The Indomitable Rory Callahan
Copyright© 2017 by Renpet
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Over one incredible summer break, two lives change. Rory, a fifteen-year-old girl, sets her sights on her uncle. He has no chance. None. This is a story of unrestrained, uninhibited, sexy fun only fantasies are made of.
RORY WOKE AT THE sound of a pot clattering into a sink. It was sharp; a loud smack of metal against metal echoing down the hall to her room and penetrating the closed door. Eyes now open, she admired how the warm yellow morning sun hitting the lace curtains made them glow, and waited. It followed as sure as the sun follows the moon; Uncle Ethan swearing, “Fudge-ruckle!”
Rory had to smile despite hunger gnawing at her. She’d rarely heard her uncle swear like a man; to actually use a real cuss word. He had a dictionary of words he used instead, all of them funny. You couldn’t take him seriously. He was far too amusing.
With a yawn and stretch, Rory flipped the sheet off and headed to the hall bathroom. As she did every morning, she turned the shower on, went to the toilet, then stripped off her pajama top, pajama shorts, and panties, checked the temperature of the water with her hand, adjusted it, and stepped in. First hair - shampoo twice, rinse well, then conditioner. Next body - soap neck down, then rinse. Mindless.
She thought about today as she did every year. It was her eighth anniversary and she wondered what Ethan had planned. He did it every year - celebrate the day she came to live with him. He’d insisted it was his celebration, not hers. She knew better. She knew, in the beginning, it was his way of making her feel better, but it had continued and become a tradition right up there with birthdays and Christmas and, she thought with a smile, any other crazy holiday he liked when the mood took him.
She turned the shower off, stepped out and set about drying herself. The mirror over the sink was fogged, a shadow of her reflecting. She leaned over the sink and wiped the mirror. Wrapping the towel around her, she studied her face, inspecting her skin for blemishes, pleased when she couldn’t find pimples or blackheads.
With her special soap, she scrubbed her face, applied cream, and brushed her teeth.
When she left the bathroom, the familiar smell of the Atlantic Ocean hit her in the bedroom; salty and fresh. The solid wood floor, aged to a honey brown, felt cool against her bare feet. A lazy breeze stirred by the overhead revolving fan wafted her lace curtains. She paused and inhaled deeply. She enjoyed living here, on the edge of the ocean with the calming sound of surf reaching her. The air was humid and heavy. It was going to be a stinker of a day.
Excitement pulsed in her. It was the first week of summer holidays and she loved summer; the freedom to do what she wanted, no homework, no pressure, just laze around.
She pulled her dresser drawer open and selected a clean pair of panties, a soft cotton bra and, in the next drawer, soft pale yellow sweatshorts and a sky blue tank top.
Dressed, she walked down the hall giving cursory looks at the framed pages of old parchment on the walls. At the doorway to the combined kitchen and family room she paused.
Uncle Ethan was placing a pancake on a pile already made, his back to her. Through wide sliding glass doors she could see the lush vegetation of their back garden and, beyond, through the palms, a flash of tan sand and sparkling water - the Atlantic. Surf was low today.
Ethan, sensing her, turned and smiled. “Blueberry pancakes today.”
Rory asked, “What would you do if I want cereal instead?”
“Eat all the pancakes myself,” he answered, his blue eyes twinkling.
While he finished cooking, she set the old, heavy, oak kitchen table. It was war-scarred and ring-stained from decades of use.
Despite eight years living with him, she still couldn’t see Uncle Ethan as the Forensic Document Specialist he was. He didn’t look anything like an old fuddy-duddy. Just into his thirties, he was lean, average height, with sandy blond hair that, while short at the sides, was a little too long at the top. A fringe kept falling into his eyes. She noticed he wasn’t wearing his horn-rimmed glasses; contacts meant some sort of physical activity was planned.
She’d never understood his love of old documents or why he was hired to validate them. Who cares about old paper? It was his forensic handwriting investigations for criminal and civil cases that caught her imagination; proving or disproving someone had signed a document; a death or murder hanging in the balance.
Sitting down at the table, she studied him. Her friends agreed with her: Ethan looked far younger than his age and their consensus was he was a gorgeous man. He was more than just good-looking. It was the whole package. It was eyes that sparkled with intelligence and a hint of fun, a smile that crinkled his blue eyes and, perhaps most important, a personality that her friends gravitated towards. He was so comfortable in his own skin.
“Here ya go,” he said, placing a stack of pancakes in front of her. “Eat up. We have a busy day ahead and you’ll need your energy.”
Rory reached for the syrup. “What do you have planned?”
Ethan took a large bite of maple syrup-covered pancakes, chewed, swallowed, and grinned. “I just told you, a busy day.”
With a quick laugh, she took a bite; light, fluffy, with summer-sweet blueberries and sumptuous syrup. “Mmmm.”
Ten minutes later, Ethan finished, checked his watch, stood and took his plate to the sink, informing her, “You have fifteen minutes to get ready.”
She was interrupted by the front door bell chiming. Ethan, rinsing dishes and the frying pan, asked, “Will you get that?”
Rory shoved the last forkful of pancake into her mouth and stood, still chewing. The front door bell chimed again. Waiting at the door when she opened it, Susie, Hannah, Peter, and several more of her school friends were milling around.
Susie smiled. “Hi, Rory! Great day for it, isn’t it?” she said, squeezing by Rory to enter the house. The others followed.
“Great day for what?” Rory asked.
“A beach party! Ethan invited us. Some sort of celebration.”
Rory smiled to herself. So this, she thought, is how he wants to celebrate this year - throw her a beach party!
Hannah asked, “What’s the celebration for?”
Jimmy explained, “It’s her birthday.”
Susie immediately spoke. “Damn, girl! I didn’t buy you anything!”
Rory, following the troop towards the kitchen, laughed, “It’s NOT my birthday,” and explained about the annual celebration of her coming to live with Uncle Ethan.
Susie stopped and stared at her. “Jeez! You’re lucky! I wish I had an uncle like yours.”
Hannah, overhearing Susie, smiled slyly. “I wouldn’t mind having your uncle, if you catch my drift. I bet I could make him smile!”
Hannah laughed brightly, tossed her long blonde ponytail, and sashayed into the kitchen.
The kitchen, a large, airy room with a family sitting area to the left furnished with an old, comfortable and unattractive sofa and a modern entertainment center, was empty. Through the broad sliding glass doors, across the back garden, Rory saw Ethan loading the boat. A cooler and plastic shopping bags were piled on the wooden jetty, the boat bobbing gently.
“Go on out,” she told her friends. “I have to change. I’ll meet you out there.”
The group headed out. Susie didn’t, choosing to follow Rory to her bedroom. She sat on the bed while Rory changed into a swim suit.
“You’re not going to wear that, are you?” Susie observed.
Rory checked her swimming suit in the mirror. One-piece, royal blue, simple. “What’s wrong with it?”
“C’mon, girl! Put a bikini on! Be sexy! I’m wearing a bikini under these clothes. Show a little skin! The guys will appreciate it. I think,” she added with a grin, “Peter has a thing for you. Play your cards right, shake your ass at him, and who knows what will happen.”
Rory laughed and changed, selecting a powder blue bikini. “I’m not interested in him that way.”
Susie countered with, “How do you know? Maybe he’s a great kisser or has a humongous dick.”
By the time they reached the jetty, her friends were on the boat, outer clothes doffed and in their bathing suits.
Ethan, spotting Rory and Susie, smiled and extended his hand. “Turn them over.”
Despite complaining, they both handed their Smartphones to him. He stored them with the others. It was one of the rules; no cell phones while on the boat. He claimed cell phones were destructive to socializing and, while Rory preferred to have her phone close by, she’d discovered he was right. Time on the water was much more fun without the distraction.
With everyone seated, Ethan untethered the boat and started it. It was his pride and joy; a Boston Whaler 370 Outrage. As the three outboard engines rumbled into life, the boys crowded around Ethan in the cockpit peppering him with questions and asking if they could pilot the boat.
Rory smiled and leaned back on the rear bench, turning her face up to the strong, hot sun. Behind her, three Mercury engines burbled, the boat easing back from the dock, then slowly swinging about.
“Hang on, guys,” Ethan warned.
He opened up the throttles. The engines roared like a pride of lions. The prow rose dramatically and G-forces pressed her back into the seat as the Whaler took off like a greyhound, shooting forward, the bow slapping down on a plane, water splashing up. Suddenly, they were racing across the water, her hair flying everywhere. The scent of salt water filled her lungs. The breeze cooled her. And her smile grew into a grin.
She absolutely loved being on the water; maybe more than anything else. It gave her a sense of freedom and detachment from everyday life; a mini vacation. It must be what people who had summer cottages felt like, except she didn’t have a long commute to get there; just walk out onto the jetty. Much better.
The Whaler curved out into the ocean and paralleled the Keys, rising and slapping down on tame swells. Twenty-five minutes later, Uncle Ethan slowed and eased the boat towards a small, sandy, and deserted island, a few stunted trees struggling to survive.
Time flew. Rory had fun and even enjoyed Peter flirting with her. He was cute, a bit shy, and trying too hard, but sweet. Uncle Ethan set everything up and chatted with her friends, at ease and smiling. She and her friends swam, laughed, and relaxed.
By mid morning, everyone was taking turns at waterskiing on the calm Gulf side of the island, Uncle Ethan piloting the boat. Rory acted as spotter. She could water-ski anytime and was the most experienced of all her friends. Besides, watching Jimmy plow into the ocean after twenty feet was funny; all arms and legs flailing away.
Lunch - subs and chips and fruit - was great, and conversation with Susie and her other girlfriends was funny as they watched the boys play Frisbee on the beach. They commented on each boy, some daring speculation on the guys’ physical attributes making them laugh loudly.
Conversation revolved around which one of them would be the better kisser, which would be a better dancer, and the inevitable game of “If you were stranded on a desert island, which one would you...”
It was a great day, until mid-afternoon.
While Rory sunbathed on the beach, Susie, dripping wet, ran up, flopped onto her towel next to Rory and said, “I think Peter’s got the hots for you. Have you noticed how his eyes are always on you?”
Rory had noticed. It pleased her even though she wasn’t attracted to him in that way. She liked being admired. She liked knowing someone else found her pretty.
Susie continued without waiting. “And look at Hannah go! She’s really flirting with your uncle!”
“No she isn’t,” Rory responded, watching Hannah talking to Uncle Ethan. “She’s just being sociable.”
Susie laughed. “You can’t be that clueless, Rory! Look at her. She’s smiling and laughing, flashing her pretty blue eyes at him, and look at how she’s standing; chest out to emphasize her bust, one knee cocked, and she’s standing so close she’s almost rubbing her tits against him! Wait for it. She’ll flip her ponytail, laugh, and touch his arm. There! See? Give her another hour and she’ll be having him for dessert.”
Rory had to agree. Hannah was completely misbehaving! A flash of indignation hit her which turned into anger in the blink of an eye.
Susie, oblivious, continued, “Not that I blame her. Your uncle is gooorgeous. Sort of an adult version of Sean Mendes. Clean-cut and sexy.”
“He isn’t!” Rory exclaimed.
But, as she watched Hannah flirting, Rory agreed. Uncle Ethan was handsome. Again, she felt a flash of anger at Hannah.
The rest of the afternoon was ruined. She was glad when they finally packed up and headed home.