All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old
*****
Claude followed Nel back down the hall to her bedroom lost in thought. This had been a day he could never have imagined: He had arrived in Denver at 2 a.m. after driving 18 hours from Portland. Since then, in the same amount of time it took for the drive, his 18-year old niece had blown him, jacked him, dry-humped his leg and fucked him twice, losing her virginity in the process. He had stripped her mom, his own secret daughter from an incestuous fortnight thirty-nine years ago, intimately kissed her and tucked her in bed in a drug-induced sleep, where even now she remained while he was about to climb, again, into his hot little niece's pink and cream bed. "Jesus!" he thought to himself, "I hope I get some sleep!"
At the end of the hall, Claude said, "Hold up, kiddo. You go ahead and get in bed. Warm it up for me, OK?" He smiled sincerely, then rubbed his cheek and sniffed his left armpit. "I'm a little bit stinky and rough. I know you said you didn't mind the beard, but I do and it won't hurt for me to use some of your Mom's body wash, too."
"But, unnnkk," Nel started to whine...
"Nope, no buts," Claude firmly replied. "I'll be right along... I promise."
"Well, OK, but you better not be too long..." Nel left unsaid whatever dire consequence she was considering.
Claude waved, "No worries, Sweet Cheeks," he grinned, "Now go on." Then he turned and opened the door to the master bedroom.
Sally was still inert, though she must have moved around some in the bed in her sleep because her covers were scattered, with the heavier quilt on the floor. She lay on her side with her right arm bent under her pillow and her left arm out over the top sheet and blanket. These had been pulled or pushed away and her full left breast was plainly exposed, laying over on her right breast compressing it into the mattress.
Claude paused on his trip to the bathroom and detoured to the right side of the bed. Sally was so beautiful. He was proud to be her dad, and could see why Nel was such a cutie, too. He also, again, found his decidedly un-fatherly sexual feelings intruding. "And why not?" He asked himself smugly. "She is the product of our mother, Carla, seducing me as a teenager. And, here I am a grown man banging my granddaughter. The whole family must be hardwired for incest."
During this soliloquy, Claude knelt by the bed and stared into Sally's slumbering placid face. He also softly rubbed his right hand from her shoulder to her elbow and then across her topmost breast. Closing his fingers over her thick nipple he pulled it up from its large dark surrounding areola, and then let go. He repeated the tug-and-release twice more, grinning approval as he watched it snap back to her tit with surprising resilience for a middle-aged woman. Sally moaned in her sleep with the contact but did not otherwise stir. Claude kissed her lips gently, sweetly, lightly and then pulled the covers back over her body, up to her chin.
After his shower and shave, he crossed Sally's room once more. She had not moved. He left, closing the door, and went to Nel.
Apparently he had, indeed, 'been too long' because his niece was fast asleep. She lay curled up on the left side of the bed, facing out toward the door. The blankets rose and fell regularly with her breathing and her eyelids were shut naturally, neither too tight, nor squinting half-open. Claude smiled compassionately at his tuckered out playmate. "Little girl you had a busy day," he said quietly. He debated going to the fold-out sofa bed in the den and leaving her to sleep undisturbed but, his honorable nature prevailed. "I promised her," his winning internal argument ran, "If she woke in the night and I was not there she would have every reason to feel betrayed."
Looking at his watch again, Claude noted it was 8:30 p.m. He set its alarm for 4 o'clock as a hedge for safety. "That'll be nearly eight hours and Sally will very likely still be zonked out," he said to himself. Crossing the room he crawled in on the window side of the bed and spooned against Nel's warmth. He fell asleep with his nose tucked into her fragrant hair and his right arm crossing her chest, cupping her left breast beneath the empire bust of her nightgown.
*
Sally opened her eyes. Her groggy head swam, but she recognized her room. She also recognized her body's desperate need to pee. Rolling out of her king-size bed, she lurched unsteadily through the dark, on autopilot, to the master bath and sat on the toilet. Just in time, it seemed, as a river of relief immediately cascaded into the bowl.
The room was lit only by a small Colorado Rockies souvenir nightlight that Nel had brought home from a baseball game during their first summer after they moved to Denver from Portland six years ago. Sally smiled as she thought of how far away and long ago that was and how much their lives had changed for the better.
She rolled her head on her shoulders as she sat on the pot, gradually sweeping the cobwebs from her mind. "Thank you, Dr. Wilson," she said aloud, appreciating his Valium prescription and how it helped her cope yesterday with the sudden bittersweet news of her mother's fatal second stroke. "And thank you, Claude and Nel." She was so grateful for her brave daughter and for how her brother, 19 years her senior, had promptly driven straight through from Portland to provide support and comfort to them.
Finished with her business, she stood up and saw her shaded reflection in the bathroom mirror. "My God!" she suddenly realized, "I'm stark naked!" She remembered standing nude, yesterday, assessing her features as she prepared to dress for the mortuary meeting. "We ate pizza later, didn't we?" she asked herself, wracking her memory, "But how did I... what happened...?" She was confused because she had never in her life gone to bed without wearing pajamas or a nightgown of some description. "Oh well," she uttered, resigned, "I must have been completely out of it." She flushed the toilet and washed her hands, still shaking her head at the puzzle, and then entered her bedroom.
Sally crossed in the dark, verified her door was closed and snapped on the ceiling light. Its brazen brightness made her squint, but, when her eyes adjusted, she saw her digital bedside clock displayed 4:05 a.m. "God! Well, that's what happens, Sally..." she concluded for herself, "You go to bed in the middle of the afternoon and wake up with the rooster!" Still, although she had not planned to crash for nearly 14 hours, she admitted to herself the long sleep had been a necessary nostrum for her grief anxiety. She shivered and started to pull on her favorite flannel nightgown when she recalled it was torn immodestly.
