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.
"Let's go inside," I suggest. Your first time should be in a place where you feel safe, secure, and where have you have ever felt more secure than in your own bed?
I take you by the hand and lead you to your room. This is the room you grew up in, your bed still surrounded by the toys of your childhood. I pick you and hold you in my arms. You are so small, so light. You reach around my neck and hold me. I bend forward and, kissing you, I lay you gently onto the bed.
My tongue leaves your lips and finds your throat. I revel in the soft warmth there. You squirm. Has the sudden intimacy made you uncomfortable? I pause. Lying next to you I feel so much larger than you. I'm six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and 250 pounds. By comparison, you're such a fragile thing. I take special care with you.
Your eyes are half-closed. Your fists are clenched. Your breathing is rapid, your rose-tipped breasts heaving. I touch one hardened nipple, then bring my mouth down on top of it. My tongue explores the fine crinkles that surround it and I tease it lightly with my teeth. I smile when I hear you moan.