Bobby was my best friend for more than 30 years. We'd served in the Corps, chased women and raised hell together. I was devastated when he passed a few years ago.
Bobby married 3 times (I never did). He had one child from his first marriage, my goddaughter, Hanna. I spoiled that girl as much as I could, right up until and even after Bobby and her mom split and she moved to another state. Although she and her dad barely spoke, I kept in touch with Hanna and always sent her cards and presents. I'd even visited her a few times when she was still a kid, which was a secret I never shared with Bobby. Her mom and I were old friends (I introduced her to Bobby), so she was cool with it. We'd definitely turn heads (the black dude walking in the park or zoo with the little redhead) on our "play-dates".
About a year ago, Hanna called me to ask for help. She had lost her job, broken up with her ass-hole ex and moved out his place. She was on her third "couch-crash". She's an only-child with both parents gone (her mom passed when she was in college), and her mother's older sister is "unreliable", so I wasn't surprised that she'd reach out to me.
Rather than just offer her money, I recommended that she come and stay with me. It just so happened that I was renovating the coach house on my property with the intention of renting it out. It's a one-story, studio building that I'd been using to store all my tools and other junk. It only made sense that Hanna would be my first "tenant" (I had no intention of charging her rent), until she figured things out.
She came out to visit me that weekend and look things over. The renovations would take another month and I was happy to get her input. She was very excited, and we continued to talk right up until she finally moved in the following week.
"You got no idea how much this helps me, Daddy-Joe..." she said, teary-eyed and squeezing me in a bear-hug. Daddy-Joe was the name her mom had come up with.
"Never a problem, Suga-Bear..." I replied with the nickname I given her when she was a child (because she loved to hug). "I'm here for whatever you need."
Those words would prove ominously true a few months later.
Hanna and I fell into a natural rhythm. She was under no pressure, and I just wanted her to rest. I gave her a roof to sleep under and money when she needed it (although she rarely asked for any). Eventually, she started looking after me as well. I gave her keys to my place in case she needed anything if I wasn't around, since my hours are inconsistent (I'm a self-employed plumber). She decided to clean and cook, so that almost every night I came home to washed clothes, no dirty dishes and a hot meal.
But as time went on things started to get a little...awkward.
It all started when I noticed something that I hadn't noticed before - Hanna doesn't like to wear a bra when she's at home. Which is understandable - sometimes I go "commando" around the house in my sweats. But from that point forward, I couldn't NOT notice her breasts. Especially the way they jiggle freely and her nipples poke out against the fabric of her shirts (GROAN). I'm a "breast-man", so for me - instant hard-on.
Hanna is an attractive woman in her late-20s, not the little girl I used to take to the zoo. She's about 5'7" and little on the skinny side, with pale skin and freckles and very nice breasts. Hanna is "a hottie"...up until that point I just hadn't really noticed.
I tried my best NOT to pay too much attention, but she didn't make it easy.
At least three or four times a week, when I'm not on a late-night job, we'd flop out on the couch together and binge-watch a show or catch a game. Usually we both fall asleep and one of us woke the other at 1 or 2 in the morning.
One of these times, I woke up first. The game was long over and the sports channel commentators were into their post-game bullshit. I switched off the TV and slowly came out of my fog. I was sitting in my favorite spot (couch-corner) with my legs stretched out along the chaise section. Hanna was stretched out along the couch section, turned to face me, with her head in my lap. Her cheek was pressed against my dick, using my lap like a pillow.
She was sound asleep, snoring and drooling on my flannel pajama-bottoms. My dick instantly started to swell against her slightly parted lips and I started to enjoy the sensation of her warm breathe.
"Oh fuck..." I gasped and jumped when I was finally alert enough to what was happening. "Suga-Bear...uuhm, wake up baby..."
I shook her and began shifting my leg in an attempt to hide my hard-on.
Hanna sat up and looked around, still half-asleep, as I stood and quickly moved away from her. She mumbled something, grabbed the nearest pillow and instantly went back to sleep. I covered her with a blanket and turned off the light.
I immediately went to my bathroom and rubbed one out before I went to bed - "fucking Hanna" was the image that got me off.
Then a few days later, Hanna informed me that the sink in her bathroom was draining slow. I worked on it while she went out to the grocery store. Along with the usual build up of hair I found small traces of caulk and drywall dust from the contractor renovation, so I removed the trap to clear it all out. When I was replacing everything and cleaning up, I knocked a black-nylon cloth off of the toilet tank. A jet-black silicone dildo rolled onto the floor. It was about 8-inches long and 3-inches thick, with small ridges and a slight curve at the end. I picked it up and studied it for a few seconds (this was the first time I'd ever held one), before giving it a long, deep sniff.
"Mmm..." I smiled; I realized that I liked the smell of my goddaughter's pussy. I would wonder later why I needed to know.
I quickly bundled it back up when I heard her car coming up the driveway.
Trying to not have a hard-on when I was around her became a real challenge. I hadn't jerked-off almost every night since I was in high school, and Hanna was now the reason why and the fantasy I had whenever I did. This was my life for the next few months - tease, fantasy, jerk-off. I secretly felt like a dirty-old-man.
Things changed a few months later when Ellen, Hanna's aunt (the "unreliable one"), came for a week-long visit.
I'd first met Ellen at the wedding and once or twice after that at family events. I remembered her as a "party-girl"; she probably did more hell-raising than me and Bobby. And now in her 50s, she could still kick up a shit-storm when she wanted to.
Three nights after her arrival, Hanna had literally given up her place to Ellen. She was now fully camped out in my living room.
"She smokes a pack and day..." Hanna said rolling her eyes, "...and last night she picked up some guy in a bar. They were fucking so loud that I couldn't sleep..."
"Never a problem, Suga-Bear..." I smiled. "Crash here as long as you need." I was more than happy to have her stay with me in my cramped 1-bedroom place.
Over the course of that week, I got to see even more of Hanna wearing even less. Instead of the usual shorts or sweats, she wore bikini or boxer briefs under an over-sized tee, tank or sweat-shirt, so that along with nipples and boobs, I was now treated to glimpses of butt-cheeks and camel-toe. Normally I waited until just before bed to relieve myself, but I ended up taking extended bathroom breaks when the urges hit me.
