Another niece and uncle story. You know the drill. You know what will happen. But isn't that just what you want?
"I'm not wearing any knickers."
David Bulstrode blinked and tried to keep his face expressionless.
Susie went on, "I don't like the way they show through this dress. I haven't put a bra on either." Her hands smoothed down the sides of her very slinky little dress. "No unsightly bumps and lines. Do you think it matters, Uncle? No undies."
David's brother's daughter was staying with him. His brother and wife had recently moved to the other end of the country, but Susie had a few more weeks of school left to run before university and so had stayed on at his house. Almost a lodger for a few weeks. An end of school party that night, a disco and so on. The girls all getting dressed up. Perhaps the boys might; but take nothing like the bother Susie was taking.
"It's a hot night, Susie, your dress is long enough to go commando," a pause, "I suppose, and you are right enough about it not showing any, um, undergarments. But it is all a bit figure hugging."
"That's the idea, Uncle."
"I don't know what your mother would say."
"She's not here. So, I'm asking you."
"Perhaps just a thin pair."
"I don't have a thong."
Susie, therefore, had her way. Probable that anything David said contrary to her thoughts would have been rejected and any agreement accepted with alacrity. He had driven her to the school and promised to pick her up at midnight.
The house rather empty without her. He had been enjoying the company. The enthusiasm and vivacity of his niece. A little unnerving to find a half-naked eighteen-year-old tripping from bathroom to bedroom if he happened to cross the landing at the wrong moment wearing not the largest of bath towels. He should have, perhaps, found her a larger one to wrap around her. And now this recent event.
"You dirty old bugger," he said aloud. David walked up the stairs and sat on her bed where he had talked to her whilst she had finished make-up and hair brushing and received the revelation about there being no knickers beneath the dress. Susie had not actually put the dress on whilst he had been there; nor unwrapped the towel from her body fresh from the shower and wriggled herself into the dress. He wondered whether she had pulled it up over her hips or put it over her head and tugged it downwards over her naked young body? David preferred the latter idea. He imagined her there, right there, towel undone and dropped to the floor, reaching upwards with her arms, and opening out the dress and then it coming down over her head. Momentarily her head would be lost within the dress, unable to see him and he would have been able to stare at her breasts, her rather small breasts as he had seen rather clearly outlined in that dress, even as he had driven her to the party. He would also have been able to really look, without Susie knowing, at her sex. Her hips were womanly and shapely -- he could more and discern that, whether in jeans, shorts or indeed that figure hugging dress.
But what of the feminine mound -- the Mount of Venus -- the delightful rounding of skin over the pubic bone, bisected in part by her feminine slit. How easy would that be to see? With puberty long past, hair would have grown. Had it grown in profusion, a wonderful triangle of tight dark curls; or might it have come sparsely, a delicate filigree in short black hairs with her slit so visible through? Or might she have shaved it all away? Her old uncle would have been -- would be -- very good at that! His cologne scented shaving cream, his safety razor and then the after-shave balm, definitely not traditional 'after-shave' on such sensitive skin -- that would make her jump as he rubbed it in! 'Old Spice' indeed! No, much better modern after shave-balm and plenty of it, his fingers massaging the cream into the delicate skin. Yes, up and down that little slit.
"You dirty old bugger," he said aloud a second time and undid his fly. He was up -- of course he was erect at such thoughts. Hard inside his trousers. His thick erection slid easily out of his fly and into the air of Susie's bedroom -- not his own bedroom but Susie's. He could see himself reflected in the full-length wall mirror. The one Susie had turned and turned in front of whilst seeing how her dress had looked after she had called him into her room. And, unfortunately, after she had tugged the dress downwards -- or upwards. Either way, would no doubt have involved wriggling and tugging to get the material down. or up, over her perhaps still damp body.
David had sat there on her bed looking at her, much as he was now. Only now she was not there, and he had his cock out of his fly which he most definitely had not whilst she was there. He looked at himself, David Bulstrode, fifty-year old single accountant, starting to go grey but not yet balding, trim figure from plentiful cycling, in green polo shirt and crisp buff chinos - and with his cock out. What a sight -- and not for sore eyes. An absurd sight really. Well... yes and no. The purple head with its particularly purple flared edge -- he did rather 'oversail' - standing on his long veined and thick stalk. Purple up against the green -- the All England Club's colours! David played tennis as well. Had enjoyed playing against Susie in the park. She had dressed the part. White top, white pleated skirt and, yes, white knickers. Dancing around swinging her racket in white socks and tennis shoes she had certainly looked the classic pretty tennis player. And not a few boys and several old men had stopped to watch. David had not really thought they were watching to see who played the better, doubted they noted his existence, running around in his 'Fred Perry' shirt and white shorts. Susie played well. He had been pleased.
He had had thoughts after that match -- those sort of thoughts -- as he had lain in bed; Susie only in the next room and had imagined her playing tennis naked. Not in the park of course but perhaps at a private club or better on a tennis court at his home (not that there was anything like the space in his garden). The thought too of showering with her afterwards. Not that the park pavilion had 'family showers' -- private showers with a lockable door and plenty of room for a family to change and shower. The idea of showering, naked of course, with Susie so pleasing. The idea of playing with her naked -- at tennis -- pleasing. Even better showering afterwards. Perhaps him being in charge of the soap. Or even, after a clothed match, being unexpectedly in the men's showers at the tennis club with her. Perhaps the ladies' showers not working, and she asks to join him. Other men there. Watching them. The jealous looks as Susie and he showered and chatted about the game. Nothing sexual -- just showering, albeit old man and girl together. What might the other men imagine they got up to? What pleasure the other men might get joining them in the showers, soaping themselves as they surreptitiously watched the girl. A risk of erections of course. Always a risk with men. A compliment to the lady of course -- but would Susie see it that way?
David sat looking at himself in the mirror. Always a risk of an erection, and there his was -- in Susie's room. He hoped she was having a good time at the party. What would his younger brother think? The truth was David had lusted after his sister-in-law and now it was the turn of the niece as well. Well, he was unmarried. Men had needs. David began to stroke himself. In the mirror he watched his fingers rolling his skin up over his knob and back down again. It was quite a good cock. Thoughts of Susie rolling her dress down; thoughts of him in the showers with her, men have erections, his purple plum nosing into her bottom crack; thoughts of there being no knickers under her dress, might a boy slip his hand up her thigh and touch that very evening; thoughts of Susie sucking his cock.
"What do you do for sex, Uncle David?" It was not a question she had asked -- of course not! Probably she thought at his age, sex did not come into his head. But of course, it did -- a lot. The idea of being honest should she ask. How it was mostly his hand and him.
"Mostly, Uncle David?"
Well, there had been that holiday fling a few years back. He had had hopes of it being more than a holiday fling but then she had revealed she had a husband and kids back home. It had been meant to be a week's holiday for her with a friend, only the woman had cried off leaving Kirsty on her own in that Maltese hotel for a week. Whether the girls had planned on having a week of uninhibited sex he did not know, but Kirsty and he had had that! Had met in the hotel bar that first evening. An accidental meeting of two strangers and it had just happened. They had dined together, gone for a walk in the warm still air of the evening along the beach and ended up in bed together. It was only on the very last day when he had asked if they could meet again back home, so expecting not just an affirmative answer but a date and place, that she had been honest with him. She would be back riding her husband's prick the very next day, as she had his. Would be sucking that penis not his. It had been great sex and they had seemed to get on like a house on fire. Yeah, more than smouldering sex.
Would have been nice to have seen Kirsty once a week for just sex. How difficult would that have been to arrange - for her? But she had recognised the emotional involvement. David could see that now. She had sensibly broken it off because of that. Possibly, even probably, had it not been for that, things might have been different. Had it just been the sex, he might indeed have been having that weekly liaison, that weekly slipping into her wet warmth. She had not been ready or willing to have 'an affair.' A pity in so many ways, and, looking back and no longer emotional about Kirstie, he rather liked the idea of sharing a woman especially without the other man knowing. He could have gone with that, actually, even then.
Kirsty's husband being completely unaware another man's semen might have been left in her vagina as he fucked her, or that sloshing around in her stomach might be David Bulstrode's semen as he lay atop her. Or even, as he fucked her, in the adjacent passage lay another man's cum. Yes, they had done that. He had buggered her because she had asked him to; Kirsty had come as he did the deed -- she had liked it. She had liked it a lot, which had so surprised him. Kirsty's husband had flatly refused to even try anal intercourse. Kirsty had wanted to be fucked in her bum -- and what a lovely bottom! David couldn't say it was really his thing but had obliged, how could he not with the way she had presented it to him on the bed and had been a little surprised when she'd put a finger up his backside.
Might they still be fucking every week.? Albeit quite often in her bum! A so useful weekly release. Surely the husband would have come to realise. Might have come to accept another man 'helping him out.' David had wondered about three in a bed sex. Him in Kirstie's bottom, her husband adjacent, right next door, double penetration, both making sure Kirstie had her orgasm -- or two. Now what would that have felt like?
But, yes, apart from that holiday fling it was his hand and his thoughts. There he now was in Susie's room, sitting looking at himself in the mirror, his cock in his hand. He liked to think of it as a fine cock, a fine manly specimen. Certainly, the purple edge to the flared knob -- the very swollen knob -- looked pleasing against the green of his polo shirt. As he wanked a small run of clear fluid appeared and ran downward, a rivulet out of his hole and down the curves of his glans penis -- to spill over the flare. An indication of not inconsiderable sexual arousal. All ready to be licked off the smooth surface -- sweet pre-cum, a delight surely for teenage girls, as it had been for Kirsty.
