Ray Strong - The naughty niece

Pam surrounded him with her arms and legs, clutching him tightly to her, her body visibly shuddering with complete pleasure as she felt herself dissolving with ecstasy.

"God, it was so good," Pam whispered in the darkness, feeling his once-solid meat begin to deflate inside her sated cunt.

"Yeah," Marty admitted. "It was great. Hell, Pam, you're the best I've ever had."

He had no intention of admitting she was only the second female he'd ever fucked. It would not only embarrass him, but it might make her feel less secure. After all, if she believed him to be an experienced man where fucking was concerned, his admission that she was the best lay he'd ever had would make her feel that much better.

Pam, being the same age as Marty, knew her cousin hadn't had that much experience, though she had no real idea how many other women he'd screwed. Nevertheless, it gave her a feeling of power to know she could arouse so much feeling inside him this first time.

She felt a wetness beneath her and reached under. When Marty had entered the room and removed the towel he'd had, he flung it on the bed, and somehow or other it had worked its way under her. When his mighty cock had pierced her cherry, the blood had come out on the towel. Though the mattress beneath was slightly damp, not one drop of her virginal blood touched it.

Marty pulled out the towel, balled it up, and threw it into a corner of the room. He wasn't worded about any more blood staining his mattress. But he was determined to keep Pam with him that night, because he was in the mood for a lot more fucking. When he expressed the idea to Pam, she didn't object in the least.

Ira Wahl was beginning to feel let down again. He had gone to the village bar and grill and had already had more than six beers, but there hadn't been one interesting piece of young ass in that night. The pros were there, and had he been willing to pay, he could have had one of them for the night, but Wahl was averse to paying for what he'd had free for so many years.

It was almost ten-thirty when Wahl, half-drunk and disgusted, decided he would pack it in for the night. Disgustedly, he went to his car and drove back to the summer cottage. He could see the blue light coming from the TV screen shining through the living room, but otherwise the house was dark.

Tracey Wahl had fallen asleep in the big easy chair across from the TV set. The sound of her uncle opening the front door awakened her, and from where she was curled up in the huge chair, she could see he was not only half-drunk, but also horny. She could almost smell the sexual need radiating from him.

"Tracey?" he asked, noting her slight figure uncurl in the chair. "Is that you? Where're Pam and Marty?"

"Both asleep by now," she replied, standing and purposely stretching her lithe, lean form.

Ira Wahl's preference had always been for big-titted women, but there was no doubt in his mind that little Tracey was well along the road to development. Her boobs might have been small, but they were firm and stood up beneath that Band-Aide that passed for a bikini top without any actual support. She had a gorgeous, trim little waistline, and her hips were just now beginning to blossom. And in the light coming from the television set, he could still see those wisps of snatch hair above and below the mini-bikini bottom she wore. Christ! She was a woman all right. Maybe she was only eighteen, but what the hell did that matter? In India girls often married before the age of twelve. Jesus! What a fabulous, firm body she had.

Wahl shook his head as if trying to push such thoughts out. What the hell was the matter with him, anyway? Where did he come off thinking of his niece as a sex object? Hell, he was a big man. It was all right to play around with the eighteen year-old-and-up set, basically because they knew what they were doing by that age. But Tracey was not only too young, but also his brother's daughter. Not that his brother or sister-in-law would have really given a damn. They were always away on some vacation or other, saying the kids were old enough to look out for themselves. Were Tracey to become pregnant, his brother would have shrugged it off, paid for the girl's abortion, and then would have gone off on another vacation. In his own way, Ira had been more of a father to his brother's kids than his brother had been.

"Tracey," he said quietly, doing his best to gain control of himself. "I don't think you should walk around the house with that bikini on. I mean, it's very disconcerting. You're a beautiful young lady now, not an infant. Any man who looks at you does so with the idea you are a woman."

"How about you, Uncle Ira? D'you think I'm a woman?"

"Tracey, I'm your uncle. I… uh… don't think of you… I mean… I do think of you, but the way I think of Pam – as a daughter."

"Well, just how d'you think about Pam, Uncle Ira?"

"Tracey?"

"I mean, I've watched the way you've looked at her sometimes. I've seen that same look in your eyes when you look at Aunt Harriet. I mean, it's like you're fucking her all the time, even when you're not touching her."

"Tracey, where did you learn such language?"

"Come on, Uncle Ira. I'm grown up now. The word 'fuck' is a perfectly good word. In fact, it's one word that says a lot. You look at your wife like you're fucking her all the time. And I've seen you look at Pam that same way."

"Tracey, please, this is not a topic to be discussed between us."

"You're wrong. This is just the topic to be discussed between us. I mean, you want to fuck your daughter, but you don't have the guts to admit it."

"That's enough, Tracey."

"No it isn't. You do want to fuck Pam, don't you?"

At another time, with less beer in him, Ira Wahl would have closed the subject. But now, he was sweating heavily because he knew Tracey's statement was right. He'd had the hots for his little girl for more than two years, ever since she really filled out.

"I don't want to talk about it," was all he could say.

"Sure you don't," Tracey told him, smiling. "Because you know it's true. What's more, you want to fuck me, too. I've seen you looking at me the same way. You're looking at me that way right now."

"Tracey!" he almost yelled, horrified she should be able to see it so clearly in his eyes.

"Easy, Uncle, easy. You want to fuck me, so why not admit it?"

"I… well… mean, I…"

"C'mon, Uncle Ira. Confession is good for the soul and all that. I'll make a confession to you. I want you to fuck me."

Ira Wahl stared at his niece, stupefied. She had not only read his mind where she was concerned, but had confessed a similar desire on her part. Hell! At this point it would be so easy to…

No! Absolutely not! He didn't dare. It was unthinkable.

"Tracey," he said hoarsely, licking his lips. "We've had enough of this. From now on I don't want to see you walking around wearing that excuse for a bathing suit. From now on…"

"Okay," she smiled, breaking into his conversation. "The bikini bothers you, the bikini goes." And with two quick movements she shed both her top and bottom, leaving her totally naked, her beautifully tanned body bathed in the light of the TV tube. He could see how firm her small, up tilted titties were, looking like ivory hillocks topped with splashes of chocolate syrup, with a chocolate covered raisin centering each one. And the beaver between her thighs was ample, a thick, heavy growth.

"Tracey, please don't do that," he said, and his voice was begging, not ordering.

"Came on, Uncle Ira. Be man enough to admit you want to fuck me. And then do it. I've been waiting for that cock of yours for a long time. Don't make me wait any longer."

"Then are just some things that aren't right," Wahl protested to his niece, knowing how feeble his voice sounded.