My Gorgeous Goddaughter

My business partner Les and I have been mates since we were 13-year olds at school together. We lived a few doors from each other, we went on booze 'n' birds holidays to Spain together, we were best man at each other's weddings, and my wife and I are godparents to his daughter Becky. Stella and I weren't lucky enough to have kids of our own, but we only live a short distance from Les and his wife Irene, and Becky has almost been like our own daughter. We babysat her regularly, and she's been visiting us at least once a week for years now, a sweet-natured girl with an easy smile and a sunny, outgoing personality.

Les and I were only 20 when we started our business. We put all our savings, and quite a bit of our parents' capital, into buying a second-hand lorry and renting a ramshackle yard and office and called ourselves hauliers. Les did the paperwork, marketing, that sort of thing, and I did the driving. It meant I was away from home a lot, often overnight, and of course I missed Stella. I knew she'd be all right though, because she got on really well with Les and Irene and they spent a lot of time together when I was away. Nearly a quarter of a century on we've got a fleet of lorries and offices in four cities the length of England. Even though I'm managing director of the company (Les is financial director) I still get to drive one of the trucks occasionally, though not as often as I'd like these days.

Becky's 19 now, and she's grown up to be a beautiful young woman who anyone would be proud to claim as their kid. She's just under six feet tall with a glamour model face, silky black hair hanging halfway down her back, a great figure with curves in all the right places and long, long shapely legs. She's got brains to go with it too; she works for us in logistics, between taking a business studies course at the local college, and I can see her taking over the business when Les and I are ready to pack it in.

For years our families have gone on holiday together, usually to somewhere on the Mediterranean. Stella and Les both love lounging about on a hot beach or by the hotel pool soaking up the sun, whereas Irene and I get bored doing that. So we do what we jokingly call our 'holiday wifeswap' – Irene and I leave our better halves to it and we go off together on sightseeing tours, walking in the hills, that kind of thing. I didn't really know Irene at all when Les married her – he'd kept her to himself while they were courting – and spending days on end with each other's spouses, year after year, has definitely brought our families closer together. Of course, Irene and I are purely platonic friends, as are Les and Stella – at least, that's what I thought.

There was an incident one year when we were on holiday that I've always remembered with shame and embarrassment. It happened when Becky was 13, skinny as a rake and with long, skinny, ungainly legs like a stork's. One night, when I was sitting on the veranda of the apartment we were all sharing, little Becks came and jumped into my lap for a cuddle. There was nothing unusual about that, she was an affectionate kid and had sat on my knees dozens of times over the years. That time was different though; as she scooched around making herself comfortable her bum was rubbing hard against my groin, and with no warning whatsoever I felt my cock stiffen. Becky put her skinny little arms around my neck and rested her forehead on my shoulder while I sat with my arms loosely around her, terrified to move a muscle, a sheen of sweat breaking out all over my body. After a few minutes Becky kissed me on the cheek, then whispered in my ear, "Don't tell Aunt Stella, Uncle Steve, but I'm going to marry you one day." Then she hopped off my lap and, with a sweet grin and a little wave, she went off to bed. Finally able to breathe again, I went for a cold shower and spent the night shagging Stella until she begged me to give her some rest. Nothing else happened that holiday, but I made sure I was never alone with Becky again, never mind allowing her onto my lap. She gave me the odd sly grin that made me wonder about her. By the next year, thank God, whatever crush she might have once had on me seemed to be over, and she mooched around the whole time listening to the latest teen pop idol on her Walkman.

My whole life changed a week ago, when I walked into the most clichéd situation in the world. I'd been away for a business meeting in Birmingham, but one of the clients I'd been due to see had cried off, so I came home a day early. As I let myself into the house I heard a loud noise from upstairs – Stella groaning. I thought for a split second she must have hurt herself, but even as I took a deep breath to call out to her I heard her squeal "Oh my fucking God!" The only times I have ever heard her use that expression are when she and I make love, when she thinks I feel particularly big inside her. Not believing the thoughts that were running through my mind I crept up the stairs, where the sound was coming from, and peeped through a crack in our slightly open bedroom door. My worst fears were confirmed: there was my wife, stark naked, pumping up and down on the prick of a bloke who was lying flat on the bed beneath her. Her head was rolling with passion, her shoulder-length blonde hair flying about her face, and her big tits with their cherry red nipples were bouncing wildly with each thrust of her hips. It took me a moment to realise that the situation was a hundred thousand times worse than I could have guessed – the bloke beneath her, his eyes tightly shut in concentration as Stella fucked him, was my oldest and most trusted friend, my best man, my business partner, Les!

My head was reeling. The next thing I knew was that I was sitting on a bench on Hampstead Heath, several miles from home. I often go walking there, and the view across London form that bench is spectacular, but I had absolutely no memory of how I got there from the upstairs landing of my home. I don't know exactly how long I sat there either: certainly several hours, with my mind a complete blank. I had never even dreamed that Stella could be unfaithful to me, especially with Les. I'd never seen the slightest sign of it. I mean, they'd spent a lot of time alone together on holiday, but I'd spent the same time with Irene and I'd never ended up screwing her, or had the slightest desire to. And all those times I'd been away, when Stella might have spent time with Les, Irene had been there too – hadn't she? As it started to get dark I stumbled to where I knew I must have left the car and drove slowly home, wondering how I was going to face my conniving, treacherous bitch of a so-called wife.

When I arrived back at the house Stella was sitting in the lounge wringing her hands. She tried to smile at me, but she looked as nervous as a condemned prisoner listening to a gallows being built. She asked me how my trip had been, but my silence and the look on my face must have confirmed her suspicions. She sighed and said, "Steve, I know you came home earlier, and I can guess what you must have heard, or maybe seen. I love you with all my heart, I love being your wife, and I don't ever want that to end; but the truth is, I love shagging Les. He's so great at it, he really understands my body. I don't love him but...I'm in lust with him I suppose. I want us to stay together, but I can't give that up." I stared at her in utter disbelief – what the hell did she think I was? My voice sounding as if I'd just survived an attempted strangling, I asked her what she would do if I forced her to choose between me and Les. Refusing to meet my eyes, she said "Please don't force me to make that choice Stevie; it'd be far too painful for both of us." Without another word, shaking my head in bewilderment, I dragged myself upstairs and made up our spare bed where I spent a restless night, feeling totally humiliated. I could hear Stella crying in our bedroom at one point, but I couldn't bring myself to go to her.

The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn, and out of the house long before Stella woke. In my office at work I couldn't concentrate on anything; I just sat staring into space, wondering how on earth I was going to carry on with my life from here. At one point Becky came into my office with a report for me to read. When she saw the look on my face she asked in a concerned voice, "What's up Uncle Steve?" She hasn't called me uncle in years, except when she's trying to get round me, or wants to cheer me up. If my brain hadn't been so addled I probably wouldn't have told her that her dad was cheating on her mum with my wife; as it was I just blurted it out, more or less in those words. She looked shocked, and her hand flew to her open mouth – but what she said next surprised the hell out of me. "Oh my God Steve, I thought you knew!"

Seeing the dismayed look on my own face Becky sank down in the chair in front of my desk. "They've been doing it for years, certainly since I was a little girl. All those times on holiday, when you and Mum went off for the day, Dad used to give me some money to get an ice cream and buzz off while he and Auntie Sheila...well, you know. Mum knew, so I just assumed you did too. I was always amazed how relaxed you seemed about it. Mum told me she made a pass at you once, to try and turn the tables on them, but you either didn't notice or pretended you didn't, so she never tried again."

I had no memory of anything Irene ever did that could have been called a pass. Even if I had noticed at the time, I have just never fancied her, so I wouldn't have taken her up on it. I stared blankly at Becky while she radiated sympathy across my desk, then, to my horror, I felt my eyes prickling with tears. I hadn't cried in decades, but I felt a huge sob rise up from somewhere inside me then burst out as the floodgates opened and the tears started rolling down my cheeks. In an instant my sweet teenage goddaughter was round the desk and hugging me to her, shushing me and stroking my hair, like a mother comforting a kid whose pet has just died. As she held my wet cheek to her clean white blouse my face was inches from the slight peak of one of her nipples, pressing against the material. Other than my wife's, I hadn't been that close to a woman's tits since the day of my marriage, and from absolutely nowhere I felt a sudden unholy urge to poke the nip with my tongue.

Horrified at what I was suddenly thinking I pulled myself out of Becky's arms and angrily wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, muttering, "Look at me, stupid old sod. I'm sorry Becks, I shouldn't load my problems onto you, just try and forget this ever happened, will you? And do me a favour – don't say anything about it to your dad." She still looked pretty upset on my behalf, but she promised of course she wouldn't say anything to Les if I didn't want her to. After Becky had left my office I decided I needed a breath of fresh air to try and get my act together. I strode out of the office and straight to the nearest pub. As I passed Les' office I heard him on the 'phone, and resisted the temptation to go in and tear his fucking balls off. I assumed he must be aware that I now knew about him and Stella, which would explain why he had stayed out of my way all morning. After drifting through the streets for a while I headed for a pub and had a couple of pints of ale, something I would never normally do on a working day. The combination of air and alcohol seemed to do me a bit of good, and I actually managed to do a bit of work in the afternoon. I was dreading going home though, and I stayed late to write up my meetings in Birmingham.

I finished some time after six, when I assumed everyone else would have gone home for the evening. I was just about to pack up myself when, with no warning knock, my office door opened and in walked Becky. She had changed out of the smart business clothes she had been wearing earlier in the day, and looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a burgundy-coloured vest with miniscule shoulder straps, a denim skirt so short it barely extended as far down as her thighs, and a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes which accentuated her gorgeous legs. Her hair, usually tied up in a neat ponytail, hung loose about her shoulders. It was quite obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra, and the twin points of her nipples moved fractionally up and down under the vest as she sashayed across the floor towards me. I asked her if she was dressed up to go out for the evening. She replied, "No, I was just about to go home and I wanted to come and make sure you were all right Uncle Steve."

I expected her to sit in my guest chair again, but to my surprise she passed right round the desk and sat on it on my side, her bare knees inches from me. I swivelled my chair round to face her. Her thighs were slightly parted, and I noticed with embarrassment that I could see right up her skirt. Unable to help myself I took a glance, and realised with a start that not only was Becky not wearing a bra, she wasn't wearing knickers either: I could clearly see the dark shadow of her pubic hair between her legs. She seemed totally relaxed, and said in a slow, sultry voice, "The thing is, Uncle Steve, I feel really bad about what Dad's been doing all these years, having it away with Aunt Stella. I sort of feel like our family owes you something, to make up for it, and as his daughter and heir I feel it's my duty to pay our dues, so to speak."

As Becky spoke, I watched mesmerised as she slowly drew her legs wider apart. The skirt rode further up her thighs, and I found myself staring straight at her sweet cunt, with fleshy pink lips nestling within a thicket of neatly-trimmed black hair. The silence from the neighbouring rooms roared in my ears. There was almost certainly nobody else in the building, and Becky and I could do anything we liked without anyone knowing. I couldn't believe the way I was thinking. I couldn't possibly contemplate sex with Becky, it would feel like incest. I'd held her in my arms as a baby, I'd bathed her, she was like a daughter to me...even as I was thinking all this, Becky slipped off the desk and knelt in front of me. I watched in dumb amazement as she confidently reached out her hands and unzipped my fly. My cock knew what I wanted, even if the rest of me didn't – it was already rock hard as she wrapped her long cool fingers around it. Becky glanced up and our eyes locked, as she half-whispered, "Is this okay, Uncle Steve?" I was lost, completely in her power, and I could only nod and watch as her head dipped and her lips closed over my cock.

She sucked on the very tip, her hand slowly stroking up and down me. She released my cock from her mouth and I slumped back as she trailed her little pink tongue up and down it, softly biting the tip and swirling her tongue around it on each circuit. Then she took me fully into her mouth, and started licking and sucking on me with a vengeance. I was about to shoot my load when, to my surprise she removed her mouth again. She grinned wickedly up at me, her hand still languidly stroking the base of my shaft, and asked in a sweet voice "Are you enjoying this Uncle Steve?" I didn't feel able to speak, but I nodded, praying she was about to resume the blow job. She did after a minute or two, but for the next few minutes she continued to tease me like that, taking me to the very edge of coming then stopping, letting me go off the boil a bit before starting again. On about the fourth time I was ready for her, and the next time her lips closed over my dick I leant forward and wrapped my hands around her head, holding her in place as I started to twitch my hips back and forth, fucking her mouth. She giggled and pretended to gently struggle, but that heavenly tongue kept licking round and round me, and before very long I shot off deep into her throat.

I was still stunned by the turn of events, and sat back in a daze. Becky, having discarded her tiny skirt, sat on my knees, naked from the waist down, wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply. The saucy little cow had held some of my spunk in her mouth, and released it onto my tongue as she kissed me, forcing me to swallow it. As we cuddled up she absentmindedly stroked my prick and I slipped a hand up her vest and cupped one of her firm, silky tits. After a few minutes, as my cock began to get really hard again, Becky giggled softly. "Remember the last time I sat on your lap Steve? When I was a kid, and I told you I'd marry you one day? It took me a while to realise that I couldn't, because you could only have one wife, and a year or two more to realise that what I really wanted to do was fuck you. I never thought I'd pluck up the nerve, but you finding out about Aunt Stella and Dad gave me a perfect opportunity, and I knew I had to give it a try. Would you like to fuck me, Uncle Steve?"

Any last shreds of conscience long gone, I chuckled and asked her if that was a trick question. I started to move us towards the sofa I keep in one corner of my office, for entertaining guests more informally, but Becky shook her head emphatically. "No, I want to do it here." Without a moment's hesitation she swung an arm, swiping papers and pens off my desk, and leant forwards over it, presenting me with her beautiful round bum cheeks and a sweet sight of her pussy. Those puckered pink lips were quite gorgeous, and her hair ran the entire length of her pussy and into the opening of her bum. Without hesitation I slipped my trousers down to my ankles, moved between her legs, grasped the back of my thighs, and shoved my eager cock into her hot, tight little hole. She gasped, and looked back at me over her shoulder. "God Steve, you're so big! I've only ever been with little boys until now." I began to shaft her slowly and firmly, enjoying the feel of her fleshy bum pressing against my groin with each stroke, and her groans of pleasure. Then I had an idea – if Becky could be a tease, then so could I. I pulled right out to the tip and held my prick there, just see-sawing it in and out in the very edge of her pussy. She pushed back at me in frustration and gasped "Put it back in you bastard, I want a good hard fuck." I waited a few seconds then slammed my entire length into her with all my might. Becky squealed "Oh God yessss!" After a few more deep thrusts I repeated the tease and she swore at me again, at the same time giggling like a little girl being tickled.

I was loving the sight of Becky's bum, and I had a really evil thought. She relaxed as I pushed my cock halfway back into her, then in a flash I whipped it out of her and re-inserted it, straight between her cheeks and into her arse. She screamed with laughter and cried "Oh Steve, you dirty cunt!" I continued to fuck her backside, at the same time reaching under her and squeezing her small, perfect tits in my hands. Becky thrust her bum back at me with each stroke, intensifying the depth of my penetration and her groans of pleasure. Her bumhole was wonderfully tight, and it was only a couple of minutes before I cam again, shooting straight into her rectum, before slumping down onto her back, the scent of her long hair filling my nostrils.

When, after a minute or so, Becky recovered her breath she chuckled "You still owe me a proper fuck, you dirty old pervert. Now get on with it or I'll tell my daddy." It was going to take me a bit longer than that to recover my erection, but an alternative occurred to me. I dropped onto my haunches and buried my face in Becky's cunt, thrusting my tongue deep into her and glorying in the rich aroma of her arousal. She hissed, "Oh Jesusssss", and pushed back onto me. I kept licking away at the centre of her hole, using one hand to stroke and tweak her lovely pussy lips and the other to do the same to her clit, while she ground herself against my face and whimpered with lust. After a few minutes I felt an extra burst of wetness inside her and she gave a long, low groan as she climaxed.