Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, First, Petting, Slow, Violent, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Steve had known Kelly since she was a little girl. But a timely rescue is about to show Steve that Kelly is all grown up!
I know a lot of these stories always start off with "I blame this person", or "I blame this situation", etc., for how things turned out. In truth, I don't blame anyone, because blame almost implies regret and, trust me, I have no regrets with how things turned out.
The story actually starts eleven years ago, when my buddy, Lance Kimball, was going through what turned out to be a messy divorce. There had been two attempts at reconciliation, and both of them had failed miserably. Anyway, at the time, Lance's two kids, then seven year old Kelly and her younger brother, Robert, were really getting bounced around. To make things worse, their mother ended up remarrying the guy she had been seeing on the side, and moving out of state (on a side note, that marriage lasted all of three years, but that's another story).
So as I was saying, me and Lance met eleven years ago when we both played for an arena football team. Lance had just turned 31 and was a kicker looking for one last shot into the NFL. I was twenty-four, had just gotten out of college with a bachelor's degree in accounting, and had decided to waste a couple of years playing arena football before going back and getting an M.B.A. degree. I played defensive end when I was in high school and had even been actively recruited by some big name universities, but about that time my folks had died in a car accident, and I pretty much just withdrew into myself for the next couple of years. When I did get my act together, all the scouts had moved on. So I used the money left to me to put myself through college. I was a pretty somber guy back then: no partying, no nothing. Just strictly study, study, study. So when I graduated, I decided to take a year off and have a little fun. One of the things I did was tryout for our city's Arena Football Team. It had been a few years since I had played the game, but I made the cut.
Now, a lot of guys on our team were trying to relive their glory years of high school and college football. And there were guys like Lance who were trying to use arena football as their one last shot into the NFL, a la Mike Vanderjact. Me, I just wanted to have a year or so of fun before I went back to college.
But for whatever reason you play arena football, you're not doing it for the money. Don't get me wrong, if you're a star quarterback, you can make close to two hundred thousand dollars a year. But the average player's salary in the AFL is around forty thousand dollars a year. Nothing to sneeze at, but we're not talking multi-million dollar four year contracts with commercial endorsements on the side.
But I digress. I met Lance when I started playing Arena Football. Lance was a carpenter who had been a kicker when he was in high school and decided to give his dream one more chance. He was a really nice guy and we hit it off almost immediately.
I had met his wife (this was about a couple of months before their marriage had started self-destructing) and I got nothing but bad vibes from her almost immediately. Their youngest son was OK, I suppose, but a real momma's boy (a trait that would follow him throughout his entire life). Kelly, though, was a real firecracker. Even at seven, she could make profound comments that would make you do a double take.
Now, the team I played for dubbed me Steamroller Steve, which just got condensed down to Steamroller (I stand 6'5" and 265 lbs.) To Kelly, I was her Uncle King (short for King Kong. As a little trivial note, some of my fellow players did occasionally call me the Great White Ape). We got along famously.
Then things started getting messy; at least, for Lance, they did. The team we were playing on cut him. His wife kicked him out of the house and let her boyfriend move in. By that time, Lance was more than my best friend; he was family, my surrogate big brother. So when this hit him, what could I do but let him move in? I was still living in my dead parents' house. It wasn't a mansion, but it was nice. Two story ranch with a pool in back. Lance's soon to be ex tried to be a real bitch about child custody, and more times than not, Robert never showed up at his father's when it was his weekend. But Kelly seemed to have picked up on the fact that her mother was being a real witch, and spent every moment she could with her father. It was great. Kelly was always a very well behaved little girl, but still very adventurous.
About the same time that Lance was getting cut, my fortune was going up. Our city's local NFL team had invited me to spring tryouts. I made the cut. And a local car dealer gave me my first commercial. So I was starting to come into more money. And since I was pretty much Kelly's surrogate uncle, I used a lot of it to attempt to spoil her rotten. Kelly was too good a kid for that to work, but she appreciated the effort.
Well, Lance ended up going back to being a carpenter, and stayed with me for the next three years until he got back on his feet. His wife got married to her boyfriend within a month of the divorce and moved out of state. That was rough on Lance, but he got Kelly the entire summer, as well as Thanksgiving through Christmas. Robert showed up for a couple of weeks in there, but threw a real fit if he had to be away from his mother for more than a few days. The ex-boyfriend turned second husband tried to interfere with Lance's parental/visitation rights to Kelly during those times set in the divorce settlement. He even made the mistake of trying to get physical in my presence. Let me just say this: I didn't make it to the NFL because I lack physical presence.
So things were going smoothly in our little happy household with me, Lance, Kelly (four months out of the year) and Robert (maybe two weeks out of the year). And then one of those relationship foundation blocks got laid when Kelly was ten.
Lance's life was coming along great then, as was mine. I was now a starter, and there was a construction boom going on, so Lance was doing well financially. In addition, he was seeing a very nice woman and was in the process of buying his own house (I gave him a zero interest loan. He had resisted, but I eventually talked him into it. Lance was my "big brother", after all, and was always there when I needed to talk to him about my own dating life and other stuff). I think it was the fact that Lance was actually happy again, even after she had left him, that set his wife off. It was about a week before Kelly was coming to visit Lance for the summer. Lance was excited, since it would be her first summer in his new house. (Although Kelly did promise to visit her Uncle King often, particularly since I was in the process of selling my parent's house and buying a really, REALLY nice house in the ritzier part of my city). Anyway, me and Lance flew out to the state Kelly's mom was living in, rented a car, and drove out to the ex's house to pick up Kelly.
When we got there, Hell had manifested itself. It seemed that Kelly's mother had been making her second husband's life miserable with her continuous ranting about Lance's new love. And Kelly have never gotten along all that well with her stepfather in the first place, blaming him (a partly correct assumption) and his adulterous affair with her mother for the break up of her parent's marriage. Well, just minutes before we arrived, Kelly had made some innocuous remark to her stepfather about how much fun she was planning to have that summer.
That's when her stepfather snapped.
So we arrive at the house to find Kelly's stepfather chasing her across the front yard. Kelly was in hysterical tears, her clothes ripped, with her stepfather swinging his belt above his head and shouting profanities.
That's when I snapped. And blitzed.
The next thing I knew, I had Kelly's stepfather's throat in my hand, with his body pinned against the side of the house. Her stepfather was flailing uselessly against me, and I was considering doing everyone in the world a favor by crushing his larynx in my grip.
Well, about that time, the cops showed up, and I let the stepfather down. He wanted to press charges against me, but fortunately a neighbor had been filming the entire thing. Plus, little Kelly had actually planted herself between one of the officers and me and announced over and over that I was the hero, so they'd better not even think of arresting me. So to make a long story short, Lance ended up getting full time custody of Kelly, the second husband ended up going to jail, the ex-wife ended up getting a divorce, and Lance's son Robert ended up resenting Lance and Kelly even more for the way things were turning out. I knew that was eating up Lance, and it hurt Kelly, but like I said earlier, Robert was turning into a real Momma's boy, so I didn't think about his absence often.
After that, I became the family protector. Kelly didn't develop a lasting crush on me or anything like that. But she felt things were always safe around Uncle King, even if they weren't safe anywhere else. And Kelly tried to reciprocate by playing little matchmaker from time to time. Which brings me to my dating life.
A lot of guys, when they make the big times of the NFL, really cut loose. Not me. My college years had established a sort of down-to-earth kind of personality. I was dating a lot, but nothing wild. About the only difference between my dating life as a pro athlete and my dating life if I had never gone into the NFL but went back and got my M.B.A. was the caliber of the women I was dating. I even dated a couple of Hollywood actresses, but nothing wild or elaborate. Think Tony and Eva, except way more low key.
Kelly got along great with most of the girls I had dated, but none of them ever stuck. Nothing serious, just we ended up becoming friends rather than life long soul mates.
As Kelly got older, she blossomed into an even more and more lovely woman. She was also fairly conservative. I think she looked at her mother and had made a mental pledge that she was not going down that path. She had even confided in me once that one of her friends had just lost her virginity at the age of fourteen, but that she wasn't planning on giving her virginity to anyone until she was at least eighteen, and it was going to have to be somebody special.
As I said, Kelly was becoming a very beautiful young woman, but a conservative one. On her sixteenth birthday, she had a pool party at my house. (I was thirty three at the time and had done very well by myself). As you can imagine, her friends were very excited about being able to party at an "NFL star's mansion." (It was a big house with lots of electronic toys, but I wouldn't call it a mansion). But Kelly had made it clear that there was no alcohol being served, and no alcohol or drugs would be tolerated, and that her Uncle King would enforce those rules.
The party was still a success, despite (or perhaps because of) Kelly establishing her no-nonsense ground rules. And another example of Kelly's conservative attitudes toward things was her swimwear. Now, I had seen her in skimpier things around my house when it was just her or her and her girlfriends hanging out at my house. But at the pool party, with lots of guys around, she was wearing a very conservative one piece.
Which she still looked great in, an assessment that the young men at the party were in complete agreement in. However, Kelly didn't let any of the guys do anything more than dunk and splash her.
Now, before we continue the story, let's step back and examine my relationship to Kelly up to this point. I had seen Kelly in skimpy bathing suits when she was out sunning by my pool alone or with friends, and she was very attractive. However, it wasn't something I took more than a casual notice to. I was dating fairly regular by then, and so I really didn't take notice of it. When Kelly and her friends were out at my house, I didn't spend my time secretly looking out a window, stroking my erection, and thinking to myself as I peered out the window at underage flesh, "I'd like to tap that."
And Kelly, for the most part, was a very proper young woman. She didn't parade around the house in skimpy lingerie, and when she came into the house after sunbathing, she always put something over her bikini and made sure her friends did the same.
Kelly had always spent a lot of time at my house for several reasons: I was her Uncle King, whom she had come to see as a source of indisputable protection. Both her Dad and her step mom worked, and so they didn't mind her spending her time over at my house. And my house did have a lot of neat stuff, particularly in the opinion of a teenager. And for some unfathomable reason (at least to me), Kelly seemed to consider me an indispensable confidante.
Kelly's dating life had never really gotten off the ground. She had told me once that she had never done more than kiss a boy good night. And though she had lots of male friends, she had never felt the need to date just one boy. She felt that level of seriousness should be reserved for when she got out of high school.
Oh, and just for another point of clarification, neither Kelly nor I were "touchy-feely" people. Kelly always gave me a big hug when greeting me, saying thank you, or saying goodbye, but she wasn't the type to hang off of anybody, and neither was I.
She was a very athletic girl, and was more than pretty enough and skilled enough in gymnastics and such to have made cheerleader if she had wanted to, but such was never her desire.
The big social events in Kelly's life were Reality TV nights at my house. (As you can probably tell, I've always been very indulging to my honorary niece). I have a fantastic home theatre, professional-quality 7.1 channel surround sound and a high definition 50" plasma display. She'd invite her friends to my house to watch whatever the reality show du jour was. I remember about three weeks before Kelly's eighteenth birthday party (and a month before the story proper begins), when they were watching the first episode of Dancing with the Stars, that one of her girlfriends said, "Oh my gawd, Kelly, you look just like Kelly Monaco!"
And indeed Kelly did bear an incredible likeness to Kelly Monaco. They were both the same height (5'3"), and had nearly identical body types, though I though my Kelly was prettier in the face, and didn't have to have plastic surgery to achieve her incredible good looks. Plus my Kelly's hair reached almost to the small of her back.
Now, as a side note, it may seem like, for a man in his mid-thirties, I spend a lot of time with teenagers. Nothing could be further from the truth. I had my own career, and of course my house wasn't available for the times I had away games. Plus I had commercial endorsements and my agent was even talking about a small part in a movie, though the number of athletes who have been able to translate their success on the field/court to the movie screen is almost zero. Plus, I was still dating a lot. And I had become something of a fan of NASCAR, so I spent some free time going to races around the country. But anytime Kelly was over at my house, her father expected me to be there to chaperone, and Kelly had no objections. I usually kept myself out of sight but within hearing distance, in case there was trouble.
But back to the story. I suppose when someone had made the comparison between my Kelly and Kelly Monaco, some of the guys there probably entertained more than one fantasy about my Kelly in one of Kelly Monaco's dancing costumes. Or less. And it might have led to the incident that occurred a month later.
It was about a week after Kelly's eighteenth birthday and I was driving home from a car dealership. I had met there with my lawyer to discuss with the owner the possibility of going into a partnership. He wanted to open up another lot and wanted to use my name on it (along with some of my capital). I was driving home when I passed the park I knew Kelly ran in. I had my gym bag on the front seat of my truck and thought to myself, 'Maybe I'll go running here tonight. It'll be kind of late when I get home, anyway.'
So I pulled into the park's parking lot, headed to the bathroom and changed into my running shorts. I had done some stretches and started running. About a quarter mile on the trail, it does a right turn, with a small clump of trees and bushes on the left. Now, when I run, I start to zone out. But I hadn't quite reached that state yet when I heard something from the bushes. I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I went to go investigate, but when I emerged into this little clearing, it wasn't what I thought it would be.
There was Kelly, stripped down to her panties, her clothing in shreds around her. She was pinned down on her back, her eyes closed, while four young "gentlemen" were surrounding her. One had his hand over her mouth, two were holding her down, and the fourth had a knife in his hand, which he was getting ready to cut away her panties with.
When I entered the clearing, the four boys looked up at me in surprise. I'm not sure what they saw on my face, but they couldn't have liked it. I'm not sure what happened next myself. It's all kind of a blur.
The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a group of unconscious bodies, with a nearly nude Kelly in my arms. She had screamed when I touched her, but when she heard my voice, her eyes flew open, and as she wailed "Uncle King!", threw herself into my arms, pressing herself as tightly as possible for protection.
I just sat there stroking her hair and whispering soothing words when I noticed one of her attackers was stirring. I gently pushed Kelly away, which invoked a panicked, "No, please, don't leave me, Uncle King!"
I placed a kiss on Kelly's forehead and smiled as gently as I could. "I'm not going anywhere, Kelly. I'll be right back." Her near nakedness impressed itself on me again. I pulled off my T-shirt and handed it to her. She smiled at me for the first time and slipped it on. I then turned to her four assailants.
One of them I recognized. He played on the high school's baseball team and have been over at my house before, including the night of Dancing With the Stars. The other three guys looked liked they were probably high school athletes as well.
Now, one of the things you learn about being an athlete and a semi-celebrity (hey, I'm not being immodest or vain. I did say semi, after all), is that you discover just how much slack athletes are given by the authorities. I guarantee you, that for every sports related sex scandal you see in the papers, ten more get covered up. The boy I recognized was going to college on an athletic scholarship. The college in question had a team that was constantly ranked in the top twenty nine out of every ten years. I was willing to bet that the other three guys I didn't know were similarly situated. Plus, there was my own name recognition. An attempted rape trial wasn't going to be easy on Kelly under normal circumstances. Between me and the four guys on the ground, it would turn into a media circus. I wasn't going to make Kelly go through that. I decided I'd dispense a little of my own justice.
You're probably wondering how I could take all four guys out. I mean, I am big guy, after all, great shape and everything, plus I did have an overload of adrenaline and testosterone flowing through my system. But these kids were in good shape, too, and had numbers on me besides.
Well, part of the reason was I was pissed and I had a lifetime's experience in dealing out pain and punishment. But another big part was Jake the Snake. Jake Smith was an ex-Army Ranger who played in college, spent four years in the Army, and then tried out form my team last year. Jake has the potential of being a great running back. Being an ex-ranger (i.e., a snake eater) as well as his style of weaving between potential tacklers earned him the handle "Jake the Snake.") Well, Jake and me ended up becoming good friends, and he taught me a lot of martial arts moves. I wasn't looking to become Chuck Norris or anything, but I was always on the lookout for anything that could help my agility; plus, I figured that if my agent could get me a few roles, maybe having some martial arts moves wouldn't be a bad thing. So I have to assume that I've been practicing enough that when I lost it, I was unthinkingly using a lot of those moves.
Whatever. I put the speculation aside as one of the assailants raised himself to his hands and knees. I kicked his ribs, which sent him sprawling and moaning in pain. I then went around and collected all their wallets, taking their driver's licenses before returning their wallets to them. "Good news and bad news, boys. Good news is I'm not calling the cops. Bad news is--well, you'll find out what the bad news is soon enough."
(As an aside, I handed the driver's licenses to Jake, who handed them over to a couple of shady friends of his, who--well, best not to go into details).
After a few more well placed kicks and stomps, I gathered up the remnants of Kelly's clothing and put both them and Kelly into my truck. During the whole time, Kelly tried to maximize physical contact between us as much as possible. You really can't blame her, can you? It was a pattern she learned as a kid; always trust Uncle King the Protector.
As soon as I got in the truck, Kelly had slid over the seat and was hugging to me tightly. I picked up my cell phone and tried calling her house. Nobody home. I turned to Kelly. "Sweetheart, any idea where your Dad and Stepmom are?"
"They're out of town this weekend, Uncle King."
That's right, I thought. Lance and his new wife were thinking of buying a health food franchise. "You want to stay with me then, Kelly?"
Kelly nodded as she pressed her face into my chest. Now let me say that up until this point, I hadn't had any salacious thoughts about Kelly enter my mind. Looking down at her, though, snuggled against me, with her legs visible from mid-thigh downward, and an image of her clad just in panties still fresh in my mind, I had a momentary stirring in my loins. However, I realized how wildly inappropriate those thoughts were, and focused solely on getting Kelly and myself home.
When we got back to my house, I pulled the truck into the garage, closed it behind us, and let Kelly and myself into the house. As soon as we got into the house and I had locked the door behind me, Kelly again rushed into my arm and pressed herself hard against me, as if her continued safety and well-being depended on how much of herself she could get into contact with me. She had started shaking, so I stood there in the utilities room (the room the garage door led into) holding her, stroking her hair, and just saying reassuring words. We stood there for awhile before she backed up a couple of inches and smiled up at me. "Thank you, Uncle King."
I know those four words might seem somehow inadequate for the situation, but there was a whole volume of accompanying body language that said everything in the world. I smiled and cupped her face with the palm of my hand. She pressed her face into my hand while covering it with her own.
"It's been a long day, sweetheart. Why don't you go upstairs and get cleaned up in one of the guest bedrooms? I'll fix us dinner and we can watch some movies. How does that sound?" Again, I know how inane that sounds, especially after having rescued Kelly from an attempted gang rape, but I just wanted to establish a series of routine activities, to provide Kelly with a little psychological security, if that made sense.
Kelly nodded, then as she headed upstairs, she hesitated halfway up. "Uncle King, could you--could you come upstairs with me? I just want to know I'm not alone right now."
For a moment, I had a vision of Kelly wrapped only in a towel. I violently suppressed that image. Considering not only our mutual history together (technically, I may not have been family, but I was the closest thing you could get to being family without sharing blood ties) as well as the traumatic events that Kelly had had to endure today, trying anything with Kelly would send her over the deep end.
Kelly smiled and gave me another hug. It was obvious that as long as I kept on being the strong, safe protector who was within easy reach, Kelly would be able to keep herself in control. Nonetheless, I was keenly aware of her breasts, covered only in the thin material of my T-shirt, as she pressed into me.
Where were these thoughts coming from? I had never entertained such thoughts before in my life ... at least not consciously. Maybe it was the combination of the testosterone and adrenaline pumping through my body from the encounter (and subsequent thrashing of) Kelly's attackers. I'll be the first to admit, rescuing the "damsel in distress" is an amazing aphrodisiac. And, as I had just discovered, Kelly was a fantastically attractive damsel. But these thoughts had no place in my mind. None. As I hung up my car keys and followed Kelly upstairs, I tried less to concentrate on the exposed length of her shapely legs, the sway of her cute bottom under my T-shirt, and the jiggle of her cloth clad breasts, and more on any image that would stem the flow of blood to my groin.
When we got to upstairs, she headed toward the master bedroom' bathroom. I didn't object. Now, my bathroom isn't what you would call a showcase of sybaritic pleasure, but it's nothing to sneeze at either. The tub is big enough for two, and serves as a mini-Jacuzzi as well (trust me, as a pro-athlete, that's a necessity, not a luxury. At 35, there were times I came home feeling twenty years older than I was). There was a stand-alone shower that was roomy, two separate sinks and counter on the opposite sides of the room, and ... well, you get the idea. The kind of bathroom you expect to find in a house my size in the kind of upper class neighborhood I live in.
I walked Kelly to the bathroom door and told her, "I'll be right out here, kiddo, until you get out."
There was a look of consternation on Kelly's face as she looked into the bathroom and then back at me. "Couldn't you just sit in here with me until I get the tub filled, Uncle King? Please?"
It was understandable, I suppose, the amount of discomfort she was feeling at the prospect of being left alone, even with me on the other side of the door. I nodded, though for some reason my mouth was beginning to feel especially dry.
We went in and I sat in one of the vanity chairs while Kelly sat on the edge of the bathtub and filled it up. I had a jar full of bubble beads (a remnant of a past relationship), which Kelly took two out of, and placed them in the tub. We made small talk a the tub filled with warm water and a substantial amount of bubbles. I tried not to take too much notice of the amount of leg Kelly had exposed. And the temperature of the bathroom must have been cooler than I thought, as Kelly's nipples were obviously erect under the T-shirt I had given her to cover herself.
Soon enough (perhaps too soon!), the tub was filled and I took my leave. As I reached the door, I heard Kelly's quiet voice behind me ask,
"Uncle King? Could you--could you stay in here with me? Please?"
I felt as if my heart were lodged in my throat as I turned back toward Kelly, her pleading eyes looking straight into mine.
"I mean, the bubbles will hide everything, and I really don't want to be alone."
I knew ... I KNEW!--that I shouldn't, that a barrier of soapy bubbles was insufficient protection for Kelly against my growing lust for her. I didn't think I would be able to answer her, as it seemed every bit of moisture in my mouth had disappeared, but somehow I managed to croak out, "OK."
Kelly gave me a brilliant smile, as it seemed a load of tension left her shoulders (only to find an immediate home on mine). "Thanks, Uncle King. I guess you better turn around."
I did as instructed, until I heard her clothes fall softly on the bathroom and her body enter the bath water. Then she said in that sweet voice of hers, "You can turn around now."
When I turned around, I saw one of the most beautiful and innocently seductive visions of my entire life. Kelly was sitting in the bathtub, only her head and the top of her shoulders visible above a mound of bubbles, with her hair partial submerged and partially fanned out behind her.
I must have stared a little too long because Kelly blushed and turned her head. I stuttered, then moved to sit on the edge of the tub. "Kelly, do you want to talk about what happened? You don't have to worry about anything. Trust me, those guys won't do that to you or anyone else ever again." I only had a vague idea what I was going to do. But I figured it I put the boy's name and addresses in the hands of Jake the Snake, the situation would be resolved more than satisfactorily.
Kelly shook her head emphatically "no." "I know I don't have to worry about anything, Uncle King. I know you'll take care of anything. And I always feel safe when you're around, no matter what."
We started having "small talk." It was, as you can imagine, a surreal situation. There was Kelly, her beautiful body shielded from my eyes by soap bubbles, carrying on a conversation and not wanting me to leave because, considering the evening's events, needed my continued presence to make her feel safe. I suppose I could console myself that a lesser man would have taken immediate advantage of Kelly, but then a better man would not have had to battle the lascivious images of Kelly that were continuously flooding my brain.
I had said something funny, or at least something that Kelly found funny, and in the process of laughing, had dislodged some of the bubbles covering her left breast. A few bubbles remained, but enough had been removed to make her nipple visible. Again, I couldn't help but stare, and again, Kelly caught me. When she saw where I was looking, she blushed and quickly moved bubbles to cover herself up. I stammered an apology, but she just shook her head.
"It's OK, Uncle King." Kelly giggled nervously. "It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before. Besides, I trust you and know you would never hurt me." Kelly gave me this look that make her brown eyes look enormous. "You won't let anyone hurt me, will you, Uncle King?"
I scooted over enough to place a kiss on her forehead before lifting her chin so I could look her straight in the eyes. "Never."
I meant the moment to last only for a few seconds, but somehow that gaze kept on stretching on and on. Kelly looked up, licking her lips nervously, as she unconsciously parted them just a quarter of an inch. The next thing I knew, I was leaning down to kiss her.
Her lips met mine, timidly at first, before pressing harder with passion. Her tongue shyly reached out to touch mine, as she put a hand behind my neck to deepen the kiss. In the process, she lifted herself partly out of the tub, exposing both her beautiful breasts.
We broke the kiss as we both realized how she had exposed herself at the same time. I gazed in wonder at her beautiful orbs (I was to learn later she was a 34D). The soapy water running off of them seemed to enhance their beauty. Their was just the tiniest trace of sag, due to their sheer size. But other than that, they were both firm and perky in appearance, due to Kelly's youth and athleticism.
I just sat there for the longest time, staring at her beautiful breasts, while Kelly made no move to cover herself, just watching me watching her. Almost as if it was moving on its own volition, my hand trailed down Kelly's throat to between her breasts in one long, slow, luxurious movement. Kelly watched wide-eyed, her breathing becoming more rapid. Then, as gently as I could, I cupped Kelly's left breast with my right hand, letting my thumb trace across her instantly hardened nipple.
Kelly gave a shuddering moan as I begin softly kneading her breast with my hand, my thumb occasionally grazing across her nipple. It was far from being the first breast I had ever held, but it was a memory that would never be equaled. Her skin was softer than any I had ever felt. I'm not a man with small hands, but Kelly's breasts more than filled mine. I was in awe of their firmness and softness, and of Kelly's reaction to my touch. I knew my hands were the first to touch her in this fashion, and she was giving herself over completely to the experience.
I'm not sure what made me reluctantly move my hand. Perhaps some twinge of conscience that had survived the sensations that were determined to overcome both me and Kelly. Kelly's eyes opened as I leaned back, but she made no immediate move to cover herself. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions: relief, confusion, frustration ... too many to list.
"Kelly, I'm--I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--I'm sorry."
Kelly seemed to almost reluctantly to lower herself back into her covering of bubbles. "It's OK, Uncle King. I--you didn't--it felt." Kelly paused, and took a deep breath. "It's OK, Uncle King. I still love you."
We sat there in silence, neither of us brave enough to look at the other. Finally, Kelly said, "I'm--I'm going to take a shower now."
I nodded and got up. "I'll be in the hall." Again I turned and again I heard her voice behind me.
"Uncle King? Please don't leave. Just let me get in the shower first."
I nodded and behind me I heard Kelly get out of the bathtub and into the stand-alone shower. When the door the shower closed and the water turned on, I turned back around.
The glass in the shower was somewhere between transparent and translucent, if that made sense. I couldn't actually see Kelly showering, but there was enough of her form visible to make my heart race, as well as increase the size of my ever hardening erection. I'm sure that Kelly must have seen me as I watched her showering, but she never said a word. And what little I could discern made me want to see more.
Finally the water stopped and Kelly called out, "I'm coming out now." I again turned dutifully around until Kelly told me it was safe to look. When I turned around, it felt as if my heart had lodged in my throat. Kelly was standing wrapped in one towel while she was drying her long hair with the another. The towel showed off her legs from her thighs downward, and was wrapped so that a generous amount of her cleavage was on display.
We again stood there entranced, me taking in Kelly's beauty, while she watched me consume her with my eyes. Finally, Kelly shook her head as if waking from a dream and made her way to one of the vanity mirrors. She lifted a hairbrush and then paused. Turning back to me, she hesitantly asked, "Uncle King, do you want to brush my hair for me?"
I didn't say a word but walked over to Kelly. She stood there motionlessly until I was standing behind her. Since I was still clad only in my running shorts, I was standing close enough to barely feel her damp hair against my chest. There was a small step that led up to the vanity mirror she was standing in front of, but the top of her head still only came up to my shoulders. She didn't say a word as I took the brush out of her hand, but her breathing quickened as I placed it on the vanity counter. The next thing I knew, my hands had reached around in front of her and undid her towel, letting it drop to floor.
Kelly didn't move. Her hands remained firmly at her side as she watched wide-eyed at me taking all of her beauty in. And she was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.
Her skin was smooth absolutely flawless. The tan lines were obvious on her breasts and panty line, which added to her sexiness. Her breasts had almost no sag to them, despite their size. Her nipples, harden by a combination of excitement and cool air, were neither too large nor too small; they were somewhere between the size of a half dollar and a silver dollar. Her stomach was flat, her waist enticingly narrow as it flowed into slim but very womanly hips. Between her thighs she had trimmed her pubic hair just enough to wear a bikini. I let my gaze continue to slide down her slender, shapely legs before returning to her face. Her eyes were wide, but still Kelly made no move.
I wrapped my hands around Kelly's waist and pulled her against me. She leaned back against me as my hands slid up to just below her breasts. Kelly's eyes were closed and her body seemed to be tensed with anticipation.
"Kelly? We can stop--"
"Don't stop, Steven."
Kelly had never called me anything but Uncle King. I guess we had moved beyond the honorary uncle/niece relationship. As soon as my hands cupped her breasts, Kelly moaned softly. Her hands came up and rested lightly on mine, as I gently kneaded her firm, wondrous globes. I then just touched her nipples with the tips of two fingers, rotating them lightly, then brushing my fingertips back and forth across them. This drove Kelly crazy. Her arms went over her head as she wrapped her hands behind my neck, pressing her body back into mine. My erection had been hard before, but when Kelly pressed her bare ass against it, with nothing between us save my running shorts and underwear, I became rock solid.
I cupped Kelly's left breast with one hand, massaging it, as my right hand slowly slid down across her stomach. I felt her catch her breath, as I paused, lightly stroking the skin underneath the jewel that was her navel. When I continued downward and tentatively touched her wetness, she moaned loudly in response. I placed two fingers over her clitoris, the tips of my fingers just barely entering her, as I rotated my fingers in a slow, lazy circle. My cloth clad erection was firmly lodged between the fantastic cheeks of Kelly's ass; even if she wasn't aware of it, I most definitely was. Kelly's right hand had come to rest lightly on the back of my right hand, as if to encourage it. As I increased the speed of the movements of my finger tips, this elicited even louder moans from Kelly.
Soon my hand was moving rapidly, as Kelly grunted, her body shaking. Her grunts took on a higher pitch, and then she went stiff in my arms with a high pitched "Uhhhnh!" She stayed almost frozen for a few seconds, then started breathing heavily as she nearly collapsed in my arms, her arms falling down to her side. I held her up for a few seconds until her breathing returned to normal. As she opened her eyes, she saw me staring at her in the mirror. She blushed and smiled shyly. Turning around, she put both her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. I placed my arms around her shoulders and hugged her back just as tightly.
Kelly backed away from me just far enough to look me in the eyes. "Steven, that was wonderful!" She had a trusting smile on her face.
I just smiled back, not sure what to say.
"Steven, I want to do ... more."
At this point, my conscience was torn. My body had no regrets about what had happened so far, and the concept of more sounded ... enticing. I wasn't sure what to say, so I stalled for time.
Kelly lowered her head, seemingly unable to meet my eyes. "I ... I want you to be my first."