The summer of 2000 my sister Robin finally left her husband Ronnie. He was a drunk and was abusive; it had been a long time coming. There were few options, so Robin moved in with my wife, young daughter and I until she straightened things out. It wasn't exactly first choice because we lived in a cracker box, about 800 square feet for my small family plus my dog that is half golden retriever, half quarter-horse. One other small problem was Samantha.
Ah, sweet Samantha. Robin's daughter was eighteen that summer that she and her mom came to stay with us. Sweet perfection. She was perfectly curved, not a hard-body but a soft-body, a real woman's body. Her breast's were not immense but perfect and unblemished. Her most striking feature was her perfectly rounded ass. Nearly every time we had occasion to spend time with Samantha, I would find any excuse to stare at or 'accidentally' brush up against her perfect ass.
One Friday evening, Robin went to a friend's house to cry as I was not much good in that respect. Samantha, my wife Shelley, and I sat up watching The Breakfast Club. Half-way through Shelley stood up.
"Sorry, guys," she said stretching. "I gotta cover a shift tomorrow, get up at five." She pecked me on the cheek and scurried down the hall.
After about fifteen minutes, Samantha glanced down the couch at me. "Uncle Mike? How many times you seen this movie?"
I started counting on my fingers. "Including this time?" She nodded. "About four hundred."
She laughed, a beautiful, perfect laugh and her face lit up, making me realize how long it had been since she had truly laughed. She had spent most of her time dour and melancholy. Ronnie had made sure of that. She reached for the remote control and started flipping through the channels. Eventually she paused when she saw a graphic blow job on screen.
Samantha's eyebrows raised. "Oh, what's this, now?"
In truth, I didn't know. However... "I don't think..." Now, wait a minute, I told myself as the inner turmoil started rumbling in my head. She's eighteen, right? Who cares? I know Robin maybe probably wouldn't possibly not completely care, if she were here, and I am her favorite brother, right? Well, I am her only brother, but, pish posh, details, details. Robin is pretty liberal and has raised Samantha as such.
"What's that, Uncle Mike?" She asked me with a slightly flushed look to her in the dim light of the living room.
"Nothing," I said, feeling a little flushed myself.
After a moment, she cleared her throat and said quietly, "I've never seen that, not on T.V."
That confused me a little. "What do you mean, 'not on T.V.'?"
Samantha looked over at me and, in what I'm sure was a purely coincidental action, licked her lips. "Uncle Mike. I am eighteen." She smiled and looked back toward the television.
That was it. My cock, which had started to rise at the action on T.V., was now fully erect. It was a struggle to keep it in my loose shorts. I had to stealthily move things around. Samantha didn't seem to notice.
"Uncle Mike, do you have any ibuprofen or something? My back is killing me." She moved from side to side with her back arched, pushing her beautiful, perfect breasts forward.
"Uh, yeah, somewhere," I mumbled. This would give me a chance to calm my hard-on. For the last five minutes, I was having a difficult time not thinking about Samantha's full lips wrapped around my cock and trying her eighteen year-old best to draw the cum out. I jumped up off the couch and went into the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, I grabbed a bottle. "How many, honey?"
"Just two will be fine, I'm sure." Just the sound of her voice was keeping me at half-mast. God, the power of this young woman.
I brought her back the two ibuprofen and a glass of water and sat down on the couch again. Oh thank God, she had changed the channel again. It looked to be some cheesy love story. I could deal with that.
