Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: The Retreat Day 01


Summary: A tradition, a storm, a niece and a radical change.


Keywords: inc,fic



   We had stopped to feed ourselves and water the horses, and as we were
packing up to keep going, I noticed some fairly dark storm clouds starting
to drift down from the mountain tops.  It was definitely starting to get
darker.

   "If we're lucky, Squirt," I told Beth, "we make it to the cabin before
that hits.  Looks pretty nasty, and I don't think it's snow.  Probably a
cold, hard rain."

   "Lovely, Uncle Jim," she muttered.  "I may love the Great Outdoors, but
this is the part that I don't particularly like -- unless I'm dressed for
it, which I'm not."

   "No poncho or rain gear?" I asked.  I was suddenly realizing that all my
wet weather gear was still back at Eddie's, all neatly packed up to come up
with the trailer.  Cold, I thought I needed to be prepared for.  Wet, not
so much.

   "No, my wet weather gear is back at Uncle Eddie's, packed up," she told
me.  Apparently great minds think alike.

   "Well, we're closer to the cabin than to Eddie's," I mused aloud. 
"Guess we push on and hope we don't get soaked."

   "Wish in one hand, shit in the other..." Beth commented as she mounted
up.  Sometimes she sounded a lot like her father.

   * * * * *

   Her father was my older brother, Tom, now deceased.  Beth, better known
as Squirt, was my niece.  We were riding up to the family cabin north of
Pagosa Springs to open it for the season.  It was tradition for the family
to get together each Spring to open the place, a tradition started by my
parents.

   This year it would be the "Family Retreat That Wasn't".  Almost.

   When my two brothers and I were kids, we would spend the week of Spring
Break -- it used to be called Easter Break -- helping our parents open the
mountain cabin for the season, and then we'd get to spend part of Summer
Vacation living up there.  In the Fall, after hunting season was over, we'd
Winter-proof it and then look forward to the next Spring.

   Our Mom and Dad would trailer horses up to the cabin, to go along with
the pine forests, hiking trails and "swimming hole" in the Piedra River,
where it meandered through the mountains on its way to the San Juan River.
Well, actually, now it's the Navajo Reservoir covering up the confluence of
the Piedra and San Juan Rivers.  We'd drive up to Pagosa Springs, then
stock up on food and sundries before making the long trek up to the cabin,
up near Rock Mountain and the Williams Creek Reservoir.

   A lot had changed since those days, but a lot had stayed the same,
anchored to a more carefree time.

   Then, as we grew up and got married, and had kids of our own, those of
us who could would troop up to meet Mom and Dad and open the cabin for the
season.  Our kids grew up with summer vacations in the mountains.

   When Mom and Dad passed, the cabin and its land fell to us three boys,
and indirectly to our families.  At the time, my older brother Tom was
married and a Staff Sergeant in the Army, with three kids -- two older boys
and the youngest one a girl.  I was an IT consultant, mostly security, and
my wife and I had two kids, one son, one daughter.  My younger brother
Eddie wasn't married, but he sure seemed to date a lot.

   He'd actually decided to settle in Pagosa Springs, near the cabin.  He
didn't want to live in it year 'round, but he didn't mind watching the
place while being an assistant manager at The Springs Resort and Spa... 
one of several to capitalize on the sulfur hot springs that gave the town
its name.  Not to mention having rich, good-looking women as a mainstay of
their clientele.

   Beth and I were riding up together, without the rest of the family,
because Murphy had done his damnedest to conspire against us.  Normally, it
would have been all of us and Eddie's big horse trailer, all going up
together.  Or most of all of us anyway.

   For four or five years after our parents died, Tom would try to get
leave in the Spring and bring his family to meet mine at Eddie's place and
we'd all trek up to the cabin and open it up for the year.  Basically
keeping the tradition alive.  If Tom was deployed, his wife Sherry would
come up with the kids without him.

   Then four years ago, Tom got killed over in Afghanistan by some stupid
Taliban IED.  And it really ripped a hole in our families.  The only good
thing to come out of it was, we were all drawn a lot closer by the time the
healing was done, and we made a point of not just opening the cabin in the
Spring, but vacationing there in the Summer, like the old days.  And
Sherry, bless her heart, was a real godsend.  Between Tom's insurance and a
trust that she'd inherited from her parents, she could spend a month in the
Summer, working on her jewelry business and making everyone feel at home.

   This year, though, everything went haywire.

   It started out with "growing up" catching up with us.  This year, Tom's
two older boys, John and Scott, weren't going to be there for "opening day"
in the Spring.  They were both off at college and their Spring Break didn't
coincide with the rest of us.  So only Sherry and Squirt were going to join
us.  Squirt isn't her real name -- she got tagged with it from her
brothers, growing up, and it stuck.  Actually, her christened name was
Elizabeth, and just about every nickname you could derive from that.  She
was usually Beth to me, when I wasn't calling her Squirt, and to her I was
Uncle Jim.

   And my son, Paul, wasn't going to make it, either.  Same reason.  Off at
college and couldn't get away.  And then my wife, Linda, gave me the rest
of the bad news.  She had to take my daughter, a Senior in High School like
Beth, off to visit a prospective college that opening weekend, although
they could join us later that week.  I was just going to put it off, but
she insisted that I go ahead with tradition and go with Eddie and Sherry
and Squirt, and do all the hard work of getting the place up and running
for the season.  Then she and Maggie, my daughter, could just mosey on up
and be lazy.

   I think she was joking.  I hope she was joking.  In any case, I called
Eddie and told him I'd be coming up alone to start and I'd see him that
weekend.

   When I got there, the next piece of the puzzle fell apart.

   Beth was there and Sherry wasn't.

   * * * * *

   "Mom had to stay at the jewelry exposition because some kind of business
reps wanted to talk to her and she had to meet with some people from
China," Beth explained as we sat over coffee in Eddie's kitchen on Saturday
morning.  It was still frosty out.

   "But she'll be here by Tuesday at the latest, and she told me to come on
up and help get the place open.  Then I get here and find out it's you, me
and Uncle Eddie.  And it isn't clear he can trailer the horses up this
weekend.  Hell of a way to spend my eighteenth birthday, huh?"

   That set me back.  I'd forgotten when her birthday was, or even that she
was turning eighteen.  I should have remembered, though, because she was
almost two months exactly younger than my daughter, and Maggie had turned
eighteen two months ago.

   "Not much of a birthday present to ask you to come do a stint of hard
labor, opening the cabin," I conceded.  "Maybe when Eddie gets his lazy
butt down to breakfast, we can figure out a way you don't have to."

   "Oh, I don't mind, Uncle Jim, really!" she told me.  "I love the
outdoors.  I'm just grousing because I can." She gave me one of those
impish smiles teenage girls are good at -- part little-girl and part
all-grown-up.  And I was beginning to notice the grown-up.

   "And Uncle Eddie isn't sleeping in," she went on to inform me.  "He beat
you by an hour, easy.  He's up and outta here, as they say.  Had to go in
to the spa for some kind of problem.  That's why he might not be able to
trailer the horses up there today.  I'll admit, I'm not looking forward to
doing that with just the two of us.  That six-horse trailer is pretty big
to handle."

   My Dad had gotten an old World War II surplus Jeep to use up at the
cabin, for running errands and such, so he didn't do any more damage to his
pickup than he had to.  That old Willys MB would sure jounce us boys around
a lot, but we'd eventually get from Point A to Point B.  And Point B
usually involved sawing and splitting wood, and hauling it back to the
cabin.  My brothers and I learned to drive on that old Jeep.  Dad figured
it had survived the war, it could survive us.

   Eddie kept it at his place over the Winter now.

   When there were a bunch of us going, we'd load Eddie's big 6-horse
trailer and he'd drive it up that same Forest Service access road as close
as we could get and the rest of us would follow in the Jeep.  Then we'd
unload the horses, saddle them and ride them the couple of miles to the
cabin while somebody, usually my wife, would bring the Jeep along.  Then
Eddie and I would take the Jeep and the trailer back to town and come back
with the Jeep and his pickup, loaded with whatever else needed to come up
to the cabin.

   By then, somebody had a fire going and dinner ready.  Pretty efficient
and I didn't have to cook.

   Doing that with just the two of us was going to be rough.  Even if Eddie
could make it, it would still be difficult.  I was seriously considering
scrubbing the horses for later and just taking the Jeep up to open the
house when Beth made her fateful suggestion.

   Which is how we got in the position we were now in.

   "Maybe we could ride up," she offered.  "You know, take a couple of
horses and the gear we'd need and ride on up there and get the house warmed
up.  Eddie can bring the other horses later, when Mom gets here, or Aunt
Linda and Maggie."

   "I'm sure they'd appreciate having all the hard work done," she smiled,
and there was that imp again.

   "It's a bit of a ride," I pointed out.  "You sure you're up for that
kind of punishment?"

   "Oh, it's not bad," she told me.  "It's what?  Six hours?  Maybe seven
at a leisurely pace.  We could leave later this morning and be there late
afternoon.  Think of it as a birthday present...  a nice long ride in the
clean mountain air."

   "That clean mountain air is barely into the 50's," I told her.  "It'll
be a bit brisk."

   "Nipply," she told me.

   "What?" I wasn't sure I heard her right.

   "Nipply," she repeated.  "It's what Mom and I call it when your nipples
stand out a mile."

   "Yeah?" I laughed.  Leave it to the women.  "Well, mine will be hiding
underneath a down vest, if you don't mind."

   "Ah..." she teased me.  "The wisdom of the ages.  Not a bad idea at
all."

   "Are you calling me old?" I demanded, pretending to be offended.

   "Aren't you?" she asked, suddenly all wide-eyed innocent and batting her
eyes at me.  I knew she was putting me on.

   "Ask me after we've split a face-cord of wood," I told her.

   "Okay," she said softly with a slight smile.  "So you're up for the
ride?"

   "Sure, why not?" I asked.  "We'll check with Eddie when he gets back. 
Or does he have a cell?"

   "Uncle Jim, we're right on the edge of the cell here," she pointed out.
"Like 'one bar' kind of on the edge.  You go to the bathroom and you're
probably out of range."

   "But he'll be at the spa and that's the other way.  Towards the towers,"
I realized.  "Would you be a darling and get me a fresh cup?  I'll try him,
if I can find his number."

   Taking my cup and heading for the coffee pot, she told me, "I'd bet it's
that one, on the refrigerator magnet." She pointed to a large advertising
magnet for The Springs Resort and Spa, and somebody had written a phone
number on it with a Sharpie.  The number might have been one of Eddie's
girlfriends', but what the hell?  I dialed it.

   * * * * *

   Beth and I kept riding and the closer we got, the more obvious it became
that we were going to lose the race with the storm.  How bad we were going
to lose, I wasn't prepared for.  We'd made the Forest Service access road
and were part way along it when the temperature took a steep dive and the
first drops of rain hit us.  It had been in the low 50's while the sun was
out.  Now we'd be lucky if it was in the mid-40's and with the wind picking
up, it felt a hell of a lot colder than that.

   We watched the wall of water coming towards us with the same fascination
involved in watching a train wreck.  We tried to stay heads down and push
on, but we pulled up short when we got slammed by the icy rain.  We found a
little shelter in the lee of a big old oak and started discussing how we
wanted to handle the storm, when there was a brilliant flash of light that
seared our eyeballs and a God-Almighty crash of thunder that was deafening.


   "We've got to move!" I shouted into Beth's ear, over the storm. 
"Staying under a tree is inviting a lightning strike!"

   She nodded and moved her horse out into the storm, keeping her bearings
with landmarks lit by the ever increasing lightning flashes.  Bless Eddie's
horses, they didn't panic or get skittish at all.  They just plodded on,
heads bent to avoid the worst of the rain.  We turned off the access road
and made our way over open fields towards the bridge.  I think Beth was
keeping it together the same way I was -- by thinking about that nice warm
house and barn, some hot soup and coffee...  definitely coffee...  and a
warm bed to snuggle into.

   * * * * *

   The cabin was pretty fancy for a place made out of logs.  It had started
as a one room, Franklin stove heated "hunting cabin".  By the time my
father, and then my brothers and I, got done with it there were five
bedrooms, a living room / dining room combination, a separate kitchen,
indoor plumbing and a septic system.  More of a lodge than a cabin.  Sure
beat the hell out of the old wooden outhouse, I'll tell you.  Especially
when it got cold in the early Spring and late Fall.

   We had electricity, courtesy of FDR's Rural Electrification
Administration, or at least an offshoot from it.  Our power and our
telephone came in over lines strung on poles from the ones that ran along
the side of the Forestry Service's access road, about two miles away.  They
crossed the river the same place Dad had built the bridge.  We even had a
satellite dish for TV and the Internet.  But Dad had been a practical man,
and although the electricity was a blessing, we had back-up in the form of
a diesel powered generator for things like the refrigerator and the furnace
fan , and hand pumps for water, oil lamps for light and so forth.

   We'd pretty much insulated the barn so a single wood-burning stove could
keep it above freezing, but it usually wasn't necessary.  The kitchen was
electric, and we had a big old LP gas tank out back, to help the wood
burning furnace if it got really cold.  Although you could live there
year-round, we didn't.

   * * * * *

   We were freezing cold, wet completely through and bone tired before we
got to the bridge.  Seeing it was like a kick in the gut.

   A big tree had fallen into it and crushed it, maybe two-thirds of the
way through.  And the tree had taken down the power and phone lines as
well. They lay twisting and sparking like hissing snakes.  There wasn't any
way we were getting across that bridge with the horses.  Or maybe even just
crawling across by ourselves.  I felt my anger towards the Powers That Be
rising in my chest.  Better to be pissed than admit you're sad and scared.

   "Dammit, dammit, dammit..." I was muttering to myself as I surveyed the
damage, and a few other choice words as well.

   "Now what do we do, Uncle Jim?" Beth asked me, and the despair was right
under the surface.  I felt so bad for her right then, my heart literally
ached.  Me, I was used to getting fucked over by Murphy.  Her...  she
shouldn't have to deal with this crap.

   "We go upriver a little," I told her, loudly against the storm, "by the
old swimming hole.  There's a gravel shallows there we might be able to use
as a ford!"

   She nodded and waited for me to lead the way.  So I did.

   * * * * *

   While we worked our way through the storm to the ford, I thought about
how much better this morning had been and how disappointing this had to be
for Beth.

   I remembered it had been late morning and we were getting ready to mount
up.  We had two of Eddie's horses saddled up and our personal gear either
in saddlebags or strapped in a bedroll tied behind the saddle.  Beth and I
both had carbines in scabbards and revolvers in holsters on our hips. 
Tools of the trade -- it didn't hurt to go prepared.

   "Just for shits and giggles," Eddie was telling me, "you've both got
first aid kits and a few MRE's, each, in your saddlebags.  I have to go
back to the spa and fire one of the assholes, but I'll be back here this
evening.  Give me a call when you get settled in.  I'll wait for Sherry,
Linda and Maggie and then come on up with the rest of the horses and the
Jeep."

   "Sounds like a plan," I told him.  "We'll ride along the highway to the
access road, then up to our usual spot.  We'll cut over to the cabin per
usual.  Just in case anybody's looking for us.  I'll have my cell on, but I
don't expect it to work about three steps out of your driveway."

   "Naw, you won't get any signal once you're past Presser's ranch, " he
told me.  "You want radios?"

   "I don't think we'll need 'em," I told him.  "We'll call you when we get
there."

   Now, see?  Right there?  That was me being stupid.  I make my living
cleaning up after Murphy and his damned Law.  I should have known better.

   "Okay," he held out his hand.  "Good luck.  Better get going if you want
to beat the dark." I shook it and he walked over to Beth, who leaned down
and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

   "Thanks, Uncle Eddie!" she told him.  "This beats the hell out of the
city!"

   He smiled, stepped back and gave her horse a light slap on the rump. 
And we were off.

   Off on what started out as a pleasant and boring ride.  We headed out of
town, following the shoulder of the highway, getting pleasant smiles from
the locals as we rode past.  I got a chance to chat with Beth and get
caught up on her life, and just became more and more amazed at how much she
had grown up.

   She was still in the Spring of her Senior year, and although she'd been
accepted at several colleges, with scholarships even, because she was a
talented musician on several instruments, she didn't know what she wanted
to do.  The only thing she was sure of was that it had to involve the
outdoors.  She was seriously contemplating everything from Park Ranger to
Veterinarian.  And from my point of view, no matter what she chose, she'd
excel at it.

   When I asked her about boyfriends, she just sort of pooh-pooh'd me with
an "Uncle Jim!..." kind of whine that told me it must be a sore subject. 
So I pressed it a little and was told she was too busy with the rest of her
life and wasn't dating at the moment.  When I asked about Prom -- it was
her Senior year, after all -- she told me she was going to go with a
long-time friend, a guy she'd known since grade school.  They'd decided it
would be a nice, uncomplicated way to enjoy the prom without the drama...
according to her, he was gay and wasn't looking to get laid afterwards.

   "Are you a lesbian?" I asked point blank.  I'm not really good in the
subtle department, especially when it comes to matters of romance and so
forth.

   "Not exactly," she told me with a sort of warning tone in her voice that
made me decide it would be a really good time to just drop it.

   We drifted to reminiscing about previous family reunion vacations and
some of the neat memories we had.  I filled her in on some of the
adventures that were well before her time, and she didn't mind me talking
about her Dad at all.  In fact, she encouraged it.  She liked knowing some
of the stuff he did growing up, before he got all serious about being a
responsible parent.

   And now, her "responsible" Uncle Jim had her out in the middle of a
miserable Spring storm in the mountains, where exposure was a very real
danger.

   There's freedom up in the mountains and it's not like anything you've
known, unless you've lived there.  But there's responsibilities that come
with those freedoms.  Some are as simple as doing your share of the chores.
Some will get you dead if you ignore them, like don't mess with the bears
and rattlesnakes, and don't climb into a crevice smaller than you.  But if
you've got any common sense, it can be a lot of fun.  Getting caught in
this storm wasn't sensible, common or otherwise, nor was it fun.

   * * * * *

   Beth and I followed the bank of the river about a quarter of a mile to
where I thought we could cross.  The water was flowing pretty steadily and
the thought "flash flood" crossed my mind.  But it was pretty much the only
way we were getting to that cabin tonight.  So I eased Jesse, my horse,
down the bank and into the edge of the water.  There may have been only
about two feet of depth, maybe less, but that water was pushing hard.

   I encouraged Jesse into the river and he took it on himself to get out
of the river -- thank God, on the other side.  He powered his way up the
far bank and I turned to see how Beth was doing.  Her horse, Sunny, had
dutifully started down the bank and into the water, following Jesse.  They
were maybe two-thirds of the way across when a brilliant flash of
lightning, and an immediate thunderclap that felt like it was right on top
of us, spooked Sunny and she reared.  Not bad, but enough that Beth lost
her seat in the driving wet and slipped down into the river.

   I bailed off Jesse and didn't even bother to try to tether him.  The one
thing I didn't want to have happen was Beth getting dragged down the river.
Bless that girl, she'd caught hold of the stirrup and was struggling to
pull herself up.  I started to wade into the water and felt it pounding
against my legs, threatening to knock me down, but somehow I needed to
reach Sunny's reins.  Beth had to be one smart girl, because she managed to
help with that.

   With an arm hooked through the stirrup, she took her other hand and
slapped Sunny's flank, causing her to surge forward, dragging Beth with
her. As soon as I could, I grabbed Sunny's reins and started back up the
bank, but I dropped them again as soon as Sunny -- not waiting for Beth --
began powering her way up the bank like Jesse had.

   I scrambled back up and retrieved Jesse's reins while I held Sunny's so
that Beth could get to her feet and get straightened out.  She was muddy,
soaked and shaking, bad, but I didn't know if it was the cold rain or the
adrenalin rush.

   "Can you ride?" I called to her.

   She didn't say anything.  She just mounted Sunny and I handed her back
the reins.  She turned for the cabin before I even got mounted.  We trotted
the remaining ground and finally made it to the barn.  I dismounted and
handed Beth my reins, pulled a Maglite out of my saddlebags, then went to
unlock the barn.  I was so cold, my hands were shaking and I had a hell of
a time getting the key in the lock.  But I finally did and got the door
open.  Beth dismounted and we walked the horses in, out of the rain.

   Being out of the wind helped, but we were both shaking with the cold and
the horses weren't happy about it, either.  I tethered Jesse to a hitching
post and pointed for Beth to do the same.  There wasn't going to be any
electric light, except for our flashlights, so I found one of the reserve
oil lamps, lit it and hung it from a peg on the rafter beam.

   "T-t-take off their s-s-saddles and blankets," I stuttered to Beth,
"while I get a f-f-fire going in the stove."

   She didn't bother trying to answer.  She just started taking off our
gear and piling it by the door, then taking off the saddles and blankets,
and putting them on the saddle racks mounted on the walls.  In the
meantime, I loaded up the stove from the woodbin and got a fire started. 
That wood was well dried and blazed up pretty quickly.

   "Come on over here and warm up," I told Beth as I warmed my hands over
the stove.  "I'll get the horses in their stalls and then we can tackle the
house.  There won't be any electricity initially, so can you build a fire
while I try to get the backup generator online?"

   "Y-y-y-yes, Uncle Jim," she managed to chatter at me.

   "Sweetheart, I'm trying to get you warm and dry as fast as I can," I
told her.

   "I kn-n-n-ow..." she told me.  Then she walked over and instead of
hogging the stove like I thought she would, she wrapped her soaking wet
arms around my soaking wet body and gave me a wonderful hug.  It really did
warm me up a bit, although in retrospect, I think for non-thermal reasons.
She, on the other hand, was shaking like she was going to come apart.

   I got the horses in their stalls, put down hay and grain and manually
pumped water for them, then went back to collect Beth.  With saddlebags and
bedrolls slung over our shoulders, we headed out into the deluge.  Deluge
is not an exaggeration.  In the time we'd been in the barn, the rain and
wind had picked up and it was now coming down in torrents.  It was damned
near raining horizontally.

   Beth held my light while I got the door to the mudroom open and we
stepped in.  The mudroom was a long, narrow room that led to the laundry
and kitchen.  It was intended as a place to strip off muddy boots and
clothes before heading into the rest of the cabin.  I suppose I should stop
calling it a cabin and start calling it a lodge, since that's mostly what
it was, but some old habits die hard.  I pumped up some water by hand so we
could clean off our boots and we headed for the living room.

   Actually, I suppose Great Room would be a better description these days,
since what Mom and Dad intended it for was a big Commons room where
everybody could gather and socialize.  It had the big Heatilator fireplace,
high ceiling and picture window vista of the mountains when it wasn't
boarded up from the Winter.  My Priority One right then was to get a huge
fire going and get warmed up.  Priority Two was going to be electricity.

   Beth started putting tinder and smaller pieces of wood together in the
fireplace and getting them lit while I pulled half a dozen split logs from
the woodbin and gave them to her.

   "You know the routine," I told her.  "As it builds, feed these on.  All
of them.  We're going to need the heat if I can't get the juice flowing."

   "I'll bet you're pretty good at getting juice flowing," she commented
under her breath, but I caught it anyway.  I figured she must have meant it
differently than I heard it, but at least she wasn't chattering with the
cold.  We were both going to catch pneumonia if we didn't get out of those
wet clothes soon, but I needed to get the electricity on.  So telling her
to keep building the fire, I went back out to the mudroom.

   The access to the generator was right out the back door and to the left.
Dad had built the generator its own little shed, totally disconnected from
the house because of noxious fumes.  All the wiring, though, went back into
a distribution panel in the house, in the same vestibule with the
ladderwell to the electric well head.  With the juice running, the electric
well pump would keep the cistern filled and a secondary pump provided
pressure to the water heater and the toilets and such.  Without it, our
only water would be hand-pumped and our only hot water would be heated in a
fireplace or on a wood stove.  I opened the door, stepped out into the
nasty weather and got into the generator shed as fast as I could.

   The generator was basically a diesel engine attached to a huge
alternator.  The theory was, open the fuel line from the tank (mounted at
one end), wait a minute, turn the key to "Start" like you would a car, let
it run a couple of minutes to warm up, then use the control panel to
connect it to the house circuits.  It only powered certain critical systems
and heat and water were two of them.  I opened the fuel line, waited the
requisite time, flipped the key to "Start" and met the Jesus Factor.

   The Jesus Factor, as explained by some aerospace tech friends of mine,
is when you've designed and built the best missile possible, with backup
systems and redundant backup systems, and you've thoroughly bench-tested
each and every component to perfection and assembled it all with no parts
left over, and you put the bird on the pad and push the button, and the
bird don't fly -- then you've met the Jesus Factor...  where everybody is
standing around, going "Oh, Jesus!"

   In my case, the engine turned over -- but wouldn't start.  And I spent a
good fifteen minutes going through every troubleshooting procedure I'd been
taught about that generator, and still nothing.  I finally had to give up
before Beth found an Uncle Jim Popsicle in the morning.

   I went back in to warm up and found that Beth had a really nice fire
going.  I went to one of the bedrooms and pulled a couple of blankets off
the beds, walked back out and tossed her one.

   "I hope you're not shy," I told her, "because we need to get out of
these cold, wet clothes and the generator's fucked up.  We're doing it the
primitive way tonight."

   "Oooh, doing it primitive," she smiled softly then stood up, walked to
the closest bathroom and came back looking confused.  "No towels?" she
asked.

   "Most everything is coming up with Eddie," I explained.  "We've got some
bed linens here that we leave on the mattresses over the winter, but that's
about it.  If you're lucky, some of your clothes survived the rain and the
dunking in the river." Then she absolutely blew my mind.

   "Okay," she said and dragged her saddlebags and bedroll over in front of
the fire.  That wasn't the mind-blowing part.  She stripped.  Bare.  Naked.
While my eyes popped out and I started to drool.  Or at least, I figure
that's what it must've looked like.  She squatted down, turning to warm
herself in front of the roaring fire, and went through her stuff.  After
everything made of cloth landed in the same pile, she looked up at me.

   "Have you got any clothesline or something, Uncle Jim?" she asked.  At
least, I think that's what she said.  "Everything -- and I mean everything
-- is soaked.  I need to hang this stuff up to dry." She stood up and I
swear, cold, wet, tired or not, I damn near came in my pants.  She was
gorgeous.

   This is mostly conjecture from observation, but I'd guess she had to be
around 5'6", somewhere between 115-120 lbs.  (and that's only because of
her tits), probably a 36-24-34 or close and a C-cup, strawberry blonde hair
to the middle of her back when it wasn't darker because it was soaking wet,
with ice blue eyes and shaved.  And in the firelight, her skin was perfect,
her curves were perfect, her smile was perfect...  you get the idea.

   "And why are you still dressed?" she went on while I stood there like an
idiot.  "There's plenty of room over here by the fire to go through your
stuff."

   "The reason for the blankets..." I told her, as I started stripping off
my wet clothes.

   "Is to protect my modesty," she finished for me.  "Don't sweat it.  Mom
told me you actually changed my diapers up here a few times.  I figure
you're used to my body."

   "Don't bet on it," I muttered.  "And besides," I added, "you look a lot
different now, believe me."

   She smiled and ran her hands over her waist and hips, patted her butt a
couple of times and used her hands to jiggle her tits.  "You like how I
look?" she asked and I almost believed she was as ingenuous as she sounded.
Almost.

   Please, God, I prayed inside my head, strike me dead before the hormones
take over...

   "Jeez, you look pretty good for an old man," she told me as I slipped
out of my briefs.

   Too late.  She was staring at my naked body with very evident interest,
and I started to get hard.

   God, you're not listening, I chastised Him.  Banish these evil
thoughts...  really...

   "Oh!" Beth suddenly corrected herself.  "I didn't mean 'old man' like
you're old or anything...  I mean, it's just you're what?  Around my Mom's
age?  And that probably isn't too shabby..."

   The 'that' she was referring to was my erection, which not only didn't
have the good sense to go down, it kept growing.

   "Listen, Squirt," I told her, trying to clear my thoughts, "your mother
is only 44 and that's not old by anybody's standards.  She was pretty young
when she married Tom.  And I'm only 50, and I don't consider that anywhere
near over-the-hill, even to a freshly minted eighteen-year-old." Thinking
about her mother wasn't helping my hard-on problem any.  Sherry was
attractive and friendly and very liberal.  So had Tom been.  I had some
really nice memories that kept crowding in.  I needed a distraction.

   "Oh, I'd agree," she told me with a grin.  "You can't be over-the-hill.
Or at least, probably not -- not with that bad boy." This was not helping.

   "What do you mean 'probably'?" I asked as I squatted down to start
assessing the damage to my stuff, and incidentally hiding the erection.

   "Oh!..." That seemed to bring her up short.  "Um...  later?" she
offered.

   "Okay, later," I gave her the out.  "There's heavy cord in the kitchen
junk drawer.  Light one of the oil lamps when you're in there and leave it
set on low when you leave."

   "Not a problem, Uncle Jim!" she told me with that bright smile, and
turned to walk out of the room with that amazing body undulating its way
away from me.

   I don't have a problem with my sex life.  My wife and I do fine with
each other and we occasionally do fine with other friends, which is
nobody's business but ours.  But to paraphrase a popular ball cap, I'm
married -- not dead.  And I was rapidly developing an obsession with my
niece.  The bitch was, she seemed to be fueling it.  Probably my
imagination, but that's what it seemed like.

   * * * * *

   "Eddie's going to be worried about us," I pointed out to Beth.  "Based
on how fast and hard that storm hit, it'll be all over the news.  We need
to let him know we're okay.  We also probably need a repair crew up here
for the bridge as well as the power."

   We were sitting on the king-sized mattress from the master bedroom,
placed in front of the fire, with us semi-wrapped in blankets and
contemplating what to do about food for the next few days.

   I say 'semi-' because Beth kept letting her blanket slip.  I had mine
over my lap for a reason, and the reason kept exposing herself to me.  I
was becoming convinced it was intentional.

   I'd tried to drag out a couple of twin bed mattresses, but Beth wouldn't
let me.

   "I don't feel like falling into the cracks," she told me, which didn't
exactly make sense to me, but having been trained by my wife and daughter,
I didn't argue.  We just wrestled the big mattress out to the living room
and rounded up a bunch of sheets and blankets and pillows to make a nest.

   Our clothes were hanging up to dry in the functional equivalent of a
spider web stretched all over the living room.  Once mine were dry, I
needed to go take care of the horses for the night, among other things. 
But in the meantime, here we sat.

   As far as the food went, we could subsist on the MRE's Eddie had given
us for a couple of days, but in actuality, until we got power we were going
to have to cook on a wood stove or in the fireplace.  We had just decided
to rummage through the cans we'd brought along and check the pantry for
leftovers from last year, when the question of how long the storm was going
to last came up, and with it, the need to get hold of Eddie.

   "If you don't mind a possible bit of aerobic exercise," I told her, "we
can radio the Sheriff and have him pass it along.  Or tell Eddie to contact
us at a given time."

   "Radio?" she asked, obviously confused.

   "Yeah...  CB radio, a bit modified.  It's in that side table next to the
fireplace."

   "The side table?" she iterated.

   "Yep.  Normally runs off wall power, but it can run off battery.  Since
the power just went out, the backup battery is probably still charged.  If
not, we have an old military surplus hand-crank generator.  The generator
is in the storage closet off the master bedroom.  Want me to get it out?"

   "Sure..." she drawled, looking at me lasciviously.  Or maybe I was just
hoping that's what it was.

   So I stood up and tried to walk out with the blanket strategically
draped over me.

   A blanket is not a towel.  A blanket is orders of magnitude bigger.  And
heavier.  And much more unwieldy.  I gave up.  I dropped the blanket and
walked out with my tent pole sticking out in front of me, feigning
sophistication.  That lasted about as long as it took Beth to wolf-whistle.


   I paused to look at her.

   "Are you trying to seduce me?" I asked her.

   "Just teasing, Uncle Jim," she told me with that impish smile.  "I like
it that you like me enough to react like that.  It's a compliment."

   "Reacting like this isn't because I like you," I told her.  "Which I do.
A lot.  It's because I lust you.  And that could be a problem." I turned
and headed on out to retrieve the hand-cranked generator.

   When I got back, Beth was bending over the radio, having pulled it out
and set it on top of the table, and was carefully examining it.  The fact
that bent over, her bright pink labia were exposed stopped me in the
doorway.  I put the generator in front of me before I walked in.

   She looked over her shoulder as I approached and smiled.

   "Very funny," she said.  "You don't have to pretend to be modest, Uncle
Jim.  Just cuz I'm curious, though, what modifications?"

   "Normal CB is limited to 4 watts output," I explained.  "Dad had a
somewhat illegal additional amplifier put on it to boost it to 400 watts.
He figured he'd be able to reach town no matter what the weather
conditions. Which right now may very well pay off.  We'll just use Channel
9 and try to reach the Sheriff's Department and tell them about the downed
line.  And we'll have them tell Eddie what's happened and that we're okay.
I think they'll be okay with that."

   I set down the generator.  "So how's the battery?"

   "Not connected to the charging unit, if that's what you're asking," she
told me, holding up the disconnected cable.  "And the meter is way down
into the yellow, almost to red.  I'm guessing it isn't charged much."

   "Okay, then, your job is to sit with this between your legs and pretend
you're at the gym, doing one of those 'crank the bicycle with your hands'
exercises.  There's a needle and a gauge and all you have to do is turn it
fast enough to keep the needle in the middle of the gauge."

   "So you want me to stroke something between my legs," she teased me.

   "Yep." I figured I'd play along.  Then I decided to be merciful.  "Once
you've cranked it enough, you've actually charged the battery and a little
green light will come on.  When it does, you can stop cranking.  We'll have
about thirty minutes of talk time off the battery and God knows how much
listening time in standby.  That should be enough to tell them what we
need. If not, we crank-charge the battery again."

   Beth moved from in front of the radio to the couch and pulled the
generator to her, intentionally spreading her legs wide and giving me an
amazing pussy shot while I hooked the generator to the CB's battery unit.
Then she started cranking the thing and I got mesmerized by her breasts
swinging from side to side as she did.

   "Aren't you supposed to be calling somebody?" she asked, and I realized
I'd been staring.

   "Yep," I told her with a slightly embarrassed smile, "But I can wait
until the battery's charged."

   She just smiled and went back to swinging her tits in rhythm to her
cranking.  Eventually the light went green and the battery was fully
charged.

   I thumbed the mike and tried to raise the Sheriff's office, or anybody
else listening on the standard emergency channel.  The surprised response I
got from the Sheriff's dispatcher was worth it.

   I told her who I was and where, and that Beth was with me and that we
were safe and we needed them to tell Eddie.  I also told her the power and
phone were out, and she informed me that La Plata Electric already knew
about the outage but was severely backlogged because of several other
storm-related outages.  I told her to let Eddie know most of the bridge
needed to be rebuilt and maybe a drive up tomorrow wouldn't be a bad idea.
She said she'd relay the information and asked me if I wanted to stand by
for a response.

   I told her I'd leave the radio on in standby and I thought we'd be good
on battery power for the night, but if Eddie wanted to get hold of me, it
would be better sooner rather than later.  She acknowledged that and we
signed off.

   Then I turned my attention to food.  My erection had gone down and I was
getting comfortable walking around my luscious young niece in nothing but
my skin.  Lighting oil lamps to save on flashlight batteries, I rummaged
around the kitchen and found a couple of pots and pans and a manual can
opener.  I decided to cook in the fireplace rather than fire up the wood
stove in the kitchen and a little more rummaging through the stuff we'd
brought with us and the stuff left from last year yielded dinner.

   Simple things like roast beef hash, baked beans and corn, washed down
with apple juice and coffee, had to make do and it was while we were
finishing that up that Beth asked me what I was going to do about the
horses.  Good point.  None of our clothes were dry, yet.  But I figured
damp was okay, so I got dressed and went out to the barn to check on them,
set up the stove for a long, slow burn and dialed back the oil lamp.  When
I got back, Beth had another surprise in store for me.

   She was lying on the mattress in front of the fire, masturbating.

   I stood riveted to the floor, standing in the doorway, watching.  I
really hope on Judgment Day, the Supreme Being will accept, "I just
couldn't help it..."

   I don't know how long I was standing there watching her rubbing herself,
her eyes closed and her breathing labored, but it was long enough that I
was hard when she interrupted my completely inappropriate train of thought.


   "You don't have to stand out there, Uncle Jim," she breathed.  "You need
to get warm again...  I'll stop if you need me to, but if you can just hang
in there a minute..." and her jilling got a lot faster and a lot harder. 
So did her breathing.  A niece is a lot like a daughter and I was having a
major conflict of emotions.  I did what any self-respecting middle-aged
father would do.

   I walked in.

   Okay, so you can scrap the self-respecting, and I suppose most
middle-aged fathers wouldn't admit to perving on their daughters'
masturbating, but something in me just went all zombie automaton.  I walked
to the edge of the bed and started pulling off my wet clothes, and my eyes
never left her beautiful body.  My niece was giving me a fantastic
peep-show for free.  And she was officially eighteen, as of today.  Thank
God.

   And I was hard.  Man, was I hard.  I hadn't been this turned on in
decades, regardless of Linda's skill with...  never mind.  Anyway, I know
it was wrong and taboo and all, but my hand drifted to my cock and I
started stroking myself.  Beth opened her eyes briefly and looked up at me
-- first at my face, then my hand stroking my cock, and then back to my
face -- where she locked eyes with me with such an intense gaze I couldn't
do anything but stare back.

   Keeping her gaze locked on mine, she took herself over.  She rubbed
herself furiously and lifted her hips and finally cried out as she began
spasming, twisting and jerking in an obvious orgasm.  And I stood there
like an idiot still stroking my cock and looking at her.

   She closed her eyes as she came and gradually slowed down.

   "Thanks, Uncle Jim, for not freaking out," she told me as her breathing
returned to normal.  "I really needed to finish my stress relief." I
realized I was still flogging my dolphin so I let go and tried to focus on
not being obsessed.

   "Stress relief?" I managed to ask.

   "Yeah," she smiled.  "Having an orgasm is the best way I know to relieve
stress, and you've got to admit, today's been pretty stressful."

   "Yes, it has," I admitted.  I was suddenly very self-conscious and moved
to hang up my wet clothes and go sit on the bed, draping a blanket over my
groin.

   "By the way," she added with a smile, "Uncle Eddie called and I picked
it up.  I told him what had happened and that we were okay and that you
were out taking care of the horses, but should be back shortly.  He said
he'd wait up for your CQ, whatever that is."

   "It means I have to call him back.  CQ is an old Ham radio convention
used to look for a contact.  In Morse code, it's dah-dit-dah-dit
dah-dah-dit-dah (-.-.  --.-) or the letters C and Q.  Analogous to 'Seek
You'.  Nobody uses Morse anymore since they dropped the requirement for the
Amateur Radio license -- except maybe a bunch of hardcore veterans and
Newbies who think it's cool.  Did he mention a channel?"

   "He said 17," she told me.

   So I went to the radio, changed it to channel 17 and thumbed the mike.
He was right where he said he'd be.

   I gave him the whole sad story, minus the intimate stuff, including the
wrecked bridge and the generator that wouldn't start.  He insisted on
walking me through the entire checklist for the generator, even though I'd
already done it and I was getting a little aggravated.

   "Okay, I'll bring up tools tomorrow with the Jeep," he told me.  "We can
figure it out.  And I'll bring a couple of chainsaws and some axes,
handsaws and line and we'll clear the bridge -- or what's left of it.  We
can measure the bridge and figure out what we need and I can go back to
town and get it.  I'll call La Plata and make sure they kill the juice to
that circuit so we're not dealing with live wires.  What else do you want
me to bring?"

   "Towels, bread, butter, fresh fruit, eggs -- I can stick 'em down the
well if I have to -- and bring some pussy grease."

   "Any particular brand?" he asked, and I could hear the smile as he
added, "Blonde, brunette, redhead..."

   "Waterless hand cleaner, Eddie.  Like Goop or Gold Medal.  We have to do
hot water the old-fashioned way," I explained.  "I want to conserve water.
And if you wanted to throw the rest of Beth's and my stuff in and bring it
along, that'd be good, too."

   "Okay, see you tomorrow," he told me.

   "Tomorrow," I told him.  "KBDR 4444 10-7.  Out."

   "KAWS 9963 10-7," he replied and I hung the mike back on the radio.

   "Pussy grease?" Beth asked me.

   "Yeah, slang from my gearhead days," I told her.  "The only thing that
will cut dirt, grease and grime better than Goop is the natural lubrication
from a woman's body.  So we used to call waterless hand cleaner 'pussy
grease'.  It isn't meant as an insult."

   "Oh," she said and paused for a minute.  I thought for a second she was
going to reach between her legs but she didn't.

   "So I guess the next thing is to try to get some sleep and hope our
clothes are dry by morning," she told me.

   "Sounds like a plan," I told her.  "Getting to sleep will be a bitch,
but with the fire up and a little assistance, I think we can do it."

   "A little assistance?" she queried.

   I rummaged in my saddle bags and pulled out my Dopp kit.  Inside among
the toiletries was a zip-loc bag with my prescriptions in it, and two of
those prescriptions were for a pain reliever and a muscle relaxer.  I did
some further rummaging in my saddle bags and pulled out a fifth of white
rum.

   "Drugs and alcohol," I told her, showing her.  "Technically, I shouldn't
be sharing these with you.  Given the circumstances, though, one of these
blue-and-yellows and a couple of the white ones, plus a nightcap, and you
should be able to relax to sleep fairly quickly.  They won't render you
unconscious and they wear off in three or four hours."

   She eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then appeared to decide to trust
me.  She held out her hand.  "Okay," she said.

   I handed her the pills and grabbed the glasses we'd drunk the apple
juice out of earlier.  I put a little bit more than a jigger of rum in each
and filled it with apple juice.

   "Not exactly Apple Jack," I told her as I handed her hers.  "But it'll
do.  Cheers."

   And with that I took my pills and a big hit off my drink.  After that I
drank it a bit slower.

   Beth followed suit, including saying "Cheers" and slugging back half the
drink at once.  When I refilled my drink, Beth drained her glass and held
it out for a refill.  I figured ten to fifteen minutes and she'd be out
like a light.

   * * * * *

   After Beth had pretty much crashed, I made a point of facing away from
her before I fell asleep.  No reason to tempt Fate.  But somewhere later
that night, I felt her pressed up against me from behind and when I
stirred, she said, "Uncle Jim...  I'm cold."

   I looked at the fire and it was still going well.  I stuck an arm out
from under the blankets to check the room temp and it was okay.  So I told
her to just curl up against me and try to go back to sleep.  She curled up
against me alright.

   She made sure every inch of her front was touching me somehow, including
mashing those big, beautiful tits into my back and laying her face
alongside my neck where her hot breath was tingling my ear.  And she draped
her arm over my side and onto my belly.  I was hoping she'd go to sleep
soon so I could disentangle a little before my natural reactions took over.
Like that was going to happen.  She didn't let it.

   We weren't curled up like that more than two minutes when her hand
started drifting around, petting my belly...  then drifting towards my
groin.  I figuratively held my breath, hoping she'd just let it go with the
mild groping, but no...  she went straight for my rapidly growing cock.

   "Oh, God..." I remember breathing as she wrapped her hand around me and
started stroking and petting my cock and balls.

   "Squirt, I don't think you should be doing that," I tried to tell her in
the calmest voice I could muster.

   "Why?" she asked.  "Am I hurting you?"

   "No..." I groaned as her thumb found the precum I was starting to leak.
"But still, you shouldn't..."

   "What's this?" she asked, interrupting me as she swirled the precum
around my glans.

   "Heaven," I moaned.  "Really, Squirt, I'm your uncle.  You shouldn't
mess around with me like this.  Your mother will kill me if she finds out."


   "I doubt it," she told me as she continued to play.  "Not after what you
two did together in those videos.  And seriously...  what is this?"

   I was stunned.  Literally.  My brain did not want to function.  The
Videos???  How the hell did she find the videos Tom, Sherry, Linda and I
had shot?  Tom had said they were locked up, that no one but us four would
know about them.  How the hell did they get loose?

   "Um...  that's preseminal fluid," I temporized.  "Pre-ejaculate.  From
the Cowper's glands.  Mostly it's called precum.  It's a kind of lubricant
males produce when they're really excited."

   "And how the hell do you know about the videos?" I moaned even louder as
she started playing with the frenulum.

   "Mom left them out after one of her jilling sessions," she told me.  "I
got curious and watched them.  And got off several times.  You guys looked
pretty damned good."

   "You know you can't tell anybody about those, right?" I asked.

   "Yep," she answered, "just like I can't tell anybody about this..." She
pulled me to my back, stripped off the covers and went down on me.

   "Holy Mother of God!" I tried to lift her head but she just batted my
hand away.

   "Squirt, you can't do this," I protested.  "This is like, incest."

   "Mm-hmm," she agreed, swirling her tongue around my cock.

   "Seriously, Squirt...  Beth...  you've got to knock it off.  You're
going to make me cum."

   "Mm-hmm," she agreed, bobbing up and down while swirling.

   "Beth, really...  seriously, you need to stop.  You're gonna... 
you're...  OH FUCK!!"

   I came.  I couldn't stop it.  I didn't want to.  I just wanted to blow
my load down the nubile throat that was sucking me like there was no
tomorrow.  I figured I could feel guilty later.

   She drained me dry, and then some.  Even after she'd taken my whole
load, she kept on going, and drove me absolutely frantic while she was
doing it.  When I finally got her to ease up, she sat back with a
cat-that-ate-the-canary look.

   "I thought you'd taste good," she informed me, "based on Mom's reactions
in the videos.  I'm glad I was right."

   "I'm glad I meet with your approval," I groaned.  "You can't mention the
videos and you can't mention blowing me and not mentioning being naked
together is probably a good idea, too.  And we really should try to get
some sleep.  It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

   "Okay," she said simply and moved up to snuggle in under my arm.  She
put her head on my chest and draped an arm across my belly and a leg onto
my thigh, pulling herself in close.  I closed my eyes and tried to fend off
the nightmare of what was going to happen when her mother found out.  The
same mother that was my sister-in-law and whom I had shared with my brother
and my wife.

   * * * * *

   I came awake to the very strange sensation of being ridden.  I was ready
to chalk it up to the very horny dream I had been having in which my wife
and Sherry were taking turns doing one of the "camel toe slides" where they
sit across you and rub your erection with their labia...  until I realized
I was awake and it was continuing.

   I opened my eyes to see Beth backlit by the fire, sitting across me and
doing exactly that.  She had my cock between her pussy lips and was sliding
forward and back, making me rub her pudenda and clit while she built up to
a cum.  Having gotten off earlier -- how much earlier I wasn't sure -- I
wasn't that quick on the uptake, but I was definitely erect.  And she was
definitely about to trip over.

   I watched in fascination as she ground down onto me, trying to be quiet
but breathing very hard.  She must have thought I was still asleep and was
trying not to wake me.  When I reached out and grabbed her hips, to help
her grind into me, her eyes snapped open and she looked at me very startled
for several seconds.  Then she closed her eyes and went back to grinding
into me even harder.

   "Oh, God, yes...  Oh, God, yes..." she started murmuring as I watched
her build.  That got shortened to "oh, yes!...  oh, yes!" as she got to her
peak and "Oh, fuck!!  Yes!!  Cumming!!" when she went over.  I could feel
the contractions through her thighs and against her anus.  She was
definitely cumming.  And I was definitely transfixed.  Any morals or ethics
I might have had went right out the window.

   And then there was the miracle.  She didn't stop rubbing and I didn't
stop growing.  Or at least, it felt like it.  She was certainly still
rubbing, sliding backward and forward over my cock, now sopping with her
pussy juices.  I was wondering at how incredibly good it felt when I got
that familiar twinge in my balls and they started to pull up.  I was going
to cum again...  twice in one night...  something I hadn't done in more
than a decade.  This hot off the presses nympho was going to force it out
of me, and out of herself, too, from what it looked like.

   She was ramping right up there with me.  I tried to warn her again, but
she just leaned forward, dangling those amazing tits in my face and put her
hand over my mouth.

   Well, at least my cry was a little bit muffled when I came.  But hers
wasn't and man!  That turned me on like crazy.  I would have cum from the
sound of it, if I wasn't in the middle of an orgasm already.

   We coasted down from our cums and as I lay there laboring to catch my
breath, Beth slid backwards off of me and started cleaning up the cum from
my belly.  With her tongue.  I damn near passed out from the shock.  By the
time I got the strength and presence of mind to protest, she was done and
was using part of a sheet to wipe the rest off of her.  Then she slid up
next to me and wrapped herself around me like she had before.

   "Didn't you want to get some sleep, Uncle Jim?" she asked with
faux-innocence filling her voice.

   "I do," I told her, sounding exhausted I'm sure.  "Someone keeps waking
me up."

   She just chuckled and relaxed into me.

   * * * * *

   "Uncle Jim, have you got any more of that rum and those pills?"

   I woke groggily to the sound of Beth's voice and when I managed to open
my eyes I was presented with the most beautiful view of her ass and pussy
facing me as she knelt in front of the fireplace, adding more wood to the
fire.

   "Yeah," I told her.  "Why?"

   "Because I'd like some," she told me, turning around on her hands and
knees so I could see those incredible tits hanging down in front of her. 
"I'm having trouble sleeping."

   Yeah, I'll bet, I thought.  Anything I was going to actually say to her
regarding my opinions about why she was having trouble, I wisely kept to
myself.  I dug out another dose of one Fiorinal and two Soma, mixed her a
couple of ounces of rum with more apple juice, and handed them to her.

   She took them with a quiet "thanks", finished off the pills and booze
and crawled up next to me.  But she didn't snuggle in like before.  She
turned around and straddled me in a sixty-nine position, pushing her
pretty, young, pink pussy right in my face as she grabbed my soft cock and
went down on him.  I'll be damned if he didn't start coming right back up
again.

   I was really having a problem.  Letting her have her way with me,
letting her instigate whatever we did, I could rationalize.  I wasn't
assaulting her, she was in charge, obviously she needed something the sex
was giving her, I cared about her and wanted her to feel good...  warped
and twisted, yes, but I could still see it as me just being a masturbatory
toy.  When she presented me her pussy like that, I really wanted to break
the boundaries and start going down on her.

   But that would mean me initiating an action and that was breaking the
virtual rules I'd built in my head.  I finally caved when her pussy juice
started dripping on my face and neck.  If she was that aroused, then
helping her get off just seemed like the humane thing to do.

   I started by spreading her lips and licking her clit -- and she had a
pretty good sized one, swollen way the hell up.  She moaned loudly, even
with my cock in her mouth, when I started and several times after that,
like when I sucked her clit into my mouth and did a kind of "butterfly
flick" on the tip of it.  I was obviously doing something right because she
built right up and I figured she was about to go over.  So I spread her
lips more, intending to slip in a finger or two to go after her G-spot, and
came to a screeching halt.

   She still had her hymen.

   Oh, my fucking God, she's a virgin!  I screamed to myself.  What the
fuck are you doing?  You idiot!

   "Oh, God, Uncle Jim!" Beth moaned plaintively.  "Don't stop!  For
Christ's sake, don't stop!!"

   "But...  but...  but you're a virgin, Beth!" I managed to stutter out.

   "I know!" she growled and turned around to face me.

   "I can't deflower you!" I told her.  "That's wrong...  that should be
your husband or boyfriend or somebody special to you!"

   "You are somebody special to me!" she spat out.  "Haven't you figured
that out, yet?"

   And before I could stop her...  hell, before I even realized what she
was doing...  she aimed my turgid manhood at her slit and sat down on me.

   "OUCH!"

   That was her, ripping her maidenhead.

   "Damn, that hurt!" she added, just to make me feel worse.

   "Beth, what the hell did you do?" I asked.  "Are you okay?  God, I never
meant to hurt you..."

   "Shut the fuck up," she told me and I didn't even get an "Uncle Jim".

   I tried to lift her off of me.  I really, really hated the idea of
hurting her.

   "Stop it!" she told me and pushed my arms away.  Then she started to
slowly grind around, completely bottomed out.

   "Jesus, you're a big sonofabitch!" she told me.  "Just stay right there
and stay hard...  the pain's going down." And with that, she started slowly
raising and lowering herself on my cock, basically fucking me while I lay
there like a flesh dildo.  Even in the yellows and oranges of the
firelight, I could see the blood staining my member, and it was scary.  But
she didn't seem to be in pain -- in fact, she seemed to be ramping back up
to that orgasm I'd denied her -- so I figured she wasn't hemorrhaging.

   I was going to have some serious penitence to do before I saw the Pearly
Gates, I was sure.  I don't know which level of Dante's Hell applies to
uncles who take their niece's virginity, but I'm sure one of them does. 
And they now had a reservation in my name.

   "Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, although the answer was pretty
obvious from her behaviour.

   "Please..." she told me.  "Please!  Just shut up and fuck me, Jim!"

   Wow...  the "Uncle" had disappeared but "Jim" was back.  I really
wondered what the hell was going on in her head.  But I'm not one to
quibble when things are getting down and dirty, and I'm fairly good at
taking directions -- my wife made sure of that -- so I decided to take her
at her word.

   I lifted her up and flipped her over into a missionary position,
catching her knees with the insides of my arms and lifting her legs so I
could get the deepest penetration while getting maximum stimulation of her
clit.  She moaned in frustration as I stroked several times shallowly, just
sliding in an inch or two, pulling back until my glans was almost popping
free...  and then I took three or four deep strokes, bottoming out and
making her cry out.  But not in pain.

   "Oh, Fuck, YES!!" was more like it, and she thrust back into me,
matching my rhythm.

   She went back to whimpering when I went back to the shallow, teasing
fuck, then moaning loudly when I plunged in.

   "Please, Jim, please..." she whimpered at one point.  "Please just fuck
me...  make me cum!"

   Like I said...  I can take direction.  So I started a steady, rhythmic
stroking, making sure to bump her clit as I checked her reactions, and she
was building up again just like she had when I was going down on her.  So I
kept it up until she suddenly started pulling into me and increasing the
tempo, thrusting back harder and reaching behind me to dig her nails into
my ass.  And I hit the jackpot.

   "Oh, yes...  oh, yes...  oh, yes, oh, yes, oh-yes-oh-yes-oh-YESSSS!!"
she was crying out.

   "Fuck me!  Fuck me!  Fuck me!  FUCK ME!!  OH!  GOD!  CUMMINGGGG!!"

   And she did, too, hard.  Very hard.  And the clenching of her pussy on
my cock started my own orgasm...  and I was still buried deep within her.
Wrong place to be.  I panicked.  I tried to pull out but she wouldn't let
me.  She had those nails dug into me so far she was probably drawing blood
as she held on so tight I couldn't budge.

   "Beth!  Dammit, I have to pull out!" I yelled at her.  "I'm cumming!"

   "I know!" she yelled back.  "You just stay right there, you big
beautiful motherfucker!  Cum in me!"

   I didn't have a choice.  I hoped like hell she was protected and let go.


   I came so hard the world started closing in on me.  Like when you lose
your peripheral vision and you get the long dark tunnel you're looking
through, and there's little lights like stars blinking all over the place.
As in, damn near passing out.  And all I knew was, I kept cumming.  Pulse
after pulse after pulse, I could feel my seed filling her up and I could
feel her clenching on me.

   I loved it.  I know, I'm damned for all Eternity, but I was absolutely
wasted and loving it.

   We gradually both calmed down and I went to roll off of her, but again,
she wouldn't let me.  She pulled me down onto her.  I let her legs go and
she wrapped them up over my back, sliding them down behind my thighs.

   "I can take your weight, Jim," she murmured as I tried to stay on my
hands and knees and not crush her.  "I mean, Uncle Jim," she corrected
herself.  I lifted up enough to look down into her mesmerizing blue eyes.
She had an anxious look on her face.

   "I don't know if this is where I'm supposed to apologize for raping you,
Uncle Jim," she told me.  "I hope you're not mad at me."

   Boy, did that one set me back!  Her raping me???  Not hardly!  Mad?  No
fucking way!

   "Mad?" I iterated.  "Not even close!  And I think you've got it
backwards, babe...  I should be apologizing for raping you.  Taking your
virginity is no small thing." I have no idea why I said "babe".

   "You didn't take it," she countered.  "I gave it to you.  I wanted to.
Ever since I saw the videos...  it was going to be you or Dad, and Dad's
dead.  I had a chance to be alone with you tonight and I took it.  The
storm was an unplanned pain in the ass, but it made getting naked easier."

   She smiled and I started to see the whole setup...  and she'd gotten
what she wanted.

   "Okay, look," I told her.  "I give.  I loved you when you were little
and I love you now.  You know I don't ever want to do anything to hurt you.
I guess I'm honored that you chose me for your first, and from your hymen,
I guess I now know why you kept saying probably."

   "You know you can't tell anyone about this, right?  Even though you're
technically of age, there's the whole uncle-niece thing.  And your mother
will kill me."

   "I doubt it," Beth told me, nuzzling into my arm.

   "Why?" I asked.

   "Because she recommended you," Beth explained.  "Said you were a kind,
attentive lover, good at sex and would make a great first time...  except
that you'd never do it because you'd see it as betraying her and Dad,
minimum."

   "So I had to seduce you.  Rape you at the end, there.  Because you
freaked."

   I took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.  I didn't have a
clue how to respond to that.  So I didn't.

   "Ready for some sleep?" I asked and she smiled.

   "Sure," she told me, and pulled me down into a most amazing kiss.  She
smelled and tasted and felt fantastic and I let myself get lost in it. 
Finally, though, she broke it and I rolled off, straightening the blankets
and retrieving pillows.  We fell asleep with her curled up under my arm
like before, but this time, we actually got some decent sleep.



   to be continued....


   pics---->> http://bit.ly/1D1q3qp