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From: Dorsai <asstr.dorsai@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Close-knit Family by Dorsai (MF, Mf, ff, Mff, inc, oral,  mast, anal, rom) (1/3)
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Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2009 10:10:01 -0500
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CAUTION:
Reading this story may result in any or all of the following: rapid
breathing, localized swelling, impure and/or unclean thoughts,
itching, chafing, increased heart rate and/or blood pressure,
tenderness in one or more localized regions of the body, condemnation
to the Bad Place To Go After You Die (as defined by local religious
authorities), or any one of a number of Bad Things (depending on local
conditions). Author sincerely hopes Intelligence agency computers get
a hard-on reading this story. Any resemblance to any persons past,
present, future, living, dead, or reanimated (regardless of means or
method) is too fucking bad. Greetings to the National Security Agency.
Use of this story does not mean you will actually have sex. Actual
persons may vary in personality, intelligence, sexual preference(s),
or appearance from those portrayed in this story. Author not
responsible for direct, incidental, or consequential damages resulting
from reading the story. Attempts to repeat, engage in, or duplicate
the actions in this story may produce different results. Readers are
cautioned to make sure the door is locked before starting to read the
story, and to wash hands thoroughly afterwards. Do not confuse this
story with Real Life.

GUARANTEE
I wrote it, and I'm passing it along in case anyone else happens to
like any of the other stuff I've written, and wants to have a look at
this one. If you don't like any one or more of the characters,
plotline, names, personalities, title, spelling, premise(s), grammar,
punctuation, language, theme, sexual topic(s), reactions, formatting,
responses, dialog, description(s), or anything else about it, you're
entitled to a FULL refund of your original purchase price. (That last
part was sarcasm, for those [hopefully few] that didn't get it.)

FEEDBACK
Positive feedback, and even _constructive_ criticism, are welcome.
Constructive criticism (to me, anyway) isn't just telling me what you
didn't like ("It sucked because _____ didn't/isn't ______"), but
taking that additional step of offering a correction or helpful
suggestion ("I'm into B&D, and what I see mostly is whips, not riding
crops") that applies to more than just one story. If offered a story
idea, I may have a try at it, but I'm not going to suddenly be able to
write a plausible accounting of a testosterone-fueled gay S&M guy's
foray into watersports just because someone makes the suggestion; that
kind of stuff just doesn't spin my propeller. If you've read my stuff
before, that's (roughly) what you're going to get. 'Kay?

"Maybe it DOES suck - but at least I *tried*." -- me

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A Close-knit Family

I met my wife Judy when both of us were attending the local college.
We started out as lab partners in a physics class, and by the end of
the semester, we were dating pretty regularly. By the end of the
school year, we were a Couple, and by the time we graduated, we were
engaged.

With both of us going to a local college, there were plenty of times
and occasions for me to meet her family. I got along pretty well with
all of them -- even her Dad, much to my surprise. Judy's sister, Teresa
(who was two years younger), sometimes made less-than-flattering
comments about Judy, but I simply chalked it up as a sibling rivalry
thing. Also, Teresa wasn't able to go to college the way she wanted
because she'd gotten married right out of high school; her husband,
Doug, worked in an insurance office and didn't make enough to pay for
her to go to school. In fact, Teresa had to get a job, too, to help
support them when she started having kids -- three of them, all
daughters, all born within a couple of weeks of the same date in
successive years. Donna, the oldest, was a cute little pixie of a
blond; the next oldest, Karen, had coal-black hair and looked somewhat
elfin. The youngest was Wendy, who was stunningly beautiful, even as a
child. All three of them thought their Uncle Ted was the greatest
thing since peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and were always
delighted to see me; their Aunt Judy, not so much -- something that
annoyed her.

Judy and I didn't have any kids of our own (despite frequent and
enthusiastic efforts on both our parts), so I was more than happy to
have Teresa's three even as part-time family. When Teresa's husband
got transferred to a distant city, all three of the girls were
heartbroken and all but inconsolable. Only by my promising that I'd
come and see them "soon" were they willing to be relocated with their
mom and dad.

I didn't get the opportunity to do as I'd promised, due to a sudden
and dramatic increase in business for the electronics company I worked
for. That lasted several years before a sudden downturn in the economy
resulted in my losing my job. I was a good engineer, but not senior
enough to survive the staff reduction.

While we were married, Judy and I had the usual assortment of marriage
problems. One of them was her tendency to buy things that she not only
didn't need, but had no use for. I mean, we lived in a city, so why
would she need a horseback riding outfit?

Another issue was the lack of kids. I tried to talk her into the two
of us going in and being checked out to see if there was anything
medical going on, but she was adamant that she was fine. As the years
passed, things progressed from her being fine to there must be
something wrong with ME. I dutifully went in for a variety of tests,
and they all came back saying that there wasn't anything wrong -- which
only aggravated Judy even more.

So when I got laid off from my job, our relationship took a sudden and
dramatic downturn. Not only was Judy continuing to spend money we
couldn't afford, but she started bitching at me about my inability to
father children -- or support them, for that matter. I tried to deal
with it as best I could, and even tried to get her to agree to
marriage counseling, but she wasn't having any of that. Instead, she
would denigrate and berate me on a daily basis, even while I was
trying to keep myself together so I'd be able to present myself well
in job interviews. Unfortunately, there finally came the point where
the two of us had an argument that ran damn near an entire weekend,
off and on. The following Monday afternoon, I got a call from her
telling me that she wanted a divorce -- something I agreed to, just to
put an end to all the fussing and fighting.

Her family knew what was going on, of course, and uniformly supported
ME during all the hubbub -- even to the point of refusing to give Judy
the money she wanted to hire a divorce lawyer. The little bit she was
able to get from the friend she was staying with limited her to hiring
someone that would only file the paperwork for a "no-fault" divorce;
each of us was allowed to keep a limited amount of personal and
professional property (such as my laptop I used as an engineer), the
rest was to be sold, and the money equally divided. Judy literally
signed off on the agreement, only to be horrified to learn that it
meant almost all of the clothes and other things she'd bought would be
sold, too. By that time, I was so sick of all the bullshit that I
actually laughed when the auction company hauled off the solid oak
dining table and chairs she'd been adamant we "needed", among other
things.

With the sale of our house, and the money I got from the property
auction, I was able to find a smallish one-bedroom apartment I could
afford while I continued my job search; Judy not only managed to spend
all of her share in a matter of a couple of months, but got herself
kicked out of her friend's home for all her shenanigans -- something
that I considered eminently fair and appropriate.

Things were starting to turn around in the economy when I heard from
Teresa that her husband had stolen several thousands of dollars from
the insurance company he worked for, and disappeared -- leaving her to
try and take care of herself and three kids. It took a while, but she
finally found a better-paying job and was able to rent a house for
herself and the kids after she had to move out of the one she and her
absent husband had been buying.

I continued my job search, and it was just a couple of days after I
got notice from the courts and my lawyer that the divorce was final
that I got an offer for a new job -- in a different city.

When I found out where they wanted to send me, I knew that my life had
started to turn around, too -- it was the same place that Teresa had
moved to. When I called her to give her the good news about the job,
the first words out of her mouth were "Congratulations!", immediately
followed by "So how soon can you get here?"

I thought that she meant she was looking forward to me being in the
same town with her, but she soon set me straight; I was expected to
move in with her and the girls, at least to start with. The basement
of Teresa's place had been finished for occupancy, so there would be
plenty of room for me to set up housekeeping there, and it would help
BOTH of us if I paid her a little bit of rent. Not only would I be
able to save some money toward my own place or anything else I needed
or wanted, the additional income would obviously help her with HER
expenses. I was welcome to spend as much or little time with her and
the girls as I wanted, and with the door between the house proper and
the basement, I'd have however much privacy I wanted, as well. Teresa
and I got along better than Judy and I ever had, and I adored the
girls; so with the other assurances I'd gotten from her, I was happy
to agree to her proposal.

Just over a week later saw me pulling into the driveway of Teresa's
house. I'd barely shut the door on my car when I was all but knocked
over by the sudden impact of a squealing young female. When I looked
around, I saw Teresa coming toward me, with Donna close behind, and
Karen at her side. That meant that the not-so-small body fused to me
must be Wendy; when I got her arms peeled from around my waist and was
able to push her back far enough to see her face, I saw that it was
her -- and that she was easily still as beautiful as she'd been.

How long it had been since I'd seen her last hit me when I didn't have
to bend over as far to pick her up, and she was heavier than I
remembered. It took me a few moments to work out that she must be 12
years old then -- no wonder she was bigger!

I managed to give her a kiss on the cheek before she wrapped her arms
around my neck and hugged me again; it was when she did that that I
realized what "12 years old" and "female" meant together by the feel
of a couple of small but distinct breasts pressing into my chest.
Feeling a bit guilty that I'd noticed, I quickly set her down again,
and looked into her beautiful brown eyes as she told me "It's soooooo
go to see you again, Uncle Ted! Even if you didn't come as soon as you
said you would...", that last with an accusing tone, and look.

By that time, Teresa was close enough to remind the girl "Wendy, Ted
had things HE had to do, just like we have. Instead of making him feel
bad, why don't you just be glad he's here now?"

Wendy quickly wrapped her arms around me and said "I'm sorry, Uncle
Ted. I just missed you so much, is all."

Softly patting her back, I answered "That's okay, honey. I've missed you, too."

Finally satisfied that I really, truly was there with them, she
released her hold on me and stepped back. That gave Karen, then Donna,
the chance to come up and show me their broad smiles before hugging me
tight and giving me a kiss on the cheek and telling me how much they'd
missed me. I didn't try to pick either one of them up, and couldn't
help noticing that both were even more developed than Wendy had been.
Then it was Teresa's turn, and there was no mistaking the fact that I
had a full-grown adult woman in my arms. The kiss I got was full on
the lips, and went far enough beyond a simple welcome that it made me
a little uncomfortable. Teresa had never given me any indication that
there was anything more than friendship between us, but that kiss from
her started me wondering.

Teresa pulled one of my arms around her waist, and Wendy put one of
hers around me, before the five of us started toward the house; Donna
and Karen were walking ahead of us, and I felt guilty again when I
caught myself watching the gentle swaying of their firm little butts.

Inside the house, the girls were adamant that I needed to sit in the
middle of the couch -- Karen and Donna were content to sit next to me,
but Wendy insisted on taking station on my lap. Clearly amused at my
predicament, Teresa sat in a chair nearby. All four of them caught me
up on all that had happened, and been happening, in their lives -- the
girls more so than Teresa. When asked if I wanted anything to drink, I
said a beer would be good, if they had any. Donna said they did, and
jumped up to go get it for me. When she came back and handed it to me,
I couldn't help but notice the way the shirt she was wearing pulled
taut across her chest, revealing a couple of small bumps about where
her nipples had to be. I could feel myself blush faintly as I thanked
her, and she just just gave me a smile before sitting next to me
again.

Then it was my turn to tell them about my new job, and what I'd be
doing. Engineering isn't what you could call a real exciting subject
for most people, so I kept it brief in the interest of not putting
them to sleep. By the time I was done, Teresa informed me that I was
the guest of honor at supper that night. I thanked her, admitting that
I'd gotten tired of either eating prepackaged stuff and my own cooking
long before, which made her laugh. She detailed the girls to go out
and get my stuff from my car and down into the basement, and only had
to insist just once in response to their mild protests. When they were
gone, she told me "It really is good to have you here, Ted. Not just
because you're family, or the added income, but because ALL of us have
missed you -- even me. Hell, maybe me most of all; that rat bastard I
was married to always came in a pretty distant second, compared to
you. But you were married to my spoiled older sister, and I know that
I did the best I could to make MY life and family happy."

I couldn't help giving her a wry grin before I answered "When I
started looking back on it, I realized how many times you tried to let
me know what Judy was really like. But I never paid you the attention
I should have; I just figured you were jealous, or something. I never
said anything about Doug to you because I didn't want to interfere,
but he always struck me as being kind of... dense, and like he was
always trying to find a corner to cut. I just have to look at the
girls to see that you were doing what you were supposed to; they're
too healthy and happy for anything else."

Teresa snorted before she told me "Yeah, Doug was dense. When we
graduated high school, he'd had to study long and hard to finish up
with a solid 'C' average; and that insurance job was the best thing he
could have gotten. Otherwise, he'd have been selling furniture or cars
or SOME damn thing or other. All he really had going for him was the
ability to schmooze with people and get them to like him. He was
useless about working with his hands because he'd end up hurting
himself too much -- hammering his thumb, or busting his knuckles with a
wrench; that kind of thing. And that cutting corners thing is JUST
what he was like; he didn't have the balls to do anything outright
crooked or criminal, but he wasn't the least bit reluctant to try
anything he thought he might actually get away with. That money he
took from the insurance company before he disappeared? It wasn't a big
check or wad of cash that he'd taken. He'd been hanging on to dinky
little refunds that he was supposed to be giving people when they
overpaid their premiums; the company figured out that there were a
couple hundred people that hadn't gotten anywhere between ten and
twenty dollars apiece. He was supposed to cut them checks after the
company told him when it happened, but he never did -- he just withdrew
whatever the amount was from his 'draw' account. It wasn't until some
guys widow was going over his insurance that she figured out that
they'd been overpaying twenty a year for the last ten years and called
to ask about getting a refund that anybody noticed what was going on.
The manager where he worked called him into the office to ask him
about it, and Doug claimed not to know what they were talking about.
After that, he called here to say he was going to have to work late;
then he left work EARLY, and just... disappeared. I don't doubt that
he'll turn up sooner or later -- he's just too fucking stupid NOT to
get caught!"

I'd never heard Teresa swear before, so that last bit told me better
than anything else just what she thought of her absent spouse.

Still, I had to smile at her description of him, and she smiled, too,
before telling me "The only good thing about it is that because the
money came out of an account that HE had to sign for, the insurance
company isn't trying to come after ME to recover it. And because he
took off the way he did, the lawyer I got when I filed for a divorce
tells me that it's not going to take anywhere near as long for it to
be granted, once the judge gets a chance to see it. He thinks a couple
more months, maybe a little longer, and I'll be free again!",
obviously pleased at the prospect.

Our conversation was put on hold by the reappearance of the girls. All
of them insisted that since I was going to be staying with them, I
simply had to see their rooms. By the time I'd gotten the tour and
made all the appropriate remarks, it was close to time for supper.
Teresa sent them in to get the table ready, giving her and I the
chance to chat a little more before she got up to finish supper. I
offered to help, and was politely informed that I was a guest that
night, and that I'd have plenty of chances to help later if I wanted --
so I'd better enjoy the break I was getting. I laughed, and gave in.
Several minutes later, Karen came in to let me know that it was time
to eat.

When I sat down at the table, I realized just how glad Teresa was to
see me. She'd apparently gone all-out by preparing a roast beef dinner
with all the trimmings. By the time supper ended, I was disappointed
to see that we hadn't put much of a dent in the roast, despite the
fact that I felt stuffed to the gills. When I looked at the girls, I
could see that they'd had their fill, as well. My offer to help clear
the table was rebuffed when Teresa told me that that was the girls job
each evening. When Teresa and I had finished our iced tea, she
suggested that she show me where I'd be staying while the girls took
care of things. I agreed, and she led the way to the stairs that led
to the basement. Along the way, she pointed out where I'd be able to
get in and out of "my" place without having to go through the rest of
the house, and the latch on "my" side of the door to the basement.

My home (for the next few months, anyway) was decently finished,
though sparsely furnished or decorated -- I had a bed, dresser, a small
dining table and couple of chairs, microwave, two-burner stove/oven
combo, single basic kitchen sink with some cabinets, small couch, some
rough but sturdy shelving on one wall, an old but serviceable
recliner, and bathroom with sink, commode, and (small) shower. When
she showed me the bathroom, Teresa didn't hesitate to tell me that if
I ever wanted to take an actual bath, I was more than welcome to use
the one upstairs -- then teasing me about being on my own to find
someone to scrub my back.

The place wasn't a fancy hotel room, but it wasn't anywhere near as
expensive, either; and I had the benefit of having what I thought of
as "family" (my own parents had died in a car accident the winter
after I started college) nearby. All in all, I was perfectly satisfied
with it, and told Teresa so. She was visibly relieved at hearing that,
and moved close to give me another hug before releasing me and saying
"I'm glad you're okay with this. I know it's rough, but the rest of us
hardly ever came down here, so there wasn't any reason before now for
us to think about doing anything with it before. I expect you'll want
to fix it up a little; I'm willing to split the cost of materials with
you, and I know any or all of the girls would be happy to help."

"Don't worry about the cost. Any fixing up there is, I'll do a little
at a time so it doesn't cost too much. If the girls want to, I'd be
glad to have the help -- I don't know diddly about matching colors and
patterns and all that. If I'm not busy with work, any of you is
welcome to come down for whatever reason."

Smiling, she warned me "If you say that where the girls can hear you,
you may never get rid of them. They've all missed you sooooooo much" --
imitating the greeting I'd gotten from Wendy -- "that I can't begin to
tell you. And all I've heard since you called has been 'Is Uncle Ted
really coming to stay with us?', and they've all been happier than
I've seen them for months. They know you aren't going to spoil them or
anything, since you didn't do that when they were little; they just
like you because you're such a nice guy, and are willing to pay
attention to them the way you do."

She hesitated a moment, then told me "I'm glad you're here, too, Ted.
Really glad." before giving me another kiss on the lips that quickly
matched the last one she'd given me. I put my hands on her hips, but
nothing more. Technically, she was still married, and that whole
marriage vows thing was always something real important to me. The
other thing that occupied my mind was the knowledge that she had only
recently gotten out on her own. Sure, she had three kids and a job and
all that, but up until just a few months before, she'd also had
whatever support there was to be had from Doug; I figured that she'd
need (or want) some time to decide for herself what she wanted for
herself and the girls, and who she wanted to share her life with. So
rather than try to follow up on the offer implicit in the way she was
kissing me, I chickened out and played dumb as I kissed her back.
After several seconds, Teresa pulled back from me again, and looked
into my face before turning and leading the way back upstairs. When we
got to the landing between the basement and the door to utility room
at the back of the house, she took a key off a hook on the wall and
told me "That's to the back door of the house, here. I always keep the
door between the rest of the house and here closed, so you don't have
to worry about leaving the door open if you have to carry things in,
or whatever."

I thanked her, and followed her back to the living room -- noticing
along the way that she had a nice-looking ass in her own right.

The girls had finished their chores, and were (mostly) patiently
waiting for us to get back. I was instructed to resume my position
between Donna and Karen, then Wendy parked herself in my lap and
pulled my arms around her. Teresa occupied the chair again, and we
spent the evening watching television. When it got close to their
respective bedtimes, the girls simply went back and got changed before
coming in and giving (and getting) a kiss good night. When it was just
Teresa and me, she shut the TV off and the two of us sat there talking
until it was time for us to go to our respective beds.

That pretty much set the tone for the weeks that followed.

If I had the time and inclination, I was more than welcome to join
them for the evening; but they didn't have any problems with it if I
needed to work in "my place", or just wanted to be alone for an
evening. Some evenings one or two of the girls would come down;
sometimes it was to ask for help with homework (usually math or
science), which I would patiently provide. Other times, it was just to
spend a quiet evening with just the two of us.

It didn't take long for us to get into a routine where I would join
them for breakfast, and usually supper -- which prompted the only
conflict that Teresa and I had. I wanted to help pay for the groceries
I was eating, and she was adamant that I was family, and didn't have
to. After a LOT of patient negotiation, I finally got her to accept a
small increase in my "rent". It wasn't as much as I was willing to
give her, but more than she wanted to take.

When Teresa got word from her lawyer that the judge was granting her
divorce, she let me take her out to dinner, just the two of us; the
girls were informed that it was a "grown-up" situation, and
reluctantly accepted their exclusion. I made it up to them a couple of
weeks later by taking just THEM out for pizza, over Teresa's mild
protests.

Another aspect of the situation was that as all of us gradually got
used to my intermittent presence in the house, we became less and less
concerned about any formalities such as how dressed we were. Not that
anybody was running around naked or anything; simply that it wasn't
anything worth noticing if one of us was wearing only their bathrobe
at breakfast, for example.

Naturally enough, there were a few times that I'd catch sight of one
of the girls scampering away dressed only in panties -- and perhaps a
bra. To save embarrassment all the way around, I always pretended not
to have noticed anything; but the visions of their nubile young bodies
stayed with me.

I'd been working late for a couple of weeks helping with the
fabrication of a system that I'd helped design, and finally gotten
home at a reasonable hour one afternoon. When Teresa told me over
supper that night that they would be going out to do some shopping
later, I figured it was the perfect opportunity for me to come
upstairs and have myself a nice, hot soak to relieve some of my
overused muscles. I acknowledged what she said, and later, after I'd
heard her car leave, I got my things together and went upstairs. When
I opened the door to the bathroom, I was greeted by the sight of Donna
just stepping out of the tub as she dried her hair with a towel.
Because her head was tilted down and the towel was blocking her view,
she couldn't see me -- but I had a clear view of her young body. Her
breasts were each perhaps half the size of a baseball. Her small
areolas were just a few shades darker than her skin and sported
nipples about the size of a pencil eraser; her bust was a delight to
see. Her waist and hips were formed by a couple of gentle arcs that
made her young form distinctly feminine. Fit and trim, her stomach and
belly were as flat as they could be. At the bottom of her pelvis, I
saw that she had a small and somewhat narrow strip of hair that was as
blond as what was on her head -- and still sparse enough for me to make
out the slit dividing her full mons. I could only stand there in a
mixture of shock, and pleasure at the view I had. I was still standing
there when she pulled the towel from her head and saw me. Much to my
surprise, it took a couple of seconds before she calmly told me "Uncle
Ted, I'm NAKED."

That broke the spell, and I hurriedly turned around and apologized as
I made my way back out the door and closed it behind me. Giving up on
the idea of a bath, I headed back toward my place. Only when I started
down the stairs did I notice that the front of my bathrobe was leading
the way; immediately after that, I realized that there was a distinct
possibility (even probability) that I'd been in the same state in
front of Donna. Embarrassed, I got myself dressed again, and then went
upstairs to wait for Teresa to get home; I wanted to tell her what had
happened so that she'd know it had been an accident.

I was sitting on the couch when Donna came through on her way to the
kitchen. When she came back again, I told her that I was sorry for
barging in on her, and said that I'd be sure and knock next time. She
just gave me an amused smile before answering "It's okay, Uncle Ted... I
know you didn't do it on purpose. I'm just sorry it bothered YOU."

Hearing that, my engineering mind just had to know "It didn't
embarrass YOU, or anything?"

After a brief laugh, she answered "Just surprised, is all, not
embarrassed. You were married, so I have to figure you already know
what girls look like. I think maybe you liked what you saw" -- the
allusion that I HAD been tenting my bathrobe caused me to blush -- "so
it actually kinda made me feel good. I don't know that I want it to
happen again, but it's okay this time." before turning and heading
back toward her room.

Hearing that I hadn't traumatized her, or caused her any discomfort,
made me feel somewhat better. But I was still going to let Teresa hear
about it from ME.

A couple of hours later, when the rest of them got home, Teresa saw
the look on my face and sent the girls back to their rooms so that
we'd be able to talk. After I told her what had happened, Teresa was
amused as she told me "Don't worry about it, Ted. I expect it
embarrassed you more than it did her, and I know that you didn't do it
on purpose or anything; it was after you'd gone back downstairs that
she said she wanted to take a bath tonight, so you couldn't have known
she'd be there. I don't doubt that you got an eye full, but I know
you're not going to try to make anything like that happen again,
either. Just chalk it up to experience, and try to remember that
things like that are probably going to happen if you're sharing a
house with four females. I think it'll only bother THEM if you let it
bother YOU too much."

Seeing my confusion, she explained "They like sitting with you, and
even on your lap. If you start getting too stressed out by seeing them
naked or topless, you might get too particular about letting them sit
with you, too -- and that would hurt them more than you just seeing
them would. If it happens, it happens; like I said, I know you're not
some Peeping Tom or anything."

I'll admit to being a little surprised by her attitude -- but it also
comforted me somewhat, too. When I thought about it later, I realized
that she was right about the chance of that, or something similar,
happening again. Even if she made a point of telling them to lock the
bathroom door, they likely weren't going to remember to do it each and
every time. And I cared about all three of them too much to want to
hurt them by banishing them from sitting with me just because of my
hangups and foibles. After a fair amount of thought and
soul-searching, I finally decided to take Teresa's advice as best I
could: chalk it up to experience, and not let it worry me. Even so, I
still felt a little guilty about how I'd reacted to the sight of
Donna's nude form, regardless of how nice it had been.

Over the course of the next few days, the incident eventually left my
mind -- leaving me free to enjoy the time I spent with the girls in
various combinations. When Karen expressed an interest in softball, I
went into the back yard to play "catch" with her for a while, and help
her learn to hit a little better; I went to one of Donna's field
hockey games and cheered her efforts. Wendy wanted to know if I'd go
to the park and play Frisbee with her, and I was glad to do so.

A few more weeks went by, and I was staying home with the girls one
Saturday while Teresa got in some overtime at work. I was there less
to supervise than to simply be there if anything serious happened, or
one of them needed something Parental; all three of them had already
accepted me as an authority figure in their lives, despite my minimal
exercise of such. Wendy and Karen had gone off to visit friends while
Donna stayed in her room to work on some project or other. I was
watching sports on TV, and when a commercial came on, I went to make a
bathroom break. The door was locked, so I knew that it must be Donna
inside, and I simply stood across the hall and waited for her to
finish. When the door opened, she was standing there wearing only a
very brief pair of panties and nothing else. I looked at her face, and
saw that she knew full well what she was doing as she just stood
there, all but verbally inviting me to look at her -- something that I
couldn't HELP but do.

With her standing so much closer, I didn't have any trouble seeing
that her developing breasts were smooth and flawless. Even as I was
looking at them, I saw as her areolas rose up slightly, and her
nipples got visibly longer and harder. The first thing to go through
my mind was to wonder if girls had looked that good when I was her
age, and if so, how stupid could I have been not to notice? Right on
the heels of that was to wonder if the mounds of her breasts were as
firm as they looked, and then to wish that I could find out. But I was
an adult, and her Uncle Ted, and as tempting as it was, I just
couldn't. When I finally dragged my eyes back up to her face, it was
plain as could be that she enjoyed letting me look at her, and wasn't
the slightest bit nervous or embarrassed about it. Considering how she
looked, I couldn't help but think that she had every reason to be as
confident as she appeared. After she gave me a pleased smile, she
stepped out into the hall and serenely walked back to her room -- with
my eyes locked on the way her cute butt filled what little bit of
cloth there was covering it.

Once I was in the bathroom, I simply had to relieve the pressure in my
groin that she'd caused; it took only a couple of minutes for me to
find the release that I was after. Only after my penis had shrunk
again was I able to tend to my original purpose; when I was done, I
washed my hands and went back out to the living room to sit in front
of the TV again. My eyes may have been pointed at the screen, but what
I saw was Donna's half-nude form.

I had to figure that Donna had done what she had for the express
purpose of letting/having me look at her that way; with that came the
realization that she wouldn't be saying anything to her mother about
it. After all, what possible reason could she give for making a trip
to the bathroom wearing only a skimpy pair of panties, knowing full
well that I was upstairs and watching TV? She couldn't say that I'd
peeked into her room, either -- Teresa knew full well that I always
knocked on their bedroom doors just SO I didn't see them when they
didn't have anything on or interrupt anything they were doing; she'd
even told me that the girls actually appreciated my discretion, that
way.

Despite the visions of Donna that kept crowding my thoughts, I spent
the rest of the afternoon trying to figure things out. What the hell
was Donna trying to do, and why was she doing it? Was that just a
one-time thing after I'd seen her in the shower? If not, what else
might she be up to? What, if anything, could or should I do about it?
Those, and what seemed like a thousand other questions, kept my mind
busy until Teresa got home from work.

As the next couple of weeks went by, Donna contrived to let me see her
topless a couple more times. Both times, I simply looked her over
until she chose to put an end to her little "show". It was approaching
supper time one night, and I knocked on the door to her bedroom to let
her know that we'd be eating soon. She told me it was okay, and when I
opened her door, she was standing there stark naked and facing me. As
I told her what I'd come to, she didn't make even the slightest move
to turn away or cover herself. Even after I'd finished, she continued
to stand there for several seconds before calmly turning around and
giving me a clear look at her ass.

The sight of it had my cock rising in about half a heartbeat. It was
small, obviously firm, and nicely rounded; when she took a small step
forward, I watched as each of her cheeks clenched but didn't
noticeably change shape. Trying to play it cool, I simply told her she
might want to hurry before backing out of her room and closing the
door.

After that little incident, I figured I'd better try to get some idea
of what the hell was going on. I figured that Teresa might be able to
help, I started trying to figure out a way of finding out what I
wanted to know from her without causing any problems -- for me OR
Donna. I finally settled on something, and resolved to try it the next
chance I got. That turned out to be just a couple of days later, when
Teresa had to work late. I took care of supper (cheeseburgers and
chips all around), and was waiting for her after the girls went to
bed.

Seeing that the house hadn't burned down, and with no evidence of a
riot or murder having taken place, Teresa gave me a happy smile before
going back to change clothes. When she came back out, she made a
detour through the kitchen to get each of us a beer before settling on
the other end of the couch from me. After she'd had a few sips, I
started chatting with her, carefully edging us closer and closer to
the things that I really wanted to know. When the time was right, I
casually told her "I've been thinking about opening the bathroom door
on Donna, and there's something that I've started wondering about."

Teresa didn't look concerned in the slightest when she asked me "What's that?"

"Well, you said that it was probably going to happen that I'd see one
of the girls again, and I'm curious to know what else might be in
store for me, or that I should be ready for. You said that you've
already talked to them about sex, but should I be worried about one of
them asking ME about it, for example?"

Realizing that I was asking an honest question, but only so I could
have some idea of what I might expect, she considered what she had to
say for a little bit before telling me "No, I don't think they'd come
to you with anything like that. But if I'm wrong, just answer their
questions the best you can, and let me know afterwards just so I don't
tell them something else that has us contradicting each other. Right
this moment, I can't think of anything I can warn you about; there's
just no telling what might happen. You're the engineer, and paid the
big bucks to think about the 'what-if' stuff, so why don't you just
start asking whatever things that come to mind, and I'll answer the
best I can."

I agreed, and after a few seconds, I suggested "One of them seeing ME naked."

She smiled before telling me "They already know about the difference
between boys and girls. If they see, they see. I don't think any of
them is going to come looking, and I know how careful you are about
making sure you've got something on, so I don't think it'll happen.
But if it does, I'm not going to worry about it."

Next, I asked "What happens if one of them decides she WANTS me to see
her naked or topless?"

Teresa's smile didn't change a whit before she told me "Then look.
Ted, I know that you aren't going to try and start anything with any
of them. And I'm just as sure that if any of them gets it into her
head to try it, you're going to do everything you can to put a stop to
it. But just looking? I don't see any harm in that. I expect every
girl that has ever gone through puberty has tried to vamp an older guy
at some point, and it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if one --
or even more -- of them tried it with you. I know how much you love and
care for them, and if you want to play along with it to make them feel
better, then by all means, go for it -- you have my blessing, because
I've seen how you are with them too many times to think that you would
ever do anything that you even thought would hurt them. And just so
you don't have to ask, I want to say that even if one of them starts
trying to get you to touch one of their tits, I'm okay with it, for
the same reasons I just gave you. They're three young girls on their
way to becoming women, and as their bodies grow, they're going to want
to find out what they can do with them; I was the same way when I was
their age. Except that I didn't have an Uncle Ted that I could
absolutely trust the way they do you, so I had a lot of questions and
problems. If they can get the answers they want with you, then I don't
have any problem with you giving them the help they need. ANY help."

I must have gotten a look of surprise when she said that, because she
went on to say "Yes, said ANY help, and that's what I meant. I know
Donna is old enough to start thinking of boys as more than just
amusing toys, and I expect that Karen is starting to wonder what else
can make her feel good besides just touching herself -- which is what I
think Wendy is just discovering. So if one of them is sure enough
about what she wants that she's willing to come to you for help, I'm
not going to fuss. I know that it'll be THEM coming to you, not the
other way around; and that that's what you'll be doing -- helping them.
Thankfully, Doug left all this kind of stuff up to me, since all we
had was girls; so I haven't had any problem with anyone else making
them feel bad about being female, and all the perfectly normal and
natural things that have happened, and will BE happening for them.
They don't think sex is shameful or dirty, just special; just like
they've learned the same things about nudity -- which is why Donna
wasn't upset when you saw her that time."

After we'd each taken a pull off our beer, she told me "Honestly, Ted,
I trust you. If I thought it was YOU doing anything TO them, I'd have
your happy ass in jail so fast it would make your head spin. I know I
keep saying this, but I know that you wouldn't do anything like that.
Not only have I had plenty of time to see how you talk to the girls,
and treat them, I also saw how you were when you told me about seeing
Donna -- and I don't think that anybody could have doubted that it
really had been an accident, and that you really WERE sorry about it.
If you were that way about just seeing one of them, don't you think
I'd know how much more concerned you'd be about anything actually
happening? And how careful you'd be about it? After dealing with my
louse of an ex-husband, don't you think I could spot someone that was
faking the sincerity you were actually SHOWING?"

I have to admit to feeling no small measure of relief at hearing that
she wouldn't have my nuts to hang on her key chain for just looking,
but hearing that she'd be okay if anything more happened didn't settle
my mind any -- it seemed to imply that she considered it an actual
possibility. But that was for later; what I needed to know then, she'd
answered.

I asked a few more "what-if" questions, but it quickly became clear
that she not only trusted me not to be starting anything, but to
actively resist -- and that if I couldn't find any other way, she was
confident that I'd do whatever was necessary with patience and
consideration. It was certainly flattering, but also pretty daunting,
too, for her to have that much trust and confidence in me.

With that out of the way, I asked her how she was doing at work -- and
easing the conversation toward more casual topics.

I finally decided that if Teresa was okay with it, and Donna wanted me
to see her, then there wasn't any reason not to simply enjoy whatever
little shows the youngster wanted to put on for me. I had no interest
or intent in making them happen, but was willing to accept whatever
views of herself that Donna was willing to provide.

And provide them, she did. It got to the point that my seeing her
topless was relatively common, and the nudity happened often enough
that it actually stopped shocking me each time -- though I never
stopped appreciating the way she looked.

Donna got so blatant about it, in fact, that Teresa was finally
witness to what was happening. I'd knocked on the door to Donna's room
while Teresa was behind me, and after Donna told me "Okay", I opened
the door -- only to see Donna apparently trying to reach something on
the top shelf of her closet while naked. Stretched out the way she was
only highlighted the curves of her bust and ass; and when she was
done, she turned and faced me almost straight on. I saw her eyes
flicker to where her mother was standing, but all she did was respond
to the warning I gave her that she needed to get any dirty clothes
together so they could be washed. After I closed her door, I turned to
look at her mother; Teresa just gave me some unfathomable look, and
didn't say anything.

After that, it wasn't long before Donna was comfortable with the idea
of doing whatever she had to in whatever state of (un)dress she
happened to be in. She didn't turn up for supper naked, or anything
like that; but if she started to get ready for bed and needed
something from another part of the house, she wasn't the least bit
reluctant to go get it while topless, or even nude. Teresa witnessed
the majority of those events, and to the best of my knowledge, never
said a word about any of them.

With Donna being the oldest, her bedtime was the latest, so Karen and
Wendy seldom saw the trips Donna made in the latter part of the
evening; but they certainly saw some of the ones that happened during
other parts of the day. After the trips continued for a while, they
apparently decided that it was okay for THEM to do the same thing. The
first time I saw Wendy calmly walking down the hall toward me while
wearing only a pair of panties, I practically fell over -- not just
from surprise, but from how she looked. Her breasts weren't but about
the size of half a lemon, with a very similar shape... and about as
beautiful and perfect as they could be. The tips of her breasts were
slightly puffy (think of that rounded bit on the end of a lemon to get
an idea of the right proportions) and rose pink. Both of her areolas
looked like a confection of some kind, and from the center of each
sprung a small pink pebble of a nipple. As she walked toward me, her
breasts didn't jiggle or sway in the slightest, telling me how firm
they must be; when she got close and saw that I was looking at them,
both of her nipples extended slightly as she gave me a self-satisfied
smile. After she went by, I turned my head to see that her little butt
was creating some very interesting motions inside the panties that
barely covered it.

A day or two later, I was in the kitchen to see what groceries I
could/should bring home when I heard the fridge door open. From the
other side, I heard Karen's voice ask if we had any juice. I said that
we didn't, and that I was going to get some on my way home from work
the next day. I heard her express her disappointment, followed by the
sound of the fridge closing. I turned as I started to ask if there was
anything else she wanted while I was at the store, only to discover
that she was standing there stark naked. She moved to face me when I
spoke, giving me the chance to see that her breasts were roughly the
size of half an orange and generally conical, with small, dark areolas
that sported nipples about the size of a small bean. Though less
curved at waist and hip than her older sister, she was still plainly
female in shape. Between her thighs, she had a small wedge-shaped
patch of sparse pubic hair; I could easily see the skin underneath,
and the cleft of her sex. Her legs looked incredibly long, and were
both slender and nicely shaped. I managed to finish what I'd started
to ask her, and listened as she told me the couple of things that she
wanted before she turned and left -- giving me the chance to admire the
firm globes of her rounded little ass as she walked away. Even after
she was out of sight, I could only stand there with the vision of how
she'd looked in front of me.

After that, I was simply careful not to take any overt notice of any
exposed girl parts when Teresa was around -- I didn't turn my head to
look at them, didn't follow them with my eyes, or anything like that.
But the brief glances I took were more than sufficient to fill out the
memories of them I got at other times. There came the point that I
even saw Wendy nude; the few hairs I saw at the base of her belly were
as dark as the hair on her head was light. I finally caught on that
although Wendy and Karen weren't as actively trying to let me see them
in little or no clothing as Donna seemed to be, they weren't reluctant
to take advantage of whatever opportunities they were presented with.
I doubt that it took much more than a month for me to know what each
of them looked like more intimately than I suspected even their mother
did.

After I'd divorced, I naturally went back to masturbation to relieve
my sexual needs; using a prostitute of any kind scared me because of
the risk of disease, as did the idea of casual bar or club encounters.
I was still more than a little gun-shy about getting involved in any
kind of relationship with a woman because of the divorce, so that
pretty effectively limited my options for finding releases for my
physical needs.

But after the first little "show" that Donna had given me, and I'd
gotten myself off in the bathroom, I found myself thinking about her
(and even Karen) as fodder for my masturbatory fantasies. I had no
plan or intent to actually try to make any of those fantasies come
true, and invariably felt guilty about them afterwards -- at least, at
first. But as I saw the girls wearing less and less, more and more
often, my guilt afterwards became less intense and shorter-lived. I
still wasn't looking for anything to actually happen; I simply didn't
concern myself as much about what I was "just thinking".

We were having a movie night, and I was in my usual seat in the middle
of the couch. Donna was on one side of me, and Wendy was on the other;
Karen had opted to sit on the floor in front of me, between my feet.
Since we got a bit of a late start on the movies, Teresa had told the
girls that they could stay up past their usual bedtimes, but that they
had to go to bed immediately afterwards. All three had opted to go
ahead dress for bed ahead of time. Donna was only wearing one of my
old tee shirts and a pair of panties; I know that's all she had on
because I could see the way her nipples faintly dented the material of
my shirt, and caught a glimpse of the panties when she sat down next
to me. Wendy had on actual bed clothes, but they consisted of a pair
of very small shorts and very small (and rather snug, revealing the
general shape of her breasts) top. Between my feet, Karen was wearing
panties and a girl's sports jersey.

We had two movies to watch; the first was a comedy that had all of us
laughing. The second was more of an adventure thing. After the second
movie started, Donna took one of my hands and held it in front of
herself, gripping it tightly during the more active or
tension-building scenes. It wasn't until about halfway through the
movie that I realized that I could feel something more than just her
hands touching mine. Barely moving my head, I was able to look down
and over to see that she had the backs of my fingers pressed against
the side of her breast.

After Teresa had warned me that one of them might try something like
that, I wasn't sure if Donna had put my hand there deliberately, or
simply let it drift there while her attention was on the movie. The
contact was small and light, and I decided to wait and see what was
going on. If it was accidental, she'd realize it soon enough, and move
my hand; if it was deliberate, I could expect her to increase the
contact.

When a little more of the movie had played out, I had my answer: she
had gotten more of my hand touching her young mammary, with a couple
of my fingers softly pressing the sides of her nipple. Even as I was
taking note of the change, I felt her shift her hands slightly --
slowly dragging the backs of my fingers across her nipple. When she
did it again several seconds later, I thought that her nipple felt a
little firmer, somehow. After she'd repeated her actions several more
times, I was sure that it was not only harder, but getting a little
longer, too.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Teresa look over toward us and see
what Donna did. She continued to watch, and saw it happen again. I
couldn't see any change in her expression, and after witnessing it
happen a third time, she just turned her head to watch the movie
again.

Teresa had said she was okay with it if one (or more!) of the girls
tried to get me to touch one of their tits, and when she didn't
visibly react to what I had to figure she knew Donna was doing, I
could only think that she'd meant it. But that didn't mean that I was
going to start groping any of the girls, either. I wasn't happy about
what Donna was doing (yes, it felt good... but that's something else,
entirely); but between the assurances I'd gotten from Teresa, and the
fact that it was Donna that put my hand where it was, I wasn't
unhappy, either. I figured to just wait and see what happened,
thinking that if Teresa didn't like it, she'd tell Donna to knock it
off; if she was okay with it, I'd know that, too.

When the final credits for the movie started to roll, Donna casually
moved to get my arm behind her so she could stand up and stretch. I
couldn't help but notice that both of her nipples were plainly visible
before she leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek and wish me a
good night. I wished her one, too, before she turned and headed toward
her bedroom. Following that, I got kisses and good-nights from Wendy,
then Karen, before they went off to bed, too. I waited with Teresa
while the movie rewound to see if there was anything she wanted to say
to me. Other than to comment on the movies, there wasn't. I got up and
got both movies back in their boxes, and after we'd wished each other
pleasant dreams, went downstairs and went to bed.

Several nights later, we were all watching TV when Donna contrived to
get my hand between both of hers again. The difference was that even
as she was holding my hand in her lap, she was slowly twisting her
body slightly so that her hardening nipple brushed against the back of
my arm. Again, I saw Teresa look over at us and witness what was
happening before silently turning her attention back to the TV.

Donna didn't do that kind of thing every time she sat next to me -- but
it certainly happened often enough, and her efforts gradually grew
longer and more explicit. With Teresa's tacit permission, I neither
hindered nor helped Donna's efforts -- even when we were having another
movie night, and she finally worked up the courage to actually put my
hand ON her breast. I could feel the hard pebble of her erect nipple
pressing into my palm and the warmth of her tit under my fingers, but
I remained as impassive as a statue. It certainly felt like a part of
me that none of them could see had turned to stone! But rather than
start playing with the warm mound under my hand (as I so very much
wanted to), I just kept my hand still, slightly cupping the bosom
underneath it. With the end of the movie, I casually removed my hand
so that I could stick my arms out and stretch; when I was done, my
arms naturally came to rest on the back of the couch while the girls
got up. A brief exchange of pleasantries and kisses, and they were off
to bed. As I'd gotten into the habit of doing, I stayed with Teresa
while the movie rewound. I didn't doubt that she knew what had
happened, but she made no comment on it.

It was Saturday afternoon just over a week later, and I was downstairs
in the recliner going over some technical specifications when I heard
Donna softly call down "Uncle Ted? Have you got a minute?"

I told her I did, and set the paperwork aside. When she came in to
where I was sitting, I could see that she had on a pair of loose
shorts, and equally loose top. She came over to where I was sitting,
and I asked her what she needed. She hesitated for a few moments
before answering "There's something I don't understand, and I need to
ask you about."

Seeing the troubled look on her face, I quickly told her I'd be glad
to do what I could to help, and asked what was bothering her. Again,
she hesitated for a moment before asking "Would it be okay if I sat on
your lap while we talk?"

The last time she'd been on my lap had been shortly before they'd had
to move, and I was trying to convince her that it was okay for them to
go. I'd been glad that she hadn't wanted to do it again since I got
there -- I didn't figure I needed any of the potential problems that
could result from having a nubile fifteen-year-old female on my lap,
thank you very much. But she looked so distraught that it never
occurred to me to say anything BUT "Of course you can, honey."

Once she'd gotten her cute fanny on my lap, she curled up and leaned
against me, her head resting against my chest. It hurt me terribly to
see her like that, and I put my arms around her to try and comfort her
as best I could while she told me whatever was bothering her. The two
of us sat there for perhaps a minute before she quietly asked "Uncle
Ted? Don't you love me any more?"

Stunned by the question, it took a few seconds for me to get my wits
back enough to answer "Of course I still love you, honey! Why would
you even think you had to ask?"

"Well, I just had to wonder if something happened, or was wrong, or
something. I mean, the way you act, it seems that you don't like me or
want to do anything with me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I started letting you look at me -- you know, with no clothes
on, so you can see my boobs and everything, but all you ever did was
just look. Then, the other night, when I actually put your hand on me,
you didn't do anything. I wanted you to touch me, and play with my
boob a little bit, but you DIDN'T, even after I put your hand on it.
Don't you think I'm pretty enough, or that my tits are big enough
yet?"

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement of
monumental proportions. It seemed that every thought I had would go
crashing into another one, wrecking both, while my jaw just moved up
and down with no noise coming out. That lasted until I felt wetness on
my chest, and realized that she was quietly crying -- which was all it
took for me to focus my thoughts again.

Hugging her gently, I told her "Honey, I promise you -- I think you're
MORE than pretty enough, and that your tits are just fine."

I could hear the quiver in her voice when she asked "Then why won't
you touch me like I want?"

"Sweetheart, you know what happened with me and your Aunt Judy. I hope
you didn't hear about ALL the things that happened between us, but
I'll bet you still know that it wasn't easy for us to get our
divorce." She quietly nodded her head, and I went on "That's a little
bit of the reason that I haven't wanted to do anything like you want;
I guess you could say that I'm still a little bit nervous about doing
anything with girls. Another part of it is the fact that you're only
fourteen" -- "Almost fifteen!", she optimistically corrected me (her
birthday was still four months away) -- "and that's still young;
particularly to me. The other thing is that I am your Uncle Ted... with
the emphasis on the 'Uncle' part. It just doesn't feel right to me to
touch you that way; I've known you since you were little, and because
I'm your Uncle and I DO love you, I don't want to do anything that
would hurt you -- either physically, or inside, in your heart. And
touching you that way makes me feel like I would be hurting you."

She sat there in silence for several seconds before telling me "But if
you love me, why would you think you have to be nervous about doing
anything with girls with ME? I can understand that you wouldn't want
to hurt me, and that I'm still young -- but after I've let you see me
without clothes on so many times, and after I put your hand on my
boob, why aren't you willing to let me grow up? Or even HELP me? It's
not like you're trying to take advantage of me because I'm so young,
and don't know any better. Mom has already talked to me about sex and
all that, and I'm not asking you to do anything like that; I just want
you to touch me, so I feel good. I love you, Uncle Ted, and there
isn't any other guy that I would trust the way I do you. I want you to
touch my boobs, and maybe even between my legs, later, so that I can
learn how to grow up -- but with somebody that I know loves me, and I
know I can trust. Like I said, I'm not asking you to have sex with me,
just help me find out what it's like when a guy touches me. I don't
want to wait until I'm older to find out, and maybe get into some kind
of trouble because I didn't know what to expect!"

I did love her, and the last thing in the world that I wanted to do
was hurt her, just as I'd said. So after hearing what she had to say,
I was left sitting there feeling as though I was stuck between two
equally unpleasant choices, regardless of how much I knew I'd enjoy
getting my hands on her delectable body. Thinking that I probably
already knew the answer, I still asked her "Have you talked about this
with your mom?"

"Of course I have. Not just how I was feeling, but wanting YOU to look
at me and touch me. She told me that if I wanted to be grown up enough
to make my own decisions, then I had to be grown up enough to let you
know what I wanted."

Hearing that, I knew that Teresa had to be aware that if Donna let me
know what she (Donna) wanted, there was the possibility (even
likelihood) that I would actually take her (Donna) up on it. So if
Teresa was willing to say something like that, then I had to figure
she really would be okay with it happening. That was all the salve my
conscience needed before I asked Donna "You're really sure that you
want me to touch you?"

"Of course I am! Wasn't ME that put your hand on my tit the other
night? Didn't I come down here and TELL you that's what I want?"

"Then if your mom is okay with it, and that's what you want, then I'll
go along.", I told her.

It took a second for her to realize that I was actually agreeing
before she suddenly sat up, facing me. Her eyes were a little puffy,
her nose was red and a little runny, and she still looked lovely to me
when she asked "Really? You will?"

"Yes, I will, if that's what you want.", I assured her.

"I do!", she declared, before reaching down to grasp the hem of the
top she was wearing, and unceremoniously pull it up and over her head
before casually tossing it aside. That left her sitting there with
nothing to obstruct the view she was giving me of her beautiful
breasts. I let my eyes feast on their loveliness for several seconds
before looking into her face -- and seeing the delight and happiness
she felt. We just looked at each other for a bit before she got an
expression of expectation on her face. I quickly realized that it was
up to me to let her know that I was sincere, and I did so by by
raising my hands and placing them on the mounds of her young bust.

As I'd felt the night she put my hand on one, her breasts were warm to
my touch; when I gently squeezed them, they proved to be as firm as
they'd appeared. Though neither one quite filled my cupped hand, they
were still large enough to make holding them a treat. After I'd cupped
my hands under them and softly used my thumbs to tease her nipples a
bit, she told me "I like how it feels like when you touch my tits like
that, and I want to know what it's like when you touch them other
ways, too... and even kissing them, and... stuff."

I left it to her to decide if it was "kissing", or "stuff", when I
slowly leaned forward and fastened my mouth on the peak of one of her
smooth mammaries, and began gently sucking on it while using my tongue
to lave its nipple. She released a soft moan as she put her hands in
my hair to hold my head where it was -- something that was entirely
unnecessary; it probably would have taken a crowbar to pry me loose,
just then.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, with me orally tending the
tips of her breasts, while my hands and fingers did a thorough and
detailed examination of the rest of them. I had gotten both of her
areolas puckered, and nipples erect and shiny, and was happily keeping
them in that condition when a slight pressure as Donna began to push
my head away. Despite the disappointment I felt, I did as she wanted --
though I gave each of her girlish mounds a soft kiss first. When my
head was back far enough for us to look into each others faces again,
I could see that she'd thoroughly enjoyed my attentions by her broad
smile. I smiled back at her as she told me "I... I think that's enough
for now, Uncle Ted. It felt really good, and I want you to do that
some more, again. But I have to finish my homework and do my chores
for today, so we'd better stop."

"Of course, honey. I love you, and I'm not going to do anything to
push you or cause you to get into any kind of trouble. If you want us
to do this, we can -- when YOU want it."

"I know you wouldn't, Uncle Ted", she lovingly told me before
continuing "I like it when you touch me like this, and when we do it
again, I want to make sure we have time to do it as much as we can."

"I'd like that", I assured her.

With that, she scooted herself off my lap, and unashamedly bent over
to pick up the top she'd been wearing, and put it back on. After she
leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek, I gave her a gentle pat
on the butt after she turned and started toward the stairs. She turned
her head to give me a pleased smile, and continued on her way.

When she was out of sight, I just sat there for several minutes
looking at the palms of my hands as I remembered the feel of her.

Once we'd started, it didn't take but a few weeks for the intimacy
between Donna and myself to increase dramatically. The first few
times, she was content for me to touch her developing breasts, and
gently suck on her nipples while she still had clothing on her lower
half. The next thing she let me know was that it was that it was okay
for me to touch her more. I willingly did so; while remaining careful
not to approach the area between her thighs, I DID include the firm
globes of her ass -- at least, through whatever she had on -- and
however much of her lovely legs was exposed. Naturally enough, it
didn't take long for her to understand that what she wore affected how
much of her I touched; once she did, she seldom wanted us to be
together while she was wearing anything that went beyond mid-thigh on
her... and usually much shorter than that.

It also became a common occurrence for me to give her a little pat on
the butt, even when the others were around. Wendy and Karen saw me do
it, of course, and rather than explain how and why my relationship
with their older sister was special, I simply began to do it to them,
much to their delight. Teresa saw what I was doing, and merely smiled.

It didn't take but a couple of times of Donna putting my hand on her
breast for her sisters to notice that I was slowly and softly
caressing it through whatever Donna was wearing at the time. In short
order, both of them gathered the courage to get my hand on one of
their breasts, too. Karen's mammaries were a trifle firmer than
Donna's, though smaller. They were still just as warm to my touch, and
almost as nice to have in my hand. Wendy's smaller bust made it almost
impossible for me to do much, despite how nice they felt; but both of
us found it pleasant and acceptable when I would gently toy with their
puffy tips. Teresa didn't have any comment about what I was doing with
the two younger girls, either.

Don't get the idea that I was constantly being offered the chance to
play with their tits -- I wasn't. The time Donna and I spent together
wasn't but a minute or two at a time, and didn't happen more than
every couple of days. For all of them, the playing with their breast
only happened sometimes, even IF I was there with them watching TV or
for movie night -- not always a sure thing. But it certainly happened
often enough that I had plenty of the stimulus I needed when I took
care of my increasing sexual desires.

Early one Sunday afternoon, I was resting on my couch downstairs while
watching sports on TV when Donna came down to visit. She didn't
hesitate to get herself situated in the recliner, and sat quietly with
me until the game I was watching ended. There wasn't anything else
that I wanted to watch, so I turned the TV off; when I did, she got up
and came over to where I was laying down. Without saying a word, she
shed the blouse she was wearing before moving to lay on top of me.
Since she was laying face down with her head right under my chin, I
simply put my arms around her and held her -- she wasn't heavy enough
to bother me, and it felt nice to just have her in my arms like that.

Several minutes went by before I heard her ask "Uncle Ted?"

"Yes, dear?"

"When I touch my boobs, it feels good -- but not as nice as when you do
it. Well, sometimes I touch myself between my legs, and that feels
even better that just touching my boobs. So I was wondering if... if it
would be okay if YOU touched me between my legs now. I mean, it feels
so much better when it's you touching my chest than when I do it, that
I figure if you touched me between my legs, then THAT would be even
better, too. I want you to do it, so would that make it okay for you
to do that with me?"

I wasn't as shocked or surprised as I maybe should have been; the last
few times she'd wanted to be semi-nude with me, I'd caught the faint
scent of aroused female shortly before we stopped. And I hadn't
forgotten the conversation we'd had with her on my lap, when she told
me that she might want me to do that. While I was certainly willing
enough, I didn't want to accidentally push her farther than she wanted
to go, or frighten her, so I calmly asked "What did you want me to
do?"

She sounded a little relieved as she told me "I just want to know what
it feels like when YOU touch me there. Sometimes, when I do it, it
starts feeling so good that it kind of scares me, and I stop. If... if
you did that with me, I know I wouldn't have to be scared about what
might happen."

I almost couldn't believe my ears. Not that she would tell me that she
was masturbating, but that she got scared and stopped what she was
doing because she was afraid of the increasing pleasure when she got
too close to having an orgasm -- and wanted me there, and helping, when
she finally let it happen. The idea of not merely witnessing, but
actually assisting as she had her first-ever orgasm aroused me
tremendously -- something that I could only hope she didn't notice.
Maintaining my equanimity, I replied "Okay, I can do that, if you
like. Was there anything else you wanted?"

"I thought it would be better, and nicer, if we, you know, maybe
kissed and stuff, too. I mean, if you want to."

Giving her a soft hug, I answered "I'd like that, sweetheart. When did
you want to do that?", thinking that I already knew what she'd say.

"Could we maybe do it today? Or even now?"

"Of course we can. Do we need to close the door, or anything?", I
asked, wanting to know if I should be concerned about us being
interrupted.

"Oh, no. I told Mom that I was coming down here so you could help me
with something, just the two of us, and she just smiled and said she'd
make sure nobody bothered us."

We stayed on the couch like that for another minute or so before I
hesitantly told her "If we're going to do that, it would probably be
easier and more comfortable if we were someplace where we had more
room than on this couch."

I got an idea of how much she loved and trusted me when I heard her
answer "I thought your bed would be better, too. Just because we're
there, I know you aren't going to do any more with me than what I
want, Uncle Ted. I know you don't want to scare me or anything, but
you don't have to worry about talking to me, either. If I'm grown up
enough for us to do stuff like this, don't you think I'll understand
those kinds of things?"

Hearing that, I moved my hands so that I could start gently caressing
the soft, smooth expanse of her back, and heard her release a
contented sigh; being able to give HER pleasure like that while
getting my own was something that always pleased me. After I'd
tenderly re-mapped the topography of her skin several times, she spoke
up again to tell me "It always makes me feel good inside when you
touch me like that -- but that's not what I came down here for."

"Well, I suppose we can do that, now...", I replied, feigning a
reluctance I certainly didn't feel.

Knowing that I was just teasing her, she raised her head and graced me
with a loving smile before placing a brief soft kiss on my lips. When
she raised her head again, I knew that she could see how much it had
meant to me by the happy expression on her face. A second later, she
moved to stand up next to the couch again, leaving me free to sit up.
She unabashedly unfastened and dropped the skirt she was wearing,
revealing that she was wearing only a very skimpy pair of panties.
Confidently, she looked into my eyes as she calmly slid her hands
under the waistband and eased them down her lovely slender legs. After
she stepped out of them, she turned to face me straight on before
saying "I don't think you've gotten a chance to really look at me
before -- at least, not with us close like this, or for very long. So
if you want to, you can do that now; it's okay. I... I'd like it, even."

The closest I'd ever been to her for one of her little shows had
probably been three feet. And with me being a good foot and a half
taller than she was, the views I had gotten weren't as good as they
could have been. So with her standing there not two feet from the
couch, and my eyes about level with the bottoms of her breasts, I
definitely DID want to look at her closer and longer.

I saw her lift her foot, as if she wanted to go somewhere -- and
realized that she was willing to come even closer to me. I shifted my
feet apart, and she gave me a pleased smile as she moved to stand
between them. I leaned forward slightly, and finally got to really
look at her adolescent body.

With her that close, the first thing I noticed -- HAD to notice! -- was
how incredibly flawless her skin was. Looking as delicate as the
finest porcelain, it also had the light pink color of a healthy young
girl. I couldn't see a wrinkle or blemish on her anywhere; there was
absolutely nothing to mar the beauty of her epidermis. Able to really
examine her mammaries, I saw that they were beginning to fill out a
little; compared to the generally conical shape they'd had when I
first saw her, they looked to be slightly more rounded then. Her
dime-sized areolas were almost perfectly round, and darker than the
smooth flesh surrounding them. Discounting the slight crinkling they
were showing from what I knew was her mild arousal at having me look
at her, I figured that both of them would have only a minimum of the
small bumps that I'd seen on other women. Her nipples grew from the
center of her areolas, and slightly larger around than a pencil; each
stuck out for perhaps a bit more than a quarter of an inch.

Letting my eyes finally drift downwards, I thought her "innie" navel
was about the cutest thing I'd ever seen -- and leaned forward to give
it a soft kiss. When I was sitting up again, my gaze dropped even
lower, and I got my first close look at the base of her flat abdomen.
Up close and personal (as it were) with her developing bush, I saw
that it was made up of a still somewhat sparse growth of fine blond
hairs that looked to be still a little short -- and soft. I didn't have
any trouble making out the skin beneath, nor the cleft that divided
her mons. I thought to myself that if I'd known that girls could look
THIS good at that age, I'd have paid a hell of a lot more attention to
them...

When I lifted my head to look into her face again, I quietly told her
"When you were sitting in my lap, I told you that you're pretty more
than pretty enough. Seeing you now, like this, I want to say it again.
Honey, you are way more than pretty enough -- you're beautiful. When
you let me look at you like this, you make me glad that I'm a guy."

My words delighted her, and she leaned over to give me another kiss
before standing up again -- and turning around so that I could look at
the back of her.

I'll admit that the first thing I looked at was her cute little ass.
Simply put, it was a work of art, sculpted out of the finest marble by
a singularly talented craftsman. Each of her cheeks was visibly tight
and firm, nicely rounded, and as smooth and flawless as the rest of
her. Difficult as it was, I finally managed to drag my eyes away from
it to look at the rest of her. Her legs made her look a bit coltish,
but in a good way; slender, they were composed of a series of
graceful, gentle curves that made them simply flow from her ankles to
the ass that they merged with. After another bout of admiring her
butt, I got my eyes moving upwards so that I could examine the source
of my most recent pleasure with her. Clear and smooth, her back was a
blank canvas that I wanted to paint on with my tongue; her delicate
shoulders supported her slender and graceful neck. Without the
interesting terrain features that the front of her boasted, though,
there wasn't anything behind her to get all that engrossed with --
except for her ass, which I found myself marvelling at yet again.

She seemed to realize that it wouldn't take me as long to look her
over from that direction as it had the front; I was still trying to
decide what I wanted to do with her ass first when she took the
decision away from me by turning around again. I didn't have any
problem telling her, as sincerely as I could, "You have THE nicest
looking butt I have seen in a long, long time." -- making her giggle,
and smile. Still looking into her face, I raised my hands and slowly
reached out to put them on her hips before telling her "Sweetheart,
I'm honored that you would let me look at you like this. But I want
you to know that I love you -- not because of how you look, pretty as
you are -- but for what's inside you. You're smart, but you still study
so that you can get the best grades you can; you're as kind and gentle
and loving as anyone could want. I know you don't always get along
with your sisters, but I have NEVER heard you argue with them -- which
tells me that you're patient and generous, too. I know that you don't
like some of the things that you have to do, but you don't complain or
make a fuss; and that helps make things easier for your mom, because
she had to worry about you and your sisters. I love you, Donna, for
who you ARE, not what you look like -- and I always will, no matter
what else happens. If you wanted to stop doing stuff like this with
me, it would be okay, because I'd still love you. If you didn't want
me to see you without clothes on, it would be okay, because I'd still
love you. For me, you and your sisters are the kids that your Aunt
Judy and I couldn't have; I don't think I could love you and them any
more if I was your dad. So if maybe sometimes I'm a stinker, that's
why -- because I do love you so much, and the last thing in the world
I'd want to do would be hurt you in ANY way."

I saw tears start to form in her eyes before she managed to blink them
away and tell me "I know how much you love me, Uncle Ted. And Karen
and Wendy know it, too. That's why we always liked you better than
Aunt Judy, because we could tell that she didn't love us the way you
did. When Daddy was still with us, we knew that he loved us -- but it
didn't seem like it was anywhere near as much as you did, because he
hardly ever wanted to do anything with us, like come to the stuff we
did at school, or help us with our homework, and stuff like that. He'd
hug us and tell us he loved us, but it never sounded like the way you
just said it, and we didn't think he meant it the way you do. I'm
sorry he's gone, but I'm even happier that you're here now."

There wasn't anything that I could say to that, and I didn't even try.
Instead, I leaned forward again and gave her a soft, gentle kiss about
halfway between her navel and breasts before pulling back and looking
into her face to say "Thank you, dear."

We looked into each others eyes for several seconds before she took my
hands in hers and gently tugged me into standing up. Releasing one of
my hands, she used the other to lead the way to my bed, and then onto
it. When both of us were laying down (her on her back; me on my side,
propped up on my elbow), I put my hand on her just above her navel.
She looked up at me and said "Yes, sometimes you are a stinker -- but
it's only when I want you to do something with me, and you're not sure
about it. I know it's because you love me and don't want to do
anything to hurt me, either inside, in my heart, or outside, on my
body; and it's okay when you're a stinker like that, because I know
why you're doing it. Now I'm ready for you to start touching me, even
between my legs; and I'm telling you that so you know you DON'T have
to be worried about me. I know what I'm asking, and what you're going
to do; and I'm SURE about what I want, and that I want YOU to do it.
So you don't have to worry about me now, okay? I know I can trust you
not to do anything I don't want you to -- that if you start to do
something I don't like, you'll stop if I tell you. I told you I know
how much you love me, and I want you to know that I love you and trust
you with all my heart; that's why I want to learn and do these things
with YOU. Karen and Wendy and me, we've talked about it, and they feel
the same way about you that I do."

What she said touched me so deeply that the only response I could make
was to lower my head and give her a soft kiss on the lips -- chaste,
but as loving as I could make it. And somehow, despite her youth, her
lips told me that the depth of her love equalled my own.

When our lips separated, I looked into her face and saw that she was
every bit as sure as she'd said she was -- that she wanted to be there,
that she wanted us to do the things we would, and that she was ready.
I also saw that she was supremely confident that I would make her
happy, and that she could trust me. That removed the last qualms I had
about doing what I'd wanted to since the first time I saw her naked:
get my hands and lips on as much of her delectable body as I could. I
did love her the way I'd said I did -- for all the good things I saw in
her. But I wasn't so committed to her intelligence and character that
I'd fail to appreciate the package that held them.

Lowering my head, I touched my lips to hers again, and she willingly --
even eagerly -- returned my kiss. It was still loving and affectionate,
but it also served to mark the beginning of the time we'd have
together while I helped her learn just how much pleasure was available
from her own body.

That first kiss lasted but a few seconds; the one that quickly
followed it went on longer. The next lasted longer still. With the
start of the next, Donna took my hand in hers and moved it to her
breast, letting me know she was ready for me to begin.

When I'd touched her before, it was both to let her learn what it felt
like to have someone elses hands on her, and to satisfy my own desire
to simply become more familiar with however much of her anatomy she
was willing to grant me access to. With the change in her reason for
being there, I didn't have to restrain myself from touching her in
ways that I knew would arouse her -- quite the opposite, in fact. But
since I knew I wasn't going to be doing anything more THAN touching
her, I didn't have any reason to hurry -- not that I would have,
anyway. So as our kisses got longer and more involved and intimate, I
was perfectly fine with starting out much as I "usually" did with her
by simply reacquainting myself with her developing body... including the
newly-available areas that had been off-limits before. The next
several minutes passed with me happily caressing as much of her as I
could reach, though I remained discreet about how and where I touched
her pelvis and the area between her firm thighs.

The way she responded to what I was doing let me know that she was
perfectly willing to experience whatever pleasure there was to be had
with me. Her kisses gradually included more and more of her increasing
desire; and the soft noises she made told me that she liked how I was
touching her. When I caressed her breasts, I could tell that her
areolas were more puckered, and her nipples longer, than they'd ever
been.

Her breathing had gotten to the point that it was almost impossible
for me to continue kissing her, so I slowly shifted my attention to
her breasts, via her earlobes, throat, and shoulders -- and noticeably
increasing her desire and arousal in the process.

After I'd fastened my mouth on the tip of one of her breasts, I
decided that it was time to finally start trying to help her
experience the kind of pleasure she'd been denying herself. After
tracing a path down the top of one of her smooth thighs, I eased my
fingertips to the inside of her knee before slowly drawing my hand
upwards with a featherlight touch. As my hand moved higher and higher,
she started making a soft moaning noise that presaged a sudden
strengthening of the scent of her increasing arousal. When the side of
my hand brushed the hair on her mons, she gasped and arched her pelvis
up in response. Taking that as my cue that she was ready to take the
final step, I traced a path around her small bush and down the top of
her other leg. When she felt my fingers slide down to the inside of
her knee, she released another soft moan as she voluntarily spread her
legs to make room for my hand before I started to repeat on that thigh
what I'd done on the other.

After my fingertips reached the juncture of her thigh and pelvis, I
lightly drew my fingertips across her mons -- enough to disturb the
fine hairs on it, but not touching the skin underneath, before
following the summit on one side of her cleft upwards so that my first
touch was in the open forest at the top of her pubic thatch. Slowly
and softly, I ran my fingers through the fine, down that presented
little more than token covering for her lower belly, pleased at how
soft it felt. Only when I was sure that all of my fingertips had
touched every single hair that wasn't on her mons did I finally begin
to move my hand again. Letting my fingers separate slightly, I gently
traced a path downwards with two fingers on each of the soft ridges
that declared her womanhood; when I reached the bottom, I cupped her
mound in my hand, with my middle finger along the cleft of her sex.

Under the pad of my finger, I could feel the warmth radiating from the
opening I knew lay beneath, as well as no small measure of dampness
that had escaped. As I continued to suck and gently bite the rubbery
hardness of her nipples, I carefully curled my finger so that it
dipped between the folds of her pudendum. She moaned, and arched her
pelvis up again when she felt what I was doing. Almost immediately, I
felt the edges of her inner lips, and it took only a few moments for
the end of my finger to be wetted with the overflow of her feminine
essence. Patiently, carefully, and above all, GENTLY, I explored the
hidden recesses she had made available to me.

I soon learned that her labia were small, somewhat thin (even
accounting for her youth), and easily as soft as was to be expected
from her virginal state. I let my fingertip lightly touch the entrance
to her vagina, and she didn't react in the slightest; it took me only
a few moments to collect a goodly sample of her oils in anticipation
of needing them before long. Tracing the folds of her labia upwards, I
easily found the bump where her clitoris was hiding. Using the
lubrication she'd already provided me, I tenderly enticed it into
making an appearance; it proved to be about the size of a very small
pea -- and sensitive, as I learned from her pleased reaction when I
gave it a butterfly-light caress.

Lifting my head from Donna's chest, I turned my head to look at her.
Her eyes were closed and she was panting, but I could somehow tell
that she was eagerly anticipating that I would be helping her find
even more joy -- and looking forward to where and how it would end.

So that I didn't give her reason to think anything was wrong, I
quickly lowered my head again, and began tending to the mate of the
breast I'd just been enjoying. Even as I was applying a series of soft
lip-bites to the slopes of her breast, I was trying to figure out what
might be the best way of helping her experience her first orgasm. I
had to try and find something that would be satisfying for her, but
not so much that it overwhelmed her -- after all, she was still only
fourteen (almost fifteen!, I heard her tell me in my mind), and she
simply didn't have the wherewithal to experience anything like a grown
woman would enjoy. The more I thought about it, the more I found
myself getting tied up in knots; so I finally chucked the whole thing
in favor of simply bringing her along however quickly she responded,
until it finally happened for her.

With that resolved, I promptly went about doing what I'd settled on.
It wasn't but a few moments before I was softly and gently starting to
stimulate her clitoris -- and only a few seconds longer before I could
hear a change in her breathing that told me I was getting things
right. With frequent side-trips to make sure I kept the end of my
finger lubed with her juices, I carefully and patiently went about
finding out what she liked, and how she liked it done.

Between her apparent desire to discover what she'd been missing out
on, and her trust that I was going to help her find it, it didn't take
but a very few minutes before I could tell that she was approaching an
orgasm. After wetting the end of my finger again, I went back to
tending to her clitoris by circling it at the pressure and tempo that
her body told me she enjoyed most. I could feel her body begin to
tense up beneath me, and knew that she was almost there; but when
several more seconds passed and nothing happened, I had to figure that
she needed something -- probably almost anything -- to actually push her
over the edge. Figuring "What the hell... it's worth a try...", I got my
mouth on the peak of one of her breasts and sucked on it -- then gently
bit her nipple. To my surprise (and our mutual delight, I suspect),
that did the trick. Her body froze in place underneath me, and I felt
her clitoris disappear under its hood just ahead of the first wave of
release to course through her lovely body. She managed a gasping
breath before the next spasm of pleasure overwhelmed her, which was
quickly followed by a third. After she'd managed to draw in a little
more oxygen, a fourth, then fifth ran though her. Though the last two
had been progressively milder, they still left her gasping for a
couple of seconds, until what proved to be the last wave of her first
climax made itself felt.

When it was over for her, I quickly moved to lay next to her, again
propped up on my elbow as I softly stroked her face. When she opened
her eyes, I could see how stunned she was by what had happened -- and
how thoroughly she'd enjoyed it. It took a several more seconds before
she got enough of her breath back to softly tell me "It felt so... I
never thought... I didn't know I could feel like that!", overwhelmed
with emotion.

Smiling, I simply told her "Yeah."

Awed, she asked me "If I hadn't gotten scared before, when I was
touching myself, I would have felt this before now, wouldn't I?"

"Probably.", I answered.

She considered that for a few seconds as her panting slowed, then told
me "If I'd known, I sure would have let it happen before now. But I
didn't, and I'm glad that you were here with me, and helped me find
out what it's like. That was incredible, and it's even more special to
me to learn I can feel like that and have you here with me when it
happened."

I gave her a soft kiss, and she said "Really, Uncle Ted -- it's because
you were here with me, and making me feel so good. When I could feel
myself getting closer, I knew I didn't have to be afraid or nervous;
and that you'd take care of me -- and you DID! It felt so good, what
you were doing, and I could feel that it was almost going to happen,
and it was starting to make me kind of crazy, I wanted it to happen so
bad. Then I felt you suck on my tit that way, and when you kinda bit
my nipple, everything just... exploded inside me!"

I couldn't resist smiling at her delight and enthusiasm, and asked
"So, you think you'll be okay with finishing things yourself, now?"

She gave me a pleased grin before answering "Yeah, I think so. But
I'll still want it to happen with you sometimes, too."

"I'm okay with that", I told her, "but let's not make it too often,
okay? We don't want to make anybody mad or upset, do we?"

Only mildly chastised, she told me "No, I guess not."

I softly kissed her again, and the two of us lay there for several
minutes before she quietly told me "I wish I could stay with you like
this, but I guess I should go back upstairs so Mom doesn't get worried
or anything."

After a few moments, we got out of bed, and I went with her back to
where she'd left the clothing she'd taken off. When I sat in my
recliner and blatantly watched her, she got a smile on her face and
made a show out of it as she got her things back on. Dressed again,
she came over and gave me a soft kiss on the lips before telling me
"Thank you, Uncle Ted. That felt really good, what you did; and how
you made me feel."

"I'm glad you liked it, and that I could help you, honey.", I told
her. She gave me a pleased smile, and when she turned around, I gave
her a soft pat on the butt as she started toward the stairs.

After giving it a couple of minutes in case she came down for
something else, I went into my bathroom to deal with my own needs
after what we'd done.

Later, after supper, when Teresa and I were alone in the living room,
she told me "I have a pretty good idea of what Donna went to see you
about, and I want to make sure you know that I'm okay with it. I saw
how happy she was when she came back upstairs, and that just lets me
know that I'm right to trust you the way I do. If or when Wendy or
Karen come to you about anything like that, you don't have to worry
about whether or not I'll have any problems -- I won't. As long as
you're not hurting them, and they're happy afterwards, I'm not going
to object."

"I kinda figured, when she told me that you said you'd watch to make
sure nobody bothered us."

She gave me a wry smile before saying "Like I said, I had a pretty
good idea of what she was after; it seemed like a good idea to make
sure she had whatever time and privacy she needed. And on the subject
of privacy, you haven't said anything to me about what happened with
her -- and I do NOT need or want to know. Your time with her -- or any
of them, for that matter -- is just for you and them."

I had to laugh, then tell her her "I'm glad to hear that. I was trying
to figure out how to not tell you anything, if you HAD asked.",
getting a small laugh from her. We looked at each other, and satisfied
that we were both at the same place on the same page, we moved on to
talk about other things.

After Donna learned what kind of pleasure she could experience, I
really didn't figure that she'd need or want my assistance when she
was perfectly capable of taking care of things herself. But several
times after that, she would make it clear to me that she wanted us to
have another session together. Whether it was down in my place, or in
the privacy of her room when no one else was home, I was more than
happy to go along with her desires. Along the way, I learned that she
was willing and able to have orgasms that were appreciably stronger
than the first; that only gave me the freedom and opportunity to enjoy
the limited pleasures I got from her body even more.

Even with the activity between myself and Donna, I still had the
benefit of seeing all of the girls in various states of undress, as
well as the infrequent satisfaction of having them put my hand on
their breast so that I would touch and caress it. With all of them
patently unconcerned about me seeing them, I fell out of the habit of
waiting for a response when I had to knock at one of their closed
doors; I'd still knock, but if I didn't hear any response after a
couple of seconds, I'd figure it was okay to open the door.

It was a day off from school for the girls, and I was taking some comp
time from work so they'd have an adult around if they needed me while
Teresa was at her job. Wendy had gone off to visit one of her friends,
leaving me, Donna, and Karen in the house. As it got close to
lunchtime, I started thinking about what to make for the three of us,
and couldn't decide what would be good. Figuring that one or the other
of the girls might want something in particular, I went down to
solicit their input. Donna's room was the first one down the hall, so
I knocked on her door, then opened it and put my head in a couple
seconds later. She wasn't in her room, and I just figured she was in
the bathroom; closing her door again, I went to Karen's room next.
Again, I knocked, and when I didn't hear any objection, opened it far
enough to stick my head in -- only to be greeted by the sight of Karen
and Donna both stark naked on Karen's bed, legs spread wide, and each
with one hand between her thighs and the other on her breast, busily
masturbating themselves with their eyes closed.

I don't know if I made a noise that they heard, they just sensed my
presence, or what, but it was only a second before their eyes flew
open and they saw me looking at them. I quickly apologized, and when I
started to withdraw, Donna told me "No, Uncle Ted, don't go! I think
we need you in here!"

With the door between me and them, I asked "Are you sure? I didn't
mean to interrupt, or anything."

It was Karen's voice that told me "It's okay, Uncle Ted... really. We... I
need to talk to you, and ask you some stuff."

Baffled, it took me a few moments to work up the courage to go on into
her room -- where I saw that though they'd stopped their activities,
they were both still sitting there with their legs parted. Looking
around, I saw that there was enough stuff on the chair in front of
Karen's desk that clearing it for a place to sit wasn't viable. That
meant that if I wanted to sit down, it would have to be on Karen's bed
-- something that I wasn't entirely happy about, considering the
situation. But since she'd said that she wanted to talk and ask me
some questions, I figured I'd better make myself comfortable; I parked
myself on the edge of the bed, next to Karen's knee, and managed to
keep my eyes above her waist. When I looked into her face, I saw that
she was completely unconcerned about what I'd seen her doing and what
I might see OF her. A look at Donna told me that she had much the same
attitude as her younger sister. My mind couldn't resist going off to
visualize what the scene might have been if either of MY folks had
witnessed my self-gratifications...

Pulling myself back together, I looked at Karen again and asked "What
was it you wanted to talk to me about, honey?"

To my surprise, I saw her blush slightly before she told me "I've been
touching myself, and it feels good and everything, but it doesn't seem
to feel as good for me as when Donna does it for her." It took me a
few seconds to understand that she had blushed not because she was
embarrassed about touching herself, but because she was having trouble
getting the results she wanted. Again, my mind had to head off in a
different direction as I contemplated the significance and
implications of that understanding...

Karen was looking at me patiently, waiting to hear what I had to say,
when I got my attention back on her. I considered what she said for a
few moments before telling her "I don't think that's anything that you
really have to worry about, Karen. You're younger than your sister,
and it might just be that your body hasn't quite developed to the
point that you can feel as good as she does."

She thought about that for a moment, then asked "Could it be that I'm
doing something wrong, or that there's something different about me?
Donna showed me how SHE does it, and when she had me do to her what I
do to me, it made HER feel good enough to have an orgasm."

Of course I immediately got a vision of the two of them in my head
that had my cock hard in about zero seconds flat. Hoping that it
wouldn't burst out of my pants, and that they wouldn't notice the
sudden bulge in at my crotch, I told her "Honey, I really don't think
that a person can do that wrong -- I mean, the fact that it feels good
means you're doing it right; and if it feels good, then that pretty
much says that there can't be anything wrong with you, either."

Completely without shame or embarrassment, she asked me "Would you
look at me, Uncle Ted? To see if there's anything different or wrong
with me? Donna and I both looked at each other, and WE can't see
anything that we think would make a difference; but you're a guy, and
older than us, so maybe you'll find something we didn't know about."

When she asked me to look at her so intimately, I had the singularly
novel experience of what I can only describe as my ears blinking -- the
audio equivalent of a person blinking their eyes when they see
something they can't believe.

My first thought was that she was teasing me, or joking, or something
else like that. But when I looked into her face, I could tell that not
only was she serious about wanting me to look at her there, but she
was actually concerned that there might be something wrong with her.
It hurt me terribly to see her worried about something that should
have been a source of great pleasure for her, and setting aside my
misgivings, I told her "If it would make you feel better, or you think
it would help, then I can do that."

Following that, Donna suggested "Since we're sisters, it might help if
you could look at me, too." -- something that left me both surprised
and pleased. I turned to look at her, and nodded my head -- not
trusting myself not to say the things that were going through my mind.

When I turned my head back to Karen, she didn't say a word -- she just
scooted herself down a little farther, and brought her knees up almost
to her chest before spreading her legs as far as she could to expose
herself to me. She was soon followed by Donna doing the same thing,
leaving me sitting there with two young pussies to look at.

Leaning over put my head in the general vicinity of Donna's pelvis;
shifting myself a bit got my head barely a foot from where her hand
had been busy so recently. There was still enough of her oils present
that I could easily discern the aroma that was hers alone -- light,
only slightly musky, and fresh. As I began to look at her, she eased
her arms to the insides of her legs, using them to help keep her legs
apart as she used her hands to open herself up to me. It was easy to
see that her labia were just as my fingertip had told me they were --
small, somewhat thin, and soft. Between them, I could see the entrance
to her vagina; she was holding herself open enough that I could even
discern the ring of her hymen. At the top of her womanhood, her
clitoris was making a little bit of an appearance from underneath the
hood that protected it. Even with Karen needing whatever reassurance I
could give her, I still had to take the few seconds necessary for me
to memorize the sight that Donna was presenting me.

When I lifted my head from in front of Donna, Karen moved to duplicate
her sister's actions of moving her arms to support her legs so that
she could use her hands to expose herself to me. As she did, Donna
moved her arms and stretched her legs out on the bed. A little
wriggling on Karen's bed got me positioned in front of its owner much
as I'd been with her sister.

That close to her, I didn't have any problem identifying the unique
scent of her arousal, or seeing that she'd certainly been enjoying
what she'd been doing -- between her vaginal lips, there was a distinct
shine from the oils that had escaped her. Though her labia were
smaller than Donna's, they were a bit thicker, and easily just as
soft. Karen, too, was holding herself open enough for me to see her
intact maidenhead; where her labia came together at the top, her small
clitoris was only slightly visible. With the excuse of "examining"
her, I was free to take the extra time needed to really give her mons
and pelvis the kind of look that I wanted to -- and was glad I did. Her
sex sported a patch of fine, dark hair that extended only slightly
beyond the limits of her mound; it was short and sparse enough that
the skin beneath was easily visible.

Despite how young she was, I found the sight (and smell!) of Karen's
sex (and arousal) almost intoxicating. But I never forgot why I was
looking at her, and after I'd committed the view I had to memory, I
withdrew and sat up again; when I did, she went back to sitting as she
had been before. Looking at her, I made a point of sounding as
reassuring as I could manage when I told her "Karen, sweetheart, I
don't see anything wrong with you. You look just fine, there; nothing
is different about you that isn't different on every other woman that
I've seen."

Hearing that seemed to give Karen considerable comfort -- at least, at
first. But after she had time to think about it for several seconds, I
saw how troubled she was as she asked "Then what's wrong? It works
when I do it to Donna, but not when I do it to me!"

"Like I said before, it might that because you're younger than she is,
your body just hasn't reached the point where that can happen for you,
is all. I'm an engineer, not a doctor, but I'd still bet that there
are all kinds of reasons that it isn't happening for you that are
perfectly natural and normal -- and not one of them would mean that
there was anything 'wrong' with you."

With Donna and I watching her, she considered that for a bit before
looking at me again and wanting to know "Uncle Ted? Would... would you
watch? To see if maybe I should be doing something different? I mean,
since Donna's older, and she's started having orgasms and everything,
maybe what I'm doing is just easier for her, so she doesn't know that
I could do it better for me. And if I get, um, stuck, maybe you could
kind of try to help me, even?", the tone of her voice letting me know
that she wasn't nervous about what she was asking, but that nothing
would work.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Donna looking at me as she
nodded her head, letting me know that SHE thought I should do as her
sister was asking. But it was the anxiety and disappointment that I
could see on Karen's face that really settled the matter for me -- I
wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, but I couldn't bear the
thought of leaving Karen to worry and wonder unnecessarily. I managed
to keep my voice even as I told her "I'm not sure I'm qualified to
know how a girl could touch herself better, but yes, I'll do it. And
if I think there's anything I can do that will help, I'll do that,
too."

There was no mistaking the hope on her face when she told me "Thank
you, Uncle Ted. I knew you'd help if I asked..."

After that, all there was for me to do was to get myself positioned in
front of her again. As I did, she pulled her knees up again (though
not as far) and moved her feet and legs apart -- not only to make it
easier for her to masturbate, but for me to see what she was doing,
and how. Next to her, Donna sat quietly, neither moving nor making any
noise; her attention seemed to be entirely on her sister. I saw that
both of Donna's breasts were coming to some rather pronounced points,
telling me that SHE enjoyed watching what Karen was starting to do,
too.

When I looked at Karen, I saw that she'd closed her eyes and had her
left hand was cupping (and being slightly overflowed by) her breast.
Both of her areolas and nipples were starting to perk up again, and
when I lowered my eyes to where her other hand was, I saw that she had
started by drawing her finger up between the soft folds of her
womanhood. It took only a couple of minutes for the scent of her
increasing arousal to waft into my nose; it had a certain amount of
similarity to the aroma I'd noticed with Donna, but was still uniquely
her own. Shortly after that, I began to see traces of her essence on
her finger; and it wasn't long before the end of her digit was faintly
glistening. She had also increased and expanded her efforts to include
the pearl of flesh at the top of her mound, drawing it farther and
farther out from under its protective hood.

I have to confess that I felt considerable admiration for her that she
was obviously so at ease with her own desires and sexuality that she
was not only willing, but able, to perform such an intimate act with
her sister AND ME looking on. Once more, my mind went off on a tangent
as I considered the likely results if I'd even had the nerve in the
first place to ask someone to watch ME masturbate when I was younger,
to make sure I was getting it right...

Dragging my thoughts back to the matter at hand (so to speak), I
continued to watch as Karen pleasured herself -- squeezing and
caressing her breasts, gently pinching and pulling on her nipples, and
softly pressing against the entrance to her vagina while gathering the
oils she needed to continue to circle her clitoris, and rhythmically
press on it with the end of her finger. It was an incredibly arousing
sight, and felt my erection get even longer and harder as I watched
her, despite the seriousness of why I was even there.

So, because of my desire to comfort and help her as best I could, and
the sheer eroticism of what she was doing, I was paying close
attention to her just as she'd asked. I watched as her arousal slowly
progressed to higher and higher levels, and how the way she touched
herself changed as her excitement increased; and I could tell that as
she got closer and closer to what should have been her release, that
same arousal and excitement gradually stabilized -- she was getting so
close to having an orgasm, only to hit a certain point that she
couldn't get past. As I continued to watch her, I saw as she reached
that plateau on her climb to release; and could tell that she was
slowly getting frustrated at being denied the pleasure she could
obviously feel so close.

For a happy change, my engineering "mindset" worked to my advantage in
my personal life; as I watched her teasing her clitoris again, I
thought that it looked like she might not be doing it quite the same
way as she had been. When she'd wetted her finger a couple more times
as she continued to manipulate it, I was fairly sure that she had
slowed her actions slightly, and wasn't pressing against her clitoris
quite as much. Seeing how very close she was to her climax, it never
occurred to me to say anything to her -- I just licked the pad of my
thumb to lubricate it, and the next time she moved her hand down to
wet her finger again, I reached out and started circling my thumb on
her exposed clitoris, a trifle more firmly and a bit faster than she
had been. Her first reaction was to arch her pelvis forward to
maintain the contact, and remove her hand from between her legs; less
than a minute later, her thighs snapped together as she released a
loud cry of pleasure. With my hand cupped along her mons, I could
slightly feel it as her vaginal entrance spasmed in time with the
contractions I figured were happening farther inside her.

It was an incredible sight, and a true privilege, to watch as her
thirteen-year-old body practically convulsed in time with the cycles
of intense pleasure she was experiencing. In my peripheral vision, I
saw Donna look at me, surprised at the power of her sister's first
orgasm -- not knowing that she'd had an even stronger reaction.

Even Karen's youthful energy and vitality had its limits, and the
strength of her climax eventually waned and died out -- leaving her
sitting there, gasping. When Karen started to tip over, Donna quickly
got her sister to lean back and over, so that she could support the
younger girl as she recovered. Karen's thighs fell apart, and I was
able to rescue my hand from their clutches; without even thinking
about it, I brought it to my face and used my tongue to clean the
little bit of Karen's secretions that were on my fingers. It wasn't
until I lowered my hand afterwards that I saw that Donna had witnessed
what I'd done.

Sitting up again, I looked on in a mixture of pleasure (that she'd
found the pleasure she was after) and amusement (at the look of awe on
her face) as Karen began to get her senses and breath back. After a
couple of minutes, I listened as she said "That... I never... WOW!",
making Donna and I both laugh briefly.

Donna responded by telling her sister "See? Now you know why I
couldn't tell you what it's like!", with a hug.

Karen's voice was still a bit shaky when she said "Boy, do I!"

Another minute or so had gone by when Karen suddenly launched herself
at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing herself against
me as she told me "Oh, thank you, Uncle Ted! I was so close, just like
the other times, and I was so afraid that it wasn't going to happen
again... then I felt you touch me, and it felt so good... and then that
happened... and it was WONDERFUL!"

A moment later, I could feel the front of my shirt getting wet -- but
it was okay, because I knew that Karen was crying because she was
happy. I put my arms around her, and after I gave her a soft hug,
simply held her. Donna looked on, obviously glad that her sister knew
the same kind of joy that she did.

To my relief, it took Karen only a few minutes to cry herself out;
when she did, she started sniffling with the need to blow her runny
nose. I gently eased her away from me, and took off my shirt before
handing it to her with the command "Blow."

Embarrassed, but smiling that I was talking to her as if she were a
child again, she did as instructed. Then after she'd wiped her eyes
and face, she seemed unsure what to do with my shirt. Taking it from
her, I made a production out of folding it so that the assorted fluids
she'd left on it were on the inside before setting it aside with
exaggerated movements. She blushed before realizing that I was just
teasing her; her smile lit up her face as she told me "Thank you,
Uncle Ted."

I gently pulled her into my arms again, and caressed her back as I
told her "You're welcome, dear."

She let me hold her like that for another minute or so before I felt
her start to pull away again. I readily let her go, and after she
turned to look at Donna and I saw the two of them share a Look, stood
up and told them "Okay, now that we've got all the drama and
excitement out of the way for today, I actually wanted to find out
what you two wanted for lunch. So do you want to suggest anything, or
is it going to be Chef's Surprise?"

I'd jokingly told them once that it wasn't a good idea to go into any
dining establishment that had "Chef's Surprise" on the menu... that
whatever it was, it would be composed of the things the chef was
surprised were still in the fridge -- something that had greatly amused
them.

It took them only a few seconds of discussion to decide that reheating
the pork chops that had been left over a couple nights before would be
fine. After telling them "Miss Piggy it is!", I made my way out of
Karen's room, closing the door behind me.

Both of them seemed inordinately happy at lunch, though neither one
said anything about what had happened earlier. I was shooed out of
helping clean up after we'd finished eating.

Mid-afternoon, I was downstairs in my recliner and contemplating a nap
when Karen came downstairs. Before I could say anything, she wanted to
know if she could sit on my lap. I certainly didn't mind letting her,
but had to wonder why she'd want to -- but simply told her I'd like
that. She was resting against my chest much like she had as a little
girl when I heard her ask "Uncle Ted? Why was it that I couldn't make
me feel that before, but it happened so fast and easy when YOU touched
me that way?"

I told her that I'd seen what I though she was doing differently, and
how I'd made sure before doing anything. She sat there silently for a
little while; when she spoke again, I could hear how troubled she was
as she asked "But why would I do something like that? I mean, if I
started out making myself feel better and better, what would make me
not keep doing it that way? I did it again after you left, and I
didn't have any problems -- it even felt better than the first time."

She waited patiently as I tried to figure out what to tell her. It
seemed that the most obvious answer seemed to be that it was something
psychological -- but the last thing she needed was for me to dump
something like THAT on her. That made it necessary for me to try to
think of something that at least sounded good.

With Karen sitting on my lap like that, the best that I could come up
with was to tell her "The only thing that I can figure is that you
didn't even realize you were doing it, and you didn't know enough to
realize that it made a difference."

She tilted her head to look up at me, and I explained "Think about it,
honey. You were touching yourself, and it still felt good, so why
would you notice that you weren't doing it quite the same way? You
never had an orgasm before, either, so you couldn't know that it would
make a difference. It's kind of like when you got your first pair of
roller skates -- remember how they kept slipping loose until you
learned you had to tighten them that extra little bit?"

That was something she could relate to, and I felt her nod her head in
understanding before I continued "Once you knew what you had to do,
they never fell again after that, did they? So I think that what
happened with you touching yourself was kind of the same thing."
Knowing what I was getting at, she nodded her head again, and I added
"Of course, learning to use those roller skates didn't feel the
same...", teasing her a bit.

I heard her giggle, and knew that I'd managed to resolve her concerns,
and cheer her up again.

"Falling on my butt when I was trying to learn to roller skate didn't
feel anything like what that did!", she told me. She sat quietly
cuddled against me for a couple of minutes before she asked "Donna
told me that you sometimes do things with her. You know, kissing and
touching her and stuff. Would you do that with me, too? Not all the
time, but sometimes?"

"Are you asking me that because you want me to, or because I'm doing
it with Donna?", I had to ask.

"Because I want you to", she answered. "I... I liked it when I knew you
were looking at me, you know, earlier. And a little bit of the reason
that happened so fast after you touched me was because I knew that it
WAS you."

Giving her a hug, I told her "If that's what you want, then I'll do
stuff with you. Sometimes."

She looked up at me again, then smiled and said "Thanks, Uncle Ted."
before lowering her head again.

After a bit, she wriggled around so that her back was against my chest
with my arms still around her. After a minute or so, she took my hand
and put it over her breast; I took it back off, then slid it under the
loose blouse she was wearing so that I could touch the warm skin of
her firm young breast directly. When I softly ran my thumb across her
nipple, she gave a happy sigh and settled herself a little closer to
me.

We stayed like that for nearly an hour before I extracted my hand
again and told her "I like having you on my lap, sweetheart, but it's
getting late enough that you need to make sure all your homework is
done for when you go back to school tomorrow."

She didn't say a word; she just eased herself off my lap, and turned
around to lean over and give me a kiss. As she did, I reached out and
put my hand on her cute little butt, giving it a couple of soft
caresses before she pulled her head back and stood up again. I could
see that she was pleased at what I'd done before she turned and left
me alone again.

-- 
**********************************************************
Dorsai - Author of Erotic Fiction
/~Dorsai
**********************************************************

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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