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We had only been married less than a year when my wife decided that my only week of vacation would be spent at her sister’s in the country. Now when I say “in the country” I mean out of town; like an hour from the closest town. My brother-in-law wanted to be a gentleman farmer so he returned to nature.
Now even though I’ve had a relatively short period of practice in being a good husband, I hoped that my agreeable nature would be repaid one day. Kate said that the country would be good for my nerves, which were quite frayed from my advertising job. And I have to admit that the week started off quite relaxing, probably because there was little else to do.
My brother-in-law, the farmer, was actually a petroleum engineer who worked a seven-day on, seven-day off shift, and it just so happened this was his week away. So that left me to drink all the beer and lay at the pool all day. I hardly saw my wife, her sister and her niece except during meals. Other than that they were gabbing all day, shelling peas or doing whatever country women do. The niece was always off with her boyfriend till late in the evening; that is, until his family went away on vacation during the middle of the week. Then she became a prisoner of the farm like her bored, but relaxed uncle.
Bret was about 18, with a look somewhere between cute and pretty, but her body was gorgeous. She was definitely Playboy model material; you know, the type of girl I would never have a chance with in college. But I suppressed my baser instincts and tried my best to remember she’s my niece. Yeah, by marriage, you doofus! Damn, there goes my stress free week. I was going to have to wrestle with my conscious for the rest of the week, I thought.
Actually, I’m making it out to be worse than it really was, at least that first afternoon. She didn’t come out of her room until after lunch. She had no doubt spent the evening before bidding farewell to her boyfriend. Kate warned me that her mom said she would be sullen for a while. I understood completely, at least from her boyfriend’s point of view.
But later that night it became almost impossible to maintain the friendly uncle demeanor when she came to watch TV in a nightgown I swear I once saw on a stripper on Bourbon Street. I mean, I only saw it briefly before it was flung off the stage. I did not anticipate any flinging this evening, but a man can dream. Thankfully, or not, she sat directly in my line of sight to the television set, so it was not hard to steal glances at her bubble butt and taut legs. But what absolutely drove me frigging nuts was that her customary way of watching the tube was to lay across the ottoman with her chin in her hands, knees on the floor and bouncing to the music in her head. Like I said, frigging nuts!
Of course, Kate rebuffed my advances in bed that evening saying she couldn’t have sex in her sister’s house. Besides, she wanted to know, what made me so damn horny all of a sudden. I decided quickly that the truth would be a bad thing to offer at this time, so I told her the country air must have stoked my hormones.
The next afternoon my usual solo reverie at the pool was gravely disturbed by the sound of high- pitched laughter coming from the patio door and getting louder. Apparently, someone did not get the memo that the pool area in afternoon was my personal domain where I communed with nature and the water.
“Hi, Baby, you got company.” My wife’s voice was all I could interpret from the squeals of the three women as they entered the bathhouse; and then it was quiet.
I lay back in my chaise just at the point of dozing off when I heard the faint sounds of conversation, then the opening of the door and sound spilling out onto the deck. I turned my head sideways and peered through my shades to see my wife and her sister adjusting their loungers but neither one talking to me figuring I was asleep. Quiet again. Until that damn door opened and slammed.
I spared one eye to peek at Bret coming out of the bathhouse, and that was immediately followed by both eyes opened wide! I stifled the urge to lift my head and remove my sunglasses to get a better look because that would have been, well, just wrong. Bret was wearing the next best thing to spray paint – a one-piece pure white swimsuit that molded itself to every curve and bump, and the most obvious bumps looked like cantaloupes directly below her neck. I didn’t even notice how low the neckline was or if cleavage was even visible because I hardly had to use my imagination at all, the suit was that revealing. She was what one would call a curvy girl. Not a bit of fat on her and a very slim waist, but her tremendous bust and flared hips reminded me those old pinup paintings. She was awesome!
Hoping that she would take the chaise directly next to me I was disappointed to see her walk right into the pool wading almost up to her neck. I heard her mutter something like “damn, I’ll get my hair wet,” then she turned and walked back towards the steps.
I bagros porno watched her as she climbed out of the pool seeing the crack of her butt just as clear as if I had x-ray vision. When she turned to walk toward her mom’s chair I could swear that I had Superman’s eyes, but my vision was confirmed when I heard her mother scream, “Bret Angelle, look at your suit!”
Yes, that beautiful white suit had become as transparent as glass, and those glorious milliseconds are forever burnt into my retinas. Her breasts were proud and full as they jiggled while she walked, and quaked at her mother’s cry. The little patch of hair below was as brown as her curly locks and just as obvious. The suit did little more than highlight the best parts and obviously was not made for swimming.
I heard Bret trying to defend herself, but doing little to cover the wonderful sights I was eagerly ogling. Strangely enough, no one gave a thought to me and what I was seeing, so I continued my voyeurism until Bret angrily snatched a beach towel from the chair and whip it around her as she stormed back into the bathhouse.
The damage had been done. The ‘monster’ had already been stirring beneath my trunks when I saw her come out of the bathhouse. Now he was a Louisville Slugger aching for release, and I could do little else except to play that endless reel in my mind. That ass, that pussy, and oh, those tits! Damn, it was just too much. If the wife had no plans to help me in my situation I was going to have to take matters in hand.
Now, how do I take my leave with Junior threatening to escape my trunks at the slightest provocation? Damn, I knew I should have worn the flower trunks and not the solid green. The flowers could have provided a bit of camouflage, but my hard dick was pretty damn obvious through my suit right now.
“I gotta pee,” I muttered as I stumbled out of the chaise with a well place towel held to my waist.
“Bret’s in there,” her mom told me.
“Yeah, I know, I’m going to the men’s room.”
“Huh?” she puzzled.
“The great outdoors… behind the barn,” I offered in my haste.
I quickly went around the backside of the bathhouse, checking to make sure I was pretty near invisible, but secretly hoping my wife would come and check on me. I was determined that I could convince her that this was for her own good as I untied, dropped my suit and took my hurting dick in my hand. It was so hard it was painful, so I just used my left hand and slowly stroked myself seeing that vision turn around and present me with all of her pretties. Those tits; those wonderful, full, and bouncing tits. That was too much, I let loose a torrent and a low moan, almost a growl. I sprayed the grass and the fence with load after load. It felt so good that I didn’t get soft immediately. Instead, the feeling just kept getting better and better, and I swear I came again!
I waited for my erection to subside, but it never fully did. It finally got soft enough to where I could pee, and I painted the fence.
Adjusting my suit I walked back toward the pool gate, but instead of going in, I glanced to see if Bret had returned. Seeing that she hadn’t, I told the girls that I was going back inside to take a nap. Didn’t hear any objections from them, and even if I did it wouldn’t have mattered.
Once inside I thought about another jerk-off session, but I was really tired. So I just dropped on the bed in my swimsuit and dozed off.
When I woke up, I had to convince myself it wasn’t a dream. The smell of dried semen from my crotch convinced me of the reality. So I took a quick shower and headed toward the kitchen to see what was happening, since I heard the women chatting in there. A little small talk, a little boredom, so I was off to the den to look for something to do… anything to do. No cable TV, no books, and the only newspaper was the one I brought with us Sunday. Maybe I could reread the yard sales ads again. Damn, I was bored.
Maybe Bret had something to read in her room, I thought. Teenagers read sometimes, or so I’ve heard. I walked down the hall and tapped on her door announcing myself, “Bret, it’s Lance. Can I come in?”
A great sound of agitation came from within her room. Things were hitting the floor, the headboard, and the wall, and in a hurried voice I heard her say “Hey, yeah, come in.”
Damn, she was dressed. I was hoping that she had thrown a robe on or something, but she was just sitting on her bed in jean shorts and a blouse, giving me an perplexed look as if to say “Wow, whatever you’re about to say is going to be interesting, I just know it.”
“Hey, you have any books or magazines to read? I’m bored out of my gourd and need some mental stimulation.”
She immediately started to move the piles around in her room saying “Well, I don’t really have any books or anything, but I think I might have a couple of ’17’ magazines.”
“Oh, hey, that’s OK; you got anything like a school book? I’m that bangbus porno desperate.”
She gave me a look like “what planet are you from?”
“Sorry, Uncle Lance. It doesn’t look like I have anything you’d like. We can go to the store and see what kind of magazines are there?”
“Store? Store? What store? Where? I didn’t know there was a store around here?”
“Well, yeah, where do you think we go to get Cokes and stuff? It’s only three or four miles down the road. Wanna go? I’ll ride shotgun!” She seemed excited at the opportunity to escape the dungeon of doom, too. And I could not have picked better company.
But even while I ogled her form beneath her clothes I felt this guilt in the pit of my stomach for turning my niece into my masturbatory fantasy. It wasn’t her fault that she was overly blessed, and it wasn’t my fault that my male hormones were raging. But I swore that all of that was in the past, and I would treat her like my own daughter. Still I wished for another look… or more!
But we rode to the country store in almost total silence. She would give me directions, and every once in a while I would crack a joke. But she never laughed. We finally made it, but I don’t think I could have ever found my way there on my own, or even my way back.
I grabbed a few magazines, a month old, of course, a couple of Coke’s and a big bag of chips. We rode home drinking and crunching away. Again, no conversation.
And that’s about how it went for the remaining two and a half days.
As we left, sis-in-law apologized for the lack of male company. Bret came out of her room briefly to say bye, gave my wife a hug and feebly waved at me.
That was that.
– – –
Fast forward 15 years. My wife and I split almost four years ago. It was amicable, so much so that she invited me to one of her other niece’s daughter’s wedding (follow that?) on the beach. I had been somewhat close to that much older sister’s family as they lived near my hometown and knew a lot of my old friends.
I had not seen any of these any of these people in such a long time, so it was good to catch up and visit. The wedding was wonderful, right on the beach under an arbor and the whole wedding party was barefoot and dressed to the nines. It was a grand party! The reception was in the hotel on the beach where everyone was staying, and it was there that I got to see and talk with more of the family. I bid a gracious thank you to my ex-wife. She said she knew the bride would be sad if I wasn’t there.
The beer and wine flowed like, well, beer and wine. Lots of dancing and loud, loud partying. These people knew how to have fun.
Of all the tables with all of the people there was one almost empty table in the center of the crowd with a lone figure sitting there – Bret. I had seen her husband earlier near the keg. No, she didn’t marry the boyfriend from the country. Reggie was a college football star, and I have to admit I was one of his biggest fans. But it’s amazing what five years can do to a chiseled figure. He was now a tub of lard, stinking drunk and being as obnoxious as possible.
I had heard she had two kids already, but you could never tell by her figure. She was around 32 or 33 now, but looked as if she were still in college. She had lost none of her figure or her looks. But instead of cute, she was now beautiful, but unhappy. Or so it looked to me. Taking sips from the drink in her hand with four or five empty cups in front of her, she just starred at the far wall completely oblivious to the festival around her.
I had to strain to remember the last time I saw her. It couldn’t have been her college graduation, could it? I know I didn’t make it to her wedding, so maybe it was right out of college? How times flies.
Being alone myself I didn’t think she’d mine a little company, so I slowly approached her table and touched her hand. She glanced up quickly as if being shocked, and I asked if she would like to dance.
“Uncle Lance!” She shot up out of her chair and grabbed me around her neck nearly strangling me and surprising the devil out of me at the same time.
“It’s been so, so, so, so long. And you look so good. Grrrr,” she purred in my ear.
“You look beautiful yourself,” I replied, kind of shocked by the greeting.
“Yeah, right. Two kids went through this body. It’ll never be the same. Let’s go dance.”
She led the way and I watched her perfect hips move rhythmically and became hypnotized. As if on cue, the fast song segued into a slow number as soon as we hit the dance floor, and I arched my eyebrows to her as if to ask if she was OK dancing to a slow number. She grabbed my right hand and placed it on her waist, and I pulled her close. She smelled wonderful, and I almost got dizzy feeling her pressed against my chest swaying to the music.
We returned to the table, but instead of stopping there she picked up her drink and guided me to a table all the way near the back beurette tour porno wall. We were almost hidden in the shadows, and the music was just a faint backdrop to our conversation.
“How have you been?” I asked in earnest.
“Oh, you know. Reggie works all the time at the dealership, at least he says he’s working. I’m home with the kids. Life gets boring, but it’s ok. And I hear you’re the big president now, wow!”
“Yeah, finally made it at the agency, but it cost me a lot, too.”
“Oh, I was so sad when I heard you and Aunt Kate broke up. I didn’t even believe Momma when she told me. But I can understand. You can put up with a lot of crap, but then, you know, sometimes….”
She trailed off. Her words were slurred.
I just sat and stared at her. She was indeed beautiful, and I felt like she was being wasted. Life sure deals some tough hands, but she knew and I knew she could have done better. But here we are.
She stared back at me sideways in the dim light. Not saying a word she just looked at my face. I took it as a compliment, but she continued to stare, and I felt myself becoming a little uncomfortable. I chalked it up to her inebriated state, but she didn’t have that droopy look about her. She was thinking.
Finally, I couldn’t take the tension anymore so I just chuckled “What?”
“You still have a big horse dick?” she blurted with a slow bat of her eyes.
Incredulous! Don’t think I’ve ever used that word before to describe anything about me, but I was at that moment incredulous. Big… Horse… Dick. Put the words together, Lance. She’s asking you a question.
“Huh?” The brain had not fully become engaged yet, so that’s about the only sound I could get my mouth to utter.
“Your big-ass dick, that horse dick or baseball bat you were tugging on that time when we lived in the country.”
“What are you talking about?” I knew damn well what she was talking about, but I was trying to figure out how in the world she knew about that.
“I remember that day like it was yesterday, and I thought about it a lot! I went into the bathroom to change and I heard a noise outside. I looked out of the bathroom window and saw you walk right there, right in front of me. You pulled down your pants and started whacking yourself off. Except you did it so slow. That was the biggest cock I have ever seen in my life! I think I was paralyzed when I saw it. I just kept watching you play with yourself, and, boy, when you started to shoot off it went everywhere! I don’t think I’ve ever been so horny before or since. I had to frig myself right there, and I must have come a half-dozen times.”
“You had never seen a boy’s penis before?” I said desperately trying to rein in the conversation. Man, I was getting hard and uncomfortable right there and scared to death that she would pass a hand under the table. But she continued talking as if remembering a pony ride when she was a little girl.
“Aw, yeah, I played with Steve’s before. But that was it. And he was, like, half the size of yours! I was afraid of your big dick and fascinated by it at the same time. It was so huge! And then, when you came into my room that afternoon, you almost caught me frigging off again. I was so sure you could smell it. But really I thought you seen me looking out of the window at you, so I was scared to death when you walked in. Shit, if I knew then what I know now I probably would have raped you right there in my room.”
OK, we have an official erection now. Just hearing her recount this story had my mind reeling. Why was she admitting this? How does she expect me to react?
“Come on,” she ordered as she stood up and pulled my hand toward her. I couldn’t move too fast in my condition, so I tried to be as cautious and clandestine as I could and tried valiantly to adjust myself for the sake of decorum.
Busted. She looked down at my crotch and looked away, but grabbed my dick with her free hand. Surprise! She felt me up and exclaimed, “Shit, you’re huge! And you ain’t getting away this time. Come on.”
I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t even object. I had no idea where she was leading me, but I had a feeling I knew how the journey would end. My mind was raging in protest; I knew she was drunk, or at least appeared to be, so how could I take advantage of her like this? But she just felt up my dick, so the dick wins. I followed her.
We walked into an unused kitchen area, but she navigated the maze of tables and cabinets towards a backdoor. We walked out of the hotel onto a boardwalk through a wooded dune area towards the beach. I could hear the waves pounding, or was that the blood in my head? No, it couldn’t be blood because all of that was in my crotch trying to jackhammer my erection out of my pants.
She kicked off her shoes at the top of the steps to the beach, and I did the same. I walked down the steps before her, and she gingerly came down holding the handrail. I began walking to the beach, but she yelled “Hey.”
I turned around and watch her bunch up her dress around her waist, then bend slightly. I realized she had just removed her pantyhose and was stepping out of them. I was helpless to respond to what I was watching, but her next action almost made me faint.
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