward and pointed to the lever.

"You have to pull that, remember?" he yelled, over the noise of the engine.

She did and the mower lurched forward. He watched her for two or three minutes and then went back inside.

Half an hour later the noise of the mower stopped.

Again she entered the house without knocking or ringing the bell. It was July, and she was dripping and red-faced when she found him.

"I need a shower," she said.

"There are two at your house," he commented.

"I don't want to walk there in the heat," she said. "I'll use yours."

Then she calmly took her clothes off - all of them - and handed them to him in a bunch.

"Would you be a good uncle and wash those for me? I didn't bring anything to change into."

"Erica," he sighed. "You can't just wander around my house naked while I wash your clothes."

"I won't be wandering around," she said. "I'll be in the shower."

He knew arguing wouldn't do any good so he shrugged and turned to go to the utility room, where the washer and dryer were.

When he got her clothes in the washer and got it going, he heard the shower running. He had two showers, too.

She'd chosen the one in the master bath ... just off his bedroom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

What messed with Bob's mind were the images he couldn't get out of his head of a young girl, whose nipples he had sucked, and whose abdomen he had stroked, being naked in his shower. The images were of her running her hands over her body, stroking herself everywhere ... including between her legs. Her shower was long enough that she had time to have washed the sweat off her body two or three times. But she stayed in there.

What was she doing?

The answer, to his testosterone-fogged mind, was obvious.

She was masturbating in his shower.

He found that he was erect. The images in his mind had taken care of that.

And, like most men, Bob began thinking with his little brain in his scrotum, instead of the big one in his head.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Not having any idea how long it would take an eighteen-year-old girl to get herself off in the shower, Bob thought he might have time to make his prick soft before she got out and he had to confront her again. If he'd thought about it, he might have realized that thirty minutes was enough.

The problem was that Erica wasn't masturbating in the shower. She just liked standing there with the water hitting her head as she tried to decide what to do to make her uncle see that he was acting like a dufus. The reason she stood there for so long was that she couldn't come up with a plan to do what she wanted to do.

When she finally turned off the water and left the shower, there were no towels on the towel racks in his bathroom. She left the bathroom and entered his bedroom, still dripping, with a mission to find him and get a towel.

What she found, in his bedroom, was Uncle Bob, with his pants around his thighs, lying on his bed, whaling away at his stiff penis as he tried to milk it of its sap.

"Now this is interesting," she commented, leaning, against the open bathroom doorway.

"Fuuuck," groaned Bob, as he realized she had caught him.

"You owe the swear jar five dollars," she said. "And I believe that's called jacking off," she added. "Right? I mean I've never seen a guy doing that before, but I've seen people making that motion when they talk about it."

Her hand mimicked what she'd seen his doing.

"Want some help?" she asked, brightly. "I hear guys love it when a girl does that to them."

Bob's hand had frozen at her comment, gripping his cock firmly. Then it had dropped away, leaving his penis jutting obscenely in front of his niece. He looked at the naked girl, who wasn't dripping so much any longer. She did not, in fact, need a towel, really, except to dry her hair. His eyes zeroed in on the cleft between her legs. She had some pubic hair, but it looked like practice hair, really. It was just a light fuzz and her split was clearly visible to his eyes. His brain told him that split was where her fingers had been rubbing, so recently, in the shower. The fact that she had not rubbed there didn't matter. His cock clenched as "it" saw the object of its desire. To his cock, her pussy was fully grown and ready to host a pushy invader. There's a saying, probably made up by a penis, which goes: The only way to tell whether you're fucking a teenager or a grandma is to open your eyes.

"Fuuuuck," groaned Bob again. Things just weren't going his way.

Erica took that groan as a "Fuuuck, yes," and she padded to the edge of the bed. Since nothing was holding his penis, she reached to remedy that. Again her hand mimicked his, but this time that hand had a penis in it.

Just like that, Erica was jacking off her first male.

The male involved wasn't able to resist allowing this to continue. The train was rocking now, careening wildly down the tracks, and all he could do was hold on. His self-control had suffered one too many hits and lay gasping somewhere inside his mind. His little brain said, "All right! Now this is what I'm talking about! Balls! Listen up! I'm gonna need something to calm me down in about thirty seconds. You're almost up, boys!"

Bob marveled at how an innocent girl could learn how to do this so quickly and so expertly. All she needed was one little instruction.

"Speed up a little," he gasped.

She did.

She wasn't ready for the ramification of her efforts.

She was still jerking it when it went off without warning. Suddenly strings of white fluid started spraying all over the place. It went on the bed, and on him, and one stripe of the stuff landed on her, from her cheek to her hip, going across the arm of the hand that had produced all this.

"Ooooo!" she yipped, finally letting go of the thing that had felt so good in her hand. Her fingers slid through the warm line on her body and she brought her fingertips up so she could examine them.

"So this is semen ... right?" she asked, calmly.

"Right," he panted. "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry? Isn't that what's supposed to happen when a guy jacks off?"

"Well yeah, but I didn't warn you."

"True. Next time do that. I missed some of it because I was so surprised."

'Next time,' thought Bob. His heart was still beating fast. It had felt so good to have her hand sliding along his prong.

He suddenly knew that there would be a next time, and her eagerness to experience these things convinced him that things would escalate.

"I'm sooo horny," she moaned, proving his assumption. Again, suddenly, he knew that, as the Borg were known for saying, resistance would be futile.

"I know something that will help," he said, softly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Erica lay where her uncle had so recently lain, while her hand had done something she was astonished it was doing. Everything about it had been astonishing. Seeing his big, naked penis had been astonishing. Holding and stroking it had been astonishing. Seeing it spurt had been astonishing.

Now she felt something else astonishing as his lips sucked at her sensitive nipples, and one of his fingers probed deeply inside her, making her feel like she might explode in a million pieces. When he'd probed with his finger her legs had sprung apart, whether by design or instinct. As his finger gently penetrated her, seeking and then not finding a hymen before sliding all the way in her, all she felt was "Yes! This is right!"

"Ohhhh, yes," she panted, as his finger moved, sending zings of happiness through her whole body. "Please don't stop!"

Bob had no intention of stopping. He aimed to give her the mother of all orgasms. His reticence was gone, at least insofar as trying to avoid this new kind of relationship with his niece. He knew he couldn't fuck her, of course. That would be too much ... be going too far. But he could banish that pesky adolescent horny grip on her body. He sensed that she was about to tumble over the cliff into a new kind of climax. As she did, and her body arched, he abandoned her stiff little nips and moved to kiss her lips. Her hands came to grip his hair almost painfully and her passion exploded and her pussy pulsed around his finger and her lips returned his kiss savagely. He was pretty sure she had never kissed a man like this, but instinct and ardor gave her skills she wasn't even aware she was displaying.

He pulled his finger from her suddenly sticky quim and he used the flat of three fingers to just rub her vulva. He kept his finger off her over-sensitized clit and lessened the pressure on her lips. He turned to short, repeated nips at her lips as her breath rushed in and out.

Finally he moved his hand to her hip and let it lay there.

"Feel better?" he whispered.

"Oh, man, Uncle Bob," she panted. "That was unbelievable. I wanted it to go on and on."

"You can have that again," he said, altering in mid-thought from, "You can have that whenever you want."

He realized his penis was trying to stiffen again, but his previous orgasm made it behave.

"But this really needs to be for special occasions," he warned.

"Every day is going to be a special occasion," she sighed.

"No. This can't become routine. This is actually called foreplay, and its purpose is to encourage more dangerous things."

"Like sex?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"There was a minute there where if you'd said you were going to fuck me, I'd have let you," she said.

"Five dollars," he said, smiling.

"What else should I call it?" she complained.

"When two people love each other, they make love," he said.

"I do love you," she said.

"Yes, and I love you, which is precisely why we can't make love. Not all the way. We made a little love just now, but that's all we can do."

"I know that," she said, "but you don't have to worry. I'll be happy doing just that for as long as I live."

"That's not how nature works," he said, moving his hand from her naked hip to her flat belly. "Nature wants this beautiful flat tummy of yours to swell up with a baby inside it."

"Yes, but that will be years and years from now," she said. "Until then we can do what we just did and everything will be fine."

He shook his head but didn't argue. There were teachable moments in their future, moments in which he could say, "Would you let me put it in you right now?" Her answer would be "Yes!" and he'd stop and let her cool down. She'd need that kind of knowledge, experience, and control when boys did start asking her out; when she found out that lots of boys would think she was sexy ... fuckable. They'd try to break her down, get her going, and get her under them. Maybe he could teach her how to avoid that until she was actually ready for it.

Bob's heart was in the right place. His two brains, large and small, warred with each other, but his intent was to protect his niece, not molest her. The complication was that, in his past, Nature had led him to the point of making love many times. The problem was he'd never met a woman who he wanted to fertilize, or who wanted to have his baby. He'd never been with a woman he was in love with. In some ways he was just as much a virgin as she was. Nature had never gripped his throat and told him to keep going until she got what she wanted - procreation!

While the ride was wild, Bob was quite sure the train would not derail. He thought he could keep everything under control. He thought he could pay attention only to the tip of the iceberg his niece had become.

And, to be fair, Erica felt the same way.

Mother Nature just smiled.

She had time. The girl was only eighteen, and wasn't going anywhere.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Julie had been raising children for half her life. Dealing with the boys had become almost routine. Her daughter, on the other hand, had never been "normal" in the sense that she wanted to do girly things. She'd never been interested in dolls, though she fiercely loved several stuffed animals. She'd never wanted to be a princess. She'd emulated her brothers, in terms of trying to stay as naked as possible when she was a toddler. She'd gone around the house topless, just like her brothers in fact, until she had her first period and Julie realized her baby was becoming a young woman. Julie had made the young woman begin to dress like a girl, but it hadn't seemed to make any difference to her behavior. Erica's role models were boys, and she adopted a boy-like demeanor.

Erica viewed her mother much differently than Julie would have believed. Erica was painfully aware that she only had half of the parents she was supposed to have. The memories of her dad all centered around when she was between six and ten, and those were becoming misty. One thing she remembered clearly was that he and her mother were like two fingers on the same hand. She thought of her mother like an emotional amputee, who was missing a very important part of her body. Her brothers didn't seem to be aware of this, and blundered through life without a care in the world.

Erica, however, saw her mother as injured, and as a woman who was forever trying to heal from a devastating wound.

Erica had her own wound. Her wound was that, while her chronological age matched that of her female friends, the way boys treated her was completely different. Even some of the girls made fun of her flat chest and lack of hips. Mean girls called her "dude" and the inference was clear. In the changing room at the pool she saw what girls her age were supposed to look like. She also saw what women looked like naked, and almost all of them had boobs and pubic hair and just looked ... female. She didn't compare them to her mother, who she never saw naked. Julie, with three teenage boys in the house, always covered up. She even wore a one-piece swim suit that was the very definition of modest.

Part of the confusion Erica endured was because she knew her mother was pretty, and that men must be interested in her. But her mother seemed to think acting like a nun was the way to go. Erica, on the other hand, wanted boys to notice her. She wanted a life like that of her friends, who did things with boys, things that sounded interesting, even exciting.

Her recent experiences with Uncle Bob only confirmed in her mind that getting noticed by a man would be fantastically fun. She didn't have any specific man in mind - yet - but that was okay because what had happened with Uncle Bob had been so amazing and so fulfilling that it was like eating too much. When you did that you leaned back in your chair, or crashed on the couch, and weren't interested in eating even one more bite, even if the food sitting around looked good. Uncle Bob had filled her up, and she wasn't interested - yet - in pursuing a relationship like that with any other male.

All this changed Erica in multiple ways. The boost in her self-confidence was the most visible, and it was something Julie noticed immediately.

Her problem was that she had no idea why it had happened. She was happy about it, of course. Erica and she never seemed to have girl-to-girl talks, but she still knew her daughter. Now she knew something had happened that made Erica perk up. It put a bounce in her step that wasn't athletic. She smiled more. She was less argumentative with her brothers.

She was just happier than she had been.

Julie's attitude about this was not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was hard enough raising three teenage boys, two of whom seemed determined to plot against her. She had thought her experience with raising Chad would make dealing with the twins easier, but the opposite seemed to be true. The twins seemed to live in their own little world, into which she was only allowed when it suited them. Granted, they obeyed her. They were just distant. Erica had been distant, too, and moody.

Now, though, she bounced into the house, hugged her mother briefly, and said, "I love you, Mom."

Then she was off to her room where, when Julie peeked in, she was wearing headphones and dancing to music only she could hear.

"Whatever it is, I hope it keeps happening," said Julie, under her breath.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As far as Erica went, she was satisfied with her new relationship with Uncle Bob. Her emotional attachment to him had strengthened, of course. She felt a warm glow in her belly whenever she thought about what had happened, but she didn't dwell on it. In most respects, her life had changed only a little. She thought about her brothers a little differently, but that was mostly Chad, because he went on dates every week and spent time alone with girls. She wondered, idly, if Chad did to those girls what Uncle Bob had done to her, but she didn't really care about that all that much. The twins only went on dates rarely, and always together with whatever girls went with them. In some cases it was only one girl who went on a date with them.

Everyone in the family would have been astonished had they known that the twins were not virgins. They had lost their virginity to a girl named Vanessa Simms, who they took bowling one night and who, after that, had suggested they spend some time on a blanket in a farmer's field a few miles outside of town. Vanessa, who thought banging twins would be exciting, happily encouraged both boys to fuck her and each of the twins went twice, excitedly spurting in her hot depths. Vanessa had gone out with them again, this time bringing her friend, Judy Brockham, and again the twins went twice, once with each girl.

Oddly, perhaps, neither those girls nor those boys formed any romantic associations. For the girls, it may have been just the novelty of doing it with twins. It may have been that fact that caused the girls to draw back. Having sex was fun, but they hoped to snare boyfriends out of the deal and the twins didn't reciprocate. The girls moved on to other potential mates and the twins resumed masturbation sessions that were almost as good as the real thing.

Chad wasn't a virgin, either, but again, he wasn't interested in a serious girlfriend. His attention was fixed on a career as a Marine, like his dad. He wanted to get some college in, first, so he could be an officer and he figured there would be plenty of girls after that. He, too, masturbated a lot.

Julie knew her boys masturbated. The evidence was found in underwear or socks left in the laundry hampers. That sticky, crusty discharge was impossible to miss. If they had done their own laundry, they'd have noticed it, too, but they were oblivious. That left little Erica, who had never expressed interest in boys or dating. Girls don't leave plain evidence of masturbation, but Julie would never have believed her daughter did that. That was fine with Julie, who knew boys were destined to sow their wild oats. She just didn't want any boys sowing them in her daughter. She hoped Erica would remain disinterested in boys - and the things boys liked to do with girls - until she was out of college with a degree and a good job. Maybe by then Erica would have come to her for advice about boys.

Of them all, it was Bob who was the most affected by the changes in his life. The memory of Erica, naked, splayed on his bed, her legs open and kicking as she was finger-fucked to orgasm, made his dick stiff several times a day. Suddenly, pursuing, wooing, and convincing a woman to go to bed with him seemed like more work than it was worth. Erica was eager, and now he wanted her to be eager.

Bob was eager, too.

And that is why he kept finding things around the house that he could hire his niece to come take care of.

The next thing was power washing the outside of the house. He called and Julie picked up the phone.

"Hey, beautiful," he said. "Can I hire your daughter to power wash my house?"

"Do you think she can handle that?" asked Julie.

"Sure. It's easy. I'm just too lazy to do it myself," he said. "I used to hire Chad to do these things but he's too busy."

"Yes, and we couldn't pry the twins away from their video games long enough to do that," said Julie. "She's in her bedroom. Let me ask her."

There was a pause, after which Julie returned to the phone.

"She said she'll do it, but it will cost you," said Julie.

"Payment is no issue," said Bob.

"Don't let her gouge you," said Julie.

Bob thought about how his fingers would likely end up gouging his niece.

"I'm sure she'll accept a reasonable fee," said Bob. "I have lots of little projects and I'll tell her if she wants to do them she has to give me a good price."

"Okay, good," said Julie. "You must handle her with a firm hand."

"Roger, dodger, over and out," said Bob, as he felt his cock thicken. He was thinking of ways a firm hand might help his niece orgasm.

"I'll send her over this afternoon, okay?" said Julie.

"Perfect," said Bob.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Erica arrived wearing a T shirt that the sleeves had been cut off of. It was a hand-me-down from Chad. Beneath that were cutoff jeans shorts and tennis shoes.

Immediately Erica stripped off the shoes, shirt, and shorts, to reveal a bikini that was white with blue, pink, and yellow blossoms on it.

"Mom said I'd probably get wet and suggested I wear this," she said.

"You look delicious," said Bob. He held up one finger. "Work first, and then play."

"Who says I want to play?" teased Erica. This new feeling that a man was interested in her still sent shivers down her spine. She had viewed coy behavior, though, and trying some of that on Uncle Bob was fun.

"I can always get a date with a hot woman who wants to play," he teased in return.

She went to him and threw her arms around his neck.

"They won't power wash your house," she said, before she kissed him on the lips.

"We'll see how good a job you do," he said. "Then we can talk about your … compensation."

"I have to have some money to take home," she said.

"Oh, you will. But it's the tip you're really working for." He smiled and kissed her like she'd just kissed him.

It took an hour and a half for her to circle the house, with Bob helping by handling the machine and hose. When they finished, they were both soaked by the overspray. Once the machine had been put away and they were back in the cool of the house, Bob said, "Give me your suit and I'll toss it in the dryer."

Erica stripped with no sign of reluctance or shame. She stood, proudly, holding out her wet suit to him and felt that warm ball in her stomach when his eyes raked her from toes to head. He didn't take her suit, though. He took his own shirt and shorts off, revealing a very stiff penis to her.

"See what you do to me?" he complained.

"I know how to make that soft," she said.

He took her suit from her hand, hurried to the dryer and got it going, and then returned to find her missing.

He located her on his bed, legs and arms thrown wide. He looked at her cute, almost hairless pussy.

"I have a new thing to make you feel good," he said.

"Okay," she said, without question.

He crawled on the bed, reached under her skinny butt and lifted it as he pressed his face to her sex.

"Uncle Bob!" she squealed. "I pee down there!"

He had just licked her from perineum to the top of her split, using the flat of his tongue. He looked up at her astonished face.

"You're not peeing right now. Please don't until I'm finished."

Then he went back and stiffened his tongue, making a spear of it and repeating his licking action. His stiffened tongue split her lips, dug briefly into her vaginal mouth, and ended up gliding across her clit. She made noises that were not words, and her hips bounced up off the bed.

Then he commenced to feast on her pussy, licking, sucking, and nipping with his teeth, as she went to a place she had no idea even existed.

Her hands beat on the covers on the bed. Her legs alternated between stiffening to the sides and upwards, moving constantly, pounding the bed with her heels, and wrapping around his neck and shoulders.

The first orgasm hit her before she was ready for it. She was still trying to deal with the initial sensations of getting her pussy expertly eaten. The orgasm pounced on her and she cried out. Bob kept going and didn't give her any rest until her heard her wail two more times. Then he kissed and licked his way up to her breasts, where he paused while he fisted his prick and used it to split, rub, and maul her vulva just as his tongue had.

He wanted to slide it in her, but he had enough self-control not to. Instead he stroked his cock, and knew that he'd cum very soon. Again he felt the strong urge to slip it in her, just a little, just to see what she'd do. In his mind she liked it and asked for more, until he was all the way in her molten grip. It was that thought that put him over the top and he lifted to watch as his spunk painted her pussy lips, sparse pubes, and stomach. One spurt went clear between her breasts. She lifted her own head to watch as the warm stuff coated her body.

No words were exchanged. She would have liked to have her hand on it when it shot off like that, but there was plenty of time later for that. For now she just enjoyed the intimacy of his fluid on her body. It wasn't "icky" in any way, shape, or form. It was part of him, and he was welcome on her body anytime.

He fell sideways and closed his eyes, which was why he didn't see her hand slide through the mess he'd left on her mons, and her fingers push up inside her, carrying his sperm with it.

Chapter Four

Erica wasn't trying to coax another orgasm from her tired pussy. All she was doing was feeling good. She didn't think about the danger of pushing his sperm into her body.

She heard a snort from beside her and turned to find him breathing deeply.

"Uncle Bob?" she whispered.

Nothing. He was asleep.

She got up and went to the master bathroom, where she hopped in the shower and efficiently got herself clean.

Then she went to the dryer and opened it. Her suit was still damp, but she put it on anyway. She planned to walk home in just her bikini. It would finish drying on the way.

She looked in on her uncle before she left. He lay there, arms and legs akimbo, with his penis now soft and leaning drunkenly to one side. She hadn't liked it the first time she'd seen it soft, but that had changed. Now she liked that look. She felt like she was responsible for knocking him out.

On the way home she tried to remember what his mouth felt like on her pussy. It had happened so fast! And it had been such a wild ride!

She decided she'd get him to do that again, when she could pay attention to what was happening and be able to remember all the details.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the next month Erica did, indeed, get Uncle Bob to lick and suck her tender pussy again. When he ran out of things for her to come do to "earn money," she began coming up with her own ideas. The elm tree in the back yard needed to be trimmed, because the limbs were hanging down too low. The latch on the gate that went to the alley was rusty and needed to be wire-brushed and painted. There were some stains on his driveway that were unsightly. His gutters had been neglected. The flagstones that led to an old vegetable garden weren't level and there were weeds between them in the cracks. The old vegetable garden itself was full of weeds. Between the two of them they managed to come up with at least three things a week that required Erica go help him.

He did pay her for these little jobs and chores. Her savings account was benefiting from all this just as much as her self-image was. And her self-image was now quite healthy. No longer did she feel that she wasn't feminine enough, or pretty enough, or curvy enough. Bob was so interested in each and every part of her that it was impossible for her not to feel good about how at least one man went gaga over her.

He kissed and licked every inch of her skin, including her toes. He waited until she got out of the shower one time and made her get onto all fours on the bed, with her head on the covers and her ass high up in the air. Then he shocked her by prying her butt cheeks apart and licking her anus. When she squealed, rolled, and kicked at him, he was on her like a lion, telling her that every part of her was yummy. He managed to get a fingertip in her rectum before she begged him to stop and he could hear in her voice that she meant it. She had heard about girls being made to 'take it up the butt' and the thought of that both nauseated and scared her. Erica would never relax about anal attention he gave her, either, even though all he ever did after that was run his fingertip over her bud during a lovemaking session.

Most of the projects took an hour or less, to be honest, but she was always gone from home for at least two hours and sometimes longer. Part of that was because showers became a staple of her routine of working for him, even when she didn't actually get sweaty while she was working on a project. It was possible for something other than sweat to make her need a shower. She was now an expert at gripping his hard cock and expertly manipulating it until it gave up its silvery, warm treasure. Along the way to gaining that expertise, her remembrance of how his semen felt on her skin caused her to aim his spurting penis at her naked body. Then she'd take a shower and flop on the bed with her legs apart and complain that she was horny.

The invitation was obvious, and Bob used his mouth on her routinely, now. The first few times, when it was so obvious what she wanted, he teased her, taking his time. Once he told her a fairy tale, in which a little girl was grabbed by a terrible ogre, who then commenced to eat her up, except he always started between her legs, where she was the juiciest and most delicious, and he got so full that he couldn't actually eat her all up.

For a week after that, she'd fall onto the bed, open her legs and whine, "Eat me all up, mister horrible ogre. Eat me all up!"

It was on a day when she actually did get sweaty and actually did need a shower, that Bob got in with her. This was a new thing and she loved having his soapy hands rub all over her. When she began to return the favor, and her hands got to his soapy dick, she knelt so she could look at it as she rubbed her hand all over his cock and balls.

He moved so that his body took the brunt of the spray and didn't hit her face.

"Don't you shoot it in my eyes," she said, looking up at him.

"Suck it," he said, on impulse.

She stared at him. She'd thought about this a number of times, but he'd never asked her to do that and she'd never felt like it would be fun.

Now he had asked. No ... not asked. Ordered ... actually.

"Do I have to?" she asked, her voice high.

"Of course not," he groaned.

"Uncle Bob!" she yelped. "You're supposed to tell me I have to!"

"Why would I do that?" he asked, in real confusion. "I'll never make you do anything you don't want to do."

"I didn't say I didn't want to do it," she said, still fisting his prick. "It's just kind of ... I don't know ... not icky, exactly. Because it's yours I'll never think of it as icky. I guess I would just feel better if I was following your instructions."

"Erica, you don't have to suck my dick if you don't want to," he said, patiently.

She looked at the bare head of his penis. She leaned forward to kiss it, briefly. Then she sat back on her haunches.

"I do want to ... sort of," she said.

"Sort of?"

"It's hard to explain. It's like how I wish you could put it in me and make love to me like a real woman."

"What?" he gasped.

"Don't freak out. I'm not going to try to get you to do that. I just dream about it sometimes."

"Really?"

"It's no big deal. I've also dreamed that I could marry you and live with you and have children with you, but I know it's just a dream. I know it will never happen, but it's fun to think about sometimes. I think putting my mouth on it has always been like that, too."

"You've dreamed of putting your mouth on it?"

"No, not like that. I just know you'd like it, that it would make you feel good, and you make me feel so good I always want to make you feel good, too."

"But, for some reason you can't explain, you want me to order you to suck my dick," he said.

Again she leaned forward to bestow a little kiss on the tip of his prick before looking up at him.

"Yeah," she said, softly.

"You're sure about this?" he queried.

Erica's Passion

Lubrican

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