Chapter One

I WASN'T USED TO the cacophony of cities. The urgent rush of pedestrians along the wet sidewalks with heads bent against blustery autumn rain, some fighting wayward umbrellas, others holding folded newspapers over their heads as if keeping their hair dry was more important than keeping their clothes dry, was all strange to me. It had been too long.

Drivers leaned on horns in the mistaken belief that noise alone would clear the clogged intersection. Taxis edged from lane to lane in an unceasing search for advancement, urged on by their parsimonious passengers watching meters ticking up with each passing, stationary minute.

I wasn't used to the density of cities. Buildings loomed over me. It felt like they were bending over and closing in, robbing me of breath. Pedestrians crowded the sidewalks to the point where individualization was lost; just a mass of writhing, rushing humanity with no personality - lemmings charging towards their death in some building, an office awaiting, in-baskets, files, computers, email.

A sudden gap in the traffic opened. Cars charged forward recklessly and filled the gap, horns blaring again as though screaming in frustration at being hemmed in. Wind gusted. Discarded newspapers and fast food wrappers twirled in the air. Wipers swished back and forth clearing raindrops and giving glimpses of the jammed Hell ahead.

I didn't like big cities.

Turning to look out the side window, I let New York flow past in fits and starts. I wanted to go home. I wanted to escape this depressing place, made evermore depressing by the nature of my visit. I wanted to dial time back; back to before the police had informed me of my brother and sister-in-law's death.

The cab turned right. Suddenly it surged forward like a greyhound released, now moving against rush-hour traffic. Tires hissed on the wet road. The cab bounced loosely across manhole covers on worn springs. The cabdriver's face stared at me from his ID posted on the polycarbonate divider. His swarthy complexion suggested Lebanese or some other Middle Eastern place of birth. Farhad Mismani.

A sharp right threw me across the bench seat. A sudden stop almost had my face plastered to the clear polycarbonate divider.

"Bellevue Hospital. Twenty-six fifty," Farhad announced, turning in his seat to look at me.

Paying him absentmindedly through a safety slot, I slipped out of the Yellow cab and glanced up at the building. The hospital looked surprisingly neat with clean lines, red brick with horizontal pale gray highlights. I didn't want to be here. Hospitals spread disease. The concentration of pain and suffering hung like an invisible fog of depression over the building.

Entering revolving doors, the smell of disinfectant couldn't mask the scent of illness and decay and fear. A few inquiries and I found myself sitting in front of a dapper little man, no more than five-five, partially balding, sharp chin, sharp nose and, contrasting the impression of coldness, a gentle smile and warm brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses. His hands rested quietly on the desk, fingernails perfectly trimmed and spotlessly clean.

"Mr. Lange, let me extend my condolences," he said, his voice surprisingly deep for a man his size, rich and calming. He exuded care through his voice.

Half an hour later I was reeling in shock and standing looking down at Michelle. Bandages covered her head. Black and blue contusions, swollen and painful looking, distorted her small face. She looked lost in the hospital bed, sheet and blanket carefully folded up to her shoulders. One slender arm rested over the blanket, an IV needle taped to the back of her hand, a white clip attached to the tip of her index finger. Machines beeped softly in the background merging with the constant hustle and bustle of people moving in the hall outside the room; relatives hoping or despairing, nurses tired and trying to care, harried Doctors practicing dispassion to protect their psyche.

She looked lost in the bed. As hard as I tried, I saw no resemblance to my brother or Margie. Bruises and swelling hid her face more effectively than stage makeup. Michelle was the reason I was here, so far from home.

Finding a chair, I sat at the side of her bed watching her eyes move behind closed lids as if she was seeing her dreams projected onto them in a private movie. I was still in shock and not from her condition. Jack - my older brother - and Margie had died in the accident. Michelle had survived, just.

Dr. Kendrick had shaken my world. He'd destroyed perceptions that had formed over a lifetime, suggesting something alien to me. His assessment that Michelle would recover without any further major reconstructive surgery was good news. But the other news . . .

"In our treatment of Michelle it became evident she's suffered from sexual interference," he'd said quietly. "We cannot be sure, but an examination indicated it was not a one-time occurrence. There were no signs of bruising or tearing we'd normally associate with sexual abuse."

I sat looking at Michelle, so damned small in the bed. Ten years old. Sexual interference? Wasn't that another way of saying sexual assault? Rape? Was my brother really capable of that? It simply didn't fit with everything I knew of him. Perhaps it was someone else. A teacher at school? Dr. Kendrick couldn't be sure. He refused to outright accuse my dead brother but suggested it would have been someone with frequent access to her, someone in a position of authority.

My blood boiled. I felt anger and hatred towards Jack. How could he?! Even if he didn't, how could he not have noticed? Not stopped it? Not protected her? She's TEN YEARS OLD! My anger spread to her mother. How could Margie not have known?

Dreary weak light slowly faded as dusk approached. I sat quietly lost in thoughts that ebbed and flowed from anger to denial and back to anger. Night arrived as black as my mood. A nurse entered and checked monitors, fluffed a pillow, straightened already straight covers, and told me visiting hours were over. I could return tomorrow morning she advised politely.

I politely informed her I was not leaving.

Morning broke with watery light and rain pummeling the window. New York was loud. I heard the sounds of morning rush-hour traffic, a pervasive and endless din. Horns tooted. Brakes screeched from sudden stops. I hated New York even more. I was uncomfortable. My unshaved stubble itched. My teeth felt like they were coated in a thin layer of slime. My body ached from sitting too long in the uncomfortable chair.

The nurse, a different one from last night, breezed in with a bright smile and a good morning. She checked monitors, fluffed a pillow, straightened already straight covers and informed me the cafeteria was now open if I wanted coffee.

I thanked her.

I hated hospitals.

The next morning I was sitting in the predawn darkness when Michelle stirred. Purple-black bruised eyes opened and my brother stared at me. Michelle had his eyes; pale olive green; startling and disturbingly penetrating. In her young face it made her seem like an old soul.

"Morning," I said softly, yawning and stretching my arms up and out. "I'm your Uncle Mitch."

Chapter Two

It felt good. No buildings loomed over me pressing in and bringing claustrophobia. No rain fell. With the exception of an engine that needed a tune-up rather badly, there was blessed silence. The air was crisp and clean, not tarnished with the metallic stink of smog. Ahead, through the pick-up's scratched windscreen, miles upon miles of undulating, unblemished beauty stretched out to distant snow-capped mountains.

The sky was huge and endless, blue with small cotton-ball clouds floating by. Two weeks away had felt like years. As much as I hated New York I loved Montana. It was like living in a different world, peaceful and sedate with its own rhythm. Michelle sat in the passenger seat, quiet and observant. She'd been subdued since being discharged. The multi-colored knit cap she wore, courtesy of me, hid her baldness and the ugly black stitches that would need to be removed next week. Occasionally she'd scratch her head, the stubble of new hair growth itching her. Dr. Kendrick had advised me not to probe her with questions; Michelle's psyche too delicate, her recovery still too tenuous.

I had hundreds of questions. I had hours of thoughts collected inside that needed to be discussed. I had a desperate need to know. The truth taunted me in her pale green eyes; the truth about my brother's real self, about her mother, about Michelle, about sexual interference. Not asking was pure torture.

I'd held a small hand when a modest memorial service was conducted. I'd accepted her hard grip. She'd held onto me as if I'd disappear if she let go. I'd weathered her silent tears. And I had a burning need to ask, to know the truth.

Packing her bags had been especially hard on Michelle. Their small apartment contents were left to be packed and shipped by professionals, and I rushed us out, trying my best to distract Michelle without much success.

"Here we are," I said, slowing the Ford F-150 and turning into a long, curving gravel drive. We descended from the road, curling around a small hill spotted with trees - Douglas firs mixed with pines and older oaks. Home greeted me. Comforting and familiar, the ranch-style home sat on the side of the low hill. A stable and two barns sat together further down the hill, their old distressed wood needing a fresh coat of paint. Wood-fenced exercise meadows surrounded the buildings. When I turned the engine off that special peaceful silence enveloped us. It wasn't really silence. If you listened the air was full of sounds: birds twittering in a copse of trees to the left, the faint gurgling rush of water from a nearby stream flowing down towards a distant turquoise-blue lake, insects buzzing in the throes of autumn's demise. A horse neighed in the distance. It was an idyllic peace that calmed me.

Trees burned with yellows, reds and oranges; a spectacular quilted patchwork of fire. Fields of wild grass were rich green, flourishing from autumn's rains.

Home.

The truck door squeaked when I opened it. I inhaled deeply drawing in the clean, unpolluted air, the faint scent of horse and horse dung, and, on the edge of my senses, the sweet scent of conifers and pines.

Scrabbling disrupted the silence. A silver bullet tore around the corner of the house. Warmth flooded me. I smiled.

"Dracula!" I called out as the silver Labrador retriever hurtled towards me. His training forgotten, Dracula launched himself at me. One hundred pounds of pure love and muscle slammed into me so hard I fell onto my ass. A wet nose snuffled. A rough tongue rasped. And best of all, giggles floated through the air - Michelle watching with delight as Dracula greeted me.

Brushing off my jeans, I let Dracula sniff Michelle. She shyly held her hand out and, as all labs do, Dracula had her smiling and giggling in pleasure as he took a long lick of her hand and shoved his snout into her crotch. New friends had just introduced each other.

Michelle helped me unload her suitcases while Dracula interfered, getting underfoot, tongue hanging and tail wagging in excitement at me being home and the prospect of a new friend to play with. I showed Michelle her bedroom, a small second room with large windows giving a panoramic view of the valley and mountains, left her to unpack, and went to shower and change.

My bedroom was at the opposite end of the house. It was an unusual arrangement, but when I'd designed the house I was determined that each room have a view of God's country. It resulted in a long narrow rectangular home, bedrooms at each end, bathrooms facing the back hill, and living room, kitchen and study in between. Storage was a long unfinished room in the basement. From the gravel drive it looked like a one-story home. From the back it was two.

Showered and refreshed I headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal. It was close to dinnertime and my stomach was grumbling. Strangely, Dracula wasn't hovering at my feet. When a giggle echoed through the house I smiled. Paws scrabbled on the hardwood floor. Michelle came charging down the hall, Dracula close on her heels. The fading purple and yellow bruising on her face couldn't detract from the attractive shine of pure childish delight that radiated from her. It was good to see her happy.

I made dinner with a smile. Dracula was going to heal Michelle better than any therapist could.

"Dinner's ready! Wash your hands," I instructed, putting a bowl of kibble down for Dracula.

Chapter Three

Looking up from brushing a chestnut colt, through the open stable doors I saw Michelle wrapped in a red parka walking down towards us. Her almost black hair was short - only three inches or so long - and spiked. Over the last three months she'd lost all traces of her physical trauma, scars now hidden beneath silky hair.

Dracula trotted at her side. That in itself was astonishing. There was something in Michelle that was mystical. From the first moment she'd met Dracula he'd attached himself to her. I missed him not sleeping on my bed. I missed his presence next to me during the day. I was as jealous as a jilted lover, too. But one only had to look at the adoration in Michelle's eyes and Dracula's slavish affection to know they had something special. Michelle was special.

She was one of those rare people, one of those privileged beings that seemed to be filled with goodness and brightness. It made her sadness when it emerged that much harder to take. But every day as she recovered, Michelle grew in my heart. Things I had wanted to know, questions that I'd needed answered, no longer seemed important here in the sweeping beauty of Montana. Only one thing mattered; Michelle's happiness. I found caring for someone else's happiness a strange, unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant emotion.

"Kevin! Hold up!" she yelled, moving into a trot.

I saw Kevin pause. He was my only employee, more a friend after so many years. As old as Methuselah, with a map of wrinkles on his weather-beaten face and squinting eyes that twinkled with amused intelligence, he was a fixture. He lived in a small cabin on the property, was fiercely independent and my confidant. His knowledge had saved me from financial disaster when I'd first bought the stables.

Michelle raced up to him and tugged his arm pulling him out of sight. I knew what she was up to. She was asking Kevin how to manipulate me, again. I smiled. There was no way in Hell I was going to teach her to ride until the local doctor had ruled her skull fully healed; another month at least.

Michelle didn't seem to understand or care about her physical condition. She lusted after the horses and spent hours with them. While I worked I'd watch her talk to them. The way those animals dipped their heads to her and let her whisper into their ears almost seemed like they were conscious of what she was saying. Even stranger was Michelle's mystical ability to calm them. When frightened by thunderstorms, Michelle could calm them with a stroke of their neck and soft words. It had to be seen to be believed.

Kevin insisted she was a horse whisperer. I insisted it was her gentle, calm personality. We agreed to disagree.

Whatever the quality was, I loved it. It was hard not to love Michelle. She was even-tempered and sweet. She listened to the rules I laid down, selected those that suited her and blithely ignored the rest. I should have been angry at her but it just wasn't in me. She never did anything in spite. Hers was a rational assessment and a reasoned decision that I was wrong, therefore she didn't have to obey that particular rule.

Smiling, I bent back to brushing the colt. Michelle was due to start school in less than a month, January fourth. She hadn't looked too pleased at the prospect.

Wind made the stable door creak as it swung on rusty hinges. The breeze was icy. We were in for our first snow, a winter storm bearing down on us. Every year it seemed to arrive later. I'd watch the snow caps spread down the mountains towards us through autumn, and winter would arrive with a bang. This year, according to the weatherman, it promised to be an epic arrival.

MICHELLE TUGGED THE COLLAR of her down coat tighter, blocking the icy wind that chilled her neck and chest. Her nose was cold and running. She'd never experienced a cold like this. It wasn't the coldest she'd ever felt. But somehow it penetrated her to the bones. The wind cut through her and made her ears ache. Short hair fluffed and whipped.

She smiled. She loved it here.

The past three months with Uncle Mitch had been eye-opening. He was nothing like Dad had been yet was totally the same. He was much younger and had brown eyes, not green. He was lean and ropy and taller than Dad had been. Yet in his manner he was the same. He had that same gentle streak, like a hidden pearl of his personality that he only revealed to her.

She'd watched Uncle Mitch interact with other people when they'd gone shopping and seen how he was polite and respected by others, but he was cool. The remoteness he exuded was palpable, a "don't get near me" aura. Yet, when he was with her, or Dracula, or Kevin, or the horses, he showed deep care and spoke gently. Michelle couldn't remember him raising his voice.

He was very careful around her. He never touched her. He didn't brush against her, hug her or sit near her. It was almost like he was scared of her except that his eyes were so caring. She was confused and knew who to ask about it.

She spotted Kevin leaving the stables. She liked him. He had to be a hundred years old, his face full of wrinkles, sharp brown eyes twinkling with alertness and mischief. He was the source of everything she knew about Uncle Mitch and she was heading down to interrogate him again.

"Kevin! Hold up!" she yelled, moving into a trot. Dracula started loping next to her.

"Miss Lange," Kevin greeted her with a smile. He liked Michelle. She was a sweet girl with rather penetrating eyes and an incurable curiosity.

Michelle moved close to Kevin and asked in a low voice, "Why is Mitch so distant?"

"Distant? I can't rightly see that," Kevin answered, his head tilted as he considered her question. "He's private all right. And he doesn't need company. But distant?"

"Haven't you noticed how he never hugs or touches?" Michelle asked.

"Nooooo. Can't say that I have," Kevin answered then added a grin revealing tobacco-stained teeth. "I'm not sure there's ever been a need for him to hug me."

Michelle laughed lightly. "Not you! Me, you nitwit."

"Oh. Well, Miss Lange, have you ever hugged him?"

Michelle paused, shocked at the thought.

Kevin continued, "I don't know, but if your uncle is like me, he'd love a hug."

Michelle smiled, reached up and hugged him. He smelled of tobacco and leather and horses. "Thanks," she said, turning to head back inside and out of the cold. "C'mon Dracula!"

I WASN'T QUITE PREPARED. It felt awkward when Michelle plunked herself down on the sofa next to me. Dinner had been simple; baked chicken leg quarters marinated in a spicy chipotle honey barbecue sauce, boiled potatoes and green beans. I hadn't had much energy to cook.

A strong gust rattled the windows. Darkness made it impossible to see outside but I knew the first winter storm was upon us. It was going to deposit a ton of snow.

In the corner a fire crackled in the large hearth providing both warmth to the room and a flickering light. Shadows and light chased each other over walls and the ceiling. The scent of burning wood always made me relax. Our small television showed distortion and interference from a satellite signal fighting to penetrate the elements. Dracula grumbled, a deep rumble from his chest, and settled down on the rug at our feet. Michelle poked my thigh.

"It wouldn't kill you to put your arm around me, Mitch."

"It's Uncle Mitch," I informed her for the umpteenth time.

"I know. So? Don'cha wanna hug me? I don't mind, honest," she said, pale green eyes studying me. "It won't hurt. I promise."

I knew exactly why I had avoided personal contact. I didn't want anything misconstrued. I did not want to upset Michelle or remind her of anything. I'd been afraid of how she might react.

"C'mon," she insisted.

She took my arm and pulled it over her narrow shoulders. A sigh followed. Before I could react, Michelle turned on the sofa, stuck her feet up on the armrest and leaned back against my side, her hand placing mine on her tummy. Little toes wiggled in pink socks.

"How bad is it going to be?" she asked.

"How bad is what going to be?"

"The storm. Will there be enough snow to make a snowman?"

I smiled. "Ten times over, I think." I hadn't made a snowman in at least twenty years, back when I was seven years old and Jack, at fourteen, had helped me before stuffing cold snow down my back.

"Let's make one tomorrow," Michelle suggested. "Does Dracula like snow? Why did you call him Dracula?"

"I didn't. That was his name when I got him. And yes, he loves snow."

The satellite signal completely disappeared just as the wind started howling and battering the windows trying to penetrate the room. I extricated myself from Michelle and popped in a DVD, Raiders of the Lost Ark. Michelle sat up and settled back against my side when I returned to the sofa. She drew my hand to her tummy and we settled to watch.

I was very conscious of my hand. I hadn't really appreciated how small Michelle was. When dressed, often with layers of clothes on, she seemed more substantial. But she wasn't. She was remarkably petite and it reminded me, despite how she talked beyond her years, she was just a young girl. Yet sitting on that sofa and holding her, the elements punishing our home, I found a surprising peace and, even more astonishing, companionship that had been missing in my life. I had been so focused on making the stables a success, so determined to build the life I wanted, I hadn't recognized the price I'd paid; solitude.

The simple act of watching a movie with Michelle leaning against me was wonderfully comforting. It was one of the nicest things I'd done in years.

Michelle's screams of laughter were contagious.

"Look! Watch, Mitch," she instructed. "Dracula eats snowballs!" she exclaimed lobbing another, Dracula jumping and snapping the snowball, his snout covered in white.

"It's Uncle Mitch," I tried again without much hope she'd listen.

The wind had diminished. Pristine white covered the landscape as far as the eye could see, the world blanketed in cotton. Snow still fell in large fluffy flakes gathering on Michelle's knit cap. Another peal of laughter echoed over the landscape when Dracula started rolling.

I actually enjoyed making a snowman. Michelle's help had evaporated when Dracula started playing. I didn't mind. I couldn't remember feeling quite this happy. Her joyous enthusiasm and Dracula's playfulness were just too damned beautiful. Chores would wait for the afternoon.

That afternoon the wind picked up again, rushing down from the mountains and bringing biting cold, sub-zero temperatures; a cold front from Canada. It was bitterly cold, the type of cold that froze the hair in my nose and had my fingertips tingling when feeling returned on entering our toasty warm house. Chores were done, the horses bedded and warm.

At two-thirty in the morning Michelle was shivering at my bedroom door.

"Mitch? Its-s-s-s co-o-o-o-old in my room," she announced, waking me.

She stood, arms wrapped around her body, a thick sweater over her flannel pajamas, thick socks on - two pairs - and her knit cap pulled down. I shivered just looking at her and smiled at the sight. Damn she was cute.

Then it struck me. My nose was cold. Under a thick quilt I was toasty warm, but there was no question the house was too cold. Slipping out, shivering in the frigid air, I grabbed a bathrobe to cover my boxers and told Michelle to wait.

Ten minutes later I found the problem. The oil-fired furnace was on the blink. While talented, my skills did not include furnace repair, thus, another ten minutes and I had a fire roaring in the living room casting off welcome heat. Michelle was in my bed buried under the quilt and eyes peeking out when I returned.

"The furnace is broken. But I've started a fire in the living room. We can go sleep on the sofa. It'll be warm."

She shook her head.

"Come on," I encouraged, holding out my hand.

"Nuh-uh," she said in a muffled voice, shaking her head again. "I'm not moving. I just started warming up."

"Come on," I urged. "You can't sleep there."

"Why not?"

"It's my bed."

Five minutes of arguing ensued. Eventually, shivering with cold, I gave up and pulled her to me when I slipped under the quilt, blessed warmth greeting me. Dracula leapt up onto the foot of the bed and settled in his old pre-Michelle spot. Michelle snuggled close, her knit cap tickling my nose, icy-cold sock-covered feet burrowing under my legs.

I discovered something magical. I discovered Michelle had a different scent when she slept and it was quite simply the best scent I'd ever smelled, bar none.

I discovered it when I woke at the crack of dawn. It was a distinct aroma, soft and cuddly, remarkably pleasing. I discovered the perfect beauty of her. She slept quietly, her button nose flaring with each silent breath, and long, thick black lashes rested on her cheeks. Without the intensity of her personality, her face was delicate and perhaps the most innocently beautiful face I'd ever seen.

Inhaling deeply, drawing her scent into my lungs, I exhaled and for the next twenty minutes I watched her sleep, a pure indulgent pleasure.

The emotions going through me were astonishing. I felt love and care. I felt responsible for her and that felt odd. I was stunned at how pretty she was in a delicate sort of way. And that scent did something to me; it touched me deeply.

Then her eyes opened slowly. Pale olive green stared at me. I watched realization hit her; she was in my bed. She smiled softly. "Morning, Mitch."

It damaged me somehow. I wasn't sure how, but I felt broken. I'd never experienced anything like watching her come alive in the morning and I wanted more. I wanted to experience this again and again and again.

"Uncle Mitch," I corrected with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

"Warm and all snuggy. You smell good," she said with a grin.

I laughed and rolled out of bed, the frigid air making me shiver. Snuggy? What was that? "Time to get up."

Michelle started lifting the thick quilt, froze, and yanked it back down over her. Her muffled voice came to me. "No way! It's too cold."

"Don't you want breakfast?"

"Bring some to me," she suggested, still muffled.

Smiling, slipping on a bathrobe, I went to start the coffee, passed by the mud room and returned to the bedroom, tossing her down jacket onto the bed.

"There ya go," I said.

She didn't move while I dressed. She hadn't even peeked out by the time I left to make breakfast. But the magical scent of frying bacon drew her out.

She looked very funny in pajamas, two pairs of socks, knit cap and thick down jacket. "It's friggin' cold," she announced, hands shoved deep into pockets.

"Fire's on in the living room. We'll eat there. Go get dressed properly and I'll bring breakfast."

Alone again, my mind drifted. Too many new things had emerged in the last day or so. It was disorienting and a bit overwhelming. Michelle was perfectly charming. She was sweet and her pleasure at simple things in life was contagious. But the powerful desire to see her wake up in bed with me again was disconcerting. I couldn't remember seeing anything so beautiful as her soft morning smile.

With breakfast over and Michelle out playing with Dracula, I called Larry Boyd, the local Mr. Fix-it. Explaining about the furnace, I was secretly pleased when he informed me it would be a couple of days before he could look at it. It was the perfect excuse to have Michelle sleep in my bed again.

When I informed her we'd have to share a bed while she shed layer upon layer of clothes in the hall, dumping them on the floor, her nose red and cheeks flushed, she simply said, "Kay," in easy acceptance.

It was a busy day. Horses never took a vacation. Kevin was old and could only do so much and I had a long drive to plow with the Ford F-150. Late afternoon I took Michelle to shop for groceries, alcohol, and a few DVDs; another storm was forecast for Friday. Through the trip Michelle had me smiling. She really, really didn't like cold weather unless it involved playing with Dracula.

It amused me how she hunkered down in the passenger seat, her face buried inside her down jacket and eyes peeking out. Hands were pushed deep into pockets and it sounded like a continuous muttering emanating from her, unintelligible, the tone alone enough to make me smile. When she instructed me to drop her off at the front entrance to the grocery store before parking, I was sorely tempted to ignore her. I didn't.

We shopped.

Michelle had no interest in food. None. It didn't matter if it was steak or ice cream. She didn't appear to care about food at all. It meant I could indulge my own tastes. Over the last few months I'd been experimenting with her. I kept adding exotic foods wondering when she'd complain. Today I was after barbecued eel. It was delicious but I hoped it would sound quite revolting to a young girl. I was looking forward to serving it to her.

That night as I brushed my teeth, I heard Michelle's racing footsteps followed by Dracula's claws on the hardwood floor. I was shivering by the time I left the bathroom to see a pair of eyes peeking out from under the thick quilt. Dracula was curled up on the bed watching me, tail wagging. The process of undressing was conducted at speed and with no finesse, hopping from foot to foot and kicking jeans off. Shivering, I slipped under the quilt.

Sock-covered feet found my legs. I wrapped Michelle's shivering body in my arms and found pleasure and peace in the scent of her. A cold nose any dog would be proud of pressed into my chest. Cold hands curled up between us. Warmth gradually seeped in bringing calm and chasing chills away.

"How long until the heater's fixed?" Michelle mumbled against me.

"A couple of days if we don't need spare parts."

"You should have built a fireplace in your bedroom," she advised, snuggling close.

Half an hour later Michelle's regular breathing and relaxed body told me she was asleep. I was far from asleep. Once again I'd discovered a little bit of heaven. Holding her, I was reminded how petite she was, slender and reed-like, hardly an ounce of extra skin on her bones.

At dinner she hadn't blinked when I'd put a plate of rice, steamed vegetables and barbecued eel in front of her. "It's eel," I'd said with relish and an expectant grin, waiting for her look of horror. She'd simply nodded and tasted the rice.

I cuddled her tighter. My smile broadened. I'd seen her secretly slip the eel to Dracula who waited eagerly under the kitchen table. No wonder he was her new acolyte.

Sleep washed over me. I was beginning to adore Michelle. Remembering what life was like before she'd come to live with me was increasingly hard.

Morning arrived with silence. The wind had temporarily abated. Dawn light started to brighten the bedroom and I once again was treated to the spectacular aroma of Michelle. She'd rolled away from me during the night, presenting the back of her head to me. I wanted to study her face. With a hand on her slender shoulder, I encouraged her to turn over. She murmured in her sleep, turned, a frown knitting her brow and settled. I sighed deeply. My God she was a beautiful girl. For the next half an hour I watched her sleep. I inhaled her aroma. I studied a little girl in repose and decided there was no better sight in the world.

She was just so sweet I couldn't resist. With great care I drew her into my arms. A toasty-warm little girl unconsciously snuggled closer. Cool sock-clad little feet pressed against me. For a few precious moments I discovered heaven. When she woke up in my arms, the same position she'd fallen asleep in the night before, her eyes opened slowly. She focused on me, studied me with far too much intelligence. A soft smile emerged.

"Morning, Mitch," she said quietly.

"It's Uncle Mitch," I replied with a smile. "Morning to you, too."

I moved to get out of bed.

"Don't go yet," she insisted. "Just five more minutes, please?"

"Okay. Five minutes," I agreed, not a hardship at all.

I was stunned when I opened my eyes. An hour had passed. I was late for chores! Extricating myself from her, I slipped out of bed, shivered and dashed to the bathroom.

For the next two days I luxuriated in the company of my niece in bed with me. I found it deeply pleasing. Having Michelle sleep with me was unlike anything I'd experienced. It was nothing like having a woman sleeping in bed. There was nothing sexual about it. It was just sweetly pleasurable. It was her diminutive size, delicate and young, and that incredible, amazing sleeping aroma that affected me so much and made having her in bed with me so perfect.

And then the furnace was repaired. Damn!

MICHELLE SAT ON THE sofa watching television. The house was toasty warm. She liked and didn't like it. Warm was good. But since getting heat back last week she'd slept in her own bed.

The memory of sleeping in Mitch's arms was strong. She wondered why it felt so good, as if it was the right place for her to be. During the day she studied her uncle as he worked. Lean and muscular, he concentrated on whatever he was doing, giving it his entire attention. He moved with ease and economy, no fluster or fumbling, simply doing things with competence. Dark hair fell over his brow and into his eyes and every so often he'd pause and brush the hair up and away. It was long at the collar, too.

She liked his face. He reminded her of a much younger Dad. Kevin told her Mitch was only twenty-eight, seven years younger than Dad had been. He looked even younger.

Smiling, Michelle remembered him asking her, two days after the heat was restored, how she was sleeping. "No nightmares?" he'd asked. She remembered him asking if she was warm enough at night. Then this morning he asked her if she was sleeping well, "Is the bed comfortable enough?" She liked that he was concerned.

Wait! Did Mitch miss her sleeping in his bed? Could that be why he asked so many questions?

Michelle's mind wandered. A spark of excitement lit her up. That was it! Uncle Mitch missed having her in bed with him! It must be. Or . . . was she just imagining it? No! He missed her!!!

Grinning broadly, Michelle set about planning an excuse to sleep with him again, excited at the prospect of being cuddled, warm, his leathery scent, and the weight of Dracula at the foot of the bed.

MOVEMENT SHOOK THE BED waking me. Dracula flopped down heavily on my feet. Opening my eyes I saw Michelle standing in the doorway shivering.

"It's cooooooold," she exclaimed. "Can I get in with you?"

Confused, I nodded. With Michelle shedding her sweater and diving under the thick quilt, a wave of cold air hit me. It was icy! What the heck?

"Mmmm, toasty warm," she exclaimed pulling the quilt over her head.

I rolled out of bed, shivered, and tugged a bathrobe on. In the hall the thermostat confirmed it was ten degrees above freezing. Damn. The furnace was out again?

Turning to head back to bed, I stopped and inspected the thermostat more closely. Hmmm. It was set to its lowest temperature. Turning the dial, the familiar rumble of the furnace firing up sounded faintly from under my feet, the forced air fan starting.

With a smile I realized what had happened. Michelle! The imp had turned the furnace off! My smile grew. I had no intention of reprimanding her for it. Truth be told, I'd been wondering how I might engineer a situation so she'd sleep in bed with me. This past week I'd missed her presence rather badly. Clearly she missed me, too. How nice!

With a grin, I turned the thermostat down to cool but not freezing and headed back to bed.

Pale green eyes greeted me. I slipped into bed.

"Brrr. Cold," I declared.

"Told ya," Michelle said scooting to my side.

I rolled towards her, wrapped her in my arms and inhaled. So damned nice. Bare icy feet worked their way between my legs. Chilly hands found my chest along with a cold nose. I sighed quietly, completely at peace.

It was morning when I realized there was something different with Michelle. I felt a silky soft bare leg, her knee pressed between my legs, and the incredible scent of her tickling my nose. It hit me. She was not in flannel pajamas. A cotton nightshirt had rucked up and my hand was resting on bare skin at the base of her back, my pinkie brushing against the waist of her panties.

She was curled up. Her pretty face was turned towards me, cheek pressed to the pillow. Long eyelashes fluttered. My heart skipped. Her eyes opened. A soft smile formed that seemed to affect me quite badly.

"Morning, Mitch," she said softly.

I caressed her soft cheek with my thumb. "Morning. It's Uncle Mitch," I reminded her almost automatically.

"I know."

I indulged. I stared at her, such pretty perfection, sweetness that made me ache. The rush of love that hit me surprised me. It was strong, very strong.

"You turned the heat down," I accused her, still caressing her cheek.

She grinned. "I did. Are you angry with me?"

"Nope." Kissing her cheek lightly, I rolled out of bed. "Time to rise. Chores await."

Chapter Four

Hustling the seven horses out of the stable and into the exercise paddock, each wearing a winter blanket, I was only partially paying attention as their snorts filled the air with white fog. In the distance the Bitterroot Mountains were white and dazzling in the crystal clear air, morning sun streaming from the east behind me making the snow almost neon white. Pine, conifer and aspen trees drooped under a heavy blanket of snow. Everywhere I looked was pristine, white, clean and beautiful.

I was feeling fine. No. Better than fine. It was rather astonishing given my spirits were high simply because of Michelle. She was becoming an all-consuming presence in my life. She'd slept in my bed every night since the thermostat incident. She occupied more and more of my waking mind, too. I couldn't help the pleasure I found in her company. I couldn't help how much I liked watching her, be it playing with Dracula or leaning back against me watching television, her feet up on the sofa arm.

Michelle was a constant source of amusement and entertainment. Laughing to myself, I remembered two days ago, hearing slapping sounds from the kitchen. Curiosity aroused, I'd tiptoed to the door and peeked in. God knows why, but Michelle had put rubber gloves on her feet like socks and, bending and staring at them, was stomping around, rubber gloves smacking on the tile floor. Why? Who the hell knows! But Jesus it was charming.

Then yesterday I'd been shocked to see Dracula's paw nails painted pink, Michelle quite proud of how she and Dracula matched. "See?" she'd said wiggling pink toenails at me. Even Kevin had smiled at the sight of a dog with pink nails.

However, along with this pure enjoyment of her, questions had come back to haunt me. They'd come back when I noticed how soft her back was as I'd held her in the morning, my hand under her nightshirt. They'd come back when I'd held her in my arms, under the quilt, sleeping quietly against me and feeling so petite and lovable.

Questions haunted me when I inadvertently cupped her small rear, her bare knee pressed between my legs, her soft warm breath wafting against my chest. The slight physical reaction it had elicited had been anything but love.

I'd actually felt arousal, a spark of interest. Dr. Kendrick's comments came back to me. I thought of my brother. Was I him? I knew what I should do - not let Michelle sleep in my bed - but I just couldn't do it. I could no more refuse her than amputate my arm. It was selfish in the extreme yet I was addicted.

With all the stalls swept and cleaned, I went for fresh hay. Almost lunch time. Tonight I'd pose the questions to her and seek clarification about that "sexual interference." I needed to know the truth.

After dinner, fire roaring, television on and Michelle leaning back against me, her feet in their usual position - on the sofa arm - and my arm pulled over her with my hand on her small tummy, I asked as gently as I could.

"Michelle, if I ask you something would you give me an honest answer?"

"Maybe."

Taking a deep breath, I asked, "Have you had sex?"

A crackling fire and the television were the only sounds. Michelle didn't answer.

"Michelle?"

"I heard."

"And?"

"I can't say."

"The doctor at the hospital suggested you had."

"I can't say! I promised."

"Promised who?"

She refused to answer. The subject was closed. Or so I thought. Much later in bed she cuddled to my side shoving icy cold feet under my legs. I shivered briefly.

"Mom made me promise," she whispered.

I hugged her with my arm and pulled the quilt higher. "It's okay. I think your mom would understand. Besides, I'm your uncle. I'm family."

For the next little while, with occasional prompting, Michelle talked softly. What she revealed cast my brother and Margie in a radically different light. It took some adjustment to come to terms with it and it didn't sound anything like sexual interference to me.

Michelle described sneaking into their bed every morning starting when she was four or five years old. She told me about seeing her parents play around, kissing and touching and laughing. She told me how she watched them make love and how normal it seemed.

When she was seven and she'd watched her mother stroking her father's erection, she'd reached out to feel and her mother had smiled, taking her hand and guiding her, showing her how to make her father feel good. That first time had opened the door of participation.

"I knew when Mom told me never to talk about it, that it was our special secret," Michelle said calmly. "I liked touching Daddy and making him feel good. I liked seeing him spurt. Mom liked it, too. She'd lick it up.

"When I saw Mom putting Daddy's erection into her mouth, I wanted to try, too. Mom showed me how. It was so big I had to open my mouth as wide as I could. At first I wasn't sure if I liked it. But Mom whispered that I should suck it a bit and use my tongue and, well, Daddy moaned like he would when he was really happy and it made it feel good to me, too.

"That first time Daddy came in my mouth was a real surprise. I'd seen him spurt when we stroked him, but in my mouth it felt . . ."

I listened with increasing amazement as Michelle described her gradual increase in sexual play with her parents. By eight years old she experienced her first orgasm from her mother's mouth. She liked it when her father did it, too.

But it was Michelle's description of sitting astride her father, her pussy pressed to his shaft and humping him, how it made her clit tingle with pleasure, how she watched her father, my brother, cum on his stomach, and how Margie held her hips and guided her back and forth, that caused a twinge in my groin, that distinctive first hint of a sexual response.

I should have been shocked. I was shocked. But not in a way I understood. I was flummoxed by my lack of repulsion, disapproval, or condemnation.

"Would you like to do stuff together?" Michelle asked. "You and me?"

"No," I answered automatically, calmly. "I'm not sure you should have been involved in sex at your age."

"Mom said it was all right as long as no one knew and I only did what I wanted, never what I thought she or Daddy might want me to do. Are you sure you don't want to?"

I glanced at her eyes, so observant and aware. There was no mischief, no smiles, no obvious artifice. A very pretty little ten-year-old girl was asking me quite honestly if I wanted to engage in sex with her. I smiled slightly. "I'm sure, but thanks," I said.

"Kay." A short silence followed. "I can still sleep here, can't I?"

Settling down, I hugged her. "Of course you can. I love having you sleeping with me."

Chapter Five

Breath misted in the crystal clear, frosty air. Nose hair froze when I inhaled the clean smell of a Montana winter. Bending, I picked up the heavy bag of horse feed and followed the well-worn path in the snow towards the stable, my mind elsewhere.

Michelle's confessions had irreversibly affected me. Over the last few days I'd found myself acutely conscious of her. I saw her with different eyes, eyes that saw coltish beauty. I found myself hypnotized when I passed the living room and saw her dancing to a music video, encouraging Dracula to dance, her small bum moving, hips swinging, arms waving, and wondered for the first time what she'd look like dancing without those jeans on.

I hadn't really thought about young girls being sexual but now couldn't help my active imagination wondering. I knew how wonderful it was to hold her in my arms. I knew how amazingly pleasurable it was to have her sleep with me, to feel her next to me, to smell her sleepy aroma and watch her wake up, that slow smile emerging.

Was it a genetic flaw in our family? Was it why I had always found slender, petite women who had an abundance of personality more attractive than tall, stacked females? Was I like my brother?

I hadn't noticed until now that Michelle would come to the breakfast table in a nightshirt and how short it was. I had never been so conscious of the flash of cotton panties, loose, some with prints, some solid-colored, some plain white. I'd never felt what I did when catching a glimpse of her pantied crotch.

When I looked at her pretty face framed by spiked, unruly short dark hair and a fringe above penetrating eyes, and studied her mouth, small yet sensual, I actually wondered what it would feel like to kiss her. And hovering in the back of my mind, ever-present, was her description of sitting astride her father, my brother, and slowly humping his shaft. I reacted physically every time I thought about it.

I wasn't sure what to do with it all.

Sighing and shaking my head at the confusing emotions, I paused and looked up to the mountains. Clouds had gathered at their peaks, heavy, pregnant with snow. The radio had warned of another harsh storm coming our way, expected to last a couple of days and sock us with another two feet of snow.

I was glad I'd shopped for groceries. With the exception of feeding the horses there'd be precious little to do while the storm raged.

I smiled. I felt rather good. I'd managed to buy Michelle some Christmas presents on Amazon without her finding out. Christmas was eight days away. Maybe we should put up a Christmas tree.

A horse whinnied loudly reminding me I still had work to do. Hefting the feed, I continued to the stable.

MICHELLE TRUDGED THROUGH THE snow in search of Kevin. "C'mon, Dracula," she yelled, waving at him.

He'd bounded off into deep snow, stuffing his snout into it, snuffling and moving to another spot, stuffing his nose in deep. Michelle giggled. He looked so funny doing it. She adored Dracula. She loved how he smiled at her all the time, his tongue hanging. And she loved watching television in the middle of the day, lying on the floor with Dracula as her pillow. During the day she talked to him and told him everything. He always listened.

Her mind turned to Uncle Mitch. Ever since telling him about her and Mom and Dad, he'd changed. He might not know it, but he was behaving differently.

She'd first noticed it when sitting on the sofa at night. Before, he'd rest his hand wherever she'd place it. But since, he sort of caressed her. His thumb would move slowly. When he hugged her at night his hand would rub her back instead of being still. Was it because he felt different now?

Maybe Kevin could help her understand. He'd been right about the hugging thing.

She traipsed along the path, huffing, breath clouding. There it was. Finally. His small cottage appeared, smoke drifting up from a metal chimney pipe. Stamping her feet on the porch to dislodge snow, the front door opened before she could knock.

"Miss Lange," Kevin said with a crooked smile, his eyes twinkling. "What a surprise. It's chilly out here. You'd better come in. C'mon, Dracula, you too."

Michelle stared around Kevin's small place. It was a bit rustic; bare wood walls, plain furniture, what looked to be a bedroom and bathroom on one side, the kitchen a part of the living space. A fire crackled in a cast iron thing throwing off heat, the long metal chimney pipe angled up through the roof.

The place was a bit disorganized. Clothes sort of hung here and there, and dirty dishes filled the sink. She smelled coffee and tobacco in the air.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Kevin asked, pulling a pipe out, inspecting the bowl and patting down his pockets.

"I wanted to ask you something," Michelle said.

"Ah, here it is," he said pulling out a pocket knife. "Well, go ahead then. Ask away." He started cleaning the pipe's bowl, inspecting it and scraping it some more.

"When someone rubs you with their hand, does it mean they like you?"

"Well now. I'm not really sure. Rub you how?" Kevin asked, pausing to blow into the pipe. Satisfied, he pulled a worn pouch out from his back pocket, flipped it open and started filling the pipe with tobacco, the strong aroma filling the air.

Michelle traipsed back up the slope towards the house, Dracula leaping through the deep snow off to the side and pausing every so often to check she was still there. She thought about what Kevin had told her.

According to Kevin, once she'd demonstrated Mitch's rub, he'd told her Mitch was showing affection. When she'd asked Kevin how she could show affection too, he'd smiled and suggested hugs were good but even better were soft kisses on the cheek. He'd offered her his cheek with a "practice on me."

Michelle smiled to herself. Kevin needed to shave. His cheek was like sandpaper. She sort of liked the smell of tobacco, though.

WE WATCHED THE NEWS on KXFL; an update on the winter storm due in overnight. A fire crackled in the hearth throwing off warmth and that sweet, spicy scent of burning pine. My mind was only half on the news. My cheek still burned.

I could still feel the spot where Michelle had kissed me, smiling brightly with her pretty eyes twinkling. "Good dinner," she'd said, adding a bright, "Thanks."

I was immediately suspicious. She didn't give a hoot for food. But the kiss, so soft, lingering just a few moments longer than an ordinary kiss and combined with a tight hug, had felt wonderful. I caressed her tummy as she leaned back against my side in her usual position, bare feet up on the sofa's arm, her face turned to the television.

I realized just how much I loved having her close. I loved the feel of her body touching mine, no matter how slight. It reflected intimacy and comfort and friendship all at the same time. I liked how Michelle would absentmindedly play with my hand, like now, her small hand over mine as if keeping it on her.

She slipped down slightly. Her hand moved mine just a bit. The edge of my thumb sensed the smallest bump, a little bud on Michelle's chest.

". . . and so we expect an accumulation of eighteen to twenty-four inches in the next forty-eight hours. A cold weather alert has been issued for exceptionally low temperatures that . . ."

"Did you hear that?" Michelle said with excitement. "Twenty-four more inches! Do you have a sled?"

Her face tilted up to check that I was listening to her. Beautiful eyes sparkled. She smiled her excitement, lovely mouth, beautiful lips. Only nine inches away. All I needed to do was bend my head and I could kiss her, feel those sensual little lips against mine . . .

Mentally shaking myself, I withdrew my hand from her tummy and gently extricated myself. "I need dessert. Want some?" I asked, rising.

"Maybe. What'cha having?"

"I'm going to have a slice of apple pie," I said over my shoulder, leaving the living room.

"Kay. I'll have one, too," Michelle yelled.

Standing at the counter, cutting small slices of a store-bought pie and waiting for a partial erection to subside, I pondered my growing attraction to Michelle. I had no problem with the strength of my affection for her; she was charming and even-keeled with a bright outlook on everything. But it was having no problem with my physical reaction to her that had me reassessing myself.

I liked the gentle arousal she caused. It had been too long since being with anyone. I liked the balance; an attraction to her personality and to her as a girl. Whether it was because of her activities with her mother and father or not, I enjoyed the sexual excitement she aroused in me. I shouldn't have, but I did.

Picking up the two plates, I made a decision. I would not initiate anything. I couldn't. I'd never know if she was doing it to please me or because she wanted to. But I would gladly respond. Yes, that was the right approach. We'd do only what she was interested in, go with the flow, go as far as she wanted. I could live with that.

With an eased conscience, another idea stole into mind. Pausing in the hall, with a Machiavellian smile to myself, I turned the thermostat down, way down. Michelle cuddled closer to me when she was cold and I wanted her to cuddle me tight. I wanted to hold her in my arms and feel her small, delicate body pressed to me.

"What's so funny?" Michelle asked, accepting the plate of apple pie and fork.

"Nothing."

My suspicion about her after dinner kiss was confirmed when she took a few bites of apple pie and set it aside. She really wasn't interested in food. That thank-you-for-dinner kiss was a guise to kiss me! I smiled again.

"What's so funny?" she asked again, turning to lean back against me, feet on the armrest.

"Nothing."

The arrival of the storm was announced with windows rattling from gusts of wind battering against them. Darkness outside prevented me from seeing much, but white flakes speckled the window pane. Michelle yawned.

"Time for bed," I suggested, matching her yawn.

"Kay."

Michelle disappeared to change and brush her teeth. Dracula reluctantly got up and followed her. He looked tired. I headed to bed.

Scrabbling paws on the hardwood floor followed Michelle racing into the bedroom.

"Coooooold!" she announced, diving under the quilt.

The bed shook when a one-hundred-pound silver Labrador retriever leapt onto it. A little girl scooted to me. Two icy little feet wriggled into my legs.

"Brrrr," she said and snuggled deeper to my side, a cold nose pressed against me. She shivered. "Hug me, Mitch. I'm cold."

Rolling onto my side, I wrapped her in my arms, so delicate, so delightful. Her shoulder blades were prominent under my hand, her back slender. She radiated heat and felt wonderful against me. When she snuggled closer I kissed her crown and smiled. Perfect.

"It's Uncle Mitch."

"Uh-huh," she murmured.

I smiled. "Night, Michelle."

When the window rattled loudly from a hard wind gust, I woke up. Darkness almost made the bedroom a void, nothing more than a few inches away visible. I had only my other senses to work with and, as they kicked in, an erection formed.

The scent of Michelle hit me, delicate with a hint of a warm shampoo-like fragrance and underneath it, a seductive aroma of pure sleeping girl, unique and utterly Michelle.

She'd rolled onto her front, her face turned away from me. The battering wind against the window was the only sound in the room. The air was chilly and under the quilt, toasty warm.

I felt her. Somehow I'd rolled mostly onto my front. But my leg was bent and my thigh was resting over the back of her thighs. I had one hand up under the pillow. But it was the other that had my attention. It was resting on the most succulent, rounded little bum I'd ever felt. Soft cotton panties couldn't disguise the sensual swells of two petite buttocks underneath. An erection formed at the realization I could almost cover her entire bottom with one hand and, for whatever reason, I found that stupendously erotic; her smallness completely arousing.

My erection swelled and forced its way up, pulsing, thick. I moved a bit closer to Michelle, carefully buried my nose in her hair and inhaled her aroma, pressing my erection to her side. At the same time I caressed her sweet bum gently, so perfect, so incredibly sensual.

For the next few minutes I let my imagination run wild; Michelle and I cuddling together naked, touching, my excitement at her immature body and discovering how she felt, smelled and tasted all over. For the next few minutes my cock throbbed. I ached with desire and briefly considered slipping my hand inside her cotton panties to actually feel her naked buttocks. I did none of what I wanted. I'd already initiated far too much just by fondling her rear.

I was very surprised when, the next time I opened my eyes, the dull gray light of morning filtered through the bedroom window. Snow covered the corners of frosted panes. Wind still gusted with surprising power rattling the glass.

While I no longer had Michelle's sweet little bottom in my hand, I was snuggled close to her, partially over her. She was still on her front, her face turned away from me and the window. My leg was over one of hers, resting between them. My arm was thrown over her small back as if holding her in place. One of her bum cheeks was pressed to my groin. My erection returned.

Michelle was so deliciously petite pressed to me. She so attracted me, emotionally and physically. I didn't want to move. I didn't want the day to start. I wanted to spend the day like this, snuggling with a beautiful girl, aroused by her. I had a strong urge to rub my erection against her, a strong desire to seek release, find pleasure and cum. Before I came to a decision Michelle turned her head on the pillow and looked at me.

Beautiful, pale, olive green eyes I could easily get lost in studied me, soft and sleepy. A gentle smile emerged that I found quite gorgeous.

"Morning, Mitch," she said softly.

Man she was a beautiful child. "Morning. It's Unc . . ." Oh to Hell with it! If she didn't want to call me uncle, so be it.

Her smile grew as if she could read my thoughts. Without moving she said, "You're hard again."

"Again?" I asked, reaching up to caress a soft cheek with my thumb.

"Uh-huh. Last night you were hard, too, when you pressed it against me. I liked your hand on my bum. It felt good. You can put it back if you want."

"You were awake," I said, quite stupidly stating the obvious.

"Uh-huh," she replied languidly. She pressed her bum cheek against my erection by rolling herself slightly. "Want some help with that? I can, ya know."

That startled me out of the seductive fog that had settled over me. Yes, I wanted her to help with my erection. There was no denying it, no fooling myself. The thought of exploring a sexual relationship with Michelle was intensely exciting.

About to dive in and caress her lovely little bum again, this time with permission, a loud pounding echoed in from the front door. Damn! Damn!

Rolling out of bed, shivering in the cold, I heard Kevin yelling and thumping on the door. Tugging jeans on to hide my erection - they were now far too tight - I pulled a bathrobe on before heading to the front door, turning the heat up as I passed the thermostat.

"What is it?" Michelle yelled after me.

"Dunno."

Opening the door, a blast of icy wind blowing snow in, Kevin stepped inside and shut the door. Despite the parka he was shivering, his face crusted with snow.

"We have a problem," he said before I could open my mouth. "The stable."

"What about it?"

"The snow's too deep, Mitch. If we don't remove some of the snow from the stable roof the weight might cave it in. Sheeeit, I've never seen so much snow at one time."

"What about the barns?"

"They're fine. They have that rounded roof. Snow just slips off, not like the stable."

"Okay. Give me a sec," I said, immediately planning.

Twenty minutes later the wind was shoving my body, physically trying to toss me off the stable roof. I could see perhaps five feet in front of me the falling snow was so thick. Brief lulls in the wind let me see how deep snow had collected, close to two feet.

Balancing precariously, I started shoving snow down and off the roof with a long-handled shovel. Sixty feet of roof stretched out invisibly ahead of me. The only saving grace was the snow was powder, sticky but light. Nevertheless it was hard, back-breaking work. By one third of the way my nose went numb and fingertips lost sensation. I sweated fiercely under four layers of clothes. Dehydration set in, lips cracking.

By half way I was unsteady on my feet and breathing hard. I should have let Kevin help but at close to seventy years old, he just didn't have the strength. Besides, I did not want to be responsible for an accident. I'd left him to feed and tend to the horses.

Pausing to catch my breath, I checked my watch. Two hours had passed. It felt like a full day. Wind whipped at me trying to dislodge me. I slipped and scrabbled, shoveling almost robotically. Finally a lull in the wind let me glimpse the end of the roof, eight-odd feet away. It was a relief to know I was almost done. I relaxed for a moment.

Maybe that's why I was caught by surprise. A sudden blast of wind from a new direction coupled with my weakened state and I had no control. Tumbling off the peak, I rolled awkwardly down the roof and was launched into the air. The fall felt like forever. White blinded me. I hit the ground fifteen feet below hard enough to loosen my teeth, snow only partly cushioning my landing. But the shovel handle landing on my face did real damage. It slammed into my forehead and addled my brain, a burst of white-hot pain flashing through my head.

Warmth followed. It took a minute or two for me to regain my senses and I automatically reached for my head. Fuck that hurt!

"Jesus H. Christ, Mitch!" Kevin exclaimed rushing to me. "Can you move?"

Groaning loudly, I rolled onto my side. My hand was red, soaked in blood. It poured into my left eye partially blinding me. Shit! Grabbing a handful of snow, I slapped it against my brow and held it, momentary dizziness passing. Kevin's hands helped me stand on shaky legs. We hobbled up to the house.

"Holy cow, Mitch!" Michelle exclaimed when she opened the door. "You're bleeding!"

"It's just a bleeder, Miss Lange," Kevin assured her. "Can you bring the first aid box to the kitchen?"

Sometime later I was shivering, stripped to the waist, with several adhesive strips holding the gash together. Kevin had suggested I really needed stitches. I'd grumpily reminded him of the weather conditions. He'd harrumphed and covered his skilled handiwork with antiseptic and a bandage.

Michelle had observed everything, offering her insightful comments like, "Gross," and "Look at all that blood," and "Wow, that's going to leave a scar. Does it hurt?" and "It's going purple around the edges."

Dracula had fussed trying to get in the middle of everything. He knew I was hurt; dogs could sense it. He panted away and licked my hand as if reassuring me he was there for me.

Eventually Kevin left. Dracula left to do his business outside. Heat seeped into me and I no longer shivered. Coffee was consumed and I discovered my back hurt where I'd landed on it. Michelle gleefully advised me my back had some purple color, too.

With snow falling and wind gusting, the house became a cozy refuge. A fire roaring in the living room added warmth and the scent of pine. The satellite was out; no signal.

Michelle fussed, selecting a DVD movie - The Replacements with Keanu Reeves - and pulled out Monopoly. She demolished me while apparently paying attention only to the movie. Her delight at demanding rent from me was charming. Her concentration when counting my money was lovely.

A couple of hours later I had another erection.

It happened when I was driven bankrupt and made lunch, peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Michelle ate paying no attention to what the sandwiches were and popped in another movie, The Bourne Identity, my choice. Before I knew it she was cuddled to my side, curled up on the sofa. When she pulled my arm around her and my hand felt a little bud on her chest, memories of the morning rushed back at me. I became erect and caressed her budding breast with my thumb.

Her hand resting in my lap discovered my erection and, with a gentle squeeze, she calmly said, "You're hard."

I glanced down and became even harder. Her hand was so obviously young. It rested over my crotch right on top of a constrained erection and the sight was inordinately erotic.

I wanted her to unzip and open my jeans, reach in and fish my erection out. I wanted to slip my hand under her blue T-shirt and feel her little bud. I yearned to do so much. But somehow I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I still had a block that wouldn't let me take the initiative no matter how strong my desire.

Instead, I sat quietly, Michelle gently squeezing my crotch every time my erection pulsed. I rubbed her breast bud with my thumb, a gentle and arousing caress, and mentally begged her to do more. She didn't.

Afternoon faded into evening. An endless parade of movies accompanied card games, Michelle the absolute worst winner in the world. She gloated and taunted, "Beaten by a girl, Mitch!" grinning and shuffling, the cards falling all over the place, "Oops," collecting them up and dealing again, "Another game. Try harder. This is sooo easy!"

I dosed myself with painkillers through the afternoon, my forehead and back aching. When I consumed a couple of beers they went straight to my head and Michelle seemed ever more charming and lovable and attractive . . . and desirable.

By the time I collapsed into bed and waited for Michelle and Dracula to come racing into the bedroom, I had an erection that just wouldn't quit, a sore forehead, an aching back and desire for Michelle running rampant in me like the fever from a flu.

"It's still snowing!" Michelle exclaimed, running and diving under the quilt. She scooted over to my side. Two icy little feet found my legs. A cold nose pressed to my side. A lovely girl shivered and sighed, and, rolling and wrapping her in my arms, I held a beautiful panty-covered bum in my palm. I shivered and sighed, too, just not from the cold.

Michelle raised one knee over my thighs, her sweet buttocks flexing in my hand and pressed herself against me.

"You're still hard," she observed quietly, pressing herself against my erection. "Want some help with it?"

"Yes, I think I would," I whispered with a tremor of excitement, a pulse of my cock and a gentle fondle of the sweetest, sexiest bottom I'd ever touched.

"What would you like me to do?" she asked, hunching against my shaft slightly.

And there it was, that mental hurdle. I knew exactly what I wanted her to do. I wanted her to reach down, fish into my boxers and grab my shaft with her hand. I wanted her to stroke my aching cock and bring me off, give me pleasure, find sweet relief in the sexual caress of a ten-year-old darling. And I couldn't ask. I couldn't request, suggest, hint. I just couldn't take that final step. Why???

"What would you like to do?" I asked, caressing her magnificent bum, soft cotton slipping over rounded buttocks.

She looked up at me, pale olive green eyes studying me. I smiled. "Would you like to kiss me?" she asked.

"Yes. Very much."

Shuffling up slightly, her mouth touched mine, soft lips closed, pressing against mine. I closed my eyes and pulled her tighter to me, her sexy little body fitting me perfectly. I could feel her pussy pressed to my shaft. She was so sexy, so small, so desirable.

She ended the kiss when I squeezed her bum rather hard. When I opened my eyes she was staring at me. I smiled. "Lovely," I whispered.

She grinned. "Which? The kiss or my bum?"

"Both."

She smiled with pleasure. "Daddy liked my bum, too. Do you know how to kiss the other way?"

I chuckled. "I think so. Would you like to test me?"

Michelle looked at me intently and brought her mouth to mine. Soft lips touched again. Her breath wafted gently against my cheek. I felt her lips part slightly and a deep, deep shudder shook me when her little tongue touched my lips.

The sensation I felt was like falling; slightly disorienting, slightly dizzy, slightly lightheaded. My tongue touched hers and my eyes closed, all my senses concentrating on the most arousing kiss I'd ever experienced.

I held her petite body tight, loving how she felt in my arms, loving holding her delightful little bum, loving her sensual kiss.

When her tongue danced with mine, she moaned quietly and humped her pussy, pressing it against my shaft and sliding it up in a mind-numbingly erotic move before reversing. Her sweet buttocks flexed with each move, paused and flexed again, her pussy caressing the top of my shaft and the crown. A small tremor shook her body. I knew she was rubbing her clit on me and that excited me beyond belief.

In the back of my mind I wondered what Michelle's climax would be like. Would it be loud and physical or soft and sexy. Would she even cum or was she just doing this for me?

Her moist tongue distracted me. Kissing her was intensely arousing. I'd never have believed holding a ten-year-old girl in my arms, kissing her and having her hump my shaft while I played with her sexy panty-clad bum could be intoxicatingly arousing, so much more arousing than any woman I'd been with, but it was; a completely different experience.

Her warm breath wafted harder and harder against my cheek. She humped my erection with growing urgency and pressure, one leg hooked over my side, her arms around my neck. When her tongue probed between my lips and I sucked it, she moaned and humped me faster. I pulled at her bottom encouraging her, pressing her little pussy against my cock. I swelled and ached and felt the first tendrils of an orgasm, that subtle tightening in my groin. Every sense narrowed to the incredible, unbelievable sensation of a little girl sexually stimulating me, humping my erection and pleasuring herself. It was beyond anything ever imagined.

My tongue eased into her mouth. She gasped and broke the kiss.

"Mitch," she whispered, breath hot. "I'm . . ."

Before I could ask, Michelle inhaled sharply. She buried her face against me, her body trembled and shook, her leg clutching at me rhythmically. A quiet little cry escaped, like the mewl of a kitten.

Sweet Jesus, Michelle was cumming! My niece was climaxing in my arms, her pussy jerking against my aching shaft and crown, a quiet, gasping orgasm that thrilled me beyond measure. It was magnificent, sexy and erotic, and I let my restraint go gladly. It took no effort whatsoever to succumb and welcome sweet pleasure. Holding her small, trembling, climaxing body tightly to me, my erection swelled. Pressure built. Urgent desire emerged. Time stood still for a micro-second.

"God, Michelle," I managed to whisper heatedly and I came, my orgasm crashing down over me. Semen exploded with a starburst of utter bliss, hot and wet in my boxers. She humped and trembled and gasped quietly. I swelled, hunched and exploded, cum spurting hard, pleasure cascading through me stealing my breath. The gate opened. I held her beautiful body tight and humped and came, humped and came, semen erupting and soaking my boxers, utter bliss flooding my brain. I inhaled the intoxicating scent of a gorgeous, sexy girl and climaxed completely, spurting thick cum until, like a rogue wave, my orgasm passed and left me breathless, empty, soaked, sated yet regretting its departure. Breathing heavily I clutched Michelle to me.

Slowly my heart calmed. Michelle was sexy and soft and lovable in my arms. She smelled delicious. And when she sighed and murmured, trying to cuddle closer to me, I quite lost myself. There was no trace of regret in me. I wanted more. I wanted her. I'd just experienced something completely new and suddenly I felt jealous even though we were alone. I didn't want to share. I didn't want anyone else to feel what I had felt at that moment. She was mine, no one else's, only mine.

Half an hour later with Michelle asleep, I extricated myself and went to clean up. When I returned I saw her hair, messy and unruly, a thick quilt pulled up almost covering her face, a small body curled up underneath. Slipping into bed I gathered her against me, careful not to wake her up. She muttered something unintelligible and snuggled close.

I knew I wanted her, completely, totally. I wanted Michelle as my lover. No one excited me so much. With a smile, I realized that inhibiting barrier I'd suffered from might no longer be a problem.

Chapter Six

Morning arrived with dull gray light and howling winds and a cold room. Morning arrived with Michelle on her front, her head partially under the pillow, quilt pulled high. I looked at her quietly, not moving just appreciating her youthful beauty. Amazingly I grew erect just looking at her. Remembering the feel of her wonderful butt in my hand, I reached out under the covers and carefully placed my hand on her bum; so perfectly small and seductive, so damned sexy.

There was no need to move. I didn't need to pee. I luxuriated in the moment. Watching Michelle sleep was nice. Waiting for her to wake up was exciting. Anticipation of her smile actually made my heart beat a bit faster. My erection pulsed. Damn, I was horny for her but not. While I could live with no more sexual exploration just to have her in my bed every morning to wake up to, I wanted to do so much more. It was a complex cascade of emotions.

MICHELLE HEARD THE NOISE of the wind howling outside. It woke her, giving her goose bumps. It sounded cold. Eyes still closed, she felt Mitch's hand on her bum resting heavily; it felt nice. Her heart beat faster. She knew when she opened her eyes he'd be smiling at her, his dark brown eyes full of life, chin and cheeks slightly darkened from not shaving.

She inhaled gently and smelled him; a woody, leathery scent she just loved. Despite being warm, her face and feet felt cold. She opened her eyes. A shiver hit her and not from the cold. For a moment she studied Mitch. He looked so intense, his eyes darker than usual. She recognized the look; the one Daddy used to get when he'd tell her he could eat her up for breakfast. Then Mitch's eyes softened. It was amazing to watch, warmth flooding into them.

She smiled. "Morning, Mitch," she said softly, loving the smile that emerged on his face.

"Morning."

When his hand left her bum she missed it. But when he caressed her cheek she melted just a bit. She loved Mitch's touch. He was so surprisingly tender, touching her as if she'd break or something. Her body felt good, too. She was relaxed. Her cum last night had been so good. It had been too long since last time.

Movement shook the bed. Dracula flopped down between them and licked her face. She giggled and turned away, wiping her face on the pillow. "Dracula! That's yucky!"

"He needs to go out. Are you going to take him?" Mitch asked.

"Nope. Too cold. You take him," she replied, burrowing under the quilt. A draft of cold air hit her when Mitch got out of bed. She burrowed down, pulling the thick quilt around her. As warmth seeped back, she drifted to sleep again.

SHIVERING FROM THE HOWLING wind and driving snow, I waited for Dracula to do his stuff. He was completely unaffected by the weather, snow dusting his eyebrows making him look like an old dog, tongue lolling as he smiled at my discomfort before moving away on the trail of another scent, tail wagging.

"Come on. Hurry up," I muttered, freezing my balls off.

I replayed Michelle waking up, that smile, those eyes, that pretty, pretty face. Suddenly I wanted to go back to bed and cuddle, preferably naked and pressed to each other, grope a sexy little bum and . . .

"Dracula, come!" I yelled, heading down to the stable. I'd feed the horses early so I could take the rest of the day off; assuming I didn't need to shovel the roof again.

By the time we got back I was shivering and frozen, my fingers numb. The house wrapped me in warmth. Thank goodness I'd turned the heat up before leaving. Dracula shook and sprayed melting snow everywhere revealing his silver fur while I kicked off my boots and shucked the parka.

Anticipating snuggling in a warm bed with a beautiful nymph, a rather arousing thought, I headed to the bedroom and paused at the sound of the shower running at the other end of the house. Shoot! Ruing the lost opportunity, I settled with making coffee and rooting around the kitchen to find something for breakfast.

With the storm flailing away at us, work was impossible. I had no desire to do paperwork. A restless spirit pervaded me. The house felt like a toasty warm refuge from the world, isolated, me alone with Michelle and Dracula. I had a partial erection, but not just from the memory of cumming with Michelle last night - although that was an amazing experience I'd gladly repeat - but from the vivid memory of holding her tightly to me.

Tugging the fridge door open, I peered in hoping for breakfast inspiration. Eggs?

It still aroused me. Michelle was so delicate, so slender, so, so young, and she felt so damned good in my arms when I hugged her. Her compact ass was a marvel of eroticism. Those little buds emerging on her chest were a stunningly arousing development made even more sexy by their smallness, their immaturity. The onset of puberty was erotic and exciting. I found Michelle, a ten-year-old, sexier and more desirable than any of the women I'd been with or even lusted after. Clearly it had to be something in our family's genes.

Spotting a three-quarter full bottle of Vermont Maple Syrup, I thought of French toast, something I hadn't made in ages. I got busy.

With the sound of the shower a constant reminder of Michelle, I tried to picture her naked. What did a ten-year-old's pussy look like? Was she old enough to have pubic hair? It was hard to imagine her slender, shapeless body with pubes. No. She must be hairless. Did a ten-year-old pussy look different from a mature woman's?

Preoccupied with arousing musings about my niece, I didn't hear the shower stop or notice her enter the kitchen.

"Is there lots of snow now?"

Glancing over my shoulder, Michelle was sitting at the table, her short raven hair wet and shiny, wearing jeans, multi-colored socks, and a thick sweater despite the inside temperature.

"Tons. But it's too cold for me to go out again."

I served the French toast, placing two heaping plates on the kitchen table and found a carton of orange juice and the butter. Maple syrup, warmed in a pot of hot water, was deposited on the table along with my mug of coffee.

Michelle stared at the plate in front of her. "What is it?" she asked.

That surprised me. "Haven't you ever had French toast?"

"Nope. What's that?" she asked pointing to the bottle of maple syrup.

"Maple syrup."

"Maple?"

"Yeah. Sap from the Maple tree."

"Sap? And we eat it?"

I smiled. How could she be ten and not have had French toast and syrup? "You make it like this," I said. "Do what I do. Melt butter on the French toast like this."

She watched and imitated me.

"Now take the maple syrup and pour it over like this."

Her enchanting eyes watched skeptically before she poured some on hers, hesitant, unsure.

"Now eat," I instructed, taking a big bite of mine. "Mmmm. Simply yummy."

I didn't have much hope for her. With her lack of interest in food, I doubted she'd be impressed by the humble French toast experience. But I was wrong. Totally, utterly wrong.

A testing nibble was taken and I saw an amazing play of expressions in her eyes. First she paused, shock in her beautiful eyes. She chewed and her eyes seemed to melt. It looked like she was experiencing a food-gasm, her body slumping. She emitted an "Mmmm," before eyes closed briefly when she swallowed.

Beautiful eyes popped open, wide in shock. "Holy cow, that's fantastic, Mitch!" she exclaimed. Her eyes grew intense. She stared at her plate and attacked, cutting, forking, shoveling, chewing, swallowing, "Oh yum!" and cutting again.

I forgot to eat. In less than five minutes she'd inhaled everything and an index finger was carefully wiping up leftover maple syrup. Then she paused and stared at the empty plate. She glanced up at me.

"Can I have more?" she pleaded.

Laughing, I slid my plate across to her and sipped coffee, lost in the joy of her pleasure.

Sitting with my heels up on the coffee table, I smiled to myself and sipped a beer. Dusk was arriving. I'd been lazy all day and basked in the pleasure of Michelle's company. She'd played rambunctiously with Dracula, watched television, frowned and got angry at me when I refused to make French toast for lunch and, as punishment, refused to sit on the sofa next to me, instead taking to the floor and using Dracula as a pillow.

I quite adored her snit. The fact that it was over food made it all the more enjoyable. But I'd severely underestimated how Machiavellian she could be.

Throughout the day I admired her openly and she knew it. I was growing to adore Michelle. She had a sweet, quietly feisty personality. And, no longer surprising me, I found her youth intensely attractive, sexually and emotionally. Knowing she'd experienced things with her parents seemed to release me and make it okay to imagine being with her, and the thought of sex with her was profoundly arousing.

Unfortunately I still had that block, the hurdle where I couldn't ask or initiate, but I was beginning to suspect I could manipulate events such that she'd initiate sexy play.

I was confident and shouldn't have been. A master demonstrated her skills to me. As six o'clock rolled around, Michelle finally forgave me and settled to my side. I watched the news for an update on the storm - another day before it would pass, highways closed, several avalanches reported in the mountains, and stay indoors if possible.

Michelle, cuddled to my side, let her hand rest in my lap with a predictable response on my part.

"You're hard," she observed with a gentle grope. "I can help with it, if you like," she offered casually, which brought on a rather strong flex inside my jeans. However, before I could agree to her suggestion, which I was now eager to do, she added casually, "But only if you give me French toast for dinner."

I glanced down at her sharply. She looked up at me all innocent, giving my crotch a soft grope and suddenly grinning when my erection pulsed.

Trying to regain the upper hand, I said, "Nope. No French toast for dinner. Breakfast only."

Forty-five minutes later Michelle moaned and shoveled another large forkful of maple-soaked French toast into her mouth, syrup dripping, her eyes closed in ecstasy. Machiavellian, as I said. Using my aroused state to manipulate me was sneaky in the extreme. I was rather proud of her . . . and disappointed at my lack of willpower.

With dinner finished (I didn't enjoy my ham sandwich) I made a final trip to the stable. I needed to check on the horses and make sure they were settled for the night. Besides, they really did need human contact to stay happy and healthy.

My suggestion that Michelle, the horse whisperer, accompany me was greeted with shocked disbelief.

"But it's cold outside and it's still snowing!" she correctly observed.

Dracula and I made the journey alone in the darkness. I was shivering and covered in snow by the time we got back. Dracula was white until he shook himself in the hall.

Pausing at the thermostat on the way to the bedroom, I turned it down. It would be nice to have Michelle snuggle close again.

From the door I saw a curled up lump under the quilt. Michelle had gone to bed. Still shivering from exposure to the elements, I stripped down to boxers, slipped into bed and tried to cuddle up to the little furnace.

"Yikes! Cold!" she exclaimed, trying to squirm away from my hands.

I grabbed and groped and hauled her into my arms. "Come 'ere," I said, wrestling with her. She laughed and started kicking me away. I grabbed and tugged, groped her sides and tickled, all of the energy expended warming me physically, her giggles warming me emotionally.

By the time I had the energetic minx in my arms she suddenly calmed, her giggles becoming soft. Surprisingly two icy feet squeezed between my legs. What was it about her feet? They never warmed up.

Michelle snuggled, and sighed and groped and I became erect.

"You're hard," she said softly, her hand exploring.

"Yes I am," I replied. "And you had French toast for dinner," I reminded her.

She giggled softly. My erection pulsed with pleasure when a hand explored the shaft outside my boxers. No slouch myself, I slid a hand down her slender back and rediscovered the perfection of a ten-year-old panty-covered bum, rounded, sexy and a perfect handful.

"Would you like me to stroke it?" she asked softly, her hand finding the fly and worming in.

I shuddered when a cold hand grasped my thick shaft and responded by slipping my hand inside her cotton panties. My God, her little bottom was so silky, cool to the touch with a delectable valley formed by rounded, firm buttocks so small each fit comfortably into my palm. I loved them.

Michelle squeezed my shaft, her thumb teasing the tip with surprising skill. I ached, cock swelling.

It was difficult to comprehend how erotic I now found this. I couldn't imagine anything sexier; a young girl fondling me and me groping her bare butt inside cotton panties. But sexier I found.

I discovered the indescribable pleasure of touching Michelle's pussy from behind, my fingers slipping deep along her butt crack. She actually lifted her leg to give me room, her ankle hooking over my shin. One question was answered. Her pussy was perfectly hairless. Her bum crack seemed to merge into her short cleft smoothly. My finger passed over a moist spot and suddenly she was slippery.

Michelle murmured and pushed her pussy back at my fingers. A warm little cleft oozed around my fingertip and I just about came, the tip of my finger actually penetrating her slightly.

Any restraints holding me back from initiating things evaporated. In the confusing fog of intense arousal I knew exactly what I wanted.

Withdrawing my hand from her panties, I suggested we undress.

"Kay," she responded, her cold hand letting go of my erection. She rolled away from me under the quilt and wriggled. A hand tossed plain white cotton panties onto the top of the quilt. My heart raced. Lordy, she was naked under there!

Boxers were quickly shoved to the foot of the bed. Dracula complained at being jostled with a deep rumble. A nightshirt was tossed out and I dived under the quilt, hunting for a naked nymph.

I found silky soft skin; lots and lots of it. I found a warm little girl who giggled at me when I drew her to me. And best of all, I felt her small body press against the tip of my erection, naked skin caressing me, precum leaking. Drawing Michelle into a full body hug, she murmured and pressed herself against my erection. I had a handful of a succulent ten-year-old naked bottom and a case of raging arousal. My heart raced. She felt so good pressing against my cock. And then I almost came.

Her hand burrowed between us and gently took hold of my shaft. She squeezed and guided the tip to press against her pussy. I leaked and swelled and hunched automatically, my crown sliding along her cleft and into the natural gap at her crotch. Michelle closed her legs trapping me, squeezing me. Damn it felt good.

For a few exquisitely enjoyable moments we didn't move. Her legs gripped my crown. I leaked with each aching pulse, my cock swelling and pulsing.

"Michelle, this feels so good," I whispered to her.

She nodded and turned her face up. I kissed her softly, my erection swelling. She responded with a squeeze of her thighs, an exquisite squeeze.

Easing back, withdrawing my erection, I pressed forward again while holding her bottom firmly. The tip of my crown pushed against her cleft and slipped easily from precum, emerging behind her. I pulled back and did it again, breathing heavily, heart now racing. It actually felt like I was having sex with her, like I was actually penetrating a ten-year-old girl and I was dizzy with excitement, my cock swelling and aching.

I fucked back and forth slowly, every stroke becoming more slippery. Michelle hung onto my neck and murmured sweet sounds at me, her buttocks clenching and relaxing in time with my movements. She panted, humped, her legs tight together.

Disorientation set in. In my hand a sweet bum flexed. In my arms a naked little girl moved sensuously. In my ears a beautiful girl murmured and sighed with growing pleasure. And in my body the weight of an orgasm slowly emerged with every erotic slip of my crown along her sexy cleft. I drowned in the sensation and, when I pictured myself cumming against her hairless pussy, pictured semen actually spurting into her, I gasped and lost it.

"Michelle," I sighed. Tilting my hips slightly I pressed the tip to her cleft, held her bottom firmly, and let my orgasm wash over me. My crown swelled. Semen rushed up and suddenly her crotch was wet, cum drenching her in an endless pulse of exquisite pleasure. I swelled and semen erupted against her pussy, hot, viscous, soaking my crown.

Michelle sighed and hunched at me. I actually felt her cleft part, labia hug my tip and I cried out my pleasure as cum erupted in an endless spurt, flooding her little cleft. With small thrusts I swelled and came, swelled and came, exquisite bliss, perfect pleasure. I came completely holding her young body to me, cock spurting until nothing but lightheadedness and emptiness and satisfaction remained. It was the single most exciting orgasm I'd ever experienced.

By the time my heart calmed I realized just how wet we were. Michelle's crotch was soaking wet with warm semen.

"Did you come?" I asked in a whisper.

Michelle sighed and wiggled her pussy on my softening cock. "No. But I felt you spurting," she replied.

Still pressed together, I reached down behind her and slipped my fingers into her soppy crotch, finding her cleft. My fingertip slipped along it, sliding into her, her wet labia hugging my finger. I found her clitoris and rubbed gently, drew my finger back to probe at her opening, and returned to her clit. Repeating the movement Michelle reacted, eventually joining me by hunching her pussy at my finger. To the sound of soft inhalations, quiet pants, and the incredible feel of a ten-year-old's pussy covered in slippery cum, I brought her to her climax, a soft, snorting, clenching climax that was pure music to my ears. Michelle hung onto my neck and twitched and clenched through her ecstasy, finally slowing and calming, her face buried against me. Her body let go, becoming limp.

I cuddled her for the next half an hour, replaying every sensation and every sound. I'd never experienced such a sweet orgasm as Michelle's and I was absolutely convinced I was going to do everything in my power to experience it again and again and again.

Eventually Michelle's breathing told me she'd fallen asleep. I slipped from bed, shivering, and fetched a towel to clean us up. Sleeping in a pool of cooling semen was no fun.

Chapter Seven

The winter storm passed leaving behind a pristine wilderness that reflected the sun's light painfully. The drive was plowed, paths cleared, horses released into the exercise fields to burn off energy.

For the next few days as we slipped towards Christmas I was on cloud nine. Hard work throughout the day was interrupted by Michelle pelting me with snowballs, or screaming in delight when sliding down the hill on an old toboggan, Dracula chasing after her.

If I thought Michelle would turn into a precocious sex addict, I was completely wrong. She didn't seem to care one way or the other, only reacting when I had an erection, and only doing things when we were in bed . . . with lots of enthusiasm, too.

But she was demanding in other ways. She demanded frequent hugs, which I obliged with joy, and kisses, just regular kisses on her cheek. She insisted on cuddling close to me whenever she could, even crawling into my lap at the breakfast table, sleepy and cuddly and cold. I was totally enamored with her. She was filling my world with joy.

Pausing on the walk from the storage barn with a seventy pound bag of feed on my shoulder, I watched Michelle, bundled up in her parka, knit cap pulled down, arguing with Dracula, trying to convince him to pull the toboggan up the hill. I grinned. She was a determined little imp. I had confidence she'd have Dracula trained before the day was out.

Hefting the bag of feed onto my other shoulder, I turned the corner to the stable.

"There you are," Kevin barked. "What took you so long?"

Dropping the feed to the ground I studied Kevin. He was rarely short tempered with me. "What's up, Kev?" I asked.

"It's Lady Belle. She's acting up. Something's spooked her. She doesn't want to leave her stall."

"So calm her," I suggested. "Brush her down."

Kevin tilted his head and stared. "You think I'm stupid or something? What do you think I've done? Sat around with my thumb up my ass waiting for you to grace me with your pearls of wisdom?"

I smiled ruefully. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking. It didn't help?"

A snort and thump floated to us from the end of the stable.

"See?" Kevin said, his thumb indicating over his shoulder. "Lady Belle."

"Okay. Hold on." I stepped out of the stable and yelled, "Michelle! Come here, please!"

Dracula bounded around the corner followed by a red cheeked Michelle. "What's up?"

"Smart," Kevin observed with a smile.

"It's Lady Belle. Something's bothering her. Can you talk to her?" I asked.

"Kay.

We watched Michelle walk away. Kevin spoke. "That's why you're the boss, Boss. Great idea."

It was amazing and mystical. Something about Michelle resonated with animals. Lady Belle's head appeared over the stall. I could swear her eyes were frightened, wide and staring. Nostrils were flared. Her head shook from side to side. Definitely signs of distress. She saw Michelle. I heard Michelle talking but couldn't distinguish words.

Lady Belle lowered her head. Michelle reached up. It was incredible, a huge horse and a child communicating. Michelle caressed and talked and the effect was astonishing. Lady Belle calmed, snorted quietly and pushed her nose at Michelle, jostling her. All the signs of distress melted away.

A few minutes later Michelle turned and walked back. Kevin shook his head and said, "Amazing." Exactly what I was thinking.

"All better," Michelle stated. "C'mon Dracula." She scooted away to return to her sledding.

Kevin and I stood and grinned at each other stupidly for a while.

Late afternoon, when I finally finished chores and entered the house, loud music was playing on the satellite television. Curious, I peeked into the living room. Michelle, in white cotton panties and a T-shirt was dancing to a music video, shaking her bum, arms moving in odd ways. It was riveting and as sexy as heck. As I stood, quiet and unnoticed, watching her compact bottom move and an erection forming at the sight, I realized I hadn't actually seen Michelle naked. I'd never studied her body. Suddenly it became an all-consuming desire, influenced in no small measure by the tightness in my jeans. What would that gorgeous little thing look like bare-assed naked?

"What are you doing?" I finally asked.

She stopped and glanced at me over her shoulder. "Taking a shower," she said, quite seriously.

"It doesn't look like it," I said with a chuckle and a smile.

"I'm on my way. I just stopped for this song. Isn't it great?"

Smiling, I nodded and took my erection and active imagination to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Damn but she was cute.

That night scrabbling sounded and Dracula came tearing into the bedroom, leaping onto the bed and settling down, his tail thumping. A beautiful, energetic girl came racing in as if the bats of Hell were chasing her. I held the quilt up for her and she dived.

"Brrrr! Cold!" she exclaimed, scooting to me, icy feet wiggling under my legs, a cold nose pressed to my side.

I hugged her with one arm, my hand pulling up the hem of her cotton nightshirt and finding a panty-clad bum, a small, compact bum, a sexy little bum. Michelle snuggled closer.

For a few minutes I relaxed, perfectly happy. Then I started caressing. It wasn't a conscious movement at first. I was more interested in the scent of her, fresh and clean with an overtone of minty toothpaste, my caress one of love and care. But the shape of her buttocks very quickly distracted me. I couldn't help slipping my hand inside her cotton panties to caress bare skin. The action was exciting, the impact immediate, an erection forming.

Remembering her cute tush bouncing and moving to music, the desire to see Michelle nude came back even stronger. I wanted to see what I was feeling. I needed to, too, a primal desire urging me to act, to take the initiative. Overcoming all self-imposed hurdles I took the final step and asked.

"Would you let me see you?"

Michelle looked confused.

I smiled, groped her succulent tush and clarified. "See you naked."

Beautiful eyes studied me. "Will I get to see you naked, too?" she asked.

Somewhat surprised, I asked, "You'd want to?"

"Uh-huh. Mommy, Daddy and me were always naked. I like sleeping without pajamas on. It's warmer that way."

I experienced a rare pleasure. Rolling Michelle onto her back, I first kissed her gently, a soft press of lips together, and let my hand caress her stomach, her diaphragm, and with a thrill of excitement, the small buds on her chest. The way she murmured into our kiss was precious and erotic and arousing. But the way she arched her back for me when I tugged her nightshirt up, leaned up at the shoulders and finally raised her arms so I could slip it off was beautiful.

With the single bedside lamp illuminating the room in a soft, weak yellow light, holding my breath, I lifted the quilt. Michelle's buds were shadowed giving them more prominence than I'd imagined. Pale pink areolae, slightly darker than her skin, with tiny soft nipples mounded up on her chest. I couldn't resist and bent to lightly kiss one then the other. They were remarkably firm little buds.

She watched me with her enchanting eyes, studying my expression. I smiled. "You're growing boobs," I whispered. "They're beautiful."

Michelle smiled. "Thanks."

I had let my hand rest on her stomach while kissing her buds. Now I moved it down, liking the teasing anticipation of touching her intimately. The first touch of cotton panties excited me. The rise of her pubic mound surprised me it was so large yet so petite. She parted her legs slightly, still watching me. I cupped the sexiest little pussy ever and trembled at how arousing it was.

My palm completely covered her pussy and mons and more. I caressed and saw her eyes narrow slightly. "How does this feel?" I asked.

Michelle smiled. "Nice. But it feels better without panties."

Rising to my knees, looking down on her slender young body, I reached for the sides of her white cotton panties. Michelle watched my face again. It felt like she was assessing my reactions, measuring me, looking for something in my face. I didn't know what.

But when I started pulling her panties down, Michelle lifted her bum. Easing her panties down her bum, I was fixated on the incredible mound her pussy made in the front. It seemed so ripe on her young body, so plump, lush, mouth-wateringly sexy.

The front of white cotton slipped down, the rise of her mons appearing, hairless and beautiful. The beginning of her cleft appeared, my heart now beating hard. I tugged. Panties slipped down. Michelle's pubis was revealed in all its youthful glory and, my God, it was spectacular.

"Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?" I asked in awe. I'd never have suspected a ten-year-old girl could be so stunning, so sexy.

Michelle smiled, a bittersweet smile, a shadow passing through her eyes. "Uh-huh. Daddy said the same thing. Mommy said she was jealous of me, but she was joking."

Bending, I kissed the delicate pad of her pussy, bare as a baby's bottom and just as smooth. Unable to stop myself, I pressed my lips to her mons. It was small, ripe, yielding to pressure. And then a scent wafted at me and I lost time.

I detected a delicate ambrosia, lightly earthy. It could only be one thing since she'd showered; Michelle, all of ten years old, must be aroused. I inhaled her scent deeply. It quite intoxicated me.

"Did your mom or dad ever kiss you down here?" I asked quietly.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "Both used to."

"Did you like it?" I asked, placing my hand over her little pussy and squeezing carefully.

"Uh-huh. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"I liked the way Mommy did it more than the way Daddy did."

The gap between Michelle's thighs was no more than two fingers. I explored gently, sensing her short cleft and how tightly closed it was, as if protecting a precious jewel. I found a trace of silky moisture at the base of her slit and rubbed it gently.

"Why was your mom better?" I asked, fascinated.

"Dunno. It just felt better. Like she knew what she was doing."

Smiling and sporting an erection that felt like it could split at any moment, I asked, "Can I try?"

"Kay. After."

"After what?"

"After you take your underwear off."

"Oh. Right. I forgot."

Boxers hit the floor in record time. My cock strained out, thick and pulsing, inflamed.

When I started shuffling down to get between Michelle's legs, she stopped me. "Not like that."

"How?" I asked, confused.

"We have to do it together. Get on your back," Michelle instructed, rolling and rising.

I flopped back wondering what she had in mind. She shuffled close and swung her leg over my chest, her little bum facing me. A hand found my shaft.

"Like this. Together, see?"

All I saw was Michelle's succulent bum, firm buttocks framing a hairless pussy, her cleft parted to reveal light pink, a small clit, and a little dark shadowed opening to her vagina. My cock thickened and ached.

With hands on her thighs, I guided her back, her feet under my arms. She shuffled backwards and I had a gorgeous pussy inches from my mouth.

That first kiss, my lips touching a ten-year-old's pussy, sent shockwaves through me. She was silky soft and moist, her flavor one of cleanness and must, of delicateness and youth, quite unlike anything I'd ever tasted. Her clit was small, a pearl against my tongue. Her scent was dizzyingly sensual.

Inside her cleft was so smooth to my tongue and, when the tip lodged to her little opening my cock swelled, pulsed. I had never been harder.

Caressing slender thighs and gorgeous buttocks, I groaned aloud. Michelle had stroked my shaft, a slow down and up movement. Something moist touched me. Jesus, it was her lips! Michelle had just kissed my crown! My heart jumped. My body twitched. Just the concept was shocking.

I caressed slender thighs upwards until two sweet buttocks filled each palm perfectly, cool, firm and curvaceous. A moist mouth kissed my crown again. Dizziness.

Michelle turned to look back at me when I groaned loudly, my cock swelling dangerously. Pale olive green eyes smiled.

"You can cum in my mouth, Mitch. It's okay. I've done it before with Daddy."

Holy cow! My cock ached, stiff and throbbing in her hands. When she turned back and moist warmth slowly surrounded the crown again, my balls tightened up.

I distracted my now precarious condition by returning my mouth to her sexy pussy, my nose pressed between firm bum cheeks. I kissed her moist slit and teased the nub of her clitoris. Against my tongue it felt much larger than it looked, soft, moving around under my caress. Her scent grew stronger, mustier, heavier, still light but now undeniably sexy and girl, all girl.

A mouth encompassed my crown and edged down slightly. Her tongue caressed me. Her hand stroked. One cupped my balls. I felt slight suction on my crown and almost lost it, a wave of arousal cascading through me making me moan into her little pussy. Confusion assailed me. How could such a young girl know this? How could a ten-year-old be so skilled? I'd never felt anything so arousing. Now I understood my brother. This was incredible.

Another powerful wave of excitement shook me. Suddenly I didn't want to be the first. I wanted Michelle to cum first. I knew if it was me I'd have no energy left to do anything but breathe.

Concentrating, caressing her gorgeous buttocks, I slipped the width of my tongue through her cleft, across her urethra and found the incredibly small entrance to her pussy. I probed, pressing the tip of my tongue against it and slowly, erotically, it yielded, dilating to accept just the tip. She twitched and clenched her little buttocks. I kissed her pussy again and sucked, swallowing her sexy ambrosia. Closing my eyes, lightheadedness assaulted me. My cock swelled dangerously.

Turning my oral attention back to her clit, I caressed her bare back with one hand and eased the tip of my thumb into her opening, warm velvet gripping it. I sucked her little clit and Michelle jerked. Cold air hit my cock when she gasped, her hand gripping my shaft.

Strumming her clit, Michelle climaxed for me with a quiet moan, her bum twitching, body jerking, her hand holding onto my erection. She melted feeling heavier on me and undulated her pussy in my face, smearing me with her juices. I sucked ever more gently as she cried out in a quiet whimper, trembling and shaking on me, her thighs and buttocks clenching. Slowly Michelle collapsed. Her head rested on my hip. I could feel her chest heaving as she panted and, with a final parting kiss, I left her pussy alone knowing she'd now be sensitive.

I could taste her in my mouth. Beautiful.

Without a word, Michelle stirred and squeezed my shaft when I throbbed. She moved. Her soft kiss on the tip of my erection sent shudders though me.

"You don't have to," I whispered, my final offer of restraint.

"Uh-huh," she acknowledged.

With eyes closed, fondling her sexy bum gently, moist warmth descended. It felt so damned good. A small hand stroked. A tongue caressed. Her mouth slipped lower, her lips now on my shaft.

What did it look like? I tried to picture it; Michelle's mouth open, my cock stretching her lips, an adult cock in a young girl's mouth.

Gentle suction and a small head bob took me away. "Michelle," I whispered in warning, my hands now gripping her buttocks. My erection swelled to the point of bursting. I pressed upwards into her mouth, unable to stop myself. Gasping, pressure released suddenly, a massive wave hitting me. Semen burned up. I came. Semen exploded, pleasure erupted. Without time to breathe another wave assaulted me, semen jetting into Michelle's mouth. She swallowed. I felt it. Another wave hit and I cried out my pleasure, erupting, spitting cum in an exquisite pulse, swelling, cumming, swelling again, cumming in her mouth, my hips jerking uncontrollably. I came in a blindingly glorious climax, an endless climax, heaving, bliss, utter bliss.

Chapter Eight

I was a changed man.

Waking up to find myself spooning a naked Michelle, her seductive bum pressed into my groin, I knew I wanted to make love with her. In her youthful prepubescence I found sexual attraction unlike anything I'd known in my life. In her sweet personality, her gentle beauty, I found love unlike anything I'd experienced before. In her sexual awareness, her ease and comfort with sex, I saw a world of possibilities and pleasure.

I found ferocious jealousy, too. I couldn't imagine being without her. I couldn't even remember what I liked or found interesting before she entered my life. It was a pale, indistinct shadow of a memory.

I was a changed man.

Her scent filled my lungs. Unbelievably her feet were cold. She slept quietly in my arms, a beautiful angel full of love.

When her feet wormed their way back between my legs Michelle announced her wakefulness. Her head turned to peer back at me. A soft smile emerged that caused a lance of pain in my chest.

"Morning, Mitch."

I kissed a soft cheek.

"Morning."

I was a changed man.

Kevin knew it, too. He kept staring at me as we went about our chores; cleaning stalls, tending and feeding the horses. Eventually he paused and leaned on the fork he was using to toss straw. He fished into his pocket for his pipe, blindly bringing out his pocket knife to scrape the bowl.

"Anything you'd like to tell me, Mitch?" he asked, opening his tobacco pouch and filling his pipe.

"No."

I finished oiling a saddle, placed it aside and reached for another.

The rasp of a match sounded. A whiff of sulphur preceded a sweet tobacco aroma that filled the air. Kevin puffed gray clouds, paused and inspected the bowl, nodding his satisfaction.

"You sure?" he asked, squinting at me.

"Yup."

In the distance Michelle announced her presence with a yell, "This way, Dracula!"

I smiled broadly.

Kevin studied me.

"Get back to work you old coot," I instructed, rising and leaving the stable.

The air was crystal clear, fresh, cold, a sinus-clearing crisp. White covered the land, pristine and untouched except for animal tracks, a fox, perhaps a mountain lion. Sun was blindingly bright and carried no warmth. And sitting on the wood exercise field fence perched precariously was Michelle, bundled up and watching the horses.

I paused and watched her. She'd been bugging me endlessly to teach her to ride and I had just the horse for her waiting at another stable. In the tack room, hidden above where she could reach, was a new saddle waiting for her - both a Christmas present.

Dracula barked at her, demanding attention. She glanced down at him and caught sight of me. A smile emerged on her pretty face. She waved. I smiled.

For some odd reason I decided I wanted to skip the rest of my chores. I had a sudden need. Heading back to the stable, in the tack room, I grabbed my saddle, blanket and reins. "I'll be gone for a while," I yelled at Kevin. He waved back at me.

When I arrived at the fence, Michelle asked, "Where are you going?"

"Not me, we."

Ten minutes later I was hugging Michelle. Lucifer, my stallion, walked slowly through the snow. Dracula bounded at our side with that wide-open grin unique to labs, his excitement at a walk palpable. Idly I wondered if I could find a cat and name it Frankenstein.

Michelle held the reins. She sat between my legs. Every so often she'd glance back up at me, her eyes shining with excitement. When we hit a wind-swept field with less snow I kicked Lucifer into a gallop. Michelle rewarded me with screams of excited laughter while desperately holding onto the pommel. My smile was as big as the Montana sky.

Two hours later Michelle was shivering as she dumped her parka on the hallway floor.

"Need to warm up, Mitch," she said through chattering teeth, her cheeks rosy red from exposure.

"Go take a hot shower," I suggested, easing boots off and wiggling my toes.

"Come with me," she suggested. "We can shower together."

MICHELLE FELT HER HEART still racing. She ran to the bathroom shivering from cold. She still felt the fright at being so high in the air on Lucifer. But the way he moved, big and so strong, and so fast, it was much, much better than she'd ever thought. Since forever she'd dreamed of riding a horse and, since coming here, Mitch had refused saying he wouldn't take the risk of her falling with her head still not healed.

Shivering hard, she turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature before undressing.

What had changed Mitch's mind? Now more than ever she wanted to learn. Oh to be able to ride all day, free to go anywhere with Dracula running at her side!

She dumped her jeans, her panties sliding halfway off her butt.

"Where are you, Mitch?" she yelled. "C'mon. Hurry!"

Dancing from foot to foot, now shivering harder, she tugged socks off. The floor was cold! Brrrr. "Mitch! Hurry up!"

Pulling her sweater over her head it caught on her ponytail. She started struggling, her T-shirt rucked up exposing her stomach. Goose bumps emerged.

A hand tickled her side. Mitch!

She giggled and tried to move away, the sweater covering her face. Hands tickled again. "Mitch! Stop already!"

Bursting into laughter she tried to squirm away. His hand caught the back of her panties and tugged. They fell and caught at her ankles. She tripped, falling forward.

Arms swept her up. She felt Mitch's naked body against her. Wrestling, suddenly not cold anymore, she tugged the pesky sweater off, panting from all the exertion.

His look took her breath away. The sly smile made her heart trip. The heat in his pretty eyes made her flush. His hand squeezed her bum. She couldn't stop herself. She kissed him, liking how he smiled against her lips. A twinkle appeared in his eyes. She smiled. She adored his attention. She adored Mitch.

"Ouch!" Reaching behind she tugged his hand away from her bum. That pinch hurt! "No pinching!"

She wriggled to get out of his arms and felt his erection. It rubbed against her as she slid to the floor. "You're hard," she informed him, reaching out and grabbing the thick shaft. She liked how his eyes narrowed. She liked teasing him, too. Tugging her T-shirt off she clambered into the tub, the shower warm, nice.

With Mitch behind her, she handed him the shampoo. "Will you wash my hair?" she asked. It was one of her favorite things. Mommy used to do it and it was so relaxing, almost as good as cumming.

His hands washed, calming her. His fingers massaged sending waves of relaxation through her. Her knees weakened. The shower warmed her. Her body melted. This was so nice. Maybe she could live here for a while, in the shower with Mitch massaging her head.

"All done," he said.

"Do it some more. Please?" Michelle immediately pleaded leaning back. His erection poked her in the back. She grinned. "Do it some more and I'll help you with that," she said rubbing it with her back. She liked his penis. His erection was a bit bigger than Daddy's was but just as nice. Mitch would get all groany when she fondled him. It was fun to hear how much he liked her touching him.

"That's sooooo good, Mitch," she moaned when he resumed.

I WONDERED AT MY niece when she moaned in pleasure. How could washing her hair be almost orgasmic? Not that I minded. Staring at her sexy naked bottom with water and suds running down between sweet rounded cheeks was very arousing indeed.

When I'd tickled her while she stripped, her giggles had filled me with joy. I couldn't get enough of them. It was impossible to ever tire of that sweet sound. The sight of her cotton panties partially pulled off a sexy bottom to expose her butt crack and most of one cheek had been stupendously arousing, especially those panties; loose white cotton things with blue patterned edgings and little blue elephants printed all over them. Very, very sexy indeed. It had caused the erection which I still had, currently poking her in her upper back.

I decided dinner needed to be soon. There were important things I wanted to do with and to Michelle.

I loved the way Michelle seemed to melt at my massage. But when she leaned back against my erection and rubbed, dinner was no longer a concern. Other pressing needs were more important. "Rinse," I instructed.

"So soon?"

Grinning, I turned her around. "Hurry up."

"Why? I haven't soaped."

"You're clean enough. Rinse."

She bent her head back and rinsed. Suds flowed down her body and narrowed towards her pouty pussy, finding the deep crevasses at each sides and running down to merge as a single stream cascading from her hairless vulva. It looked like she was peeing and, as weird as that was, it aroused me. Why?

I stared and throbbed, aroused, a fog of need settling over me. She looked surprised when I wrapped a big, fluffy towel around her and another around my waist, the towel tented by a determined erection.

"What's . . ." she began to ask and burst into a fit of giggles when I hauled her up and over my shoulder. "Wha'cha doing?"

"Just wait and see," I replied, striding down the hall from her end of the house. Dracula, lying on the floor, jumped up and raced after us. I groped a sexy, naked little ass under the towel to a mass of giggles, smiling at their sound and even hornier at the feel of silky young skin.

Yanking the quilt back, I shucked my towel, unwrapped a writhing Michelle and tumbled into bed, hugging her to me. The quilt was drawn up and, with Michelle on top of me, she slew me by suddenly calming and snuggling. The quiet sighs she emitted sent my heart racing. She wiggled her pussy against my erection and wafted shampoo scent at me. I quite drowned in her sweetness.

"I'm hungry," she murmured.

"No you're not. You're never hungry."

Michelle giggled softly. "I need to pee."

"Tough," I advised, reaching down to caress stupendously sexy buttocks. "You promised to help with this," I flexed my cock, "if I massaged your hair more."

"Kay." Michelle wiggled sexily. "What do you want me to do?"

I whispered into her ear. She calmed.

A moment or two later, Michelle slowly lifted herself up, her beautiful eyes staring at me, a soft smile on her pretty face. Her legs fell to my sides. She tilted her hips and, with hands on my stomach supporting herself, she pressed her pouty little pussy to my shaft.

I looked down. My eyes crossed. Plump hairless labia bulged around my erection. Her small clit pressed down. My erection looked huge between her thighs. It was so damned arousing!

"This was one of Daddy's favorite ways," Michelle said. "He liked it when I did this," she added, sitting completely upright.

Michelle started wiggling on me, not stroking, just wiggling, her pussy pooching out, plump and seductive. She reached for my hands. With a look of inward concentration, she casually brought them up to her chest and placed them on her little buds. I rubbed them. She wiggled.

My cock flexed. A clear bead of precum oozed out and slipped to my stomach. She wiggled her bum, head bent staring at my erection jutting out from her crotch. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled. She wiggled a bit faster, pressing a bit harder. My cock throbbed.

Until now I had been basking in the sensual pleasure of her sexy pussy on my erection and enjoying the amazingly erotic sight of my large cock lodged in the crotch of such a young girl. But need rushed in when Michelle paused. She reached down and gathered precum on her index finger, lifted up and spread it along her flushed cleft, and settled down again, hairless labia hugging my shaft like a bun.

A slight rub and her pussy caressed my shaft smoothly. My eyes crossed with the incredible sensation. I reached for her bony little hips and, holding her tight, drew her up my cock and down, a pulse of pleasure coursing through me. It actually felt like I as having intercourse with her. I moved her again. My cock swelled. Damn, so good.

Lost in the eroticism of her pussy caressing my erection, I began moving her back and forth, almost masturbating myself with her. Michelle joined in, her hands holding onto my forearms and humping my cock. She panted, her smooth gliding becoming harder jerks. I swelled, guiding her up and down my shaft, the first signs of a climax emerging; heaviness in my groin, my focus narrowing to the sight of being humped by a prepubescent ten-year-old, clear precum leaking, cock pulsing, heart racing.

Michelle tilted her pelvis slightly and gasped, her reddened clit scraping on my shaft. She held her breath and humped my erection with growing desperation. Suddenly she paused. Her little body shook. She emitted a little squeak and humped like crazy. She was climaxing on my cock!

The sight and feel was far too erotic. I relaxed, held her swinging little hips, let myself go and came in a beautiful climax. My erection strained impossibly rigid. The crown swelled and turned dark red. Semen rushed up and, with an explosion of ecstasy, cum erupted in a long, long rope. Thick semen landed on my chest, hot and wet. I gasped, dizzy, and another wave of beautiful pleasure hit, pearly white cum pulsing out to fill my navel.

Michelle humped my cock hard, each forward hump bringing a painful explosion of semen, rope after rope spurting in exquisite relief, beautiful pleasure, heart-stopping bliss. I came hard and fully staring at the sight of a sexy little girl humping my spurting cock, milking my cum, a climaxing little girl twitching and trembling. I came completely, drained of semen, drained of energy, peace and calm arriving and wrapping me in warmth.

The greatest pleasure came when I reached out and guided Michelle, so young and lovable, to lie on me. I wrapped her in my arms, warm cum spreading between us ignored. She murmured and wiggled against me like a kitten. Drawing the quilt up, I kissed her damp hair and closed my eyes. I was a changed man; I'd discovered unconditional love.

Chapter Nine

Christmas arrived with Michelle waking up full of beans. It was the first time I didn't watch her wake up. It was also the first time she didn't say, "Morning, Mitch," to me. This time it was two hands shaking my shoulder urgently.

"Wake up! Wake up! It's Christmas, Mitch!"

"It's too early," I grumped at her.

"It's light outside! Wake up!"

"It's too cold."

"No it isn't. Get up, Mitch," she insisted, shaking me violently.

I was tempted to continue teasing her but she was just so excited. We'd spent hours putting up a real Christmas tree, something she'd never had in New York. She'd approached the duties of decorating it with seriousness and determination, instructing me and correcting my ornament placement with firm direction, "Don't put two of the same color together, Mitch!" and "You're supposed to put the big ones at the bottom and the small ones at the top."

I'd never enjoyed trimming a tree so much.

"Mitch! C'mon! Get up!"

"Okay. Okay. I'll get up," I answered, rolling onto my back. "But only after I get a good morning kiss."

Michelle leaned over me. Her face hovered, eyes glittered with excitement. She grinned and pecked my lips. "There! Get up!"

Chuckling, I pulled clothes on while Michelle dressed for a journey to the Arctic Circle; thick winter socks, long johns, jeans, T-shirt and thick sweater. She shivered the whole time urging me to hurry. She was still a skinny little girl no matter how I tried to force food on her.

Following her as she raced to the living room, I paused to turn the thermostat up and let Dracula out to do his stuff.

"Mitch! C'mere!"

I adored her enthusiasm. She'd bugged me every day since going for the horse ride begging for another. I'd been deliberately stubborn because, in the last nine days, her desire had intensified and I had the sort of surprise I knew she'd just flip over. Excitement made my blood rush. Giving gifts, especially to a wonderful girl like Michelle, was a singular pleasure.

"Mitch!! Hurry! There are presents!"

"Coming."

Michelle was a joy. She lavished praise on all the small things I'd bought; more clothes, a reconditioned iPad, and some large rubber ball thing you were supposed to bounce around on. Like all kids, Michelle went for the biggest presents first. I sipped coffee waiting for the opening frenzy to pass and let Dracula in.

Dracula, much to Michelle's delight, joined the Christmas frenzy with two presents I'd wrapped; a box of Milk-Bone biscuits and a chew bone.

When Michelle finally stopped and came to me, giving be a wonderful hug and kiss and thanking me, I pulled the smallest package out and handed it to her.

"What is it?" she asked, turning it over in her hands.

"Open it."

Her confusion at the blindfold was lovely. Her confusion and wariness when I suggested she put it on was nice. When I handed her the down jacket she started interrogating me in the mistaken belief that insisting I tell with vehemence would make me talk.

Her breath formed a white cloud as I led her by the hand to the stable, walking slowly and carefully. Kevin had better have arranged everything. Dracula, loving being outside, raced ahead as if he knew what was about to happen.

Kevin was in the stable, pipe unlit but clenched between his teeth, smiling. He was holding the saddle.

"Okay, take your blindfold off. This is from Kevin and me."

Michelle yanked it off. Kevin's smile broadened.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Lange," he said, holding the small saddle out to her.

Poor Michelle was rooted to the spot.

"Well? Don't you want your own saddle?" Kevin asked.

"For me?" Michelle asked in a hushed voice. "I'm going to learn how to ride?"

Kevin nodded, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. I suspected he hadn't had this much fun in years. "Yes, Ma'am. Come and take this. It's a mite heavy for me."

Michelle, staring at the saddle, walked over and took it, struggling slightly with the weight.

"You'll want to put it near your horse," Kevin said. "Over there," he added with a nod. He called out, "Kismet."

The three-year-old mare, a gentle chestnut-colored horse with a white mane and forelock falling over placid, alert eyes, had set me back a few dollars. But Michelle deserved it. Kismet poked her head over the stall rail.

Michelle looked like she'd been struck dumb. Big gorgeous pale olive green eyes turned to me, her mouth open, disbelief on her pretty face. I nodded and smiled. "Go on. She's yours."

Lugging the saddle, Michelle walked over to Kismet slowly. Kismet nodded and dipped her head in greeting, her white forelock shaking. I heard Michelle, only just, her voice so low and very different from the vibrancy I was used to.

"Hello, Kismet. I'm Michelle."

Her voice became unintelligible. Kismet dipped her head further. Michelle moved in close, her hand stroking almost caressing. I think both Kevin and I felt a few tears prickle our eyes as we watched the miracle of Michelle, our little horse whisperer, and Kismet bond. For twenty-some minutes she talked, Kismet occasionally nodding or shaking her head as if answering Michelle. And then, finally, Michelle turned. She smiled, joy radiant on her pretty face.

"Thank you," she said. No fuss, no loudness, just calmly. It was the most intense thank you I'd received.

Kevin muttered something about having work to do when Michelle gave him a big hug, but his eyes were slightly damp.

I mumbled something about us going for a ride when Michelle threw herself at me, hugging my neck when I picked her up.

"Thank you, Mitch," she whispered fiercely.

We rode with me holding Kismet's reins while astride Lucifer. I led her slowly with a sharp eye on Michelle. Her black riding hard-hat looked good on her. Her shit-eating grin did, too.

Christmas dinner was eaten at lunch with Kevin joining us, Michelle bending his ear on how great Kismet was, how pretty she was, and how Kismet was now her new bestest friend, adding, "after you . . . and Dracula."

Despite the cold, Michelle spent the afternoon in the stable brushing Kismet and sitting on the edge of her stall talking to her. I didn't mind being ignored. Her delight was beautiful to see.

"Don't worry, Dracula," I said scratching behind his ear as we sat watching Michelle. "It's just temporary."

I was very pleased with myself when I finally climbed into bed, shivering slightly from the lowered temperature. The familiar scrabble of claws on hardwood sounded joined by the soft patter of bare feet. I smiled and raised the quilt.

Dracula raced in and leapt onto the bed. Michelle followed on his heels in a nightshirt.

"Cold!" she exclaimed, literally diving under the quilt. "Brrr!"

Two icy little feet found my legs. A warm girl snuggled to my side and pressed a cold nose to me. I found peace. Rolling, I gathered her in my arms.

"Thanks for Kismet, Mitch," she whispered, trying to climb inside me to get warm, her body shaking.

I rubbed her back vigorously. "You're welcome."

"When will you teach me?"

"We start tomorrow."

"But everything's covered in snow."

"I'll plow the training field."

"Kay." A minute later she added, "Did I thank you?"

"Yes," I answered with a smile, kissing her hair. She was warming up, her shivers fading.

She wriggled a bit. "You're not hard," she observed.

"I know."

Hugging her tight, she relaxed. Excitement had been too much for her. Ten minutes after warming, Michelle was sound asleep.

Sweet dreams of Michelle cuddling into me while we necked faded slowly. The feel of her petite body in my arms melted from my consciousness, a cherished feeling I tried to hold onto with desperation. I ached for her. It was a deep-seated yearning to make love to her and actually feel what my mind teased me with; penetrating her, sex, loving a child. I understood my brother and the attraction he must have felt, for in me it was now strong.

The dream faded away, an ethereal wisp one could never cling to. Regret and a feeling of loss filled me. Then a scent arrived in my consciousness, an aroma familiar and deeply attractive. Cold morning light intruded. The air was cold on my face, my nose chilly. My body was toasty warm.

I opened my eyes.

"Morning, Mitch," Michelle greeted me, a soft smile emerging on her pretty face, the quilt tucked around her to let no cold air in.

Warm love displaced heated desire. Without moving I reached out and caressed her cheek. "Morning."

"I'm cold," she told me. "See?"

Two icy feet touched my warm legs sending shivers through me. I reached down and pushed them away. "Keep those tootsies away from me."

Soft giggles preceded her shoving her feet at me. I adored her giggles. When her feet touched me again, I reached down and slipped my hand along her slender leg, moving up over her knee with a feather-light touch. When it reached her thigh she yanked her feet back and rolled away from me.

A gap in the quilt opened. Michelle shrieked and yanked it down over her head. Her voice muffled, she begged me to turn up the heat. Only because I loved her I agreed, slipping on a bathrobe and leaving her.

With the heat turned up and a fire started in the living room, coffee percolating and filling the air with its sensual aroma of roasted beans, I started preparing French toast.

Heat filled the house quickly, toasty warm within half an hour.

"Breakfast is ready!" I called out to Michelle.

Dracula returned from doing his business outside bringing a slight chill when I opened the door for him. An icy cold nose butted into me before he was distracted by the sound of Michelle stirring. He took off, racing to the bedroom.

A scream echoed out to me. "Dracula! Stop! You're cold!"

Sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee, Michelle entered. I was surprised not to see her swaddled in clothes. With a bathrobe on but not closed, her nightshirt showing and thick socks on, her hair messy, she looked gorgeous. When she crawled up into my lap and snuggled, I melted a bit.

"Is that French toast I smell, Mitch?"

"Yes. Would you like some?"

"Yuh-huh!" she nodded furiously.

Moving to lift her and go get breakfast, she complained. "Don't go."

"I have to if you want breakfast."

"Oh. Okay."

With a refilled mug of coffee, I put a plate of French toast down in front of her and a glass of orange juice. She ogled the plate and slathered butter and maple syrup over the toast while I sat opposite her. She glanced at me and smiled, her pretty eyes bright with pleasure.

Unexpectedly, Michelle slipped off her chair and slid her plate across the table, moving to my side and climbing into my lap. She tugged the plate towards her and started eating with enthusiasm, uttering little Mmmm's as she stuffed her face.

I held her around the waist and sipped coffee, completely caught up in her enthusiasm. Eventually she'd consumed the lot and showed her love of maple syrup by dipping her finger and collecting the remnants from the plate, licking, "Mmmm," and going back for a bit more.

"Did I thank you for Kismet?" she asked suddenly, turning to look at me.

"Yes, you did."

The way her face was turned, tilted up slightly, with such love in her eyes, I couldn't resist and bent and kissed her lightly. Her little lips were soft and tasted of maple. Her breath was sweet, smelling of maple.

She smiled with pleasure, slipped off my lap and climbed back on facing me, her legs dangling over my thighs. Her bathrobe hung open. She leaned in and rested her face on my shoulder, her arms around me.

"I like living with you," she said softly.

"Me too."

She shifted slightly. "Mmmm. You smell good, Mitch."

When she squirmed in my lap, my hands resting her lower back, I grew erect. I couldn't help it. Michelle was so wonderfully petite, so delicately slender, a sexy sweet girl wafting maple at me. I physically felt her little murmurs of love.

She pressed herself to my emerging erection, boxers incapable of holding it down.

"You're hard," she whispered. "Want some help with it?"

I kissed her hair. Her words added to my arousal. Putting the mug of coffee down, I hugged her with both arms, inhaled her scent deeply and mentally sighed. Damn she was a sexy thing. "Yes. That would be very nice," I murmured.

"Don't get up," she instructed when I made to stand. She reached down between us, lifting up slightly. Cold hands opened my bathrobe wider and fished inside the fly of my boxers. With a bit of wrestling, she yanked my now hard erection out.

It felt good to release it. I throbbed pleasantly, stiff, aroused, excited at the prospect of some sexy play with her.

She shuffled around on my lap, edging herself closer to me, her bare legs moving up my thighs. Something warm pressed to my cock.

"Guess what," Michelle said softly. "I'm not wearing panties. I took them off in bed."

Her soft, warm body pressed my erection to my stomach. She wiggled against it. My hands found their way inside her bathrobe and under the back of her nightshirt. Two bare buttocks greeted me. Excitement surged.

Michelle's breath was warm against me. Her tummy rubbed my erection side-to-side sending sexy thrills through me, the seductive fog of arousal settling. Damn but she felt good against me.

Her side to side movements morphed into little hunching movements. I could picture her hairless pussy rubbing my shaft and helped her by adding pressure through my hands on her sweet buttocks.

"What are you . . ." I started to ask when she squirmed.

"Wait and see," she whispered after reaching up to hold my neck, her body rising higher. One hand wormed its way between us.

A cold hand gripped my shaft. I swelled and groaned quietly. She pulled herself higher and the exquisite feeling of my crown sliding along her cleft hit me. My cock ached. Precum leaked. She became very slippery.

"Michelle, what . . ."

"Just wait," she instructed me.

Moist, slippery, silken labia caressed my crown. Michelle wiggled her bum slowly. Pressure grew on my tip. Michelle pushed.

Damn! A moist, tight opening slowly oozed over my crown. Lightheadedness hit. Michelle was taking me in! I was actually penetrating her! A storm of conflicting desires assaulted me. I wanted to yank her down and impale her on my aching cock. I wanted to yank her off, no ten-year-old could take being penetrated by an adult erection. I wanted to hug her tight, lift her and carry her back to bed. And I wanted to see, desperately!

What I did was moan, "That feels so incredible," into her hair, holding her sweet buttocks.

"Uh-huh," she agreed, pressing and easing off, pressing and easing off.

With my crown securely lodged inside the tightest pussy I'd ever experienced, throbbing and achingly hard, Michelle let the shaft go and held onto my neck. She leveraged herself up and eased down. The sensation on my erection was mind-blowing. My crown was being caressed by a tight, tight grip. I knew what Michelle's hairless pussy looked like. I knew how small she was, yet somehow, unbelievably, she was taking me inside her.

I shook with excitement. This was crazy! We were in the kitchen!

"Do you like it?" Michelle whispered, trying to sit down, take me deeper.

I held her little buttocks preventing her from taking more than just my crown. It was exquisitely pleasurable. I wanted to bury my entire erection in her velvet pussy, but just couldn't see how she'd take it without pain. I was scared and excited, my cock pulsing, gripped tightly, so tightly.

"Do I feel good?" she whispered.

"God Almighty, Michelle. I can't believe how good this feels," I answered in a soft, unsteady voice. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh."

I'd never felt myself so stiff. My shaft felt like it was almost bursting. Michelle eased up slightly, her tight pussy easing off my crown and squeezing down again, molten velvet gripping me. I pulsed. My heart raced. This was too erotic, too arousing by far.

She pulled up and pressed down again, fucking me with exquisite slowness. It slammed into me like hitting a brick wall. I had no control. The mental and physical stimulation, the intense excitement of actually penetrating Michelle's little pussy, took control and I came.

I felt my shaft swell. I felt my crown swell, Michelle's pussy feeling even tighter. "Michelle, sweetheart," I moaned, and semen erupted in an agonizing spurt, burning me. Holding her tighter, another aching pulse took me by storm, crown swelling, semen exploding into her little pussy. Eyes squeezed shut, the maelstrom of my climax raged over me. Without thrusting, I came inside her, swelling, cum exploding, breath-taking pleasure ripping through me. My body trembled and shook, cock throbbing, another achingly glorious pulse of cum exploding into her. I came, gasping at the intensity of my orgasm, erection swelling, spurting my guts out and flooding her, just the crown gripped in her vise-tight pussy. Pulse after pulse of sweet agony punished me with exquisite pleasure until, finally, finally, it crested, my climax passing leaving me drained and panting and heart racing, holding sweet Michelle to me.

I'd never experienced such an all-consuming climax. My body hurt. In the glow of post-orgasmic bliss I wanted more. I wanted Michelle again but my body was incapable.

With a long training rope I led Kismet around in circles, her nostrils sending clouds of mist into the air.

"Sit up, Michelle," I instructed.

Michelle, bundled in a parka, her riding hat on with the parka hood pulled up over it, cheeks rosy from exposure, was concentrating hard, her look fierce. She sat up straighter and stopped gripping the saddle with her free hand. She said something I couldn't hear.

Kismet, a remarkably gentle mare, walked easily, her ears turning back to listen to Michelle, head dipping as if agreeing.

Only part of my attention was on Michelle and Kismet.

When the disorientating impact of my orgasm had faded, Michelle had asked how come I'd stopped her from taking more inside her, assuring me she could, "Daddy was as big as you." When I'd explained about hurting her she'd laughed and called me silly.

Using a clicking sound, I encouraged Kismet into a trot. Michelle grabbed the saddle with a squeak of surprise. Kismet immediately slowed without me asking. Michelle leaned forward and talked to her horse, sat upright and Kismet moved smoothly back into a trot, Michelle as happy as a clam. She was a natural.

Smiling, I replayed her still on my lap in the kitchen, my erection slowly fading away. I'd asked her if she'd cum and she'd very seriously advised me, her beautiful eyes staring at me, "You came too fast, Mitch. I didn't have time." I'd laughed. Being told by a ten-year-old that I, an adult, had less control than she did was funny; the truth, but funny.

"Look, Mitch!" Michelle yelled, bringing my attention back. She had a shit-eating grin on her face as she moved easily in the saddle. "I can ride a horse!"

I grinned at her, snapped the rope, clicked loudly and Kismet smoothly transitioned to a canter. Michelle screeched and grabbed the saddle with both hands. Kismet slowed into a lazy walk.

Michelle glared at me and my smile. "That was NOT funny!"

"Yes it was," I threw at her, although my heart had flipped for a second when she'd teetered on the edge of falling. I wasn't going to try that again anytime soon.

An hour later, chilled to the bone, we were brushing down Kismet. I inhaled the smells around me; horse, straw, manure, and leather. It calmed me, familiar and welcome. This close to Kismet and Michelle I finally got to listen to her talk to her horse. She carried on a conversation as if Kismet was a person, telling her how much she liked riding her and how hard she was trying to learn so they could go out on long rides together and how Dracula was going to go with them. She explained how much she liked French toast and promised to bring a piece for Kismet to try, and casually asked Kismet to move and give her room. When the mare responded and moved, I shook my head in wonder.

That night I stretched out under the quilt, naked and sporting an erection that had plagued me on and off all day. Paws scrabbled on the hardwood floor. I raised the edge of the quilt. Dracula came racing in taking a huge leap onto the bed. Behind him Michelle, in a nightshirt, came running.

"Cold, Mitch!" she yelled, diving under the quilt.

Icy feet wriggled under my legs. A sexy girl snuggled and pressed a cold nose against me. I relaxed with a smile of pleasure. I'd never tire of this.

Pulling the quilt up, I rolled and gathered the little minx in my arms. She snuggled.

"Guess what. I'm not wearing panties," she said. "My bum's cold," she added with a giggle.

I checked and confirmed it; cold little bum and no panties. My erection ached.

"Guess what," I countered. "I'm not wearing boxers."

Her cold hand almost deflated me.

"You're hard," she advised me as if I didn't know.

"Yup. I am."

"Want some help with it?"

"Yup. I do."

"Kay."

Easing her up, I kissed soft lips and groped the sexiest bottom in the world. This time, knowing I wasn't going to break her, I had some very strong desires coursing through my head.

It started with caressing her amazing petite buttock, slipping the tip of my fingers along her short bum crack. I caressed down the back of her thigh and up again, exploring the sensuous shape of a ten-year-old girl's body. Damn it was sexy.

With my hand I drew the hem of her nightshirt up, still kissing her gently. Her body was so slight, so slender, and the bud on her chest so small yet exciting, the very first sign of puberty about to storm her body.

Michelle's tongue teased my lips. She smiled when I groaned my appreciation. The kiss ended, arms rose and a nightshirt was tossed out. The quilt was pulled back surrounding us in a warm cocoon. My hand found a sexy bum. My fingertips found a warm little crevasse. I touched a small cleft from behind and probed carefully.

Warm, silky labia welcomed my fingertip with a sensual, moist hug and I lost it.

A raging erection, a moist little pussy, and a sweet little girl all naked and warm and cuddly, all combined to shape my thoughts. Topmost was Michelle telling me I could go deeper this morning. How deep was deeper?

What would her prepubescent pussy actually look like with my adult erection penetrating her? What would it look like to see her below me, legs spread? What would it feel like? She'd been so damned tight this morning, what would it feel like on my shaft? Dizzyingly erotic thoughts swirled in my mind. The urge was so powerful; too strong.

"Michelle," I whispered softly and explained what I wanted to try, how selfish it might be, and how she could tell me to stop at any time.

She smiled. "It's okay, I don't mind. You're like Daddy. He was like that too, sometimes."

Rising, I moved over her. She parted her legs, bent her knees and rested them on the bed as only young girls can. I hovered over her holding myself up. Her slender body lay naked and exposed, pink areolae mounded into small buds, her chest narrow. She watched me and smiled softly when I bent to kiss her, my lips pressing against hers. She teased me with her tongue and smiled into my kiss. I sucked her lower lip.

Rising again, I studied the perfection of her ten-year-old body; smooth creamy skin, too slender, her ribs visible, a long tummy. My heart thumped at the sight of Michelle's pubis. With her legs spread almost one-hundred and eighty degrees, her narrow bony hips funneled my vision to the proud mound nestled at her crotch. Perfectly hairless, sexy and erotic, soft and alluring, her short cleft was parted. Framed by plump labia was a small clit, upturned and calling out to be kissed. Immature inner labia hovered like wings over her glistening cleft, pink, her urethra. Just below, where sexy labia converged, protected deep in her cleft, was a little dark opening, her entrance.

Staring at it, my cock aching and pulsing gently and precum dripping, I couldn't believe she'd taken me inside her. How could something so small stretch so much?

Bending, I kissed her tummy, her skin cool now. I kissed lower, kneeling back. My lips settled on her pouty pubis, that sensual mound that loomed so large on her young body. Pressing my mouth to her, her mound yielded, so sexy.

I kissed lower, right on the start of her cleft. Her delicate scent hit me, sweetly musky. Closing my eyes I inhaled deeply and locked that aroma in my brain.

Michelle trembled slightly when I kissed her cleft. Settling between her legs, I reached under her to cup her perfect buttocks and pressed my mouth to her pussy. Starting with a kiss, I caressed her little clit and slipped my tongue down along her smooth slit to taste her center. Her body trembled lightly as if she was under strain. Eyes closed, I concentrated on the shape of her clitoris, a small hood protecting a little pearl. I licked and probed. Michelle responded by gently pressing her pussy to my mouth. I kissed and sucked gently. Michelle twitched.

When I opened my eyes, Michelle hands had formed fists. She was frowning slightly, her eyes closed. Her stomach strained. I concentrated on her clit and rubbed my aching erection on the bed. Kissing, sucking, teasing with my tongue, I brought Michelle to a climax. She moaned. Her body cramped. Her thighs twitched and then she came with little grunts, body shaking, fists grabbing the sheet. She grunted and shook through a beautiful orgasm, her face frowning. I followed her waves of pleasure, easing off as she peaked, slowing, kissing her clit gently as she sighed deeply and relaxed, her fists unfurling.

When I rose above her, my erection jutting over her, Michelle opened her eyes and smiled.

"That was a good one," she said softly. Her eyes dropped to study my erection.

Reaching down, I held my shaft and guided myself to Michelle's now moist cleft. The size difference was amazing. My crown was wider than her pussy at the base. How could she possibly take me?

The tip kissed her cleft with a slippery touch of precum. I pressed slightly. Her clit dipped and kissed my crown. I physically shook from arousal. Her pussy was silken against me. I started moving the tip from side to side. Her labia bulged and oozed apart to hug the tip of my crown. I pressed, the crown sinking only slightly, the tip held up at her entrance, labia stretching more.

I pressed again, harder. My cock pulsed, precum leaking directly into her small pussy. I pressed harder, need now driving me. Easing off, I pressed again, firmly.

And there it was! Michelle's pussy yielded. Labia stretched thin. I watched the incredible sight of my crown oozing into her, my adult erection penetrating her immature ten-year-old pussy. It was stupendously arousing. But, despite my racing heart, despite raging arousal and aching need, when I thought it couldn't possibly get any better than this, it did.

Michelle curled her pussy up at me and I stared in astonishment as my thick erection slipped into her, her entrance sliding down my shaft, a velvet embrace surrounding me. Before I could breathe I was buried in her tight pussy, her labia stretched obscenely. Only an inch of my shaft protruded. I'd never seen anything so erotic!

Withdrawing was sweet agony. My shaft emerged glistening with moisture. Michelle's pussy almost inverted trying to cling to me tightly. The rim of my crown oozed out before I reversed, shuddering at the sensation of penetrating her, so exquisitely tight. I withdrew again, still stunned at the sight of an adult erection, so thick, penetrating her young prepubescent pussy. Reversing, I penetrated her again, slipping deep, shaking at how good she felt.

My cock swelled making her tighter than ever. Moaning quietly at the unbelievable feelings assaulting me, I lowered myself onto her. Michelle's arms welcomed me.

"Am I too heavy?" I asked quietly in a shaky voice.

She shook her head.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No. It feels good."

Lying down and supporting myself with one elbow, Michelle so small under me the top of her head touched my chin, I reached down to grip her sexy bum, my hand almost spanning both beautiful buttocks.

Holding her tightly I withdrew and thrust into her slowly. She was exquisitely tight and moist, slippery and exciting. I withdrew and thrust, my tip nudging to her end, a velvet grip tight on my shaft. I withdrew and thrust, my cock aching, withdrew and thrust, my heart racing. Holding Michelle's sweet little bottom I started thrusting into her trying to be gentle, driven by the incredible feel of sex with a young girl. My pace increased, need taking control, thrusting deep, swelling, withdrawing, thrusting.

Urgent need grew stronger with every exquisite thrust. My cock swelled. I thrust with growing force now chasing my climax, pressure building. I withdrew and thrust faster, need now an aching agony inside me. I hunched and thrust into Michelle's tight pussy, gripping her sweet bottom, thrust, thrust again, now desperate for release.

"Oh Jesus," I groaned when the gates burst open.

My cock swelled. Semen burned up my shaft. I exploded, thrusting myself all the way into her, sweet euphoria overwhelming me. Withdrawing, I thrust again, swelled and exploded, an agonizing pulse of hot cum spurting hard into her. The rage of my orgasm washed down over me. Suddenly I was thrusting and spurting with short urgent strokes, thrusting, cumming, filling her, filling her. I ached, thrust and emptied myself in Michelle, heart racing at the exquisite joy of cumming. And suddenly, as fast as it had arrived, my climax passed releasing my body from the rigid cramping that had taken hold. Suddenly I was aware of Michelle, so petite under me. Suddenly I was aware of how wet she was inside, my cock still engorged. Suddenly I was afraid I'd hurt her in my wild abandon.

Holding her tightly I rolled to the side, easily bringing her with me. I was panting and tired and drained.

"Michelle," I whispered, "are you okay?"

A cold nose pressed into me. "Uh-huh," she nodded.

Chapter Ten

Mindlessly washing dinner dishes, staring out over the white winter expanse, a panoramic view through the kitchen window, my mind turned to Michelle, as it seemed to do frequently these days. The sound of the television floated to me from the living room. Michelle had asked for an apple and disappeared. As usual she had not offered to help clean up after the meal. She would help if I asked, though.

She was a strange creature. Michelle treated sex as a casual thing. She wasn't seeking it and never initiated sex. She just responded to my condition. I knew she liked sex, of that there was no question; her sweet quiet orgasms were evidence of her enjoyment. It just seemed sex wasn't any more important to her than playing with Dracula or being with Kismet.

For me, I sometimes worried that I was inducing her to have sex. But every time I resolved to behave, she'd do something and I'd get turned on and my resolve would magically evaporate to be replaced by intense desire for her. My emotions were confusing, too. I now knew I loved Michelle, just not how. Was it as an uncle would love a niece? Or was it as a lover, a sexual partner, someone I wanted to spend my life with? Was that even fair to her?

We'd celebrated the new year with a party, Kevin joining us for an intense game of Monopoly, Michelle's favorite. She was due to start school on Monday, a couple of days away. Kevin had come down with a chest cold after the party and it worried me. At his age any illness was cause for concern. His dismissal of my concerns didn't change how I felt. If he wasn't better by Monday I was hauling his ass to Dr. Wilson.

Finished cleaning the dinner dishes, I grabbed a beer and went to join Michelle. At the entrance of the living room I paused. She was at it again. God knows why she did things, but, like the yellow rubber gloves on her feet, she had a zany aspect to her that just charmed the hell out of me. Sitting on the sofa, her eyes fixed on a sitcom, she'd bent her knees to the sofa and put the soles of her feet together in a yoga-like position. That wasn't odd. What was odd was her feet were bare and between them was the apple. As I studied her, grinning in amusement and bewildered at her actions, she bent forward and took a small bite of the apple, sat up and chewed.

Why? What made her think of eating an apple with her feet? There was no logic in it. Yet, hands unoccupied, watching the television, she calmly took another small bite. I adored her odd-ball moments. A flush of love warmed me. I adored her, too.

When I sat on the sofa, Michelle calmly placed the apple on the coffee table and turned to lean back against my side, her feet back to their usual position over the sofa arm. There was no acknowledgement of me. Her attention never strayed from the television.

Grabbing my hand she guided my arm around her and placed my palm on her chest. The result was predictable. Gently caressing her breast bud over her T-shirt I rubbed it in circles then squeezed it carefully between my thumb and index finger.

After a few minutes of fondling Michelle suddenly shifted.

"Hold on, Mitch," she said unbuttoning her jeans and kicking them off. She returned to her previous position leaning back against my side, grabbed my hand and brought it to her panties, soft gray cotton. Parting her legs slightly she placed my palm over her pubis.

I was utterly flummoxed by Michelle. What was she doing now?

"What's up?" I asked, cupping her small pussy.

"I'm horny. Your rubbing my boobs made me horny."

"Doesn't it always make you horny?" I asked.

"No. Usually it gives me nice tingles. But this time it made me horny," she stated. "Here. Feel." she tugged my hand off her pussy, lifted the waist of her panties and pushed my hand inside.

I cupped her hairless pussy and stroked her short cleft. My finger discovered silken moisture at the base.

"See?" she said. Her hand landed in my lap. "You're hard," she added with a grope of my erection.

Curling the tip of my middle finger, Michelle's labia oozed apart to hug it, silky soft and warm, so damned exciting. I found her little clitoris and caressed it gently before sliding the tip of my finger back down. Michelle spread her legs more, her attention seemingly on the television. I probed deeper and at the base of her plump cleft I found the source of her moisture, the small entrance to her pussy.

My cock pulsed. Damn this was seriously erotic.

"Mitch? Would you like to do it together?" Michelle asked. She clarified what she meant by fiddling with the button on my jeans. This was crazy!

"Okay," I agreed quickly.

A zipper was lowered. I raised my ass and helped shove jeans to my knees. Michelle's hand dived into my boxers and levered my erection out. Incredibly, I still had my hand inside her panties, my fingertip clasped by sexy labia and poised to slip into her.

She held my shaft and squeezed. When I throbbed in response, Michelle almost took me over the top. She turned slightly and looked up at me.

"Let me know when you're going to cum. I don't want to make a mess."

"What will you do?" I asked.

"I'll swallow it so it doesn't go everywhere," she answered calmly.

She didn't seem to understand the effect her words had. She had no idea how erotic and arousing it was to hear a gorgeous preteen calmly tell me she'd suck my cock. It was outrageous and thrilling.

Twisting, she held my shaft. With her other palm she started rubbing the tip. I moved my fingertip, held snugly by her plump labia, in circles timing my movements with her palm, teasing the entrance to her little pussy. Drawing her slippery moisture up, I rubbed her clitoris, my fingertip sensually hugged by her cleft. Michelle's hands paused. She moved her hips, pressing her pussy to my finger.

Sliding the tip down, I pressed it to her entrance again, rubbed in circles and, when Michelle pressed her pussy again, her tight opening oozed over my fingertip. I penetrated her velvety vagina to the first knuckle. She sighed quietly when I pulled out and returning to teasing her clit.

Her hand resumed rubbing the tip of my crown and paused again when I repeated my caress, this time penetrating her deeper, curling my finger, seeking and finding the slight rough skin of her g-spot.

Michelle moaned very softly. Her hips curled and relaxed, curled and relaxed. She melted against me, her grip on my erection easing, distracted. She humped my finger slowly. Little tremors emerged along with soft moans. Staring down at her pretty face I studied her; eyes closed, a frown of concentration emerging, lips parting. Her breathing deepened, breathing through her mouth not her nose, hips curling, fucking my finger.

I could feel her arousal strengthen by how tightly her pussy gripped my finger and, amazingly, by how hard she squeezed my erection. Adding my thumb to the mix, rubbing her clitoris, Michelle inhaled so sharply it sounded like a snort.

My erection strained in her fist, precum sliding down over the crown. Watching her experience pleasure was phenomenally erotic.

She trembled, her frown deepening and suddenly, just like that, Michelle was climaxing; my niece was cumming. It was stunningly beautiful. Slender legs clamped together trapping my hand inside her panties. Her body jerked, breath held. She gripped my shaft hard. For just a second she seemed to pause. Then a flurry of things happened; breath exploding with a soft cry of pleasure, her body jerked hard, she writhed and gasped, humping her pussy at my finger, fucking it and climaxing until her body seemed to cramp. Her hand reached for mine pulling it out of her panties as if she was too sensitive to be touched. Still trembling slightly, Michelle curled up next to me hugging my arm.

I was achingly erect, that stage where it feels like my erection might burst. I couldn't stop grabbing myself just to get some stimulation; a squeeze. It provided no relief.

When Michelle stirred and rolled onto her front, staring at my erection, I stared at her amazing bum mounding soft gray cotton panties, the material dipping to show her bum crack. Two gorgeous, rounded little buttocks flexed and relaxed when she raised her feet into the air and waved them back and forth.

"Your turn," she said, her expression quite serious.

Her bottom flexed again, indents forming on her buttocks and disappearing. I was no longer interested in her oral attention. That sweet little rump was seriously sexy and curvaceous. Reaching out I caressed the incredible shape, so excitingly small and sensual, youthfully firm. When she reached for my erection I brushed her hand away.

"Not like that," I said. Bending, I whispered into her ear. I had a vision that aroused me like crazy.

Heart-achingly beautiful olive green eyes studied me. A smile emerged on her pretty face. "Kay," she said softly.

I kissed her soft cheek.

Dracula complained with a grumble when Michelle urged him to move aside. She knelt on the floor and leaned forward over the coffee table, her elbows supporting her. Her head turned to glance back at me, eyes twinkling. "Like this?" she asked and gave her bum a sexy wiggle.

Yes! "Perfect," I replied, slipping to my knees behind her.

Bent over, Michelle's bottom gained a wondrous shape. A slight waist emerged. Narrow hips slightly wider than her waist started a sensual flare that led to her rounded buttocks. My breathing was a bit ragged when I eased her gray cotton panties down to reveal her glorious little bum. The panties slipped to her knees.

It was a dizzyingly erotic sight. Nestled between slender thighs was the sexiest hairless pussy in the world. It was rounded and plump and large on her delicate body, squeezed by her thighs, her panties preventing her from parting her knees. A bum crack dipped and merged sensually into her short cleft. She had two dimpled depressions, one indicating where her anus was, and another, glistening with moisture, indicating the entrance to heaven. Plump little labia were so tightly closed every treasure within was hidden from sight.

I ached with need, my erection bobbing. Leaking precum cooled the tip. Before starting I kissed each succulent buttock and then pressed my mouth to her gorgeous pussy, my nose pressing between her buttocks. I kissed her labia gently, tasting her; a delicate musky flavor, almost clean, amazingly arousing.

Kissing my way up her back and over her shoulder blades, I arrived at her neck and nuzzled her. Michelle giggled and turned her head to protect her neck.

"Tickles," she exclaimed.

"You are so sexy like this," I said. "Just yummy."

"Kay," she whispered in reply.

Rising, my need now a fever in me, I gripped my shaft and edged forward, the tip touching her labia with a wet kiss. With one hand I spread her buttocks and labia to reveal moist inner pink and the alluring, darkly shadowed entrance to her pussy. The size difference was shockingly arousing. Knowing Michelle, only ten years old, could take me thrilled me no end. Memory of her tightness made my cock throb.

Teasing myself, I pressed my crown to her cleft slowly. I wanted to watch every single bit of me penetrating her. Michelle's labia flattened first. Then they bulged out refusing to accept my girth. I pressed. My heart leapt at the sight of her hairless labia slowly oozing out and around my crown. Warmth touched my tip. I pressed.

Her labia began to stretch, slowly thinning as they stretched more and more, oozing over my crown. Before they reached the rim I was lodged against the entrance to her pussy. My cock swelled, rigid, throbbing, and shockingly thick against such a small girl.

Releasing my shaft, rigidly held in place, I gripped Michelle's narrow hips. Her immaturity slammed home again when I noticed my thumbs almost touching. She was so slender, so slim, so damned young.

Need punished me. Holding her firmly I pressed forward. The sensation of her pussy dilating, stretching to accept the huge intruder was unbelievable. But when it yielded suddenly, labia hugging my shaft, my crown snug inside her, I swelled, dangerously close to cumming.

I froze, the tip gripped in her, and breathed deeply to tamp down the climax threatening to erupt. I tried to regain control that was slipping. But staring at my thick cock penetrating her was almost more than I could handle. I might have managed self-control had Michelle not moved. But she did.

Michelle glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled. She wiggled her little bum and, as if I'd hit an oil slick, my erection slid into her tight pussy, a feeling of hot liquid velvet encompassing me. Her sexy small buttocks pressed against my groin and I gasped loudly.

Sweet Lord! She'd taken all of me, every last inch!

Michelle grunted. Her head fell to rest on her crossed arms. "You're really deep, Mitch," she moaned.

"Does it hurt?"

"A bit."

Fuck! Withdrawing, my shaft glistening as it emerged, her little pussy inverting as if desperately trying to cling to me, I eased myself back in, her tight velvet sheath surrounding me. This time I stopped with an inch to go. Michelle, moaned and pressed back taking me all the way with a grunt.

"Don't," I admonished, pulling back. "You're hurting yourself."

"But it feels good," she said, shoving back at me.

I slid in deep, all the way, her gorgeous buttocks flattening against my groin. My erection swelled. She felt even tighter, gloriously tighter. Caution melted away replaced by the agony of need. Holding her hips I started stroking into her small body, staring at the sight of my thick cock withdrawing from her and plunging in, stretching her labia. It was too erotic.

With a storm gathering, testicles tensing and heavy, I thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew from her tight grip. My erection swelled. Pressure built. My focus narrowed to the sight of my erection penetrating her, withdrawing, penetrating her, loving how small she felt in my hands.

Panting, unable to draw enough air in, thrusting, withdrawing, tenseness arrived, the prelude to release. Thrusting harder, penetrating her deep, touching her end with each agonizingly pleasurable stroke, her little buttocks slapping into my groin, such a small ass, sexy, sexy . . . I held my breath. The storm erupted.

"Michelle!" I gasped.

Shoving myself into her, filling her little pussy, my erection swelled, my crown expanded and a painful wave of pleasure smashed into me, semen erupting into her in an intense, powerful spurt. I gasped, arched my back and shoved, exploding again, hot cum jetting into her in an endless spurt. The rage of my climax swirled around me like a tornado. Holding her narrow hips, I thrust and spurted, beautiful pleasure with each hard pulse. I thrust and came filling her, flooding her immature womb, cock aching, swelling, spurting, aching. I fucked Michelle with desperate strokes chasing my orgasm, cumming in her tight pussy, cumming, cumming until it hurt.

It passed suddenly. Like a deflated balloon my orgasm vanished leaving behind breathlessness, a feeling of emptiness, pervasive satisfaction, lightheadedness, and sweet peace. My cock pulsed gently with fading remnants of my ecstasy. I leaned over and kissed a flushed little cheek.

"You're killing me, Michelle," I whispered.

She wiggled her bum against me, my partial erection still in her wet pussy. "I felt it this time. I felt you cum."

When I deliberately flexed my cock, Michelle squeezed her pussy in response. Sweet Jesus, it felt good.

I was a completely changed man.

Epilogue

Summer was my favorite time. Field flowers and wild grass waved in the breeze. Pines and conifers dotted the landscape becoming denser towards the Bitterroot Mountains, forming a green carpet up the steep slopes to taper out leaving the peaks bare. To my left a large blue lake promised relief from an intense summer sun. I was sorely tempted.

Sitting on top of the wood fence I watched Michelle in the distance riding Kismet at a full gallop towards me. Long raven hair tied back in a ponytail bounced on her back as she leaned forward, urging Kismet to gallop faster. Fifteen feet to her left Dracula bounded, ears flapping, mouth open, his tongue hanging making him look like he was laughing.

Wind pressed Michelle's plain white blouse to her chest outlining compact, firm breasts. At almost eighteen years old, she was still a slight girl, slender hipped, and still didn't care about food. Her tight tan riding pants revealed the slenderness of her thighs and the gorgeous length of her legs.

Kismet raced, white mane fluttering. Michelle said something in her ear. Kismet seemed to respond, girding herself before taking a huge leap, both rising to clear the fence with elegant grace, hooves thumping down. Dracula dashed under the fence in pursuit.

They came racing towards me across the exercise field, flat out. At the last minute Michelle eased the reins back, rising to sit upright. Kismet shuddered to a stop, nostrils flaring from heavy breathing, flanks shining with sweat. Michelle smiled, her pale green eyes glittering with pleasure.

I smiled back at her. For seven years she'd made me the happiest man in the world. The love she showed me daily was addictive. She no longer raced to bed like she used to, now moving with languid maturity. But she still had cold feet - a perennial condition - and a cold nose. She still snuggled up to me as soon as she slipped under the quilt. She still shivered at the coolness of the sheets. She still advised me when I had an erection the same way she'd done since being ten years old, "You're hard. Want some help with it?" I never refused her.

I waved the white envelope in my hand at her, still smiling but with bittersweet pleasure. She jumped down off Kismet, unconsciously curling a few loose strands of raven hair behind her ear.

"It came," I said.

"And?"

"Accepted. You're going to U of M in the fall."

A radiant smile emerged on her pretty face, eyes twinkling at me.

Michelle had decided she wanted to be a veterinarian. With the mystical connection she had to animals it made sense. But the University of Montana in Missoula was an hour and a half away. She was going to live on campus during the week and be exposed to all those young guys. I wasn't very happy.

"Come on, Grumpy," she said with a laugh, waving at Keith smoking his pipe as he sat in front of the stables, then taking my hand and pulling me down off the fence. She led me and Kismet towards the stable. I stared at her amazing ass held snugly in riding pants and felt even worse. Those gorgeous buttocks were going to be leaving me.

"Are you sure you don't want to take correspondence courses?" I asked.

Michelle let out a peal of laughter. She twitched her delectable bum at me. "Come on, Mitch. Let's go. I'm all sweaty and everything. Wanna shower with me after brushing Kismet down?"

I felt like Dracula looked; tongue hanging out and panting after Michelle's sweet butt. "Okay," I agreed. Two-thirty in the afternoon was never too early to get clean, was it? Besides, I felt rather dirty all of a sudden. "Are you feeling dirty?" I inquired hopefully.

I adored her peal of laughter.