Niece's Passion

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | Epilogue

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 had felt like on her sexual opening. 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.

Perhaps more importantly she now thought of herself as a sexual being. It was strange, but also exciting. When she had gotten out of the shower she had examined herself in the mirror. The image she saw looking back at her was no different than it had ever been. She didn't look any different. But she felt completely unlike the girl staring back at her, and the person the world viewed her as.

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 part of her, 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 almost professionally 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 don'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.

"Yeah," she said again.

"Erica … suck my dick! Put it in your mouth and suck on it like an all day lollypop. Don't take it out until I tell you to. Don't worry, I won't cum in your mouth. Not this time."

Erica looked up at him and said, "Yes, Sir, mister horrible, mean ogre."

And then she leaned forward and did exactly as he had told her to do.

Erica was astonished once again. She'd leaned forward, to be honest, because the man she loved had told her to. Her initial squick factor, as her lips slid over the purple crown, was overcome by doing what she'd been told to do. Granted, that squick factor was instinctive, rather than something thought about and adopted (there are girls who say they will never suck a boy's cock, no matter what!), but it was overcome by two things. One, he told her to do it and, two, it was Uncle Bob and she'd loved everything he'd done to and with her.

That's why she was so amazed, as her cheeks squeezed gently around the smooth, hard skin on the head of his penis, to find that it felt good in her mouth! Her tongue swirled and was just as happy with the texture it found. The momentum of her lean caused her lips to slide farther back, over the semi-rough skin of his foreskin, and onto his much softer, but still hard and bumpy, shaft. The different textures were something she was familiar with. Her hand had come to know that soft/hard shaft intimately. In her mouth it felt different, but also good. She pulled back to experience the hard, slick head again and then leaned forward to push her lips halfway down the shaft. She felt her gag reflex warn her not to go farther and she sucked hard as she pulled back.

His groan was music in her ears.

Just like that, Erica was a confirmed cock-sucker. In her later years she would love it just as much with the man she eventually married, but for half a decade Uncle Bob's was the only one she'd put in her mouth. That said, she always loved sucking Bob's cock after that day.

She loved it, in great measure, because of the noises he made, but also because it just felt great in her mouth. She cupped his big, hairy balls by instinct, and found that playing with them was also fun.

She was so engaged in this new game that, when he warned her to stop, she didn't really hear him. She did hear him bark "Erica!" but in her mind that was just him, saying her name because he was so happy. He'd groaned her name several times already. His hands on the sides of her head annoyed her, because it was clear he was trying to make her stop, and she just wasn't ready to stop, yet.

The rush of salty/semi-sweet, faintly bitter taste that suddenly flooded her mouth did get her attention. When she dragged her lips off the spurting thing, she got a shot right in the face, on her upper lip and the tip of her nose. She was holding his cock, and the weight of her hand moved it so the third and fourth shots hit her neck and upper chest.

Instinctively she knew what this was, even before she looked down and saw it paint her upper chest, and her upchuck instinct kicked in. She didn't want to throw up all over his groin, though, and she suppressed the reflex enough that all her stomach did was lurch. It was only then that the taste registered in her brain as something that wasn't bad at all. She leaned back on her haunches, still gripping his drooling cock, closed her open mouth, and swallowed.

"Baby!" groaned Bob. "I tried to warn you!"

"'S'okay," she lisped. Her tongue was exploring her mouth, which was now empty. There was plenty of taste left, though, and she marveled at how she had just gotten a mouth full of semen and wasn't freaking out. She swallowed again, but it was mostly saliva, this time. She licked her lips and looked down at the runnels of milky-white fluid between her flat breasts. It was then that she realized it was also all over her face, and she finally let go of his penis to use her hand to wipe her nose and lip off.

"You made a big mess!" she said, accusingly as she looked up at him with big eyes.

"Close your eyes," he panted.

Again, she just followed instructions, and then she felt the spray from the shower head as he moved aside and the water went directly on her kneeling body.

She stood, moving her hands over her body and washing his semen off.

Then she opened her eyes and hugged him.

"I'm sorry, Baby," he groaned.

She leaned up to kiss him on the lips.

"Don't be," she said, as she had before. "I'm not."

What evolved over the remaining month of summer was a routine between Erica and Bob that involved him giving her orgasms with his mouth and fingers, using both on her pussy and nipples. Following (usually) that, she would lovingly stroke or suck his cock until he erupted. She almost always covered the tip with her mouth when he came both because she loved the taste and because it harnessed the mess.

Julie wasn't the only person in the family who noticed the changes in her. One of the twins observed it, too. Had he simply noticed it and gone back to his video game, nothing would have changed. But the twins paid a lot more attention to things going on around them than anyone (else) thought. Robby was the one who brought up the blip on Julie's radar when he casually approached her while she was doing laundry and said, "What's up with Erica, Mom?"

Julie glanced at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"She's all bubbly and happy all the time," said Robby.

"Okay. That's a good thing, isn't it?" asked his mother.

"Well, sure, except she's too happy for some reason. I can't remember the last time she yelled at us."

"And you want her to fight with you?" Julie closed the lid, pushed the start button, and turned to give all her attention to her son. It was rare for either of the twins to start a conversation, and this one was about his sister, of all things.

"No," said Robby. "She's just acting strange. If I didn't know better I'd say she was using drugs."

Julie blinked several times.

"That's ridiculous, Robby," she replied.

"I know that," said the sixteen-year-old boy. "It's just weird, that's all."

"Robby, why do you think it's weird that your sister is happy?"

"Don't get all worked up, Mom," sighed Robby. "I just thought you might know what the deal is. Like if she got a boyfriend all of a sudden or something."

"A boyfriend," repeated Julie.

"Or something," said Robby. "She's all goofy half the time and smiling for no reason. And she's been getting into your makeup."

"Erica?" Julie snorted. "She's never said word one about using makeup."

"I know that, too. Except she is using yours when you're at work. I've seen her coming out of your room and her face looks different."

"Hmmm," said Julie. "Maybe my tomboy little girl is growing up."

"Well that's fine and all," said Robby. "But if she's running around with some boy, things could happen."

"What things, Robby?" This conversation was fascinating Julie. She'd knew the twins went out, but it wasn't often. She knew they masturbated and they were spending time alone with girls. So what was going on with them that made him think Erica might be experiencing the same thing?

"I don't know," he said, suddenly reticent. "You know what guys are like."

"What are guys like, Robby?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"You know," he said, lamely.

"Well, let's see," she said. "I know I have four children. Is that what you're talking about, Robby? What are you and Randy doing on your dates?"

Robby was now sorry he'd said anything. He and Randy had been flying under the radar for over a year, now, and they liked that just fine. There were a select number of girls who got their jollies by dating twins ... by letting loose with twins ... but it wasn't a huge number. Robby and his brother were happy if they got their pipes cleaned once a month, and since the girls they stuck their twin penises in weren't on birth control, once a month, when the girl said she was safe, was smart. He didn't want his mother taking too much interest in their system, because she could screw it up.

"Jeeze, Mom," said the boy. "We're not doing anything crazy. We just have fun. But the girls we go out with talk about what other guys want them to do on dates. That's all."

Julie peered closely at her son. She saw the evidence that most parents are capable of seeing if they just look for it. It was evidence that he was dissembling. She did know what men ... boys ... were like. Paul had gotten into her panties on their third date. She'd already known in her heart that he was the one, that he was her soul mate, and that was the only reason she let him do things other boys had been banned from doing. And they were both only a few months from being eighteen. It had taken a lot of trust and faith in him to let him impregnate her before they were actually married. Not that she'd tried to get pregnant. She just hadn't worried about it because it was Paul.

She already suspected that Chad was sexually active, but he had a good head on his shoulders, like his father had. Robby and Randy were different animals, though. She realized she hadn't been paying enough attention to them. She frowned. She hadn't been paying as much attention to Erica as she should, either. Since Erica'd been running over to Bob's all the time, Julie hadn't worried about where she was or what she was doing. She was just happy that Erica wasn't moping around all the time.

Now she thought about that, going back in her mind to that one day when Erica had been in a super foul mood, but somehow Bob had turned that around completely. What was Bob doing that made Erica so happy? She knew he was a great guy, even if he resisted finding a woman and getting married. She had even wondered, idly, if he might be gay, except he did take women out now and again, and she'd never seen him with another man in a social setting. It wouldn't have occurred to her in a hundred years that Bob might be doing something sexual with her daughter.

"What do you say we just be happy that your sister is happy?" she said.

"Sure, Mom," said Robby. "Did you wash my red jersey?

Julie also recognized the blatant attempt to change the subject. They were little clues, but now she was interested in what those clues meant.

"I just put it in the machine," she said. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Thanks. See ya."

With that the boy was off and, presumably, headed back to his room to play a video game. Julie wondered now if letting them get so involved with video games had been such a good idea. Yes, they played soccer every week, but most of their time was spent in their room. They had been eleven when their father died, and it had hit them hard, even though they didn't express it. Chad had cried for a long time, but he'd at least talked about it. Erica ... little Erica ... had only been ten. All she'd said, over and over again was, "I wish Daddy would come back home."

With a sigh, Julie bent to open the dryer and drag the dry clothes out into the laundry basket for sorting.

But while she sorted and folded ... she thought about her children ... and what they all might be up to.

It was two days later when Erica bounced up from the breakfast table and said, "I'm going to Uncle Bob's to paint today. See you later," that Julie perked up.

"You're not painting in that," said Julie, looking at the girl's white crop top and bright yellow sports shorts.

"Oh … um ... Uncle Bob said he'd let me wear one of his shirts. You know ... like an apron."

Again Julie saw a child who was dissembling and her radar went on full alert.

"Just make sure you don't get paint on your good clothes," she said.

"I won't," sang out Erica, who skipped toward the door.

Julie put down the box of cereal she'd been holding and tiptoed to the front door that her daughter had so recently slammed closed. She looked around to see if anyone was looking at her, which was silly because Chad was already gone to his summer job at the lumber yard and the twins never ate breakfast until ten or eleven in the morning. She peered through the window in the door and got a glimpse of yellow shorts heading up the street toward where Bob lived.

But was she actually going to Bob's?

Julie felt silly opening the door and trying to figure out how to follow her daughter without looking like a skulking person. Then it occurred to her that she didn't need to skulk and tail the girl. She could just go to Bob's. If Erica was there, she'd just ask to see what was being painted, as if she was just curious. If Erica wasn't there, then there would be some serious questions later, when her daughter got home.

Julie changed her plan on the way to her brother's house. She wouldn't ask about the painting. That would be too out of character for her. Instead she'd say she needed to talk to Bob. She did need to talk to him, in one sense. She was finally thinking about dating again. She was thirty-five  and there was nothing wrong with her sex drive. She had two dildos and she used them rarely, but regularly. Her sex drive had never gone away, but thinking about doing things with anyone but Paul seemed like it would dishonor his memory. Enough time had passed, though, that when she talked to him, late at night, she knew he'd want her to be happy.

Finding another man who she could feel like that about seemed unlikely, at best. It wasn't that she believed there is only one person in the world who is a match - a soul mate - for every person. She knew she could fall in love with another man. She just hadn't wanted to for all these years. Now ... maybe. Bob might actually have some insight on that, since he was still single. Of course he'd always been single, so maybe that was different. All she could do was talk to him. At least she knew he cared about her and would be truthful with her about what he was thinking.

When she got to his house she did the same thing every other member of her family did. She opened the door and walked in without knocking. Bob was a member of her extended family and there had never been any formality between them.

The scent of something cooking reached her nose and she went toward the kitchen. It smelled like something baking, possibly pie. Was Erica practicing making a pie?

"Hello?" she called out.

Nothing.

The kitchen was empty and when she peeked into the oven she saw a cake in it. A wind-up timer was sitting on top of the stove. It had thirty minutes left on it. Painting isn't a noisy pursuit, so she didn't expect to hear any voices. A look in the living room showed nobody, so she went to the hallway down which the bedrooms were. She thought they must be redoing one of the bedrooms.

She finally heard a voice, but it wasn't one she recognized. It was a female voice, she could tell that, but it was just sounds, not words. It was coming from the second room on the right. That was Bob's bedroom. The door was wide open.

Julie knew that Bob worked odd hours, and often worked from home. She had the sudden intuition that he'd brought home a woman. It was those kinds of sounds she was hearing. It had been a long time, but she still remembered making some of those sounds, herself, with Paul.

Obviously, Erica wasn't here. Julie fumed, silently. Her daughter had lied to her! Where was she and what was she doing that she'd lie to her mother about it? The woman in Bob's bedroom gave out an extra loud moan and Julie's nipples crinkled in her bra. It had been so long! She shook her head. She had things to do. She needed to figure out where her daughter had gone and what she was hiding.

"Don't stop!" squealed the woman in Bob's bedroom. Something ticked in Julie's mind. That voice sounded familiar, somehow. She'd almost turned to leave, but now curiosity dragged her toward the bedroom.

Just a peek. That's all she'd do, just peek to see if she knew the woman. She didn't judge Bob at all for screwing some woman in the middle of the day. If only he'd find a good woman - one woman - and settle down with her! That's what he needed to do. He needed to father some children. He was a handsome man, not quite as good looking as Paul, but he had a dazzling smile. She'd always liked him, even back in high school, when he was Paul's annoying little brother. To be honest, he'd never annoyed Julie, and the only reason he'd annoyed Paul was because he kept intruding on their privacy while Paul was trying to get her clothes off.

"Ohhhhhh, fuck yes," groaned the woman, as Julie got to the door.

Bob's voice came, and his words burned into her and froze her at the same time.

"You already owe the swear jar twenty dollars, Erica. You're going to end up spending everything I'm paying you."

"I told you not to stop!" said the passion-filled voice of her daughter. She recognized the tone, now. It had been different because of that passion, but it was clear as a bell, now. She gasped, drawing in a lungful of air and the paralysis that had frozen her loosened as she stepped forward. Her body filled the doorway, but the foot of the bed was facing her, so she didn't see any faces.

What she saw, and what caused her to pause again, was Bob's hairy ass, sticking up in the air. He was kneeling, and his face was quite obviously between the woman's ... Erica's ... legs. Those legs flopped wide, the knees hitting the bed, before closing back up on his head. Then they went around his back and her heels rubbed up and down his spine. His knees were spread wide and his big penis and balls hung down. His penis was hard. That was obvious. It was long and thick and hard and ready to do what it was intended to do - plunge deep into a vagina.

"Yessss," she groaned. "Just like that. I love you so much."

Julie's knees suddenly felt weak. There were multiple reasons for that. One was that unwanted memories had surfaced and threatened to overwhelm her. She remembered when Paul did that to her, and how wonderful it felt.  Another was that it was as plain as the nose on someone's face that there was no coercion involved, here. Erica was a very willing and very happy participant. It was also obvious that this wasn't the first time they'd been like this. Her mind flicked back to all those days - all summer long - when Erica had said she was running over to Uncle Bob's to do this or that chore, or to help him with this or that task.

Erica was only fourteen! She was too young to have sex! Especially with Bob! Dread hit her as a little voice in her brain tormented her. "She's not on the pill. She's not protected. I bet she's already pregnant, if they've been doing this all summer."

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