Chapter 5

RORY THREW OFF THE sheet covering her. Heat and humidity wasn’t abating despite the wide open windows. Her light cotton pajama top was uncomfortable. She’d skipped pajama shorts, choosing to wear only panties. She was restless and unable to sleep.

She hadn’t, for one moment, thought Ethan would actually swim naked. She’d dared him as a joke to win, and failed. At first shocked when he’d stripped and run into the ocean, and despite admiring his tush, she’d experienced momentary regret at challenging him. She’d have to strip, too.

She’d never seen Ethan naked before. Seeing him in underwear wasn’t unusual. And he’d seen her in her bra and panties several times. But, naked? Never. And as she’d stood on the beach watching him dive in and swim, she realized that the prospect of him seeing her naked didn’t embarrass her. Quite the opposite. It titillated her.

She couldn’t imagine letting guys at school see her undressed, but letting her uncle see her was exciting. Was she an exhibitionist?

Rory groaned quietly and rolled onto her front.

She wasn’t embarrassed by her body. In fact, aside from disliking her toes and occasionally wishing she had a bigger bust, she liked her body. And seeing Uncle Ethan’s sexy blue eyes when he looked at her as she walked out of the water had made her warm, her body responding. He’d been staring at her ass - her best feature, she thought - and not seen her watching him.

She’d seen him naked, his penis thick, large but not erect, when he’d walked out of the surf.

In bed, Rory groaned again and touched her breast, squeezing gently. Warmth became arousal, her nipples growing sensitive, her pussy pulsing. Ethan had reacted to seeing her naked. She’d turned him on!

Horniness washed through her; heat, nipples aching, and blood rushed down, her pussy throbbing. She loved the feeling, how her body came alive, her skin sensitive.

Rolling onto her back, she reached down and cupped her pussy, squeezing, excitement building. With the image of Uncle Ethan naked and walking out of the surf, his lean body, his penis, Rory rubbed her cleft lightly, teasing herself, her other hand gently squeezing her breast. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him and feel his naked body against her, skin against skin.

With a silent moan, Rory pushed her hand inside her panties, over her soft pubes, and down to cup her pussy. She was already wet. She curled her middle finger, bringing slipperiness through her slit to touch her clit and she shuddered.

She imagined Ethan’s erection growing, hardening, and pressing to her body. Ethan excited by her. Ethan wanting her. Breathing faster, rubbing her clit faster, horniness growing like pressure inside, she pictured herself reaching between them to hold his erection. How big would it be? How hard? How thick? Would he groan with pleasure when she touched him?

Panting, finger now scrubbing her clit, Rory masturbated harder, her body striving towards something, pressure building. She thought about stroking him, making him harder, and imagined him whisper her name as he got close to cumming from her touch.

Rory’s body tensed, muscles tightening. Squishing sounds started as she teased her clit, her pussy wet, warm, throbbing. Perspiration formed on her brow and below her boobs, her heart racing, and she tried to hurdle the final wall, to climax. Her body ached. She was so close to something; bliss promised. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, it eluded her. Her body refused to go that last little bit and, almost crying with frustration, she stopped, pulling her hand from her panties.

It was insufferably hot in her room. Her body ached. Why? Why couldn’t she climax? What was wrong with her? No matter how she tried, she never got further than this point; the incredible frustration and anger at her body for not being able to release.

She’d heard her friends talk about orgasms. She’d seen women on the Internet climaxing and it looked like pure bliss. Yet all her body could do was get horny and feel wonderful tingles, never going the final step. Was that her orgasm? This sense of frustration? Of being on the cusp of something glorious but never arriving?

Rory turned onto her side and curled up. She wondered if sex was the key. Would sex give her the release she so wanted to experience? What would a climax feel like?

Sleep hovered out of reach. She tossed and turned.

I ATE THE LAST spoon of cereal at the breakfast table. The sound of Rory taking a shower filtered out to me. Outside, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky. It was going to be hot today.

I needed to burn off restless energy. My night had been disturbed, tossing and turning. I hadn’t been able to erase the image of Rory’s naked body lit by moonlight from my mind and felt worse for it. Yet, in her slender youth she was stunning.

I needed to be busy, I decided. A boat ride and fishing. Hadn’t Rory said something about going out on the boat this weekend? Maybe I’d get her to invite her friends. It would distract me and, I admitted, I needed distraction.

“Morning,” Rory said, walking into the kitchen.

She looked good with her damp, dark hair straighter than normal. Tight pastel blue cotton shorts emphasized her tanned legs. Her simple white T-shirt hung loose. She looked tired.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Rough night?”

“Uh-huh.”

She plunked herself down in a chair at the table. I sipped coffee, then asked, “Do you still want to go out on the boat today?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought you could invite some of your friends.”

“No thanks. What’s for breakfast?” she asked, studying her fingernails.

“Cereal. Do you have a hangover from the wine last night?” I asked.

“No. I’m fine.”

Rory stood and went to make herself breakfast. I contemplated her odd behavior. Perhaps I’d embarrassed her with the skinny dipping last night, although at the time she seemed fine with it. Finishing the mug of coffee, I stood to make us a picnic. Maybe a day on the water would help.

Forty minutes later, three Mercury engines roared with throaty pleasure propelling us over the water at high speed as I headed south. Wind kept the heat of the morning sun at bay. I wasn’t worried about us burning. We were both already tanned.

Rory sat in the seat next to me in the cockpit, wind making her dark hair whip around. She looked great in a bikini bra and shorts. The boat thudded through light swells and, an hour later, I piloted us west to the calm Gulf of Mexico side of Marquesas Keys, the southernmost of the Florida Keys.

We slowed and anchored, the boat bobbing gently. Heat rushed in bringing oppressive humidity. Perspiration formed.

Rory shucked her shorts, placed a beach towel down, and lounged back on the rear bench seat taking in the sun. I pulled out a fishing rod, baited the hook, cast towards the island, and waited Rory out. She hadn’t said a word. Clearly she was wrestling with something. The longer her silence, the more troublesome her problem.

Thirty minutes later, I hadn’t had a nibble on the fishing line. I was sweating and hot. Rory finally jumped up.

“I’m bored. I’m baking hot. And I’m tired of being pissed off. I wanna have fun. Let’s swim,” she announced.

I started reeling in the fishing line and Rory stood on the gunwale and dove gracefully into the water. After storing the rod, I prepared to join her when a piece of wet cloth slapped into my face. I reached up and removed it and was slapped by another.

When I understood I was holding Rory’s bikini, my eyes darted to her in the water. She was smiling, dark eyes twinkling, and treading water that was clear enough for me to indistinctly see two small white breasts and the shadow of her dark pubic bush below

“Skinny dipping! C’mon, Uncle. It feels great!”

Lord help me! Rory looked so sexy, so illicit, and I had no control in how my body responded, ignoring my brain yelling at me how inappropriate this was. This wasn’t nakedness under the cover of darkness. This was blatant nakedness, no secrets, no hiding.

Desire, like a rogue wave, slammed into me. My pulse spiked. The sun became oppressively hot. And blood flowed down bringing on the start of tumescence.

I had a few seconds to either shuck my swimming suit and dive in with a partial erection or not swim and try to hide an erection, and I knew what I wanted despite better judgment.

I shoved the swimming suit off and joined her, relishing the coolness of water as I dove in. Rory laughed brightly, clearly excited at our naughtiness. Fortunately, cool water solved the threatening erection and we swam, splashed, and had fun. I felt like a teenager again. And I studiously avoided looking at Rory anywhere but her face despite the tug of desire to study her naked body.

Eventually, we relaxed and treaded water. There was utter silence around us and no other human in sight.

Rory sighed. “I really like swimming naked,” she informed me.

It reminded me of something she’d said last night. “When have you skinny dipped before? And with whom?” I asked.

Rory grinned at me. “Who says I’ve done it before?”

“You did. Last night you said you always love swimming naked.”

“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.”

“So? With whom?” I asked again.

Rory’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “What’s the matter. You jealous?”

“No.”

Rory laughed brightly with pleasure and exclaimed, “You are!”

“No I’m not. You’re too young to be swimming naked with the opposite sex,” I pointed out.

“And yet, here we are,” she countered, her eyes narrowing with mischief. She deliberately looked at my body in the water. “Naked as a baby. Why are you jealous?”

“I’m not.” After a brief pause, I added, “Okay, maybe I’m a bit jealous.” Surprisingly, it was the truth. What else had she done with some pimple-faced teenager?

Rory floated closer to me, now within arm’s reach. Gold-flecked eyes studied me, a small smile at the corners of her mouth; a beautiful mouth, lips lush and soft looking. My pulse suddenly spiked. Cool water suddenly felt warm, especially at my groin.

For a moment, I thought she was going to wrap her arms around my neck and press herself against me, and I really, really wanted her to. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

Would I kiss her if she let me?

In a blinding flash of clarity, I admitted I would. Weight seemed to melt off me. I felt lighter, freer, liberated, and excitement mounted. I’d known how I adored Rory, but the acceptance of my sexual attraction to her added a delicious twist.

Rory laughed brightly, splashed me in the face and swam away. Shoot! Had she read my thoughts?

I turned and headed back to the boat, hauling myself up over the side.

Behind me, Rory yelled, “Nice tush, Uncle!”

I laughed and grabbed a towel for modesty.

“Aw, don’t be shy!” she yelled.

I turned and leered at her. “You still have to get out of the water.”

Her laugh was bright. She blushed slightly, then swam towards the boat. Her white buttocks rose to just under the surface. I quickly turned away and wrapped the towel around my waist.

The boat rocked. “What’s the matter?” she asked from behind me. “Are you embarrassed by nudity? It’s normal in Europe.”

“Nope.” I wasn’t. I was embarrassed by my developing erection.

“You can turn now,” she informed me.

Rory was grinning with amusement, a towel thankfully wrapped around her body. She sat on the rear bench seat, bent forward and squeezed water out of her hair, then looked at me speculatively.

“Are you really shy about nudity?” she asked.

“Generally speaking, no.”

“Then why does seeing me naked bother you? I’m not embarrassed by my body.”

It was one of those moments where you choose, and what you choose can change the course of your relationship. Choose to deflect and lie, and our relationship might get back on course to an appropriate one. Choose to be honest, and a world of possibilities opens up, all of them illicit and exciting. I didn’t have the excuse of alcohol fogging my brain but something more powerful, perhaps the most powerful drug of all to muddle thinking - arousal. Arousal won the day; that deep, yearning desire in my gut.

“I’m embarrassed by my reaction to you,” I clarified.

Rory contemplated me with her feral eyes, then she smiled dangerously, her canines emerging. “I turn you on, don’t I? Good! You turn me on, too!”

Her smile broadened into a grin. “I dare you to drop the towel.”

When I hesitated, she added, “I will if you will. We’ll do it together.”

Rory stood up and held the top of the towel where she’d twisted it to stay in place. “C’mon! Don’t be a chicken. It’s only skin. One, two ... three!”

I dropped the towel from my waist. Rory might have studied me as intently as I studied her, but I didn’t notice. I was too taken by her beautiful naked body.

It was a breath-stealing beauty; slender, youthful, and sexier than anything I could ever remember seeing.

Rory’s body had the curves and dips of a female, just more subtle, younger, a work of art still in progress; a slight waist, very slender hips, soft curves of her butt and tapered thighs, her body tanned except for the two parts shielded by her bikini. Adolescence was exposed in all its glory in two small, widely spaced yet gorgeous breasts so firm they looked almost painfully ripe, with dark pink areolae and small nipples. They were gravity defying, proud, and petite, yet larger than I’d imagined when concealed by a bikini.

Even sexier was below. At the juncture of her thighs, Rory’s pussy sported a small, sexy, jet black pubic bush. It was stunning!

I’d never seen anything like it. Her downy pubes were almost straight, fine, and looked like a brush had carefully groomed them from the edges towards the center and down; sparse at the edges, slightly denser in the middle, a soft fluffy, sexy bush. Her pubes were so young they hadn’t even spread to the sides of her full, pouty mons. Still damp, they glistened in the sunlight, the incredible shape of her pussy clearly showing, her tightly closed cleft visible with a lighter dusting of silky soft pubes and, making me ache with desire, a wide gap at her crotch that exposed her rounded vulva.

I couldn’t remember ever seeing such a sexy sight and my body reacted powerfully.

As if suffering from heat stroke, I became lightheaded, stunned at her exquisite body. Still absorbed, I noticed two small brown beauty spots; one below her left breast, another to the left above her sexy mons.

I loved lanky women with subtle, sensual curves and Rory was a perfect example; her body nicely proportioned, balanced, and so damned sexy. Even my dreams hadn’t conjured up such perfection.

RORY STOOD QUITE STILL. Yet inside, she could feel small tremors; excitement, warm horniness blossoming, intensifying. Dropping her towel, she’d first seen Ethan’s blue eyes. They widened, his stare intense, and she’d seen wonder in them that heated her body.

She’d lied. She’d been extremely nervous about exposing herself in broad daylight. But his response was incredible. He looked like he wanted to eat her, his desire so clear.

What had her body tingling, was his response. Uncle Ethan’s penis had grown, thickening and lengthening slowly into a full erection, rising until it stood proud, straining out from his sandy brown pubic hair. It looked so large, bigger than she’d imagined. She’d felt herself respond, too. Her areolae had tightened, puckered, her breasts suddenly feeling heavier, fuller. Heat had flushed down to her pussy making it almost pulse, her clit tingling even though she hadn’t touched it. She’d felt the sudden dampness, too. And in the pit of her stomach she felt a hollow ache; that feeling she’d get when horny and yearning.