Another exploration into the incest/taboo category, but trying out a different POV.
Content Warning : This story has graphic scenes between an adult woman and her uncle.
All characters are 18 years-old or older.
-N
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I waited in the airport, squeezing my bag between my legs and clutching at it nervously. I had been to the US mainland twice and it had seemed nice before, but now the world around me seemed stale. My stomach wouldn't settle on the plane and I felt nauseous and scared, a combination of senses I had been feeling for three days now since my parents had died.
It was almost surreal, I was pulled out of lunch by principal Ramirez who carefully explained to me that there was a car accident and my parents were in the hospital. The police drove me there, but when I arrived they had already been pronounced dead. At 18 I was allowed to live on my own, but at 18 I probably shouldn't. My uncle called me and I was on the soonest flight he could get me on. 7 hours of staring at my phone, trying to read something and get my mind off of reality and failing miserably left me exhausted and so I just sat on the bench in the terminal staring numbly out.
"Lexy," he tapped my shoulder and I looked, realizing that uncle Kurt was standing in front of me. He looked a lot like the younger photos I had seen of my papa, but with a narrower nose and blue eyes instead of green, but someone could mistake him for his older brother quite easily. He smiled down at me and I didn't realize I had been holding myself in because I began to cry into his shoulder and he sat down and held me for a bit, ignoring the other travelers.
"Whenever you're ready sweetie, okay?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak and eventually he brought me to my feet.
"Did you bring any other luggage?"
"No," I managed to say and shook my head for emphasis.
"Alright, well let's go home," my uncle said, softly taking the bag from my hands and he held me as we walked out of the airport terminal and to my new life.
I must have fallen asleep in the car, because I awoke to find myself in a bedroom, smelling fresh sheets; the city lights illuminated the room with a pale yellow light. It was night by now and the clock on the bedside table told me it was already 8 PM.
Peering out the door, I could see my uncle typing on his laptop. He glanced back and smiled and I was reminded how much he looked like my papa. The differences were becoming a bit more obvious, he wore his hair shorter and from the looks of it didn't own a comb.
"Good to see you're up. You look exhausted so I figured you should catch up on your rest. Hungry?"
"No," my voice sounded a bit sullen, my stomach felt empty but hunger seemed to escape me. A little strange since I loved food, but it seemed like a distant memory.
He nodded and took my hand to sit me down beside him on the coach to prevent me from just awkwardly standing there. For the first time in days, I felt a little better, just one less thing I had to think about or make a decision on.
We sat in silence as he typed away and I woke up the next morning, feeling a little bit less lonely.
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The next morning I didn't eat, but by lunch time he returned with food and put the takeout on a plate in front of me; I thanked him and ate, but still couldn't find any pleasure in such a simple meal.
Days turned into weeks and he began to gently nudge me towards a sense of normalcy. Everyday we would grab lunch at a cafe or restaurant and at night we would visit a grocery store nearby to pick up just enough for one meal. I grew annoyed until I realized he was trying to get me out of the apartment.
I began to think of him as my sanctuary. He caught onto this pretty quickly and soon I was the one purchasing groceries from the market alone or walking to the nearby Chinese restaurant to order take out. That's really what loss takes from you. It isn't weeping in bed or tearing your hair out or any other grand gesture; loss is looking out at the world and feeling that nothing is right. It's losing all sense of joy, big or small from everyday life. The world seemed to change around me, leaving me feeling like a stranger in my own life. Gradually my uncle brought me back to the mundane.
"Once a routine is established, it's very hard to break," he said to me when we were going for a walk after work. Before we could go in the morning, but eventually he had to end his sabbatical and so now we went on the weekends and after he got home from work.
Initially it was hard, but just like he said, I was waking up instead of sleeping in bed until noon. It was a little embarrassing, but he had me walk to a new city attraction and on our walk, I would have to tell him about it. My thoughts returned to middle school book reports and I had to suppress a laugh when I was picking out kale from the fresh produce aisle. That made me smile and I decided to cook something for Uncle Kurt, he lived too much on takeout and macaroni and cheese.
My life became blissfully mundane and I found joys in the little things in life.
Uncle Kurt wasn't a religious man, I was Catholic, but that was because of my mama; so I held his hand tightly with gratitude when he would accompany me to Sunday mass. Even if he wasn't a believer, he wanted to support me and somehow that made the gesture even more meaningful.
One day, he sat me down as we discussed my future.
"You can stay as long as you want. You're at a very formative time, some kids go to college to get out of the house, but maybe you can attend CU? The campus isn't too far away and if you really want to set out on your own, you can transfer after a year or so."
I agreed, but felt a small clench of fear in my stomach at the thought of being alone. He knew me well, because he gave me a hug and I locked my arms around him.
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It was four months later when I felt like myself again and the world realigned. Life wasn't without its troubles though, when my uncle saw that I was standing up from my crushing sorrow, he began to live his life as well. I don't know when it happened, but I saw him as something more. When I saw him messaging a woman on Hinge, I felt a pang of jealousy and my stomach turned at the thought of him with a woman.
I tried to keep my possessiveness to myself, he was my uncle after all, I had no business in his love life. But I could only take so much. When he didn't return from his date on Friday night, I went to bed crushed. He woke me up with a concerned look on his face, but I was too embarrassed to reveal the source of my discomfort and for the first time I felt shy around him.
I needed to clear my head, so while he was at work I got a cup of tea at a nearby cafe and tried to work up the courage to admit the truth to myself. My hands were warmed by the tea and I nursed it for almost half an hour when I saw something odd : A couple had entered, she sported a baby bump and he was pushing a stroller while she clutched his arm. There was definitely an age gap between them, his hair had started to gray while it looked like she could be past 30. They were a cute couple and I was envious of the way they moved in union.
The thought clung to my mind and I tried to banish it from myself. The man kissed his wife and she stood on her tiptoes to eagerly receive his affection, his arm slipped to the small of her back and drew her to him. I grew warm and squeezed my thighs together at the thought of my uncle possessing me like this.
I sipped my tea while I discretely watched these two lovebirds until they left. That's when I saw myself and Uncle Kurt in their position. I wondered if he would dote on me like this man did with his wife. My question would be answered.
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First I would separate him from his short lived relations, like a buck from his herd; they were a distraction to his coveted attention. He was a smart man, but like me, at first he wouldn't admit to himself what my intentions were. So, I used this to my advantage. I insisted on a movie night and cuddling with him under a blanket, my light touches turned more aggressive and I pressed my body to his whenever I could. I wasn't endowed with a perfect chest, but a pushup bra formed a desirable amount of cleavage and I took every chance I could to introduce him to my more private assets.
Before he would depart to work, I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss, like the young wife in the cafe gave her own husband. My own was a little more chaste, though I lingered more than a simple peck and each time I felt him hardening against my tummy.
An evil thought entered my mind and at mass I would clutch his hand in my lap, allowing his knuckles to graze against the top of my womanhood; I would prime myself with wet fingers and I knew from his dry swallows that he felt the heat I radiated.
When summer came and it was too hot to watch movies under a blanket, I would splay myself on him, molding my body to fit his embrace. I never commented on the hardness I felt against my bottom, but I could feel his heart beat faster when I would rub myself against his engorged organ in a faux attempt to get more comfortable.
I was careful though, never growing too immodest that he could say I was deliberately being too handsy with him. Still, my wiles had their desired effect and I ingratiated myself more into his life.
My truest victory over the other women came when I heard him masturbating in bed after one of our movie cuddle sessions. We had both gone to bed but I was walking back to my own bedroom after a cup of water. He had left his door slightly ajar and I spied him, lying on his back. His erect penis gripped in his hand, his bedclothes pulled away in a fury of passion, he hadn't even had time to grab the box of tissues I knew he kept inside his bedside table drawer. The tip was a deep purple from my seduction and I felt a little guilty for not attending to himself. Soon, I told myself, soon.
He took his hand, brow furrowed, eyes closed with whatever fantasy played in his mind. His cock glistened as precum wept from the tip and I placed a finger up my nightie and touched myself to his display.
