Dorsai - Jan

"I guess it shouldn't, but I've heard some of the other girls, you know, the, uh, experienced ones. They say that when they do that, their boyfriends don't want to kiss them for a while."

"I guess their boyfriends are just losing out on a good kiss, then. I suppose it would be different if you tried to keep all my sperm in your mouth and give it back to me that way, or there were drops of it on your lips or something, but as long as you were reasonably polite about it, no, I don't mind."

That seemed to satisfy her, and she let her head rest on my shoulder again for a while – at least, until I absolutely HAD to get up and go to the bathroom.

When I opened the door afterwards, I found her standing there with a towel in her hand and a smile on her face and nothing obstructing the view between. Here and there on her anatomy I could see little reflective spots, the dried remains of our activities.

Dorsai

Jan

She giggled at the expression on my face, and told me "I think we both need a shower, don't you?"

"Under the circumstances, I agree – wholeheartedly. Just promise to be gentle with me, this time, okay?"

She giggled again, and said "As gentle as I can."

Seeing the smoky look in her eye, I wasn't particularly reassured, but headed toward the shower anyway – now that she'd mentioned it, I had to admit I was glad I wasn't downwind of myself.

Once she was next to me, I suggested "How about a bit of a bath, first?

We can soak up some heat first, and relax a little more before cleaning up."

She readily agreed, and had me stand back while she got the tub started – although I think her motives were just to take care of me, the effect was something else. When she bent over to close the drain and start the water, she left me with view of her backside that would have made Jell-O hard. As I looked at her nicely curved, tight, smooth ass, I was surprised to feel my penis start to fill, and twitch. Looking a little closer, I could see the softly furred cleft of her sex peeking at me from between her thighs, and the dewy lips of her labia.

When she figured there was enough water, she turned around, and saw the state I was in. She laughed and said, "I guess you're not dead, after all. I guess I'll have to take care of that, won't I?"

"Trouble, it's not a request, just an involuntary reaction to the view you gave me when you bent over. I don't want you to think that you've got to 'take care of' me that way."

She gave me the Goober look, and answered "Uncle Dan, I already *know* that I don't 'have' to do anything with you. I like having fun with you like this. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know what an orgasm was like, or how to make myself feel good; and I'd still be worried about whether or not I was weird somehow, you know, physically, or that my boobs were too small or that I didn't have enough hair down there and that kind of stuff. You've helped me feel good about myself, and even about who I am and like that."

"Jan, I just want to make sure you understand that as much fun as it is for me to be 'teaching' you and having fun like this, I don't expect – and particularly don't demand – that you do or don't do anything with me. If you wanted to stop right now, and never have us spend any time together like this again, I'd do it gladly. You've made an old man like me very happy these last few months, and I thank you for it. I need to be sure you understand that you don't 'owe' me anything, and that you're free to stop any or all of this at any time, without me being upset or angry with you."

Another, milder, Goober look. "I already told you, I know that. It's nice knowing that you love me that way, more than you love me for this"

– gesturing to her body -"and that you want what's right for me. When I do things with you, it's because it's a physical way for me to tell you 'thank you' for all the help you've given me, and all the love you've shown me. I don't think you understand how worried I was that first time we, uh, talked. There was all kinds of stuff going through my mind, like my boobs were too small, that maybe I was weird down there between my legs, and that kind of stuff. Now I'm not ashamed of myself like I was before – as you can see! – and you've made me happy about who I am, on the inside, I mean." She paused a moment before continuing "I used to be*so* 'in love' with one of the boys in school that I would have done anything – yes, I mean anything – to have him as a boyfriend. But because of what I've learned from you, and not just the physical love stuff, I realized that he's just a selfish, demanding stinker. If it wasn't for you,*I* would have been one of his girlfriends by now. But because of what you've taught me about the difference between sex and love, I started listening to some of the stuff people said about him, and looked at the way he treated the girls he took out, and decided I didn't want to be one of them – the ones that everybody talks about. I didn't listen to that kind of talk about him before, but you have taught me to respect, and even honor, myself. So, when he asked me to go out with him, I wasn't afraid to tell him 'no' – because of how you are with me, I've learned to expect better from any guy that wants me to go out with him."

Seeing from my expression that she was having an impact, she went on "Uncle Dan, from the first time you saw me in my bedroom" – I decided that she had gotten comfortable about the topic of sex, since she didn't blush – "I've watched you. You have never, ever done or said anything to make me uncomfortable about this sex stuff. And I know that you wouldn't do anything to hurt me, either physically or in my heart – I know that you love me almost as much as Daddy does. I know that I can stop all this any time I want, because I know that I can trust you. I know that if I wanted to stop, you wouldn't be mad at me or do anything to make me unhappy or feel bad. Sometimes when I was, you know, teasing you, it was kind of a way for me to find out if you were going to try to, like,*own* me or something, or to see if you were going to try to make things happen too fast. You have always been polite and considerate and gentle and patient with me – even though I know that sometimes I pushed you way too hard on a lot of things. Because of how honest you've been with me, and the way you've treated me, I'm even understanding why you felt like you had to have that talk with Daddy about me and sex education. I've told some of my friends about some of the things that I've learned, both on the Internet and with you – don't worry, I never tell them exactly*where* I learn stuff! – and I know that a couple of them really do need to talk to somebody about it. It's kind of like I'm in the same position you were in: someone I care about needs help with something that they've trusted me not to talk about with anyone else, so I have the problem of finding a way of getting them that help without betraying the trust they showed me by talking to me in the first place."

"Trouble, if you're at the point where you understand that kind of problem, and are having trouble with it, I guess I have to admit that you really are a lot more mature than most people would give you credit for. Do you ever talk with your dad about any of this kind of stuff?"

"No, not really."

"I think maybe you should consider it. I mean, I'm glad to talk to you about it and all that, but I'd be a whole lot happier if I wasn't the only one you were talking to. I mean, he's your dad, and he's got the right – and obligation – to know what you're thinking and what's going on in your life. Besides that, it will help him understand how mature you are; and once he knows that, I expect he'll be willing to trust you more, and not be as fussy about where you are and who you're there with."