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Rachel's Secret

By: steelyd



By way of introduction...the Plaza is a ritzy shopping and entertainment district in Kansas City. I wrote this story for a friend who I will call Rachel, who has unfulfilled cuckhold fantasies with her husband.

-----------

We've agreed to meet at a trendy restaurant on the Plaza. Its a busy lunch hour...the place is buzzing.

We're seated in a corner booth, and soon we are chatting and getting to know one another. I tell you a funny story, and touch you as you laugh...and you feel a shiver run through your body.

As you talk you notice that now I'm playing with your hair, and gently massaging the back of your neck. You're smiling and seem to be enjoying the sensations.

Soon, our eyes meet, and I pull your lips to mine and kiss you. We're both oblivious to the bustle of the busy restaurant as we savor the taste and sensations of one another's lips.

The waitress arrives with our food...and has to clear her throat to get our attention. You look at her and blush as she serves our lunch.

After a delicious meal filled with stimulating conversation, laughter and flirting, I suggest we go for a walk.

We find ourselves in front of the Victoria's Secret store. I open the door and usher you inside.

As you might imagine at the Plaza Victoria's Secret, the store is filled with attractive women dressed to impress, and I seem to be the only man in the store.

As we look at the sexy lingerie, you feel me stroking your back...with just a hint of nails raising occasional goose bumps.

You bend over to look at some hose and garters in a drawer, and you feel me tugging from behind on the waistband of your jeans...pulling your ass to my groin so that you can feel the rock hard bulge in my pants rubbing against your butt.

I suggest that you select a few items and try them on. You choose a pink bra and matching panties and garter trimmed in black lace, and some black hose. You go to the dressing room, strip down and try on your items. To check the full effect, you put on the black heels you were wearing with your jeans.

As you admire yourself in the mirror, you're startled to see the door open behind you, and I quickly slip inside.

Standing behind you, I see you in the mirror and you look stunning. Even in your heels I tower over. I embrace you from behind, kissing your neck, hands exploring. When your eyes are not closed in your reverie, you see us in the mirror with my arms engulfing your petite little body.

I pull your body close to mine and through the silky lace panties you feel my cock straining against my pants. You're still facing the mirror as I begin teasing your nipples with my fingers...at first through the fabric, but soon pulling the fabric down under your breasts.

I reach down and quickly release my cock from my pants. As you turn to face me you feel my thick erection pressing heavily against your belly....leaving a cool trace on your soft skin as precum leaks from the tip.

I pick you up and as your lips meet mine you wrap your arms and legs around me. I reach down and pushing the silky fabric of your panties aside. You feel the head of my cock slowly invading your silky wetness.

We both gasp softly as you are slowly impaled on my big hard tool. Its stretches you soo tight. Your arms and legs are wrapped around me, and my hands are on your butt...moving your small frame up and down slowly....feeling every inch of me inside you. As you catch a glimpse of yourself suspended in the air while riding my big thick cock, you let out a soft cry as you cum and I can feel your wetness dripping and running down my leg.

"I want it deeper" you whisper in my ear, so I lower your feet to the ground, still in your shiny black heels, turn you around, and bend you over the white chair next to the mirror. In the mirror, you see my eyes lowered and a smile on my face as I admire your cute little ass before me, ornamented by the lovely pink and black panties.

You brace yourself against the chair. Looking into the dressing room mirror in front of you, you are struck by the look of lust in both our eyes as my cock slams home with the first stroke. The pace and intensity quickly accelerates. Your eyes are closed now, but you hear and feel my balls slapping against your clit as our bodies crash together with each powerful thrust. It feels like an earthquake.

My hands are firmly on your hips...fingertips feeling the combination of the silk and lace of the panties you're still wearing. I can feel the silk brushing against me as I guide your softness to meet each thrust of my raging hard cock. Your black heels have raised your ass to the perfect angle so that combined with my height and your position braced on the chair, my cock is hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and soon you are letting out little involuntary squeals of pleasure...forgetting that the store full of women is just outside the thin dressing room door.

As your dripping pussy is pounded into submission you feel a powerful orgasm begin to well up deep inside you. You hear my breathing change, you open your eyes, look in the mirror and see the fire in my eyes as you feel an explosion of molten hot cum deep inside your body. You involuntarily squeal as you senses explode...and your pussy releases a gush of wetness that splashes as my cock continues to drive deep inside you.

You feel cool traces of wetness running down your inner thigh to the top of your black hose.

I pull out and you feel me behind you, cleaning your legs with my tongue, savoring the fruits of our lust. I kiss the soft skin of your beautiful little ass as I finish, arise, and pull my pants up.

No words have been spoken in the dressing room, even as I quickly slip out the door.

The price tags are still intact as you remove the items you were trying on, taking care to fold the silky panties so that the sopping wet crotch is hidden inside dry pink fabric.

As you exit the door of the dressing room to find me waiting for you, you notice the looks of several of the beautiful model-types in the store. You feel that there is a hint of envy in their eyes. Did they hear the sounds coming from your dressing room? Do they know your secret?

I take your hand and we proceed to purchase the items you tried on. We leave the store and I walk you to your car. As we part with a gentle kiss, you notice that my pants once again show signs of desire.

At home later that evening, you tell your husband you bought something special for him today. You tell him to give you a few minutes, then join you in the bedroom. He enters to find you reclined on the bed, with a beautiful sexy glow. The black lace, hose and shiny heels contrast with the pink silk and your soft skin. He almost runs to you as he eagerly attacks. He removes your panties, not noticing the rough spot where the juices that soaked the fabric earlier in the day have now dried.

He plunges his tongue into the still-tender folds of your hot little love box. His voice is a bit muffled as he devours you, but you hear him say "mmmm....you taste unusually good tonight...what did you do?"

You smile and say. "Just got a little something special from Victoria's Secret....my little secret"

Rachel's Secret



This story is dedicated to a very special woman who has rocked my life in alternate reality. These stories are true, collections of events, moments, and what might have been. I credit the fact that many of these conversations are true, the words have been breathed in my ear. I take them to a fulfillment of what may have been.

Enjoy. 

*

The End

I was reviewing old emails in a secret email account, missives from a relationship with my niece that had started years and years ago. She lived with me four years and after she moved out, we kept in touch by email. But then even these ended, and all I had was this collection of old love notes.

The email added chat to their services and as I was looking, there she was online. My heart began pounding in my chest, should I? It took me no time to decide, my now wife was just in the other room getting ready for bed. I had some time, she usually let me finish up by business at the end of the day.

I initiated the chat:

Me: Hi

Rach: wow

Me: long time no 'see'

Rach: indeed how are you

Me: I'm doing just fine. My site said you were there

Rach: lol tattle tale

Me: yeah, who knew. Whats new?

Rach: everything, been a few years

Me: ha! you find a guy

Rach: yea

Me: i would imagine. you rock his world

Rach: he's learning things about himself

Me: we all are. You rocked my world back in the day

Rach: hmmmm. that's why you left me?

Me: I was a fool

Rach: good reply lol. Ok i'm over it

Me: You probably have calmed down a little since then.

Rach: depends on what you mean i guess needs are different but still there

Me: I still have our old emails. Was looking at them

Rach: lol i did too until they got me in trouble

Me: what happened

Rach: i got nervous. to an outsider my sexual expression seemed too open

Me: I've kept them. A little piece of you. A little crazy

Rach: hmmmm my memory is pretty good. you made me challenge myself

Me: I made you do a lot of things

Rach: yes...you did

Me: my my my. That has to be six years ago

Me: be still my heart

Rach: no use for me then but if you insist

Me: my bad

Rach: you with Susan

Me: Still. You move

Rach: yes. went to graduate school.

Me:!!!! Congrats.

Rach: thanks

Me: you were frustrated with direction and purpose when we wrote

Rach: yea life milestones unmet

Me: So when I say you found a guy, you married

Rach: no.... but if i were to leap this one would be the one

Me: wow. That says a lot.

Rach: hmmm stamina yum

Me: hahaha. Anyone with you would need stamina. 

Rach: hmmmm sweet compliment thank you

Me: It was true. I remember. We were Baaaad Yum

Rach: i gain that from you its stayed with me

yum

yummy

Me: We did connect

Rach: mission accomplished

Me: you were good at stroking my ego

Rach: not all I stroked

oh well

Me: ultimately good, you went out and got what you wanted. I was your boy toy

Rach: you say that like its a bad thing

Me: hahahha. Not bad. I do remember how utterly delectable you are.

You left me no doubt about that.

Rach: hmmm i coulda played any role you needed if needed

so sweet

Me: Yes. I remember

You did my heart good, and we had what we had

Rach: hmm

Me: Not something I forget

Rach: thank you

and you know i cant forget you

i dont think i went after a boy as hard as you

i enjoyed it

Me: my heart felt like I was running

Rach: hmmmm we ran

Get me a cigarette!!

Me: I liked the heat Sigh

Rach: rememories

Me: unedited and raw you were a bit of a wild child

Rach: lol

hmmm just horny

Me: you took horny to a whole new level

I will add another compliment, you have a wild and wonderful body under that brilliant head of yours, all tied together with pure energy. Truth.

Rach: thank you. i accept

and would never imagine insulting you by not accepting

Me: I bet you are so delectable today, yum.

Rach: teasing

Me: I'm a bad boy remember

you are just a bad good girl

Rach: no

you are MY bad boy

Me: I believe I touched every inch of your body

Rach: hmmm

Me: And made a mess of you lol

Rach: in a way that my body was left broken and humbled

Me: I reremember. How you teased me!

Rach: you taught me how

Me: I don't think so. Other way round

Rach: gave my tease direction then.... i still love how you went in for the "kill"

Such a surprise!! I never thought my tease would get a response

Me: I was in agony, the desire, the wanting, the waiting before having. So good.

Rach: yes you my teacher

in the end.... its always temporary. and my true nature comes out

but you....

you made me want it like no body else

Me: so you built up a pretty good portfolio of a sex life then

After

I hope so.

I know you as a lover

Rach: you know me different then a lover

you know me without restraints

not everyone can handle what they say they can

Me: true enough. We revealed more than we ever would have

and our restraints were pretty much ALL gone

wild. You got me all heated up

Rach: hold on please

Me: Holding

Rach: hmmm bent over too?

Me: what you do to me

mmmm, see, we can still be a little bad

Rach: Always innocent

bad would be me at your door

Me: And

Rach: My panties in my purse, and sitting in your lap

Me: Oh. lecherous me

Rach: hmm

Me: going for my weakness. I have ALWAYS had a panty fetish

Rach: Hmmm. we can dream

but you like keeping your play life in its place

and thats smart

Me: yes it is

Rach: so did i

Me: But I think about it

Rach: i most certainly hope so

Me: hahah

Rach: this one i love him

its all good, my point is

Me: It's all in the angle babe

Rach: we were intense

Me: yes we were, I WAS into you

Rach: thank you

you still made me sad though

when you went away

granted i did start to get jealous

just didn't want to lose a good thing

you

you were a pleasure

a sin

something just for me to enjoy

as gift to me

Me: I am sorry. It was all so intense and it overwhelmed me.

I wondered if I should keep doing it at all

Like a thunderstorm. I loved what we had

Rach: its ok

i understand

truly i do

it just made me sad

you're a rare jewel sweetheart

Me: I remember

Rach: sad

Me: yes Life goes on

Rach: yep

Me: Are you at work

Rach: no home

i'll have to delete this convo when we are done

you still my dirty lil secret

Me: truly. Give us half hour and we manage to be pretty bad

Oh god, what I used to do to you

Rach: and? 

lol 

its ok

Me: you gave me my first blow job

Rach: i loved teasing

Me: how demanding I was. presumptuous

Rach: you knew i like it

you knew i wanted it

you knew i would do every lil bad thing you asked and love it

i trusted you

Me: Oh god. You made it abundantly clear. god I made you wear just what I wanted

I was a pretty good bad boy

Rach: Or not wear. That weekend you took my clothes away 

you were the bestest badboy a girl could want

Me: sigh 

speechless 

breathless

Rach: hmmm

Me: I always like being called a bad boy

the best a girl could want

you sweet

Rach: bestest not a typo

Me: Ha. So, you wet babe

Rach: lol. 

You know what? I'm talking to my love now on the phone

but its not him that has me achy now

hmmm. yes very wet Jimmy

Me: true

Rach: lol yes

Me: so you are talking to your love now while typing

brie : yep

Me:!!

Rach: lololol bad boy!

you're gonna do it to me again aren't you

Me: flutter my touches all over you. I loved your kiss.

your taste

Rach: hmmmm

oh darling

i'll be waiting

lolol

Me: I would not know where to even begin. Top or bottom?

Rach: hmmmm well say a certain woman comes to you

Me: panties in her purse?

Rach: Something like that

And gives you just five minutes

Me:!! I want to touch you so bad

Rach: Jimmy

Me: We start at the neck just under the ears, soft nibbles and licks. Safe and soft

You may be deleting this but I shall be tucking it away in my treasure chest of jewels

Rach: hmmm

Me: filled with Rachel

Rach: lol ok. Put it in me anytime you want

Me: wrap my arms around you and hold you tight, feel your breath. Breathe.

Rach: yes

Me: Sigh

Rach: I'd be a puddle

every one of my holes is yours

Me: hmmm

Rach: Visit me some time. i look forward to it

and if you get lost i'll understand

me of all people will understand

Me: yes How would we meet

Rach: I'll contact you

Me: Ok

Rach: lol

Me: Me and you babe

Rach: hmmm

Me: I will seduce you

Rach: you already have

but you may again

Me: I do know some of your weaknesses

Rach: some? ha

Rach: alright darling

i need to bounce

Me: It has been so great to catch up.

Rach: it was

you know i adore you

Me: and I you. Crazy

Nite. Nite.

Rach:

yes

night

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THIS is how the story began:

-------------------

The Beginning

Sometime in my fourth year as a widower, I got a call from my sister Kate. She had a daughter who wanted to go to University in the States, and the college she was interested in, and accepted to, I taught at. 

Congratulations were in order, but her real question came out more suddenly than I expected, "Can she live with you while there?"

I paused, neglecting to have connected the dots.

We had a back and forth on this, as I indicated the importance of a campus experience, etc. etc. but Rachel, her daughter, indicated she wanted to stay more focused on studies and feared the distraction. They were also concerned about costs. I understood these points, while still trying to wrap my head around what she was suggesting. There was a part of me, also, that would not mind having someone around. My house had been empty for too long.

As these thoughts rambled around Kate continued, "Right now, it's the only place we could agree on, what with the divorce and all. And - you can say no - but, actually she would like to come over earlier to sort of acclimate herself. Like, next summer." 

"Uh. That's six months!" 

"It is so important. I really need some help."

Silence. "I see." 

"You remember her?"

"Yes, very smart girl. I remember."

Silence.

And then I said it, "Yes. OK."

My sister closed with, "I sort of told her it would be all right, if it's OK with you. And, James, I would appreciate it if you kept me informed about her." I think she knew that came out wrong, "A little bit." She added.

"A spy," I said. I was very cognizant of parental interference in their newly adult children and as a professor disliked it immensely.

"I won't lie to you, she has been difficult, especially since the divorce; and, since Tom..." Tom, who is that? I thought to myself. But said nothing. "Just let me know if it gets too hard for you, that is what I am really trying to get to. She hasn't fully adjusted to...all the changes..."

She continued on, as I began to phase her words out altogether. There is a way my mind worked since losing my wife, that any discussions associated with difficulty, pain, complexity. I lost the ability to follow. I knew she was talking about her divorce, litigation, someone named Tom. It also made me angry. In it, there was nothing about Rachel. Only about my sister, her thoughts, wants, needs. I did not listen until she stopped talking.

"I said I'd do it, and yes I will keep you informed about Rachel."

Little did I realize.

--------------------

Remembering

I remembered Rachel well actually. The last time I had seen her was maybe five years ago. It was Christmas and her entire family came over from England to celebrate. My wife was still alive.

One evening in particular Rachel wanted to go to a movie, and she couldn't get her mother or father to go, and she asked me. I said I would. So my niece and I went to a movie and an arcade. It was snowing that night, not hard, but steady as it sometimes does in northern Cali.

The snow was so beautiful. Truly magical. Outside the arcade, I had a moment of youth and ran out into the parking lot and twirled around, held my mouth open looking up at the sky and ate snowflakes. The falling snow swirled around my face as if I was flying through stars. Rachel joined me, arms out and there we stood just the two of us. One of my happiest evenings.

Once in the car, we could tell how bad the snow was. The car was sliding a lot and we had to go really slow. But I didn't care, Rachel and I kept joking and talking about the movie and the arcade. It was one of the most carefree days of my life. Rachel was such an intelligent girl, a quick wit, with dark hair and large almond eyes.

The trees were covered in white and the street lights could barely compete with the white of the snow, reflected on the headlights on the car. When we got back to the house it was late and the whole house had gone to bed.

As we were walking up to the house, trying to be quiet, all of a sudden Rachel threw a snowball and hit me in the middle of the back! I responded and now we are running around throwing snow at each other, I remember laughing and how hard I tried not to laugh loud. At one point she was shoveling snow at me and I fell back into the snow which had to be six or eight inches deep, and she jumped down onto my chest continuing to shove snow over my head. I grasped her arms and held them as she straddled me, and we had this awkward moment. She was older, developing into a young woman and here we were rolling around in the snow. I looked her in the eyes, and we paused, before getting up out of the snow.

To relieve whatever tension there may have been I shoveled a bit more snow up her front, and ran to the house.

As we got to the door Rachel says to me, "You can be pretty fun."

After that, we became fast friends. After they left she emailed me a few times. Nothing particularly memorable. I responded but then it faded out, my wife got sick, and I have to say I had not even thought about her until my sister called. 

I did remember her writing in one of her emails, 'I'm a lot different than the rest of my family, sort of the black sheep. My family is over serious, especially my mom.'

That all came to my mind as I hung up the phone.

------------------------

Rachel Remembers and Prepares

Rachel sat in the coach seat of a transcontinental jet making the 13 hour flight to her uncles. The feelings she had at this precise moment were difficult to put into words. Chiefly, that expansive feeling of freedom. The freedom of leaving home, of striking out, of problems left behind, a sort of sense of limitlessness. But things had already turned out a little different than planned, and instead of leaving in the summer she was leaving three months earlier in spring, and leaving her school and friends behind mid-term. Or what was left of her friends anyway.

She had been in nonstop fights with her mother for well over a year, who had taken on a boyfriend now living in the house, and now they were to be married. But she had also made some stupid decisions, partly in reaction to the emotional pain of a) her father leaving, b) his absence for extended period, and c) her mothers changes. In a span of two years she had quite literally lost the home she had lived in her entire life. All this on top of things that close in on a teenage girl (who had just turned 18). Her 'bad' behaviors had led to rumors circulating in school, hurtful vicious rumors, resulting in a decidedly different treatment even by those she thought were close. The rumors centered around her becoming the class slut, odd since the year before the hurtful reproach was her as class prude. 'Rachel's name was bantered about as the one who would be voted most likely to get laid. A charge that was NOT true, but in a certain light she understood how it could be construed as true. 

At any rate she was leaving all of this far behind and had a chance to, briefly at least, close out her senior year without any further torment. The bridge was being burned. But then, the prospect of briefly going to a new school in her senior year for just 3 months. The new girl, and all the risk that entails. Making real friends was more or less out of the question, and she had to keep her head low. Maybe one or two friends, but even then school would be over and everyone head to college. Her real start was not until fall of the year, her real destination was college. So, really, she also knew that boys were out of the question for now, as there was too much danger as the 'new girl' to stir up trouble and end up in the exact same position. High School is a fearful place.

She was angry at her mother for making her this way, angry she had to leave early, angry at her father for working in Kenya and Egypt. She was also worried about her overactive libido, which was getting her in the trouble spots she was finding herself in. 

And then there was her Uncle James. Doctor James. She could blame him too, in a way. But mainly for being this wonderful man she remembered who went to a movie with her, played arcades, laughed, and on whose chest she had sat and briefly looked deep in his eyes, struck by his sweetness, his corny openness. His smile and eyes. Always ready with the last word, challenging, bright, surprising.

After that trip she dreamed of living in the States, of going to college and being in the same city as Dr. James. She knew the college was hard to get into, she also knew she was smart, a good student, and with effort could be accepted. The plan had originally been to be near to him, but her mother was complaining about cost and this hatched the plan of living at his house!

All manner of feelings and thoughts swirled around this new reality, accentuated by the accelerated time line. She would be living with this man, knowing how much she liked older men, knowing how much she liked this particular uncle of hers. How different she was now from then. And there was also this lingering thought of how his presence, his relationship, could shield her from the loneliness of the changes she had undertaken. Shielding her from the loss of her family and friends, her new school, and keep her from any trouble with the boys. Rachel knew she was pretty, knew she would be an exotic at this school with her accent and cultural differences, her dark hair, dark eyes and dark honey chocolate skin; and as she knew, was very very weak in resisting the charms of boys. 

Her body was in a constant state of heat truth be told, her libido was high. Partly having put herself under a bushel basket for too long because of the horror stories her mother had told, and her internalized fear and anger at men came from her mother which turned later into a pent up desire. She had bought the lies hook line and sinker, all so consistent with the messages of her strict religious upbringing. She had her parents to blame again.

As the cabin went dark, and a movie played silently overhead because she had not purchased the earphones, Rachel covered herself with a little blanket and began to fantasize. Not at all tired, she opened her pants and tugged them down her hips a little and slipped her hand through her neatly trimmed little bush. The woman to her left was sleeping, leaning against the window and no one would notice her now. It was a long flight and she was nervous, excited, elated really and needed to De-stress a little. Just the thing her little finger could do!!

The fantasy:

She was imagining herself with Uncle James in the house she remembered. It was evening, they were watching a movie and she had popcorn in her lap. Sitting near him on the sofa, she would begin playing with her long dark hair, twirl it in her fingers, draw it across her lips. Flirting, giving him furtive glances. She had no pajamas, no she didn't, and so was wearing a tee shirt, or perhaps a mans shirt she had borrowed from him. Were all the buttons buttoned?




Rachel's Secret



Delicious, she felt her middle begin to melt, her little puss moistening as her fingers played.

'Was he noticing? Why yes he was.' Her sable skin was fresh and clean, she had showered, her hair shiny fell wild around her shoulders. Her long legs curled underneath, a little cat, a little pussy. How could he not notice? The hem of her tee is short, and she imagines him glancing at her legs as he reaches for popcorn.

'Oh, and my panties. Mmmmm. Can he see them?' And she is shifting about, drawing her one knee up so he can just see it wrapping around her ass. Eyes glued to the screen, don't notice at all if he watches you, because you don't want him to stop.

Powder blue. Very nice. Innocent, very see through. Rachel loved lace panties. 'Does he want to touch me?' She imagines he is shifting a little bit closer. 

Glancing briefly around the cabin, she lets out a sigh, and slips her fingers deep into the wet folds opening her center and opens her lips wide, drawing her knees apart beneath the blanket. Mmmmm, light fluttering sighs. No one noticing, as she pretends to be asleep with the blanket over her.

And then in her fantasy, the same sigh. James looking at her, she had not meant for it to be so loud. He asks, "You OK?"

**

I just draw my knees up and smile. "Just thinking of something." And giving him a little sideways glance, I purr, "You want more?" Sliding closer to give him popcorn, and now curling there right beside him. "This is nice," and stretch so now I am leaning into him. Will he let me?

Why yes he does? The feel of him, he is wearing a robe. What is on underneath? His chest is bare, I can tell.

And then my hand finds his, an accidental brush, but I hold it, place his hand onto my bare leg, fluttering my eyes at him. "Could you rub me there? It's sore"

The feel of his warm hands stroking my calves, so sensitive. So good. "Hmmmmm." 

Rachel's head dips down, and her hand is working faster, its magic, she finds her stiffening clit and digs in. Oh god so good, so god damn good.

His hands wander onto my thighs now, and she lets him. 

As she fantasizes of his hands on her, she presses her legs together, can feel the juices in her cunny squeeze out of her. Oh, yum. 

If only....

I lay my legs over his lap and coo, "That feels so nice. Do them all please."

Do you know how wet I am James?

Would I ever say that?

I let the shirt I am wearing, his shirt now, fall open at the bottom so he can see the little V of my panties tucking in between my legs, and Iet him rub me up high on my thighs, wiggling my toes for him, stretching my body, closing my eyes. Pamper me. Pamper me. 

She is soaking wet now, and frigging herself hard, and trying to be quiet and trying not to squirm. Humping her hand, at some point she realized her head is bobbing up and down a little, and tries to stop doing that. Oh god, yes.

Her breathing is hard to control, a soft pant, like a dogs. Take longer breaths, breathe. 

Can he see what he is doing to me, his eyes are glued to my crotch, the powder blue. Can he see the nicely trimmed fur patch between my legs. Of course. 

My little landing strip. Do you want to touch me there? His hands stroking up my thighs, so perilously close. But don't look at him, give him anonymity, permission. It works if we are just watching our movie together. 

In another version of this fantasy, now feeling so horny and hungry. My panties are gone, and the hem of my shirt is letting my dark hairs slip slightly into view. He is looking at my bare bottom when I am leaning into the sofa and at my bare bush as he is rubbing my legs, and then deliciously, yes, his fingers graze the hairs of my puss. 

Oh god I am wet, it is getting on the seat. So wet. I can hear my fingers sliding through my cunt. I have no panties, my vagina is open and ready to be penetrated, penetrate me and I shove two fingers up inside. Feel my cunt stretch, taking in his cock. Oh god, yes.

Do I open my legs a little and invite him in? Slip my legs open, and his fingers are brushing the hairs of my bush, right over the top of my mound. I moan as he does that and then our eyes meet. 

Permission.

I say, "Sorry I don't have my panties on, I forgot. All I have on is this shirt I borrowed from you. That OK?"

Rachel is gripping the armrest in her airline chair as her other hand is rubbing furiously between her legs.

The fantasy takes so many turns. Pretend I fell asleep while watching the movies, and as I sleep slide lower and lower until my tee has slipped up over my hip, and he is looking at my ass, staring between my legs. My shaved cunny, a juicy peach for him to bite into. MMMMMMM! Eat me.

I can feel his hand lifting my top over my hip, for a better view and I squirm my little ass to give him the show of his life. 

God he would like that!

And as he is watching me, do I pretend to waken and notice how exposed I am? Oh, and ask "You don't mind do you? What do you want to see?" Oh god, "What do you want to do to me? Anything? Anything at all."

I roll on my back and let my knees fall apart.

"Want to see my tat?"

A little pair of angel wings tatted right between my vagina and my ass. 

"See?" He's leaning in, yes he can. My legs wide. Oh, touch me. "When I am fucked, the cock inside me has angel wings."

"Oh, Uncle James I can't believe I let you see that!."

And then, oh, he is fucking me, all the way inside. He is not slow, hard, deep. He has turned me over and holding me on my knees.

Uhh, Uhh, Uhh. Slapping my ass each time he penetrates me.

With that her body begins to spasm uncontrollably, her abdomen contracting, her vagina contracting over her fingers as wave after wave of a fantastic orgasm burns inside. A lovely velvet orgasm, liquid glass, sending searing white heat through her. Oh god, Oh god. She is pressing herself into the seat, stretching, trembling. Petting her soft cunny, thank you. Thank you. The woman beside her does not move, no one is looking.

Oh it is fire, she is on fire. It feels so fucking good.

"James." She whispers under her breath.

Now calm, now silent. 

Only the dull roar of engines through the hull of the plane. Her hand soaked in cum. She can feel the wet spot beneath her ass. A smile quirks her lips. 

She closes her pants and falls asleep.

-----------------------

Meeting - Again

I found myself at the airport waiting for Rachel, thinking what have I gotten myself into.

She appeared suddenly from the entrance wearing cargo pants and a pink tube top, looking tired but with a big smile on her face when she saw me. My how she had changed. 

"Uncle James!" 

My god she was coming to stay at my house. She came up and gave me a hug, which considering I am not used to, I looked like one of those ridiculous old people who do not know how to hug. It was no big deal at the time, but I remembered in hindsight having no idea where to put my hands since her entire midriff were bare.

"You tired?"

"I'm not too bad, yet. I just about arrived when I left though. I won't make it too late tonight. We can go."

"Baggage?"

She was rolling a tote bag behind her. "This is it, all I got in the world."

I looked at her incredulously. Almost jealously. The idea of having so little baggage. And so little considering she was, after all, moving here for an undetermined duration.

"Mum gave me money. I don't want to wear all those British clothes HERE. I'll need to fit in." And she was moving along with me in tow. "Besides I got everything I need on this." And she held out her Ipod.

"You are a true nomad." 

"A nomad with plastic!" waving her purse in the air.

------------------

Going Home

Rachel was 18 now and quite a bit taller, but still shorter than me, coming up to about my chin. Her dark hair was so much longer than I remembered, silky and shiny, and she was so well groomed. Her hair was clipped at the center, a handful of hairs forming a pony tail down a mane of dark hair that curled over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Europeans have such a cleaner, more confident look about them. Vibrant. Her hair flashed and followed behind as she tossed it around as she moved. She had such a lovely smile, and something exotic. The whites of her eyes were so white, the pool of brown brought that out, and her teeth so white. Such a wonderful smile, even when tired. Her movement so fluid, catlike. Her waist was narrow, her legs long, as I followed in her wake. Her mother moved there from America years ago, and so Rachel's entire life had been spent on the outskirts of London. Her father was a global traveler, multiple nationalities. She had inherited her mothers size and shape, and her fathers smile, eyes and dark skin. As she walked ahead, the sway of her hips. I am writing this after all events have occurred, but still, I could not help noticing. And I definitely did look at her ass and lovely female figure as I trailed behind that day.

"Mum says hi."

"I got everything ready, all the school things are in your room. We need to meet with the administrator and I have to sign paperwork with you. I'll be your guardian here."

I prattled on but she was not listening.

"I got to pee something fierce."

She laid her bag at my feet and disappeared as I stood waiting.

-------------------

That First Night Sets the Wheel in Motion

I believe all the subsequent events between us were set in motion over the next four hours. It put all the relevant pieces in place and set them in motion so to speak.

"I can NOT go to bed until eight," she declared as she set her bag by the sofa. "You got to entertain me." She cocked her head, threw back her hair and met my eyes. "I'm really here," she interjected.

"Ahhh." A woman in my house, interaction. Entertain? I was no longer home by myself, moving through a space that had become likes a monks cell. I was a fish who left the water of my solitary home and went out into the dry world, trying to remain alive until I could make my way back into the safety of my cell. But this girl was standing in my pond.

She volunteered, "We can play poker."

It seemed absurd, but I agreed. 

I had cards which I readily found, and dealt them out. 

With such certainty she says, "We got to play for money. All I got is plastic. Can you spot me?"

I looked like a deer in the headlights, so much happening. My reticence and acquiescence to her became my dominant trait, she found it silly and endearing.

In response to me she added, "We don't have to." The sideways glance, the pout, the girlish voice. Those teeth. Another beginning. My coquette.

"No. No. I got a jar of coins upstairs."

I wanted to please her and got my jar. We divied up the coins and darn if she did not win $10.

"I guess I don't owe you anything after all!" She had this wonderful smile, her eyebrow quirked up as she scooped her winnings into her purse. What was my sister talking about. Trouble?? So easygoing.

I said, "You sure are good at bluffing."

"You are too easy to read."

Cards laid aside, I had a small glass of red wine I had been sipping. I gave her small glass.

"So, Rachel why did you come, now? I mean, you were supposed to come summer, but its three months before high school is over. I mean not finishing out a full year in your senior year?"

She stretched, a little, tension? "You want the long story or the short?"

"Uh, just the story."

"It was because...." she paused, stretched again. Almost punched the air. "Well, it was Mums boyfriend, Tom, her now future ex-husband." My eyes widened. I had not heard. They were married? "He's a creep, a loser. Having her married was too much." 

"That does not sound like Kate."

She sighed. "Mums changed. They've all changed." She shrugged, looked to the side a little while. There was pain there. "After dad divorced her right around...." I eyed her. "You know right after..."

"Lisa died."

It was like permission to proceed. I had to say it. "It was like she never got over what happened. And she's older, I get that, it's hard, and like men don't seem so interested. She wanted someone, and there was no one, and ended up taking anyone. So...ok, I get it, that's like, whatever. But....I just asked her to wait, not even that long. Wait till I move, you know. THIS was already planned. I'm already accepted at university. Just fucking wait." She paused. "Sorry."

"I see. And what did she say when you asked?"

"She says, I am through putting my life on hold...for you." And I distinctly saw her eyes go glassy, "I'm like fuck you."

I shook my head, "Not Kate...her faith..."

"Oh, she plays a good game. You know what - she's the kind of religious that doesn't do it for love love love, but so she can not be held accountable. It's like god told me or I prayed about it or I asked forgiveness, blah blah blah. I was fuck you and said you know what if that's how you feel, and I called her on it."

There was a pause.

"So that's my story, how about you?"

My heart immediately heavy. I hated this story. "Nothing to tell. Its four years since...." my turn to feel pain. It formed this fulcrum, this odd point of connection between us. I felt very close just then for some reason, I remembered. We talked low in this large silent house, one light on. The two of us now.

And she leaned in, and I wanted it not to go there, not tonight. So I added, "And you threw that snowball at me."

She laughed. "That's right. Oh my god. So, now?"

"I got to get back at you sometime." I grinned.

"What do you do around here?" She yawned.

I shrugged. "Not a lot to tell. Ordinary....I go to work, I have classes. Read. Teach."

"Anyone in your life?"

I felt myself grow warm, her eyes on me. "I, uh, I'm," shaking my head, "Not ready." She looked at me incredulously. "It's, I mean..." I had an odd need to justify myself.

"You sound depressed."

"No it isn't that. Really. I'm, it feels like the play is over. Nothing else there. I look ahead and..."

"Well, sounds depressing."

"I'm comfortable." It did sound depressing. "I found a magazine once that had an article how long it takes you to get over someone. It said it takes as long to get over them as you have been together. I mean it was a teenage magazine. I was like, I'm 53 and was with Lisa for 23 years so I can start dating when I am 72."

She laughed at that, "No, no. Don't, talk like that. A catch like you, you can find the ladies. You gotta try." She touched my arm. "You are as cute as I ever remember you. Cuter," and she reached her hand and brushed the side of my ears, "with these little silver stripes. You're like a silver back."

I flushed a little and said, "You will be good for me."

"Shake things up a bit eh, I'm the coolest girl you'll ever know." 

"Boost my ego."

"Coolio."

And we fell silent, her eyes drooping, but fixed on mine. I had succeeded and kept her awake. 

"Well this little coolio has to go to bed."

-----------

Risk and Reward, and Secrets

Rachel was a mystery to me. There was a hiddenness in her openness and honesty. Too much openness. She literally said whatever was on her mind, no holding back. I could not imagine her as anything but a good girl.

But.

This drip drip drip of teenage secrets was beginning to bother me. Not because I could not handle what she told me. Given her background it did not even really surprise me, but the fact I had indicated to my sister I would keep her in the loop as a parent had me bothered. The things she would sometimes say about her mom and Tom. In fact, my absence of problems led her to believe I was not being honest, and she would ply me for stories, events. Implying I MUST have had a thing with one of my students before. Especially after.....or SOMETHING.

But Rachel was another story. I won't go into full detail here. It would be too long. They included going through a friend's house when she wasn't supposed to, riding in a car packed with kids when she had just been expressly told not to, shoplifting. Taking money from her mother. These were stories readily shared. Things that I did not pass along to her mother.

But today I was being openly invited to be complicit, as she specifically asked me not tell her mother. After tentatively agreeing, she had asked me if I would sign a permission for her to get contraceptives, the 'pill.' Now from my point of view this was responsible teenage behavior, but since it came with the promise not to tell her mother to the point of lying if I am point blank asked I said, "I'll have to think about that."

And it escalated further. She asked me if I would be willing to buy her a vibrator. A sex toy!! And she asked in the context of the contraception.

Isn't this something SHE could do, why ask me? She was being completely 'honest' (or so I thought). She was upfront always open, I was at a loss. Nothing could prepare me for this.

Where do I go from here? Why ask ME? I figured she was trying to throw me off, after all given her behavior with her mother there was probably many things I was also not being told. Isn't that a strategy with 'honesty.' Was she really? Was this her just trying to throw me off. There was another angle that fascinated me, after all one of my fields was the neurobiology of teenage learning and here I was able to observe first hand these choices, the language, what was told, how it was told. 

A category of sharing is honest deception. The lies are hidden in plain sight. So this was the position I found myself and I had to decide what to do. I knew my sister would be all over her daughter if she knew any of this. 

I started obvious, "Why ask me? Ask your mother. Why keep it from her?"

"Which request?" A smirk on her face.

"Lets start with the first one."

"She would say no."

"Then, there is your answer."

"You know that is irresponsible."

"Are you sexually active?"

She eyed me. "I should be prepared. I have been. In the past. Yes."

I sighed, good. This was responsible. "While in the States?"

"No."

"It's just, I don't want to lecture you but...."

"Here it comes." She slumped back in her chair.

"No. No. Seriously." I was flushed. Winded. Could not believe I was in this conversation. "You are new here temporarily, in transition."

"Life is temporary. I'm... I'm going to be here at least four and a half years." And her tone, her voice, her eyes, her luck all suddenly converged and in that moment she looked like Lisa. It shocked me, and I paused for a moment. The intransigence, impatience. Even her eyes. I had noticed once before, but today merging with her movement and voice, tone and words. And then she was Rachel again.

"...Let me finish. Yes. I know that, but you are in this high school another two months and whoever you are with is also moving on. It is a time to remain focused. You can get yourself in conflicts you just don't need right now. You are an outsider from a different country."

"I'm NOT having sex. I was on the pill at home, mom never knew."

"I will say it again. You are 18. Why ask me?"

"It is free at the school with parental permission. You are my guardian. YOU are responsible for me." She was exasperated. "Look, Jim, you know this is the right thing for me to do. It just is, I am an adult, a situation can occur. It is reality. I don't want to have anything happen, have some accident." I was silent as she continued. "I guess I can always use the poor girls birth control, if need be." She threw that in so nonchalant.

"Excuse me?"

"Poor girls birth control," another smirk on her face. It was readily apparent I had not comprehended her words. She added, "You're the teenager neurobiologist." She waited for me to catch on, "Oh come on!" 

I was truly at a loss.

"Seriously. I have to say it?"

- 

"A blow job. You know, a blow job." She said each word slowly the second time.




Rachel's Secret



I really flushed then, my ears went bright red. My eye twitched, it caught me completely off guard. Testing me. She had managed to do it. It touched on some things sexually I was not prepared for. I was almost thrown back.

She read me immediately. "It takes the boy right out of commission, well most of them anyway. So sign me up for poor girls birth control? That what you want?"

I simply said, then, taking the paper, "OK. here, I'll sign it." 

"Why are you so flustered about this. I thought this would be, like a normal adult conversation."

"I'm not..." I slid the paper to her across the table. She left it there.

"You are, look at you, you're glowing!"

"It's just not something I think about, or say. Or..."

"What? Contraception. Or ... Blow job. It's like no big deal. For my age it is like totally no big deal. It's less than a kiss."

"Oh, you know that is not true." The words fairly burst out of me. 

"A kiss is intimacy."

"A ... blow job... IS sex."

"Not to President Clinton it's not," she laughed.

"It is..." I was wavering. I sounded foreign in my ears. "It's not...I...mean"

"Not to young people. No way. You ever have a blow job?"

"What?" This conversation had to end.

"It's sure not sex, that's for sure. Have you? Ever. I mean its not like it was just invented." 

"Give me the slip, here I can sign this." 

"You already signed it!" She was smiling at my discomfort, and pausing she said in a whisper, "I won't tell."

Truth. I never had. Never. It was something that was simply so unacceptable, said to even be dangerous. Even masturbation was frowned on. I hadn't even heard of such a thing until I was a teenager. My sister and I raised in a religious family. My wife, my only sexual partner, she never did. I had thought about it and now I was remembering actually asking and being rebuffed. It never came up again.

"You haven't. Seriously?" She was genuinely surprised. I did not answer. "Serious. Wow." She fell back in her chair.

I looked down, somehow feeling deficient and more embarrassed than ever. I looked over letting my eyes wander up her legs, wondering at the things she had done. This girl so much younger than I. Seeing her bare feet. Wondering at the sexual freedom of young people. At all the things I had never done. I had never gone down on my wife, never had a blowjob. Cunnilingus. We spooned. I sucked her breasts, her nipples in my mouth....thinking of what we had and had not done with each other. I had intercourse with her doggy style, something we had done.

Suddenly feeling so deficient. I tried to recover myself, and proceeded to move into lecture mode: "Lets talk about YOUR situation. The teenage mind is not wired to make good decisions in matters like... this, especially in YOUR situation. A new environment, your need to establish yourself arouses a desire to experiment."

She took the sheet I signed and began folding it up. "Thanks, but that is precisely why this is a GOOD idea. I might not make good decisions, right? I agree."

"Let me finish....Teenagers underestimate risk and overestimate reward. So the behaviors, and you have shared with me plenty that exhibits this very thing, get skewed to highly risky behaviors for an overestimated reward. There is a survival benefit to all this, but for the group not the individual. Today it is mostly detrimental because the risks have been societally reduced. The pill gives you a sense of security, and will allow an even higher underplay of risk relative to reward."

"I get it." She wanted to smile, patronize me, but did not. She got what she wanted and wished to leave. I wondered at what she could possibly be thinking. All my talk now was for nothing, I signed the thing, I could not go back now. She was right, and I had acquiesced but now she knew things about me, personal things that embarrassed me. 

"It is like tattoos. No assessment of risk."

Her eyes brightened. "I have a tat."

"Exactly. It can have long term consequence."

"No one ever going to see it where I got mine." She said under her breath. I felt myself grow warmer, let it pass.

I continued, "In contrast, you have to understand, over time the ability to assess risk improves. You make better choices. Risk and reward comes into balance, but time. It takes time. Age experience." 

And then, she leaned in and kissed me on the lips.

And for the briefest instant I let her. Her lips molding around my lower lip, a soft and delicate kiss. 

Intimate.

"What?!"

She leaned back, tossed her hair back, a sweet smile on her face. Her head tipped to the side looking at me. She said innocently, "I'm underestimating risk to reward James. It's just my little teenage brain, I guess. OK."

I was sputtering, "You...."

She just continued, talking over me, "I get it. I agree. I do not fully trust myself around men. I have been here over a month and have had no acceptable release, at all. I am a sexual being who is young, at the prime of my life and I am self aware enough to know if I make a bad choice I do not want it to be a catastrophic choice. I am also aware of my different means of release with boys, and because of certain events in my history, know that I should keep protection. I also know I do not generally like condoms, though I should. As for the dildo - next subject by the way - this also can provide me with the needed release that will keep me in a state of mind that keeps me to not be, how do you say, over risky." She put her chin on her hand and met my eyes again, warm and sweet. "We are on the same page here, James, I know myself. And, yes, I am over sharing, but you get it, and I have always felt I can talk to you." 

I was still thinking about the kiss, looking at her lips, the white of her teeth, her tongue. Feeling my face flush all over again. Her neck was narrow, her top dipping down across her collar bone.

She was leaning toward me, eyes still on me. 

"Ahhh, James. If you...." she paused, stopping herself before continuing. "I know risk and I'm not really who ANYONE thinks I am." (The tough front of a person hurting I remember thinking) "Lots of changes." She leaned back into her chair and began straightening her top, let out a breath. "I'm going to tell you something." She took a breath and continued, "It cannot leave this room."

She paused waiting for my consent.

Not again, but I agreed.

"Last year, I became infatuated with this boy who I saw one day out of the blue. He stopped me in my tracks, looked up and saw me staring, gave me a sweet smile and kept on walking. After that, it was all over. I'd never had such a crush. This little girl was smitten. But I was so shy, and lived under the shadow of my mothers endless behavior restrictions. I was her good girl after all. So what to do? He knew I liked him cause my friends made sure of that and he was a tease. A player. Whenever he talked to me I blushed. Whenever I tried to talk to him, my tongue became thick, my mind blank. I said a lot of stupid things. He toyed with me, he'd stand too close, touch my arm, kiss my cheek for my birthday. He always had girlfriends, it didn't matter to me. I just felt all these things, and could not imagine him liking me, I couldn't be myself WITH him. I was just a gangly little tomboy, not a woman, not capable of feeling desire, or being desirable."

"Anyways he ended up being part of my group, and I got to knowing him. I started to talk more easily. We became better acquainted, his interests weren't the same - at all. And, the more I got to know him the less I liked him, romantically anyway. Unfortunately, the more he got to know me, the more he liked me. Isn't it always the way. He invited me to his house one time, and I truly thought - OK - we are friends. I said yes. When I arrived I immediately realized his parents were gone, and we would be alone. Girls have this radar that is always on. I was aware but It didn't bother me, we were friends. You would say minimizing RISK."

Anticipating my thoughts.

"But I wasn't uncomfortable. Never had cause to be. I was just aware. I didn't know that an hour into the movie I would be fighting him off of me, or that he'd tear my shirt, or I'd be yelling for him to stop, holding my torn top to my chest as I left. And that wasn't the worst of it."

She paused, it seemed, collecting herself. Her voice had become this even low tone.

"The next day at school I was ridiculed. His guy friends would mutter under their breaths to me as I walked by, "No! Stop!" in a whiny little girl voice. He had told everyone how I wouldn't put out. And my friends saying, 'you liked him didn't you?' I did my best to ignore it all, but still ended up spending most of the day cutting class in the bathroom, crying and trying to hold it together. And in that bathroom I saw myself for the very first time. Really saw. My hair was long, wavy, the rich color of honey reflecting back at me in the mirror. My eyes were blue. My skin was tan and clear, my lips have a nice shape." I was looking at her eyes, her face, her lips as she spoke, and even looking down at her chest as she said, "My breasts were nice, developed, I had curves in all the right places, my legs were long. And I realized I was NOT a tom boy. And how I had spent my adolescence in this shell, arrested development, mentally isolated from WHO I AM. And my mom is divorced now, and all her men and the way SHE is, and what it all did to me. Her projections of her wishes for herself ALL pushed on ME, but not even what she really wants for herself. Adults are hypocrites. And she did this to me until her fears became mine, my fear of intimacy. How love had become this mechanism that hurts you, and I was angry and something broke that day."

"You became you." I intoned.

"How she had poisoned me with fear and hate for my body, for sex, for boys, for men. I saw for the first time how I really appeared, the desire, the power I could have. Confidence. I don't know. But not fear. That my body could be enjoyed, I could feel, be touched. It's not risk vs. reward that teenagers don't understand James. It is that the intensity of EVERYTHING is so incredible to a teenage brain, intense, the wiring is brand new, it's like our circuitry is wet and it has not dried yet. Our skin is this wet, living membrane, wet all the time. How everything feels, looks, the memory of everything. Intense, new, beautiful, alive, all the time. A minute is an hour for me, burning inside me. I can so feel everything. Want, desire, anger, sadness. And I want these things because I fucking KNOW THE RISK. Life is different when you have time, all the time in the world. Risk is just this box that never lets you live. Fear. Hatred."

She was just about whispering now, "So everything was different now. Everything. And I was with these friends of mine. Boys. Boys who really have no interest in girls. And I am joking around with them, sort of, in a way trying to somehow share what I was feeling, but its impossible, and the words aren't there, and its not coming out the same. They are laughing at me, and I get this idea to, what the hell, do something with this brand new body of mine. And I tell them out of the blue that I really really want to go dogging."

"Dogging?"

"Dogging. Yeah. You never heard of it?" She is exasperated, like I don't know anything. "It's a thing in England. Women, women will go out, usually with a couple guys in tow, and make themselves available. Sexually."

She waited for a light to sort of go on in my eyes, which this time it did. I wanted to lecture, but refrained. This was all so irresponsible. I did not want to hear.

"You decide what you will allow, what you are willing to make available. Like..." she laughed, "You know, poor girls birth control, maybe." She was still smiling as I grew embarrassed all over again. Fuck, I hated she knew that about me. "And my friends were like why the hell not. And as a joke they put a collar on me, and a leash and we went to one of the places where dogging happens. I was out and had this collar and leash, and they are sending out the message and I am waiting by the car. It's getting dark. I wanted to give pleasure, be desired, feel desire, FEEL my body, feel, feel my power."

"And truth I'd never done it before, nothing like it. I had barely held hands. So, a great way to practice. HA." She winked. "And the first guy is there and ready and its like open your pants, and my god - he does it! His penis is right there, hard and I put my mouth on it. And its like, I don't know how to do this. Am I doing it right? But it doesn't matter at all. He's standing with his eyes closed, and I am sitting down, he doesn't care."

And now I am sitting there listening to her actually describe a blow job. I do not know what to do with my hands. I can actually feel myself stiffening a bit. I simply listen impassively. I cannot recall ever feeling so uncomfortable, and I just want it all to end.

"And I am like this goddess, he just wants it. Wants. Wants me to. And he cums like right away and I do not know what to do and it makes this mess, and he is like all into that. I have it on my face, and he's like 'yeah, best blowjob ever. Thanks.' Polite. And I think, this is like so funny. There is absolutely nothing you can do wrong. I am a goddess, you know. His hand was in my hair and I had not even noticed, and then someone else waiting. I sucked off three guys, and I was tired. Ready to stop."

"And this other guy comes up and I'm like no no no, and he says no he doesn't want a blowjob. He just wants to sit down and have me stand in front of him and touch me over my clothes a little bit. I was in this skirt and nice little top, still had the collar on, and I had not expected this and I said OK. And Oh, when I felt his hands, soft and slow, on my body. Feeling, touch, really feeling me. It was like I was feeling myself for the first time, which is fucked up I know. But that's how it felt. I had never felt anything like it, it had such devotion, so soft, his eyes were closed and he rubbed up my body. Slow, every touch and I swayed there and let him rub me, my hips and breasts, my neck, under my chin. He found my legs and I let him rub me up under my dress, up my thighs, inside my legs, and he cupped me between my legs and this may be weird but I was in touch with my body, like it was the first time. I felt beautiful and in that moment it was exactly what I wanted."

"When he sort of slowed down, I asked - enough - in this sweet little girl voice. Like I was helping him find something. Like I was his nanny or guru. He nodded, all glassy eyed, grateful, and I left." 

She looked exhausted after this story. 

I was confused, dizzy, it was overwhelming. I was feeling things I had not felt in years. Had nothing to say.

There was some kind of a seed being planted, and it would not be going away. 

Call it life. My brain going a million miles a minute, a part of me trying to understand, but not. And this other part of me feeling, and still another desiring. Desire. This was the seed, and I felt it sinking into my skin. 

And suddenly I felt myself coming alive. The desire. I could feel it, and I wanted to be one of those men on that nondescript night. I wanted to feel like that. With these thoughts, when she met my eyes again and lay her hand on the side of my cheek and brushed her fingers through my beard as we shared that moment. As we somehow sensed a feeling that was shared. Not words, and I cannot even say what it was. But it WAS shared. And then I felt shame with my desire, as I looked down and away. 

Speechless. 

There were simply no words. 

Somehow my walls, my pond, my defenses - had all been broken.

She simply brushed her fingers along my beard and said, "We have to give your beard a little trim."

-------------------------

Complicity and Guilt

So that's a hell of a lot of context.

Here is my question:

How much am I obliged to tell my sister when my niece confides in me? On one hand, I want my niece to have a non-parent adult to whom she can talk about things. On the other, I can imagine her telling me something eventually that I would have to tell my sister. Where is the line? And if it was not all I had heard, then what is??

In this case, I did not tell my sister any of it. She would absolutely want to know, and I think would be disappointed or even hurt if she found out I had withheld this from her. But my niece has a right to the same respect my sister gets, and there are definitely secrets I keep for my sister. I don't think this topic is going to hurt my niece, so I think I'm pretty safe not telling my sister. But we've entered some fraught territory already.

And even worse, my sister was not willing to believe me. As a result I had to outright lie.

"She really is a good kid Kate."

"You are keeping things from me."

"No, really, I am not."

"Has she asked you for anything?"

"No."

"Birth Control?"

"Kate!"

-------------------------

First (and Second) Touch

After that evening, a tension emerged between us. 

Nothing obvious, and hard to put a finger on really. On the surface nothing changed. She was still talkative, we had our routines, I gave all my opinions and thoughts, we played cards, shopped, watched TV, ordinary life. But there were pauses, openings, an added feeling between us, a warmth and pleasure that covered me when I looked at her. It was this pleasurable tension, attraction and arousal. Like the feeling of melting chocolate. Like a shell was there one day and gone the next, leaving this extra sensitive layer beneath our skins. It didn't help it was spring with the weather noticeably warming, adding sunlight, injecting libido and desire into everything. Maybe she did not feel it, but it seemed she did. She certainly played it, and from that day forward I was 'Jimmy.'

That name, my new name, one I had never been called before, changed us.

One other thing. She liked to come down for coffee in the morning, just before I was ready to leave for work. The coffee was already made, I had long since been making extra in the pot for her, and I had already had breakfast. Whenever Rachel came down, she wore tight sweatpants and T-shirt. They had High School names and slogans printed on the front. She had one pair of sweats that said pink right over her butt. A little suggestive. There had been mornings she wore only a long tee, with bare legs, her top just covering her behind - but on warmer days. She was always barefoot, and her hair a nice dark tangle fallen over her eyes, sometimes pulled back and clipped. She always wore a little make up, lip gloss, but not in the morning when she met me to say goodbye and have her first cup of coffee. She had such a fresh look in the morning, large eyes, and kind of a groggy demeanor.

But the new thing, the thing that was completely different, was when I would get my bags and say my good days, she would walk up to me and say "See you Jimmy!" and kiss me. A peck really, a short kiss, on the lips. At first it surprised me, and I started a bit, thought about putting a stop to it all. The feeling that ran through me, a warm happiness. She, balancing herself against my chest with her hand, "Bye. Bye. Jimmy. See you tonight!" I never sought a longer kiss or anything like it. Utterly innocent. I remained passive, though in my heart of hearts it sent a shiver through me. Not lust exactly, but a wonderful morning shiver. Joy. Human connection. I had determined many mornings to put a stop to it, but at the relevant moment never did. Some mornings she would wrinkle her nose after the kiss.

It became habit, automatic.

The nose wrinkle was when her lips slipped slightly higher onto my upper lip from my lower lip, which resulted in my mustache scraping her upper lip. She would wrinkle her nose. It tickled. It was a very similar reaction to when I had kissed Lisa. I had had a mustache and beard for many many years. 




Rachel's Secret



And on some of those mornings Rachel would say, "We need to trim that beard of yours." Just as she had said the day our kisses began.

So imagine the scene of me in professorial suit and tie, usually tweed. Sometimes no tie. Sometimes a sweater with my leather bags. This 18 year old girl in a tight little pair of sweat pants and tee following me to the door, her tangle of auburn hair fallen around her shoulders, sparkling brown eyes, pressing her hand to my chest leaning up on tip toe and giving me a soft little kiss on the lips each morning. I simply started to reply, "Bye dear."

On Fridays I have a half day, and on that day Rachel actually leaves the house for school before I do. On this Friday, however, there was a teachers conference on Thursday and Friday, so she had both days off. We had our morning off together. Not a big deal, I set Friday mornings as a time to read student papers, but Rachel had another idea as to what we were going to do this morning.

She had a small beard trimmer in her hand as she stood in the doorway. Sweats and tee on, her normal morning attire.

"We are going to trim that beard."

I looked at her, "What?"

This was something she had said many many times now, but it never dawned on me that she actually meant it. 

"Trim your beard," she was waving the trimmer around in her hand, standing before me with a cocked hip, and it registered what she held. I had one as well, but I did tend to be remiss, and I usually let the barber trim my beard when I got my hair cut.

"OK. Uh, let me do a few papers first, then..."

She came over and took my hand, "Uh, uh," and pulled me into the den and sat me on the leather sofa. A little pout, "Lets do it now." She had a small towel there which was wrapped around my neck and she leaned me forward away from the sofa, getting everything ready. I was following along letting it happen, because after all this was something she had said she was going to do for some time now. 

I looked at her with the beard trimmer in her hand, "Why do you have one of those anyway?"

And she looked me right in the eye, again, with her 'you should know' look. I had a pause, blood rushing to my skin, and as my realization arrived she added, "I have a little beard I like to trim as well." Her eyebrow arched as she said it, that smile on her face, so precious, her eyes twinkling into mine, the enjoyment she felt when she left me speechless. 

This morning she had put on a little of her lip gloss which gave her mouth a delicious shine. Her eyes a deep, dark almond shape, and the brown of her eyes bringing out the sparkling white. Her lips, in a pout, as she adjusted me getting me ready, and then she kneeled down in front of me, standing up on her knees between my legs, placing her even with me as I leaned forward.

That tension between us again. I looked at her arched eyebrows, the little strands of hair falling over her eyes that she could look through. Her warmth and smell as she kneeled before me. So sweet, her concern, how she loved taking care of me. Preening, she ran her hand across my cheek, roughing my beard as she did, assessing its length. 

"You'll look so much better when this is trimmed up," she cooed, and with that the trimmer began to buzz. It was battery operated, a small narrow black razor with the right length attached to the end of it. I could tell. She seemed to know what she was doing. She swayed and held herself there between my legs as she trimmed, slowly, carefully. 

Little tufts of hair falling to the floor, the feel of the razor running up my cheek, under my chin. We were so close, the angle of her there, her body before me. I could feel her breath on me occasionally. I began thinking of her stories, of what she had done, of feelings, desire, her body. Her beauty. And as she swayed before me, shaving my beard I reached my hand out and held her, simply to steady her, holding her at her side wrapping my fingers around to the back of her ribcage. Watching her eyes, she briefly glanced at me but continued to trim. I was going to hold her steady.

I could feel the weight of her, feel her breathing, this little bird, her thin ribcage and how I could wrap my hand around her side, the way she leaned occasionally against my hand as I steadied her. No acknowledgement I was holding her, touching her, and I had never touched her like this before. She had lay her hand on my cheek, pressed her hand to my chest, kissed me. But never I reaching out to her. I brought up my other hand onto her other side, and again held her. Holding her there before me. Her small frame, so light, frail even. She letting me hold her, holding my hands on her. I could feel her breathing in and out, thought I could feel her heart beating, and I could feel a slight trembling in my own finger tips. 

What I did next was unforgivable. 

I haven't a clue what thoughts there were. Actually, there were none. Her breathing was so even, her smell, warmth, the feel of her so wonderful. I felt a sudden compassion, connection, moment of sweetest desire. Dare I say lust. It felt so right. I stroked my thumbs up her front as I held to her so that my thumbs literally pressed over the edge of her breasts. Far enough over her breasts to feel their softness, far enough to realize she wore no bra, and I so perfectly remember how such a thought registered in my thoughts. No bra. Her soft flesh. And I began to rub the side of her breasts with my thumbs, still holding her, still 'steadying' her, as I had touched her in this way.

I looked at her, frightened, almost as a child would who had done wrong. But there was no reaction whatever from Rachel. I had gotten away with it, or rather was in the midst of doing it and being allowed. So I continued, stroking her with my thumbs, more brazen. Letting my thumbs press inward as I rubbed up over her breasts, closer in, shifting my hands a bit as I did it. She responded by shifting herself a little closer, the whole time trimming my beard. Her breathing warm on my face, her eyes not looking at me, but at her hands as she worked. She had placed her other hand on my knee. I continued, slipping my hands around now to the front, and without any excuse, cupped her breasts, palming her with trembling hands, squeezing and feeling their shape, openly rubbing her. Feeling their shape and weight, so soft beneath the fabric of her top. I held to her, squeezed and stroked at her breasts. They felt so free beneath the fabric, the thin worn fabric of the tee. Each hand covering each breast, I could feel her nipples tighten in my palm, could feel her leaning into my hands as I stroked my thumbs across her hardening nipples. 

My heart was pounding as I looked at her, squeezing her breasts. I saw her eyes close a little once or twice, as she would catch her breath, each time I scraped my thumb across her nipples. A wave of pleasure? I pressed her nipple with my thumb and forefinger, watching her head tip lower and her shaving briefly stop. Her eyes again meeting mine, liquid, the pleasure in her eyes. What could I possibly say? I saw this girl in front of me, this girl and her stories. I thought of her body, her desirability, how she wanted to be desired. The pleasure in her eyes. And I did, I desired her. 

She leaned away from me, and breathed out, "There. I think we're done."

I croaked out, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She moved back and my hands fell away. She was now standing before me, and I was looking up at her. Did this even happen? Guilt ridden, what could I possibly do now? Much like that man had in her story. She stood before me in her sweat pants and tee, pulling the hair back out of her face. I was waiting for a tut tut. Something. Anything.

Finally I said, "Rachel, I'm sorry. I never intended to...."

She looked at herself and at me, put her hand on my cheek, held it there as I looked up at her, and said, "It's OK Jimmy. You do so much for me. You make me feel good. I like it when I can make you feel good sometimes too."

She took the towel from around me, and I had not even realized it was there. I was trembling, continued looking at her. Her body beneath that loose fitting morning outfit, the same one I saw each day. Knowing what her body felt like. Her hair, her smell. The feel of her hand on my cheek. This rising desire I felt. It simply cannot be. I could now imagine how her breasts felt, her heartbeat, breath. I had touched them, held them. She walked out of the room and came back with a dust pan and small brush, leaning down to sweep up, her tee falling away a bit. 

I said, "I'm afraid I have become like all those other boys, those men."

She did not look at me, but said, "I didn't go running out of the house did I?"

"Rachel...."

She stopped, set down the brush and pan, and sat next to me. "Stop. Look." Gathering her thoughts, "Don't make it a big deal. It felt...good. Nice. You do so much for me. You make me feel good. Believe me, I know how to take care of myself." She had taken my hand and was rubbing my fingers, holding my hands palm up, looking at me. She laughed then and looked down at herself, "I mean, really, they are so small anyways, it doesn't matter. Does it? Anything above my waist, is yours."

I wanted to say, 'no, they are wonderful.' But did not want to go there. We paused, she let go of my hands and once again brushed my cheek, ruffled my beard and drew her hand under my chin. "Oh Jimmy. What am I going to do with you?" 

I looked at her eyes, her smile. The way she held my cheek. And I said, "So, it was OK? You're sure?"

"Yes. I would tell you if it wasn't."

And my heart began pounding, her body before me, and I am now literally trembling. Temptation rising in my thoughts. How I wanted to touch her again. The feelings that were coming over me were overwhelming. "Can I. Now?"

My hand open, and palm up. Like I was begging. She looked down at herself and me, leaned back into the sofa. "Sure."

And surrendering herself to me, I began to once again draw my hands over her. Rubbing softly up and down her front, squeezing her breasts, caressing her shoulders, and down her arms. Her thin top moving to my touch, as I pushed the fabric around on her body. She lay like that with her head back on the cushion, looking at me, sighing and closing her eyes, a soft smile on her face. I ran my hand across her belly, over her navel, could feel the little indent there, and up over her breasts again. Squeezing and drawing my fingers around her nipples. Feeling her nipples tightening again. She felt so wonderful, her yielding body. Anything above the waist, I am thinking. I wanted to lay her down and stroke her back, take her top off, run my fingers through her hair. I rubbed my hand over her neck under her chin and across her collar bone, she simply leaning back in the sofa letting me. Running my hand down her sides I could feel each rib, I wanted to count every little crevice, dimple and curve on her body in that moment. I was in such a flight of fancy. Lost in feeling and desire. It had been so long.

"Mmmm." She stretched, "feels nice," she cooed to me, eyes on me now, encouraging me. I could feel her arousal. Soft sighs, and the movement of her body against my hand. Letting me stroke, touch, squeeze, caress. 

I have no idea how long we were like that. This time she had not touched me. But I her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glowed. I brushed the hairs from her cheek, and then we stopped, as if on a nonverbal command between us. The air was liquid and warm and I was hard, my cock was hard, and with subtle embarrassment I adjusted myself. She gave no notice.

The time had gotten so I needed to get ready to go. 

I got up to gather my things, and she finished sweeping. As I put my coat on, she padded up to me barefoot with a big smile, "There, you look so much better Jimmy. I can see your lips now." 

She put her hand to my chest and leaned in, so slow closing her eyes. I held her by the waist this time, running my hands up her side, over her ribcage with my thumbs pressing into her breasts as I held her to me, her lips pressed to mine. She lingered this time, slower and I let her, let her kiss me soft and full on the mouth. I wrapped my arms around her then and felt her chest press into me. I returned the kiss, and we let our lips close around one another. Her breasts now pressing into my chest, she was still up on tip toe. I let go and she stood back. 

I could barely breathe.

Her cheeks glowed, and she was suddenly shy, turning away. "Have a nice day," looking back at me in her bare feet. Her smile, her lingering warmth. 

I walked out of the house in a daze.

----------------------------------

Susan, a Guilty Mind and Hatching a Plan

My feelings over the next several hours cannot be conveyed. 

First, an overwhelming general elation. There was this tremendous release, I believe, from a surge of testosterone that was now coursing through my body, a first in many many years. The feeling was so new to me, I wondered if I had actually been depressed. I kept looking at my hands, and remembering the feel of her flesh. But other parts of me were processing guilt and regret, and worry. What had I done? What if she were not fully honest with me? She may be disgusted with me. Of course she is going to say it is OK. What else to say, with the position of power I have she has no where to go, wants to stay in the States. Fearful of being sent back. 

Guilt and worry led to thoughts of commitment on my part to never letting it happen again. It was wonderful, but a gross misjudgement. I had to convey this to Rachel, in no uncertain terms. That I had engaged in touching her the first time, one can show carelessness. But, to ask and engage that second time while sitting next to her on the sofa. It had all the making of intent, of 'guilty mind.' 

What did she think of me now? Really think of me?

!!

As I rounded the corridor to my office, I almost ran right into Susan. Susan was a Fellow in my field, but a surgeon and not a researcher. We had worked together for many years, perhaps at least a decade.

"James!"

"Oh," suddenly aware of her there. "Yes." I felt as if she could read my mind.

Surprised at my simply saying yes, and nothing more, she proceeded with, "Hello." Standing and staring now at me. I was flustered at the contact as she stood right before me, and she noticed my discomfort. She was perhaps four of five years younger than me, a brunette with short brown hair; wearing a white coat, exactly as I always saw her. "You all right? You seem distracted."

"I'm just late."

"You're not! You are early. I didn't expect to see you for another hour."

I ran my hand through my hair. "Yes. Well...." Shit.

She was eying me now, "There's something different about you." I was truly positively glowing, physically I felt great. Was it all that obvious? It was my mind tormenting me not my body.

"Uh, yes, well my niece trimmed my beard this morning." I smiled trying to be nonchalant. "Like it." And settling down I began to move my thoughts back into the reality of my day, where I was. I felt like I was using my eyes for the first time.

She appraised me up and down. "Yes. That might be it. You just seem...distracted, more energy, than I've ever seen in you."

"Sorry."

"I kind of like it." She was smiling now. And I will add here that over the past several years Susan had displayed a consistent and high level of interest in me, and she at various times had not been subtle either. An interest that was held at bay due to me being in a period of mourning, but a mourning from which I suppose I have never fully emerged. She could have said I seemed happier, which at that moment was true. But I knew she would not. I was trying now to find my way around her, but she met my eyes and was keeping me in place, eying me up and down. Her cheeks flushed a little.

Was I going to leak testosterone now on every woman I met?

As I began to walk again she turned herself in beside me. "Say James." We were shoulder to shoulder now. "I've known you a long time, and we do not ever seem to do anything outside campus. What do you think about..."

I looked at her, and in a flash, realized this may be good. Susan. Yes. A way to deflect from Rachel, turn my thoughts. And I continued to listen with all these thoughts crashing about, cascading in my mind. No way she could have imagined my thoughts.

"Wouldn't it be nice to just go out, the two of us." Which I know she added because on other occasions she had tried to have a drink with me, or lunch, I tended to invite yet another colleague.

I ran my hand through my hair again, set my stuff down in my office. We had arrived at my office I realized and Susan was facing me again. Looking up at me expectant. We were like teenagers, nervous and the room was warm. 

"Yes, lets do that, it would be nice. Very nice." I said with a smile.

Her eyes literally sparkled, and I noticed how pretty she was. A white lab coat does nothing for ones figure and she was not young, as I was not. She had a shapely figure, though with more weight. The kind of look a middle aged woman would have, but pretty eyes, and a narrow nose. Very pretty eyes as I looked into them, green. Something I had never noticed before. 

"When?" And she continued with, "How about this weekend?" 

"How about Sunday." I did not want to say tonight, and Saturday seemed to soon. I needed time for this. I needed to tell Rachel. Why? Why did I think that? Would she be mad at me? Why the HELL would I think that?

"Sunday has the possibility of me being busy in the evening. I have a patient that will be having some of their equipment adjusted. Saturday might be better, or Monday. I actually have some surgery both days, but can schedule to have the evening. I can drive over to your house and get you, if that would be all right."

"Saturday then." I said. 

"We can go out to eat. Yes?"

"Yes."

And in a moment she was out the door, and I leaned back in my seat. Reveling in my body, and recoiling in my mind.

---------------------

Avoidance

The rest of the day went quickly. I knew I had a reprieve from Rachel because it was Friday and she was always out Friday nights. She may be home when I got home, and in realization of that, I stayed in my office a little later. At one point I got a text from her: 'WHEN YOU COMING HOME?' Did I really intend to miss her like this? I answered, 'DID NOT GET MY PAPERS DONE THIS MORNING.' Which was true. 'I WILL BE LATER.' I admit it, I was nervous. Did not know what to expect. She may be angry at me, I honestly did not know. I kept thinking about how I had fondled her, how she had felt, what she had said. The way her breasts felt, my hands roaming over her, the way she lay back, settled in the sofa. It was too much. 

And what she had said!

'I'm yours from the waist up' and 'they're so small it doesn't matter.'

And I am thinking, they did not seem all that small.

Stop!!

So I got home late and felt relief at the empty house, a note on the table indicating where she was. I had a curfew for her of 11:30 which she assiduously followed so she did not need to provide any indication when she would be home. It would be then or a little earlier. And I also found myself going to bed earlier, again avoidance. Many times I was up when she got home on Friday night. I usually went to bed a little earlier than 11:30 but tonight I was in bed before ten, so if she had even come earlier I would be asleep.

I lay in bed going through the day, everything. Worried about Susan coming to the house on Saturday and Rachel here. What if something was said, what if? 

I looked different today, Susan had said so. I smiled. I turned on my side, and fell asleep.

-----------------------

Morning Tete a Tete




Rachel's Secret



I was roused next morning by a knock at my door.

Blinking my eyes open, I could see the sun was just coming up and that it was about 7:00. It was Saturday.

"Jimmy. Jimmy, can I come in?" Rachel's voice. "I have to leave for yearbook. I wanted to say goodbye."

Normally she would just leave. One of the things she had done at the school was to take journalism, and the school had made a space for her to participate in the assembly of the school yearbook. And it had been a great way for her to make some friends. 

I sat myself up and pulled the sheet higher, tucked it in around myself. I slept in boxers or nothing at all. This morning it was nothing at all. She had never seen me with my shirt off, and my heart began to pound, thinking about what I had done. Everything rushing in around me. This would be the first time I saw her since...a twinge in my loins.

I heard her again, "Jimmy?"

"Yes. I'm OK. Come on in."

She opened the door slowly and looked inside, before opening it all the way and padding over to my bed without turning on the light. I saw her sit at the edge of my bed, her form in the low light wearing a pair of shorts and a top that rode high up her midriff, a tight band around her middle with fabric running up over each breast, a little V down her middle. I could see it was tied around her neck. I knew the outfit, that I was noticing was interesting, as my thoughts immediately wandered to her body, her breasts, and I felt my cock stiffen It was frustrating and embarrassing. 

"Hi." She said. This soft lilting hi. Sing song. She was not angry at all. "I didn't see you last night, you must of went to bed early, and I have to go to yearbook. I have a lot of layout work and I'm a bit behind. Jason and Marnie are going to help me."

"That's fine."

"I wanted to say bye." She sat there looking at me, this pause between us. "You OK?"

I sat myself a little higher, knowing precisely what she meant. "Still waking. I'm fine...You?"

And we were silent again.

She pulled her hair back from her eyes, and bit at her lower lip looking at me, "I'm not usually tongue tied. You want me to get you some coffee. ANYTHING you need? I got a little time still." I caught a definite emphasis in the word anything. 

Silence, and I once again went into a worried little confession. "Look. Rachel. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...."

"Jimmy!"

I tried to continue, "Can we go back....forget....about"

"Stop! I SAID it was fine. Sheeesh. I'm fine. Look, I meant what I said."

"Honey, we can't."

Another pause.

"OK then. I'm just checking in, I'll see you later." I wanted to mention about Susan, but in that moment she lay her hand at my shoulder and leaned down to give me her kiss. All thoughts vanishing. 

Her lips were tremulous, she was moving slow, almost like SHE were nervous. Her hand trembling as she held my bare shoulder. I didn't stop her as her lips wrapped around my lower lip, the way she did it, and kissed me slow. Slow like the morning before, held her mouth to me. This little bee nipping and bouncing along the petal of a flower. I could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her. So good. Her fingers were caressing my shoulder as she lingered there. I felt her tongue run along my lower lip, testing as I ever so slightly opened my mouth to her. The narrowest line, and felt her tongue dip inside, as I touched her tongue with mine.

She gave an audible sigh. My heart was pounding and my cock felt heavy. All my feelings, of release and exultation.

She sat back up and said in a quiet voice, "Hmm, That was nice!" Her hand was still on my shoulder, "Sure you don't want some coffee?" Looking me up and down she says out of the blue, "You want a back rub?" and began pushing at me with her small hands, rolling me over, and I let her turn me onto my front. "You seem tense."

"I'm not tense, I just woke up."

Her hand rubbed down the center of my back, feathery touches. This little bird in my room. I let out a sigh and she sat closer, by my side, running her fingers lightly all over my back. This human contact, so addictive, and I felt her run her fingers across my shoulder blades and down my back, while holding the sheet across my waist. 

"Feels nice," I sighed at the touch. This was alright. 

She said softly, "It's the same for you. Above the waist, K?" The implication was unmistakable, I let it pass. Her hands running down to my lower back, I continued to let her stroke and rub and caress. At one point her hands dipped beneath the sheet and ran right over the top of my butt cheeks. 

I looked at her, opening my eyes without lifting my head. "Above the waist."

"It was." She said matter of fact looking at her hands as she massaged me, running her hands over the same spot to make her point.

"That was not ABOVE." 

"Where do you think the waist is?"

Honestly, this was ridiculous. "Across the middle, that's your waist. At, at your navel." And I made a motion across my back at the narrow point of my back. 

She let go of me and grasped her cellphone, "No it's not."

"Rachel, I am a doctor."

"A BRAIN doctor."

She was tapping away at her phone. And she held out her phone, "There."

I turned myself around to look, sitting myself up to read the entry with the query 'Waist' while keeping the sheet tightly wrapped around my bottom half.

In triumph she said, "I googled it. The waist begins right here," pointing at the picture, "Right at the hip bone. This one has it a bit lower." As I read she had her hands on me again pressing me back on the bed, and she was stroking me on my front across my chest and drawing her hand lower as she said, "Right to Here." She drew a line across my abdomen well below my navel from the center point of my hip bone across to the other, coming perilously close to my penis, its hardness now completely obvious beneath the sheet. Her eyes on my abdomen the whole time, unmistakably eying my crotch. Then she let go and drew a line on herself across her low riding shorts well below the beltline, "On me, it is from here to here." Meeting my eyes, making sure I was looking, "And I think it dips down in the middle."

I let out a breath as her hand was basically laying across the front of her crotch. I eyed her concave belly, her shorts running low across her hips. Lust and desire filling me. 

Wanting to stop this I said, "I'll have some of that coffee now."

"K." She rose and left, shortly returning with a cup. I set up a little higher and had a sip.

As I sat there, she continued to rub me. I letting her. It felt so nice. She had done my back and now she was doing my front. I let her run her hands across my belly, up along my front and low across my abdomen. Above the waist, after all. And it felt so fucking good.

As she stroked me she says, "Honestly, Jimmy, I don't know how you ever got to first base with a girl."

I knew exactly what she meant.

"What are the bases now a days anyway?"

"What do you think they are?"

"Well first base is kissing, second base is up top, third base is uh lower, and well...." 

"And where are WE?" she said playfully. Her head jerked up as she said it, looking me in the eye. My cheeks were glowing now and she was drawing her finger down my front and poking at me as she said it.

I played along, "I guess, second base."

"Maybe minor league," she says.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, in the majors first base is kissing AND feeling up. You are definitely on FIRST base Jimmy." 

She was so adorable sitting there. So female. Her hands were mesmerizing me. I wanted to touch her. I moved a bit closer on the pretense of reaching my coffee, but as I sipped and set the cup back down, remained. Her hands were rubbing across my chest, drawing circles and lines on my skin. Playful and random. I lay my hand right at her hip, the demarcated line, and slid my hand up her side no fabric covering her there. I was touching her bare skin. She letting me, continuing to massage, not acknowledging at all my hand was on her as I began to curl my fingers across the bare skin of her midriff above those little shorts.

"Don't you have to go?"

"I have a little time."

And I did it again. I brought my hand up her chest and across her breasts. The fabric of her top was so much thinner. She closed her eyes as my palm scraped across her nipples. I lay my hand at her collar bone and felt her nails scratching me as I brought my hand back down over her chest, palming her breast and squeezing.

I ran my hand down her sides as she stroked me, and over her breasts, only our breathing and sighs in that gradually brightening room from rising sun. 

She let out a sigh and cooed, "You make me feel good." I gave her another squeeze.

"We shouldn't be doing this." I said as I continued to run my hands down over her tummy and across the top of her shorts, over her belt line, drawing my hand back and forth across the top of her shorts. I felt her hipbones and held them, curling my fingers around to her butt, ran my hand over her abdomen as she sat there, low between her legs. I could feel the mound of her crotch, her sex. I wanted to dip my hands into those shorts just then, I wanted her so much. To feel her, take her clothes off.

She shrugged. "It's not like we are going to go all the way. Nothing wrong with it. What's so different about your chest than mine? Really. With you it's OK. So...."

The reasoning was muddled. And I wanted to stop, but did not. I was running my hand across her navel, playing with her, felt the indentation which went down her abdomen from her navel down between her legs and the downy fur that would grow into that patch between her legs. Her warmth, the smell of her. She was looking down at my hand. Her massage of me had ended, and she simply held her hand to me in one place, holding herself up as I rubbed.

"But you are so much younger than me."

"Younger?" She rolled her eyes. "Not, that I am your niece?"

"Well yes. I mean..."

She cut in, "Just kidding. We're just making each other feel good. It's nice." And she let go of me, threw her hair back and put her hands behind her neck. "Want to see?"

Oh my god! She was going to take her top down. And I needed NEEDED to say no. But did nothing as I looked at her.

She fumbled behind her neck and let the fabric down around her waist. Her breasts exposed, perfect full tear drops clinging to her front. Lovely brown aureoles, half dollars, her nipples hard little erasers. She let me look at her keeping her hands at her sides. Proud of her effect on me. I lay my hand at her bare breast and stroked her so soft, her powder skin, pressing my hand to make it rise and squeezing. Her nipples were so tight, her cheeks were mottled and red as I touched her naked skin. She sighed as I touched her, her chin dipped low as she watched me. 

"I like it when you touch me. It's OK."

We continued like that a little while longer. When she looked the clock, "Oh, god." An hour had gone by. It was 8:00. "I do have to go," almost apologetic. She leaned down and was kissing me again, leaning across my chest, her bare breasts pressed to me and her lips on mine. The feeling was impossible, her breasts pressed to my chest. Skin to skin, it was too much. My cock was in agony. I let my mouth part and our tongues sliding and dancing together. I slid my arm around her back and held to her, she brought one leg up and let it lay along me. She was almost lying on top of me, skin to skin as we kissed, so gentle and soft, wet. She was chewing my lower lip, I felt the line of her teeth with my tongue. The most erotic thing I had ever felt in my life. She was such a good kisser. Before parting she bit my lower lip.

Then she stopped and leaned back a little and looked deep into my eyes, her hair falling down around my face as she said, "Don't be getting weird on me."

I watched her as if in a dream stand back up, slowly grasp her top and nonchalant pull the fabric back over her breasts, toss her hair back and tie it back around her neck.

"Bye."

In another moment she was gone.

--------------------------

D'Oh

I never told her about Susan.

Fuck.

It dawned on me as she walked out the door. 'Don't be getting weird on me.' What did that mean? But I knew immediately telling her about Susan had suddenly gotten harder. 

--------------------

Confrontation and Reconciliation

Rachel arrived home a little after one, and I had made some soup and sandwiches. She was in such a wonderful mood, happy, light. It was me with clouds in my eyes. She was a being a tease, open, touching my back as she walked by. What did she think this was? I had certainly let it all get too far. 

"We got so much done today." She said, going on about the yearbook. I had difficulty following as she listed everyone who was there that day.

She is 18 I kept telling myself, how can a teenager know what they want, or know what is OK? This was entirely. ENTIRELY my fault. There is a momentum to events, cause and effect. Past events have a way of recurring. I knew that. Patterns and habits. How do I put this back in the bottle? THAT would have to wait.

"Jimmy you aren't listening to me."

She was right. I had something I had to say, before getting distracted. Her flutter of words. This little bird in the house again. I simply dove right in.

"I have something to tell you."

"Yes." She stopped in front of me, so quickly she tipped to the side, almost toppling over, and back up.

"When I was at work yesterday, I ran into a colleague of mine. And...and we, uh SHE, is going with me to dinner."

"When?"

"Uh, tonight."

"OKaaaay. And you were going to tell me when?" She had a sandwich in her hand, was pointing it at me as she spoke.

"Well, now."

"Not like yesterday, OR this morning. I thought we were going to watch a show....Fine." She looked away. I watched her deflate before me. As she walked away she said, "Is this like a DATE or something?"

I answered honestly, "Sort of." She looked back, stopped, clouds forming in her eyes. Realizing my mistake I added, "No. Not really."

"Wow! Mr. not dated in four years, I'm not ready has a date, what a coincidence."

"Rachel."

"It's fine. I don't...I said it's fine." She left the kitchen. "I don't care."

I followed, "She is a colleague of mine. I've known her for years."

"You ever go out with her before?"

"Yes."

"Alone."

"No."

"So out of the blue, today - yesterday actually - it's like OK yeah lets go out. I'm READY now." A growl in her voice.

"She asked me."

She headed for the stairs talking as she walked, "I said it's fine. It's FINE. Go. This has gotten boring all of a sudden. Leave me alone."

I didn't see her the rest of the afternoon. I wanted to go in and talk with her some more but why should I have to justify myself? I knew how awkward. Waiting was a mistake. She was getting attached, there was a physical relationship now. I could imagine her feeling our dalliances would continue. That by going out I was somehow cheating on her. I had not told her when I knew, had engaged in what we had engaged in without telling her. And she knew I had not actually dated anyone in four years, that is if she believed me then. Was this even a date? I sat down, yes, yes it was. I also knew how interested Susan was in me. 

Fuck.

At one point I walked down the hall and saw Rachel in the bathroom looking at herself in the mirror, it reminded me immediately of what she had told me. She was feeling the same way, I imagined that was what she did when she felt that way. I had done it, become one of the boys. 

I now felt guilty for something in no way should I be feeling right now. I was not cheating on her. She was my niece for chrissakes.

From there I heard her slam her door. She did not appear again until evening when I heard her padding into the kitchen. I sighed. I have to talk to her.

When I entered the kitchen there she was, getting some food out of the fridge, wearing only a short little tee top that stopped right at the bottom of her butt. No sweat pants. Her legs bare,her hair pulled back in a pony tail. 

When she looked at me, her mouth was in a thin line. When she turned I could tell the tee was older, worn thin which accentuated her breasts. I could see the pink of her skin through the fabric. She went to the fridge again bending to get a soda, her top rising up her backside and I could see her panties. Oh my god! I felt a surge of heat, and felt my cock stiffen. A little pink pair, lace, with fringes. From behind the fabric ran half way up her ass before curving out to her hips, leaving most of her ass cheeks exposed. Her behind was unbelievable. I have since been told the style of these panties are called Tanga, and you should look that up sometime. The effect it had on me was overwhelming, bringing back all my desire and feelings of her from before. She stood again and walked over to the counter, ignoring me. My eyes unable to look away, riveted to her bottom peeking out from under the tee. 

She said to no one, "This kitchen is a mess!" Her tee was so short I could still see her ass, which as she stood there made it look as if she had nothing on underneath at all. Her thighs running up to the edge of the tee, and her bare ass cheeks peeking out, the edge of her top rising and falling with each movement. I could feel my hands begin to tremble and had to adjust myself, as my cock was stiffening down my pants leg.

She looked back at me as I stood there, "What do you want?" Her voice firm. She knew. A quirky little smile as she opened the dishwasher, and began putting the dirty dishes from the sink and counter in. Teasing me.

I simply watched, as each time she bent over her perfect ass came into view, the swell of her pussy lips bulging from her panties. I swear I could see the line of her slit disappear between her legs. Her top falling forward, and I could also see it fall forward away from her breasts, though from my angle could not look down her top. To me, being partially clothed is so much sexier than being naked, and her effect on me was overwhelming. At the same time I could tell she was mad at me. I considered my words carefully. She continued setting the plates in haphazardly, the glasses in the bottom. I like them on top. She was not putting the silverware in the container but just laying them in. Each time she bent over her little bottom on display. 

I stepped forward, "Sweetie. Here. Here, you know you aren't doing it right." She, glaring at me, I continued moving closer. "Here let me help."

She spun around at me, "I know how to wash dishes Jimmy."

"I know you do, I..."

From where I had approached and the suddenness of how she had moved placed her directly in front of me, and as she turned I backed to the counter. She approached and moved close so that her chest was just brushing against me. I tried to sidestep towards the dishwasher, but she had me trapped. She was standing so close I feared she would feel my cock running straight up my pants but I could not move back. She did not move any closer, and I moved to the other side from her and began to reposition the dishes and the cups and the silverware she had placed in the washer into their appropriate spots. 

She then went to the fridge and took out a three-quarter full bottle of wine and poured it into a wine glass, filling the glass to the top.

"Rachel, you shouldn't be drinking that."

"What?" She stood with legs apart, and took a long drink from the glass.

"Your not old enough."

"I am, in England."

"You're here."

"You served me a glass of wine two nights ago."

"With dinner."

"What? Now I need your permission?"

"Yes you do." And I took the glass out of her hand and set it on the counter. "Rachel, Susan is going to be here soon. I wanted her to meet you."