I'm your uncle, and I'm 25 years older than you. We're not related by blood, but I've known you since you were born. I babysat you and helped you with your homework while you sat in my lap and hung on my every word. I've watched you transform from a baby to a girl to a woman. A damned fine-looking woman. I've wanted you since you were 15, but didn't dare say anything about it. You're 18 now. You just turned legal.
You, your parents and I are in the jacuzzi in your back yard when the phone rings. It's an emergency and both parents have to leave immediately. You and I are now in the jacuzzi alone.
You lean forward to tell me something and your bikini top slips, just a few inches. Just enough to reveal the tops of your perfect young nipples. I stare. I can't help myself. They are so pink and full of life, mounted on two soft mounds of temptation.
You notice my stare and you smile. It's a soft, knowing smile, but a little nervous as well. You know what I'm thinking, what I want. But that nervousness tells me this is your first time.
I reach for your hand. Even in the warm water, it is trembling. I say your name, gently. You gaze up at me and your mouth opens slightly. You have no words. That's OK. We don't need any.
Our lips touch, briefly. Your eyes close. I sigh, and we kiss again, deeply. Your mouth is soft and welcoming. My hands run down across your shoulders and back. My lips explore your ears, your throat, and downward. One hand slips under your bikini top to caress your firm young breast.
Your nipple rises to greet my touch. I move toward it with my tongue, taking my time, determined to make your first experience a special one. I will help you overcome your shyness and teach you what a wonderful thing sex can be. I unstrap your bikini top and let it float away in the bubbling water. Your two pale breasts, never before touched even by sun, mesmerize me and I don't hesitate to let you know it. "You're so beautiful," I say.
You're blushing now, and the redness spreads from your face and neck to color your breasts light pink. My hand traces the path of your blush down your stomach and into the front of your bikini bottom. You gasp as my fingers graze the center of your feminity, your warm wet womanhood.