My Niece and Her Roommate

Click here to read Chapter 1

"Come back to bed, Uncle Mike," Quinn moaned as I quietly returned from the bathroom with a towel tucked around my waist.

"It's not even eight o'clock," Leslie added drowsily.

The two girls were spooning naked, twisted in the sheets of the bed we'd all shared last night. Honey skin pressed against pale pink in an erotic tangle of feminine curves. Quinn had her arms wrapped around Leslie cradling my niece's breasts while Leslie's hand rested on the curve of her college roommate's long thigh.

I just don't understand how teenagers can sleep so late. My boys would have slept until noon if I'd let them. Guess I'm getting old.

By all rights, I should be the one sleeping in. But I was invigorated after last night. I'd already finished my daily run, started a pot of coffee, shaved, and showered.

"You mean it's almost eight o'clock and we haven't even had breakfast yet?" I needled them as I selected a set of work clothes from the closet and started getting dressed. The only response was an annoyed grunt from one of them; I couldn't tell which. I finished dressing and sat on the corner of the bed to tie my shoes.

"You girls had better get up soon. I'm making pancakes."

"Shit," Leslie muttered.

"W'ut?" Quinn mumbled in reply.

"We have to get up," Leslie sighed, although she still didn't open her eyes. "Uncle Mike's pancakes are like, amazing. My dad's been after his secret recipe for years. They're like an orgasm in your mouth."

"Well, you would know," Quinn mumbled as I headed for the kitchen.

"Yeah... Hey!"

There was a soft thumping sound behind me, as if someone had hit someone else with a pillow.

I had mugs of coffee on the table and pancakes on the griddle when the girls stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes later, both wearing oversized T-shirts. They were rubbing their eyes against the bright morning sunrise streaming through the windows over the lake.

"Are the pancakes gonna be long?" Leslie asked, picking up her coffee mug.

"Nope. They'll be round," I deadpanned. Leslie managed a drowsy chuckle; she always laughs at my dad-jokes. I thought I heard Quinn groan.

I had about a million questions for them, but I waited for the girls to eat and wake up fully before I started in.

You wouldn't think my ego could be any more inflated after a ménage à trois with a pair of beautiful nineteen-year-olds, but Quinn agreed that my pancakes were the best she'd ever tasted. I was conflicted about sleeping with my best friend's daughter, but my cooking was something I could be proud of, guilt-free. They made a game of trying to guess my secret ingredient. They didn't even come close.

With breakfast finished and the girls lingering over coffee, I worked up the courage to start the difficult conversation that I knew we had to have.

"Anyone want anything else?" I asked, stalling a bit longer. "Leslie, more orange juice?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Alright then... about last night," I started. "You two obviously came up here with a plan to seduce me, and it worked, so... well done."

"Thanks, Uncle Mike!" Leslie grinned at Quinn and Quinn smirked back conspiratorially. It made me a bit suspicious.

"And now it's over, right? Mission accomplished?"

"It wouldn't be any fun if we told you that, Uncle Mike," Quinn teased while Leslie did her best to look innocent.

"Ok," I sighed, "I'll let that go for the moment. I have a lot of questions, but let's get the important stuff out of the way first..." I took a deep breath. I hadn't had this conversation in a

long

time.

"Birth control," I just said to get it said. "We all know I wasn't using any last night, and as far as I know, I'm still fertile. I take full responsibility for that, but I'd like to know where you two stand. Quinn?"

"Oh, I'm good," Quinn replied matter-of-factly. "I got an IUD for my eighteenth birthday."

The nonchalance of her response surprised me, but it was a relief knowing there was never really a danger of impregnating Quinn--that Leslie's jibe last night was just a bit of play. That just left the girl I'd called my niece for her entire life.

"Leslie?"

She'd been staring down at the kitchen table. Looking back up at me sheepishly she replied "I have this app that tracks my cycle. Right now I only have like a 19% chance of getting pregnant."

I was afraid of that.

"Well, I guess that's something," I sighed. "But you do know what they call girls who use timing for birth control, right?"

"Mothers," muttered Leslie sullenly. "I'm sorry Uncle Mike, I know I should have used something, but I wanted my first time to be

real

. I wanted it to be with you, and I wanted it to mean something."

My generation has really done a number on this younger one with all of our efforts to protect them from every imaginable hurt. We weigh them down with safety gear and box them into pre-packaged, sanitized, certified experiences. I guess I could understand her desire for a connection to something primal and unpredictable and authentic.

"It meant something, sweetheart," I assured her, caressing her cheek. "But do you really want to be a mother right now? Like this? Do you want to tell your parents that I'm the father? This could cause a lot of turmoil and hard feelings in both our families."

"No, I know. I know I'm not

really

in love with you... it's just some kind of fixation. I mean it

feels

like the real thing, but I guess it's not fair to either of us to pretend that it is."

"No, it's not," I agreed. "Not to us, not to your parents, and not to my boys."

"But you said last night you were open to it. Maybe... maybe we could fall in love for real. And if we do... maybe they'd all understand and be happy for us. You meant what you said last night, didn't you Uncle Mike?"

Last night I was thinking with my dick. It seemed Leslie wanted more from me than just her "first time." But did I want more from her? In the bright light of day, did I really want a relationship with a nineteen-year-old? With Jim's daughter?

"Of course I did," I reassured her. Though still unsure, I just couldn't bring myself to dash her hopes. "If we take our time, maybe it can all work out. But if you got pregnant now, things would start to happen very fast. That would make an awkward situation a lot more complicated."

"I guess," Leslie conceded with a glum frown. Then her expression hardened. "No," she amended, "I don't ever want you to feel like I trapped you into something you didn't want. Getting pregnant now would be a mistake." Her furrowed brow gave an air of final certainty to her words.

"Alright then. We still have a lot to discuss, but first things first. You two go get dressed. Leslie, you're going to drive into town and get yourself a morning-after pill at the pharmacy. Here's some cash."

I had no idea how much those pills cost. They weren't an option when I was young. I just pulled five twenties out of my wallet, and then a sixth for good measure.

Quinn had sat quietly watching this conversation, her hands folded in her lap. If she had an opinion, she kept it concealed. Of the two girls she seemed like the more sexually sophisticated, so I was hoping I could count on her experience.

"Quinn, will you please go with her?"

I remembered how much effort it took to screw up the courage to buy my first pack of condoms all those years ago. I could only imagine how much harder it must be for a young woman to walk up to a pharmacy counter and ask for emergency contraception. Hopefully, having Quinn by her side would make it easier.

"Oh, sure Uncle Mike," Quinn replied brightly, taking Leslie's hand and giving her an encouraging smile. "We got this."

Leslie acknowledged Quinn's support with a grateful smile of her own.

"Ok, if we all agree what needs to be done, there's no sense wasting time. Hop to it, you two. I'll take care of the dishes."

As the girls headed back to the bedroom to shower and dress, I couldn't stop myself from watching the sway of their young hips under the soft cotton of their T-shirts as they went. It was hard to believe what a dirty old man I was turning into. Of course, the way the two of them were talking didn't exactly discourage me.

"Damn! Uncle Mike is hot when he takes charge."

"I know, right? I'm swimming in my underwear here."

"You're wearing underwear?"

It was about an hour later, and I had pulled the ladder out from the crawl space beneath the house and gotten it propped against the soffit. I was just about to head up to the roof with the first bundle of shingles over my shoulder when Leslie came around the corner.

"Are you two leaving now?" I asked setting the shingles down.

"As soon as Quinn finishes her make-up," Leslie answered. "What are you doing up there?"

"Replacing some damaged shingles. The roof is in pretty rough shape. I'm surprised we don't have water damage in the attic already. I need to get someone out here to replace the whole thing, but I'm going to patch what I can until then."

"Is it safe up there by yourself? Shouldn't you have like, a safety harness or something?"

"I'll be fine," I assured her. "It's not my first time. Remember, that summer your dad and I stripped and re-shingled your roof?"

"I was eight," she recalled. "You let David help, but Scott and I had to sit on the swing set and watch."

I was surprised she remembered that. Her dad only let her big brother fetch water and a couple of small tools up the ladder. Even then, his mom wasn't happy with us, but I figured it proved my point well enough.

"There you go. Safe enough that a fourteen-year-old could do it."

"Alright," she conceded. "Just be careful up there, ok?"

"I will," I promised with a wink. "Not one

shingle

accident."

Leslie caught herself mid-laugh. "Hey! Don't joke," she scowled at me prettily. "We still have a lot to talk about when I get back... don't we?"

"Yes we do," I agreed, although it wasn't a conversation I was looking forward to. "I'll be careful."

"Good," she told me. "I'm going to be really pissed at you if we get back and you're hurt."

I didn't know exactly how to respond to the sentiment, so I just smiled and chuckled. Shouldering the bundle of shingles again, I started up the ladder while Leslie held it steady for me.

The roof was in worse shape than I thought. I'd only done a quick inspection from the ground, and estimated the number of shingles I'd need. I bought extra expecting to return them, but now it looked like I had a big job ahead of me. Leslie held the ladder while I made two more trips up to the roof.

Quinn eventually came out looking perfectly put together.

"Are you going to be ok up there by yourself?" she asked, squinting up at me and shielding her eyes from the sun.

"Uncle Mike knows what he's doing," Leslie assured her. "C'mon, let's go so we can get back."

"Bye, Uncle Mike," Quinn waved as the girls climbed into Leslie's car.

"Bye girls, drive safe."

Fortunately it wasn't too hot that day, and the partly cloudy sky provided some relief from the sun. I'd made good progress on the worst section of roof when my phone rang. Checking the screen, I saw that it was Leslie's father.

Jim was the last person in the world I wanted to talk to right now. What do you say to a man the morning after you deflower his only daughter? I didn't like the idea of lying to Jim, or keeping secrets from him. But I didn't really see an alternative, and putting it off wasn't going to make it any easier. So I picked up the call.

"Hey Jimbo!" I greeted him as brightly as I could manage. "What's up?"

"Mikey! How's everything? Just calling to make sure the girls got up to the lake house alright."

"Yep, they got in just after lunch yesterday. Didn't Leslie call?"

"No, she said she would but... well, you know kids."

"Yeah, she and Quinn ran into town for a couple of hours," I told him, hoping he wouldn't ask why. "When they get back, I'll remind her to call you."

"Thanks. I don't mean to be 'that kind' of dad, but... she's still my little girl, you know?"

I laughed and hoped it didn't sound too forced.

"Say, what do you think of her roommate?" Jim asked.

I think she's hot as hell and a tiger in the sheets but I wasn't about to say that. "Quinn? She seems nice. Why?"

"I dunno. She spent Thanksgiving with us, and she's certainly very polite, but I just have this gut feeling that she's a bad influence on Les, you know?"

Last night, Leslie had sent Quinn into my bedroom to seduce me for the both of them. It was clever, negating any argument I could make about Leslie's age. It was exactly the kind of ploy I would have expected Leslie to have learned from her father. If anything I thought the bad influence might go the other way around. Instead of saying so I asked "Oh yeah? What does Susan think?"

"Oh, Susie loves Quinn. Won't hear a word against her. Thinks I'm just being 'that kind' of dad."

"Well, I've got bad news for ya, Jimbo," I chuckled.

"Alright, alright, I'll drop it. Just look after my little girl, ok? No booze and no boys."

"I can promise no boys," I offered. Quinn's comment last night about older men, made that much true at least.

"Mikey..."

"Hey, I've got beer in the fridge for me. If they want one, I'm not going to say 'no'. How old were Andy and Bryan when you let them have beer on that camping trip?"

Jim probably didn't know I knew about that, but my younger son Bryan was always a bit of a tattle-tale.

"...So how's all that maintenance catch-up going?" Jim asked, tactfully changing the subject. "I hope all the hair-braiding and nail-polish isn't too distracting for a guy who never had daughters."

The girls were distracting in a very different way that Jim certainly didn't want to hear about. Instead we chatted about the roof issues and the peeling paint and the trees that needed pruning. Then we agreed to try and get together sometime next month, and Jim let me get back to work.

Hearing him talk about his little girl--the little girl I defiled last night--just really ramped up the guilt and the conflict I'd managed to suppress with manual labor.

Leslie was obviously an adult; a grown woman with a healthy, if unconventional, sexual appetite. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel rejected or ashamed about that.

But I also didn't want to betray Jim. He still clung to his paternal image of his innocent princess. It's hard enough to watch your child grow up and leave home without some old fart robbing her from the cradle.

If I'm being honest with myself though, I was flattered by the attention. The idea that not one but two nineteen-year-olds wanted to bed me together, made me feel young and virile in a way I hadn't in many years. Leslie's long-simmering infatuation made some kind of sense, but the idea that Quinn found me attractive was thrilling.

And yet I couldn't help feeling creepy.

My conscience pulled me back and forth, making it difficult to focus on my work. It seemed like for every chink I found in that old roof, there was another reason to feel guilty; with each tattered shingle I replaced, another rationalization.

I wasn't wearing a watch, but the sun was high in the sky and I was contemplating a break when Leslie's car pulled back into the driveway.

"We brought back lunch, Uncle Mike!" Quinn called, holding up Burger King bags as she climbed out of the passenger side.

"Great! I'll be right down."

After I'd washed up I found the girls sitting at the table waiting patiently for me. They'd poured glasses of iced tea and set out all the food.

"I got you a Whopper with cheese, no onions, no mayo, extra pickles," Leslie recited my favorite order as I sat down. "And rings instead of fries."

"You remember all that?" My own sons can't remember what I like on pizza half the time.

"Of course," Leslie shrugged, blushing.

"Well, thank you. That was... very thoughtful." And, if truth be known, it was a little unnerving. It was beginning to dawn on me that Leslie's infatuation ran deeper than just sexual curiosity.

"She has it written down in her 'Uncle Mike' book," Quinn tattled, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Leslie. "Well you do," Quinn smirked, swiping an onion ring from Leslie's plate.

I was still having trouble sussing out the dynamics of the girls' relationship. I suppose Jim and I liked to give each other a hard time at that age too.

"That's alright," I grinned, tucking into my sandwich. "A good engineer writes things down so they don't have to remember them. I'm impressed and flattered," I assured Leslie.

"So are you almost done up on the roof?" she asked, beaming. Then, with more trepidation she added "Should... should we have that talk now?"

I wasn't prepared for Leslie to be so eager for this conversation and it caught me off guard. Like her father, I suppose there is still a part of me that looks at Leslie and sees the clever little girl who was always so excited to show me what she'd built with LEGO. Instinctively, I stalled.

"Ehrm," I winced. "I've still got a lot of work up there and I'd like to get back to it as quick as I can. How about we talk when I'm done?"

God, I was such a coward.

"That's Ok," Leslie conceded with obvious relief. "I know you hate leaving a job half done."

"Poor Uncle Mike," Quinn sympathized with a tilt of her head. "It's not fair that you have to work so hard on your vacation."

"Oh, I don't mind the work," I assured her even as I blushed at the attention.

"We should do something productive this afternoon, too," Quinn suggested turning to Leslie.

"My car needs to be washed," Leslie suggested. "Do you have a hose and stuff, Uncle Mike?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you should find everything you need down in the crawl space."

"Cool," Quinn chirped. "We'll wash your car for you too, Uncle Mike." She glanced at Leslie and Leslie smiled back and I didn't realize it at the time, but something unspoken passed between them.

With lunch finished I climbed back up on the roof and left cleaning up to the girls. About an hour later I heard them come outside. When I looked down to the driveway I saw them both in their swimsuits, Leslie dragging the hose behind her and Quinn hauling a bucketful of water.

When Quinn bent over to soak a sponge in the soapy water, her toned ass in that black bikini with the knots tied on her hips grabbed my attention immediately. But my gaze was quickly drawn to Leslie's jiggling spandex top as she flicked the hose around to spray down the cars.

I caught myself staring, called myself a dirty old man, and went back to my work.

A while later, a blaring car horn startled me into looking up. Both girls whooped, bouncing on their toes and waving at the Jeep that had slowed down as it passed the house. The girls knew exactly the effect they were having.

I'm sure being a woman comes with its own set of challenges that I can't fully appreciate, but sometimes I think it must be fun to be young and beautiful. I was a little envious of their youth as I turned back to the roof.

There was a scream of surprise a few minutes later and I glanced back to see that Quinn had gotten Leslie with the hose. Leslie's chestnut curls hung in sodden twists that dripped down her chest.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that!" she taunted Quinn, dunking a sponge in the soapy bucket and cocking her arm back for a throw.

"It was an accident! It was an accident!" Quinn pleaded, running around my car, trying to keep it between them as Leslie gave chase.

I tried my best to ignore all the squeals and giggles punctuated by the occasional wet splat and focused instead on finding and replacing the worn out shingles. So I didn't really notice that the commotion had stopped until the sound I heard was more of a moan than a squeal.