I was 36 years old, and had been married for 10 years, when Tia moved into the house. She was my wife's niece, and had just turned 19. We had agreed to take her back with us from our summer trip in Kansas, because she wanted a chance to get out of her small hometown and go to college here in Houston. For our part, my wife and I thought it would be nice to help out a relative and also have someone who could babysit for us from time to time.
Tia and I hit it right off, and joked with each other constantly during the drive back to Texas. The last time I'd seen her, she had been 12 years old, and had been like the kid sister I never had. Now she was fresh out of high school, and looked very different from the skinny girl I used to take to the zoo or the park, or on grocery runs to the neighborhood Dillons. She still had that dark Southeast Asian complexion (the family had arrived in the U.S. as refugees from Cambodia), and that heart-shaped face with almond-shaped eyes. But she had grown up into an athletic teenager with curves in all the right places. When she wore shorts (she favored cutoff jeans that came right up to her bubble-shaped cheerleader's ass), I often caught myself stealing glances at the way her thigh and calf muscles rippled as she moved, and I appreciated the tautness of the tendons behind her knees, and the farm-girl thickness of her ankles. When she walked, she had that unconscious feline grace that seemed to radiate from the earth up through her legs and into the sway of her hips. Very sexy.
Of course, I had to remind myself that she was my niece, and therefore off limits. Not to mention that I was a married man and nearly twice her age. Still, it gave me a secret thrill when she and I were out running errands together, and people mistook us for a couple. I look young for my age, I guess because I keep in shape by working out in my garage several times a week and running on the weekends.
That summer, my backyard project was to build a pavestone patio. I took a couple of classes at the local Home Depot, borrowed library books on carpentry and patio building, rented several power tools, and got to work. About a week into the project, my muscles were already leaner and tighter than they had been in my teens, and my tan had darkened considerably. My wife, Nina, would help when she could, and even Tia would pitch in.
It happened during the second week of the project: I was outside cutting timber for the patio borders. Nina had taken the kids to Six Flags for the day, and Tia was in the house working on a college term paper. Around ten o'clock, she came out to "clear her head with some fresh air and exercise," so I had her measure and mark the timbers while I manned the circular saw. Tia was dressed in her tightest cutoff jeans, which tended to ride up her muscular thighs to the edge of her firm, bell-shaped ass. Instead of a sensible t-shirt, she had chosen to put on something resembling a large bandana, which barely covered the front of her torso, with ties that knotted together behind her shoulder blades. Whenever she turned her back to me and bent over to take some measurements, I couldn't help but stare at the way her back and leg muscles rippled as the sunlight glinted off her sweaty skin. I was glad that my heavy blue jeans hid the bulge in my crotch, but – jeez – it made it awkward to move around. As the afternoon wore on, there were a few moments when I would look up from my work with the circular saw and catch Tia gazing at me. She seemed to be checking out my chest or arm muscles. We'd make brief eye contact, and then we'd both look away; for my part, I felt a thrilling electric tingle building up along my spine and other parts of my anatomy.
As we worked, we continued with the flirty chatter that had become sort of a custom between us over the past few months. She joked about me being an old man who worked out in a pathetic attempt to stay young, and a nerd who spent way too much time reading and listening to old-timers' music (I called it classic rock). I would reciprocate by calling her a spoiled brat with the body of a 19-year-old but the mind of a 5th grader, and then I'd start teasing her about her outfit: "What the hell do you call that thing you're wearing? Don't you have the sense to at least put on a complete shirt? It looks like you grabbed a piece of old tablecloth and tied it on." And on we went, flirting and insulting each other.
Eventually, we finished cutting all the timber and decided that this was a good stopping point for today; tomorrow we'd commence to laying them down and hammering rebar through them to anchor them to the ground. Tia and I gratefully entered the air-conditioned house and proceeded upstairs to the showers. Tia was a couple of steps in front of me, and about a third of the way up the stairs she suddenly grabbed onto the hand rails and stopped in her tracks, causing me to bump into her back. "Whoops! Watch your step there, old man!" she exclaimed, giggling.
"What, can't you accomplish a simple task like climbing stairs, you little retard?" I replied. We continued up the stairs, but after a few more steps she repeated the maneuver, again causing me to stumble up against her.
"You're asking for it, young lady," I admonished in a mock-serious tone. She simply giggled some more and resumed climbing. The third time she tried the trick, I was ready. "All right, that's it!" I yelled, and I swept my arms under her legs and around her torso, picking her up like a child and carrying her up the last few steps. She yelped in surprise, reflexively throwing her arms around my neck, and we were both laughing as we reached the landing and I gently lowered her feet to the floor. The laughter gradually faded as we realized that her arms were still draped around my neck, and we were looking into each other's eyes with something building up in the small space between us: a highly charged, lustful attraction. I abruptly stepped back, gently guiding her hands down and away. I cleared my throat and said softly, "Um, I think we need to get out of these funky clothes and hit the showers."
"Um, yeah, okay," she replied in a throaty whisper, and she turned and slowly stepped towards her bedroom. I did the same, but at the last second I turned around and found her standing in her doorway, leaning wistfully against the frame, her smoldering eyes fixed on me and silently posing the question that remained unspoken between us. I became aware that my cock was full and hard and bulging uncomfortably against the crotch of my jeans. As if sensing this, Tia glanced down and saw the source of my discomfort, and then I saw the tip of her tongue flicker briefly over her upper lip. I almost groaned aloud when I saw that. I then turned back around and went into my bathroom, undressed, and took a much-needed cold shower.
As I toweled myself dry, I heard the water come on in the other bathroom, signifying that Tia had begun her own shower. The thought of her supple, naked young body glistening under the cascading water, separated from me by six inches of timber and drywall, caused my cock to stiffen again. I shook my head, as if to jostle these impure thoughts out of my mind, and stepped through the doorway into my bedroom. After only a few steps, I noticed something unusual and froze in my tracks: First of all, the main door to my bedroom was open, although I always closed it before going to the shower; secondly, the door to Tia's bathroom was open, as well. Had she opened my bedroom door, and then intentionally left her own bathroom door open? I could see the steam from her shower drifting out into the hallway, and my cock was stiffening once more. Guided by sheer impulse, I found myself stepping toward that doorway. Some voice in the back of my head warned me that this was not a good idea, but I don't think I could have stopped at that point; it was as if an unrelenting momentum had built up within me.
Now I stood in the doorway, and there she was. The shower curtain in her bathroom was transparent plastic, with cute images of seahorses and dolphins printed on it. I saw her nakedness in all its maddening perfection: her shoulder-length black hair clinging wetly to her head and neck, the nipples of her pert B-cup breasts jutting proudly before her, her flat belly crisscrossed by rivulets of flowing water, her dancer's hips swaying hypnotically as she turned this way and that, the small of her back curving out gracefully into the bulge of her smooth ass like the curves of a finely-crafted guitar, her well-tanned thigh and calf muscles rippling like waves over the ocean.
I stood there, my cock standing at full attention, and stared at this gorgeous vision. When she finally finished rinsing the soap from her face and opened her eyes, she gazed right at me as if she'd known I was there all along. There was no mistaking the attraction between us. Her eyes lowered and focused on my manhood, and again I saw the tip of her tongue snake out and slide across her lips. She smiled, and I smiled back, and I waited.
She turned off the shower and slid the curtain aside, gingerly stepped out of the tub, and glided toward me on her small, bare feet. She didn't bother to dry herself off, but came into my waiting arms, and we embraced each other and began kissing feverishly, our tongues lashing and probing. She gave a little jump and wrapped her athlete's legs around me as I cupped her ass and carried her across the hall into her bedroom, breaking the kiss only for a fraction of a second to make sure I didn't accidentally knock her against the door frame as we entered.
