Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Heterosexual, Incest, Uncle, Niece, First, Pregnancy,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - I got an email from my niece. She enclosed pictures of her, barrel racing. But there was an extra one. Of her, naked, in her room. It had to be a mistake, right? I had to know, so I snooped on her computer. There were more pictures of her naked, but I got caught snooping. Turned out the pictures weren't for me. They were for Tumblr. Except they WERE for me, sort of. It was complicated. But then life usually is, right?
My name is Bob, and I'm six-three, with dark, wavy hair and a six pack you could rest marbles in if I was lying down. I have a foot long dick, and more pussy than I can find the time to keep happy.
You buying any of this?
I don't blame you. It's all lies. That's how most of these stories start, but they're probably all lies too.
So why am I starting out with an outrageous lie? Well ... in my case, the truth is just as crazy. And I can't tell anybody I know about it. Hell, if I did, they wouldn't believe me anyway. So I'm going to tell you, because if I don't tell somebody, I'm going to go crazy.
My name isn't Bob, but we'll stick with that for now. You'll understand why I don't want to be identified later. I'm not six foot, three inches tall. I'm a shade under seventy inches. My hair is short, because it's easier to take care, and because I got used to having it that way while I was in the Army. I can still do a hundred sit-ups, but marbles would roll right off of me. Sorry, it's just the way things are.
And, as for women, there have been a few, but there isn't one right now and hasn't been one for quite some time. The last two relationships I was in were based on lust, rather than love. On their part. I fall in love easily, like my sister, who you'll hear about in a minute. My track record with women, unfortunately, is about like hers with men. That's just a fact too.
There's really nothing special about me, in fact. I got hurt while I was on active duty, in what would be called an "industrial accident" in the civilian world. The Army called it dereliction of duty, in terms of the specialist operating the combat forklift that ran over me. They had to put a steel pin in my right femur, and had to rebuild both the tibia and fibula in my left leg. That got me the "golden ticket" of being medically retired at a 90% disability rating. It's only a thousand bucks a month, but the GI Bill also got me a degree in data systems engineering. I formed my own company and I do all right. I never wanted to be rich anyway.
Actually, other than a slight limp, it's hard for anyone to tell I was injured. I can tell when it's going to rain or snow, but that's more of an annoyance than actual discomfort.
Okay, enough about me. I'm just an ordinary guy. The story actually started on an ordinary day, a Monday, in fact, when I opened my email and found, among the dozens of work related things, one from my niece. She's much more interesting than I am, and since all these stories describe the girl too, I will. But in this case, I'll give you the real scoop.
Elizabeth, who I just call Lizzy most of the time, is just shy of ... well never mind how old she is ... she's a healthy young woman who usually presents with a long, blond pony tail, that reaches just past her shoulder blades when up, and to the middle of her back when it's down. It's that golden blond color that looks like it has brown highlights in it in the sun, except you can't find them if you look closely. She's slim, but only because she's active. Her mother is tending toward heavy these days, and the same is in Lizzy's future if she doesn't keep up her active lifestyle. She also has her mother's breasts, which are, shall we say ... generous. They developed early, and the scamp learned to use them on men early as well. She practiced by pushing them and rubbing them against me during hello and goodbye hugs. There was even a time when I accused her of doing it on purpose, just to tease me.
Her response? "It's what girls do, Uncle Bob. I have to practice on somebody. If not you, then who should it be?"
That sounds like she was coming on to me, but that wasn't the case. Not really. It's not like every time we were together she threw herself at me, or anything like that. She was just unabashedly friendly and intimate with me on a level that might exceed the usual uncle/niece relationship.
The other thing is that, along with her upper body, her bottom developed nicely, too. She has that typical hourglass shape that you see on the Victoria's Secret models, who actually look like women, instead of sticks with clothes draped on them.
She looks delicious in a bikini, and yes, I've had inappropriate thoughts about her on many occasions. I never did anything about them, of course ... but I had them.
Lizzy lives two blocks from me with my sister, Monica, who finally gave up men after she dumped her third husband. Number one was Lizzy's father, who somehow got the idea that Monica was a punching bag instead of a good woman. That was when I was still in the Army, and I beat him bloody one time when I went over and found her all bruised up. I let him hit me a few times, so there would be evidence that I had to defend myself. He decided giving her a divorce was in his best interests. Number two was a cowboy she met in a roadhouse one night when she went looking for trouble and found it. He did the Rodeo circuit, trying to strike it big as a bull rider. When she gave him the ultimatum that it was either her or the Rodeo, he chose the bulls. Lizzy was twelve when he showed up on the scene, and fifteen when he left and he's the one who got her hooked on barrel racing. Number three was a stock broker who she caught cheating on her with her former best friend. Number three is why she only has to work part time.
Without going into boring details surrounding birthdays and Thanksgiving and so on, suffice it to say I got along with husbands two and three as well as any in-law does. They didn't beat up my sister, so that was a plus. But I suspect the, shall we say transient nature, of Monica's relationships with men might have been responsible for Lizzy fixating on me as perhaps the only stable male relationship in her life. I mean there was all that hugging, and rubbing her precious teenage titties against my chest while she murmured how good my aftershave smelled, and all that.
Of course I never took any of that seriously. It was good for a fantasy and all, but she was a girl, and I was old enough to be her father, and the world just doesn't work that way anyway ... right?
Well that's what I thought too, until I got an email from her one day that had photos attached.
Lizzy was a member of 4-H, and had friends related to husband number two. One of them, in fact, was who boarded her horse, a birthday present from number two after he actually did ride a series of bulls long enough to win some money. She rode that horse in barrel races at various events, such as the rodeo at the county fair, and 4-H rodeos. She also rode in parades, either with groups of her 4-H friends, or even the mounted sheriff's patrol, which was ceremonial only. Everybody loved to have Lizzy mounted in a parade with them.
Personally, I think that's because pretty much everybody wanted to mount Lizzy.
So it wasn't unusual for me to get an email with a set of pictures of her racing from one end of an arena to the other, cutting her horse around barrels, pony tail flying, an intense look on her face. And I loved getting those, because she was the quintessential image of a healthy young cowgirl, ripe and ready. The form-fitting western shirts, and skin tight jeans, which were tucked into tooled boots covered her body, true, but they also showcased it as well. Her wide, leather belt, with a huge buckle made of old nickels soldered together, gave some scale as her breasts bounced up and down in time with the horse's gait. You couldn't watch Lizzy on a horse, without wishing you were the guy whose bedroll she'd climb into by the campfire that night.
As I said. I was used to getting photos like that. She had a whole crew of friends who loved to take them.
But what I was not used to getting, along with them, was a picture of her lying on her stomach on her bed, knees bent, toes in the air while she manipulated the PS3 controller in her hands, staring at the little TV I knew to be in her room.
Sounds domestic enough ... right?
Except for the fact she was stark naked.
Well, not stark naked, technically. She did have on knee socks. They were rainbow colored, striped, and that splash of color on both lower legs was perfectly placed to frame her moist, juicy-looking, pouting pussy lips, clearly visible between thighs that were spread just enough to give her balance as she leaned left and right, using unconscious body movements against the game.
I stared. I could only see part of her face in profile. Whoever had taken the picture had been behind her. I could even see the blurry image of the game she was playing, because the TV was only a couple of feet from her bed, on a chair. But it was undeniably her. That dark blond pony tail I mentioned was lying on her back, carelessly falling to one side. If her arm hadn't been as close to her side as it was, that hair would have been caressing the side of her breast. And it was her bed, and her things in the background. I had been in that bedroom before.
Which brought up the primary question: Who the fuck took that picture?!
There were no clues as to that. The flash had been used, so there were no shadows thrown by the taker. There were also no mirrors, or shiny things I could see reflections in.
I looked at the file name of the picture. It was 100-0764.jpg. I looked at the fourteen other pictures that were of her barrel racing, or sitting on her horse, smiling brilliantly, or standing by her horse, or talking to some of her equally gorgeous cowgirl friends. The file names for those were 100-0765.jpg through 100-0778.jpg. The one of her on the bed had been taken before the Rodeo shots. But obviously not at the rodeo. She must have either clicked and dragged a list to attach the pictures to her email, or individually selected them as a group. And in the process ... she included one she hadn't meant to include.
I went back and stared at the photo itself. It wasn't my imagination. Her pussy lips did look moist. I couldn't help but wonder if any penis had split those delicious looking lips, sliding between them to plumb her dark and steamy depths.
I became aware that I was stiff as a board.
And yes, I confess ... I took out my cock and stroked it, staring at that picture, imagining mounting her from behind, until I spurted all over the floor under my desk.
I was sure it had been a mistake. She had not meant to send me that picture. The text of the email was standard stuff. "uncle bob omg i actually got second place at the regional trials i only got a ribbon but it was so much fun i wish you could come to these i love you bye" Like I assume is typical in today's texting environment, she never used capitals or punctuation. I never get mail from any other teenager, but I assume that's normal too. Only that one extra picture was abnormal.
I have to admit I was obsessed with that photograph. The shot itself was horrifyingly beautiful. I say horrifying because it bothered me on so many levels. First off, because of that picture, I now wanted to fuck my niece. There was no getting around that. Not that I was going to do anything about that desire, but it was a lot stronger than the mere "innocent" fantasies I'd had of her in the past. Second, I just couldn't stand the thought that it was some punk boy, some kid her age who had taken that picture. I had awful images in my mind of this kid with no face, who was playing video games with my niece, taking a break only to climb on top of her and fill her pussy with his little prick and her belly with his spend.
It drove me a little crazy.
I'm not exaggerating here. I was so upset by this that I planned and executed a secret mission to try to learn more.
What I did was call my sister, and tell her it had been much too long since I'd tasted her cooking, or sat and watched a movie with her.
That was actually true, and since she and I had been pretty close, growing up, she was always up for spending some time with me. The only fight I could ever remember having with her was the one after I beat the piss out of number one and threatened his life if he ever touched her again. Basically he got frustrated, yelled "Mother fucker!" and stomped out of the house. First she hugged me, sobbing and clinging to me. Then she raged at me for butting in, asking me what the hell she was going to do now. I told her find a better fucking husband and we yelled at each other for another ten minutes. Then Lizzy toddled in and started crying because we were yelling. We made up and she confessed that this wasn't the first time he'd done it.
Anyway, Monica said "Come on over. Bring pizza and beer," so that's what I did.
My plan was to get Lizzy to choose the movie. That way she'd be engaged, and I'd have time to snoop. And it worked perfectly too.
She picked something called "The Color of Magic," which was this ridiculous science fiction kind of sort of thing with a flat world perched on the back of four elephants, who were standing on the shell of a huge turtle, swimming through space. But I didn't care. I said I'd already seen it, and recommended it highly, and they told Netflix to stream the thing. It was silly, but actually interesting too. I let it get half an hour into things, when the plot was beginning to unfold, and then said "Potty break. I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me. I might be a while. Don't stop it for me. I remember what happens."
Then I got up and went to Lizzy's bedroom.
The TV was back on top of her chest of drawers, and the chair was back in place at her computer desk. She'd just put the computer to sleep, and it came up quickly. I executed a search for the file name 100-0764.jpg. It was on the C: drive, not hidden at all, right in her "my pictures" folder. I went to explore and navigated to that folder. It was set for thumbnails. There were lots of pictures in there, probably four or five hundred. Everything I could see was just normal snapshots. I changed it to display the file details, sorted it for file name, and went to find file 100-0764. There it was, in line numerically with a bunch that came both before it, and after it. I knew the after photos were the ones of her barrel racing. I double clicked on 100-0764. It was the one she'd sent me by accident.
I closed it and double clicked 100-0763. It was another picture, taken in her bedroom. She was in it, dressed only in those same bright rainbow knee socks. But this time she was stretched out on her bed, in the arms of an equally naked girl who I happened to know was named Lou Ann. They were kissing.
Lou Ann was one of her 4-H buddies. There was a group of them that I had often seen together, quite often in pictures at 4-H events. I had never seen them like this, though. I clicked the "previous" button on the image viewer, and saw Lizzy standing with Lou Ann and two other girls, named Kandy and Nicole. They were all hamming it up for the camera ... and all of them were even more naked than my niece.
"Bob?" came the call of my sister.
I frantically pushed the off button of the computer, holding it until I saw the light around it go dark. I didn't have time for anything else. I quickly tiptoed out of her room, leaving the door open.
"Bob?" called Monica again.
"Yeah!" I called.
"Bring me a beer when you come back!" she called.
"Me too!" yelled Lizzy. I heard her laugh and her mother scold her.
I got a bottle of Miller and a can of Mountain Dew and took them back to the living room, where there was a bar fight going on, on the screen. I handed the bottle to Monica. Lizzy was lying on her stomach on the floor, her chest on three throw pillows all stacked up. She was in the same position as the picture I had looked at only a minute before, on her computer, except that she was clothed. Her T shirt had ridden up, though, and a small slice of her lower back was exposed. Don't ask me why, but I pressed the cold can of pop against that exposed skin.
She squawked, and rolled over. My eyes went to the front of her T shirt, where her breasts thrust out. A small slice of skin over her belly was also exposed.
"Uncle Bob!" she complained.
"Sorry," I said. I stood up and felt a little light headed. I blamed it on standing too quickly after having been bent over. My eyes drifted to the crotch of her jeans, where he legs were splayed apart.
"No you're not," she said. "What's wrong?"
"Wrong?" I finally looked at her face. Both of her eyebrows were up.
"You're all flushed," she said.
I felt the heat in my face, then, and put a hand up to touch it automatically.
"Beats me," I said. I went and sat back down by Monica. Her hand rose and fell on my thigh, only inches from my penis, which was more than half hard.
"I haven't seen a good bar fight since Rodney left," she said, casually. Rodney was number two.
"I'm sorry you're so deprived," I said, trying to get my mind off of my niece ... and my sister's hand.
I watched the rest of the movie, but I'm not sure I could write a description of it. I kept thinking about the very quick looks I had gotten at pictures which, more and more, appeared to my mind as having been taken at a slumber party of some kind. And it wasn't just the average, run-of-the-mill garden variety slumber party. No, these girls were the very best of friends.
Still ... who had taken the pictures? Another girl? Maybe Samantha, who was also one of the regulars. Or some boy they had snuck into the house that night.
I know. I'm a pervert. Deal with it. And besides ... maybe it's not all that perverted. I wanted there to be a guy involved, somehow, because that would make the girls bisexual, and it was important for my fantasies that they be bi-sexual. I just wanted to be the guy. That's all.
All this dominated my thoughts, as I watched dragons fly, and sword fights, and a chest that had legs and ran around saving the day. It was a weird movie, but not weird enough to keep my eyes off my niece's very cute bubble butt.
Which might be why, after the movie was over, and the credits were rolling, and Monica got up to take two fistfuls of beer bottles to the recycling container in the kitchen, when my niece rolled over to lie, reclining on those pillows and looked at me, I said "I got your email with the pictures in it. They made my day."
"Really?" Did she sound strained, or was it just my imagination?
"Really," I said.
Her smile bloomed. "Wanna see my ribbon?" she asked, sitting up effortlessly, as only the young can, and bouncing up onto her feet. There was no hint of anything naughty or saucy about her look, or her behavior.
"Sure," I said.
She took my hand and dragged me to her bedroom. She didn't notice the door was now open. I stood there, just inside the door, looking at the bed. She went to a shelf crowded with trophies. They were all pretty much the same, made of cheap, gilded plastic, set on a brown wooden base, with a brass plaque on it that commemorated the event and the date, and what place the winner had been. There was also a little box overflowing with colorful ribbons. I was reminded of those rainbow knee socks...
"See?" She turned and thrust a red ribbon at me proudly.
"It's beautiful," I said, trying not to look at her breasts. "So were the pictures." I winced mentally. Why couldn't I talk about something other than the pictures?!
"There are more!" she said. "I'll show them to you!"
She went to her computer and touched the keyboard.
I expected nothing to happen. After all, she had left her computer asleep, but I had turned it off. So she'd have to boot from startup.
Except that's not what happened.
There are two ways to put a Windows operating system to sleep. One is to use the mouse, and select that feature from the shut down menu. The other is to push the off button for exactly the right amount of time, and then release it. If you press too long, the power is abruptly cut. That is what I thought I had done, when I heard my sister calling, and thought she might be coming to find me.
Turns out all I did was put it to sleep.
When the screen bloomed to life ... there were Lizzy, Lou Ann, Kandy and Nicole ... all smiling at us ... naked ... with their arms around each other.
I had just enough time to stare at it and notice that Nicole's hand was all the way around Kandy, cupping her breast, when Lizzy turned and saw the screen.
"Shit!" she gasped.
She ran and stood in front of the screen, facing me. Her eyes were wild. That moment was the first time that I was absolutely sure she had not intended to send me the picture she had sent me.
"I'm sorry!" she said, her voice shaky.
"Sorry?" I wasn't sure what else to say. I was still processing things myself.
"Please don't tell Mom," she pleaded.
"Okay," I said. "I won't."
She turned around, bent over and grabbed for the mouse. I stared at her round bottom some more.
Lizzy wasn't a dumb girl. Not by any stretch of the imagination. And while she might not have known computers as well as I did, she wasn't clueless about them either. It didn't take long for her to think through what had just happened.
"How did that happen?" she asked out loud.
"How did what happen?" I asked.
"How did that picture get on my screen?"
That was uncomfortably close to an area of history I did not want her to investigate. I tried to block with humor.
"Well, the OS is called by the user to display a file, and it tells the graphics viewing card to make various pixels glow, which creates an image on the screen."
She stared at me.
"I know how it works," she said. "But that's not what I was doing the last time I used the computer."
"Not what you were doing?"
"I wasn't looking at pictures!" she snapped. "Somebody's been in here!" She went still, and looked horrified. "My mother!" she whispered.
Now, this told me a couple of things. I now knew that her mother did not know what the girls were up to during their slumber parties. If she did, there would be no angst. I also knew them both, very well. They had that best friends kind of mother/daughter relationship that every mother wishes she had with her daughter, but so few actually do. All this picture business might be something she'd kept secret from her mother, but now that she thought the secret was out, I knew she'd talk to her mother about this, either very soon, or sooner or later. I could see where this was going to go. She'd broach the subject with her mother, seeking to get forgiveness, or at least explain. Her mother would respond in a way that would make it clear she had not peeked at the computer. But she would push for more details, of course, uncovering everything in the process. After that little meltdown was over, Lizzy would reflect on the only other person who was present that night ... the only other potential suspect. She would connect the dots, and hold me responsible for the fact that she was now grounded until she was thirty.
"It wasn't your mother," I blurted.
"What?" She looked at me with raised eyebrows.
"It was me," I said, swallowing, and hoping she wouldn't scream at me loudly enough to get Monica's attention.
"You?" She sounded confused.
"Move," I said, tersely. I walked toward the computer. I had to physically move her aside. She had closed the picture viewer. I opened explore again and navigated to the directory. I looked over my shoulder at the open door.
"Close the door," I said softly.
"What are you doing?" she asked. Her voice was high and she sounded a little scared.
"Just close the door for a minute," I whispered.
"Come here," I said.
She did, and I highlighted file 100-0765. I double clicked it. There she was, standing by her horse, smiling.
"You sent me that picture," I said.
"Yes." She sounded completely confused.
I clicked the previous arrow, which displayed 100-0764. There was that luscious pussy.
"You also sent me this one," I said. "By accident, I suspect," I added.
"Shit!" she yipped again. "You weren't supposed to see that!"
My ears perked up. She didn't sound embarrassed. It was more like she was angry.
"I'm sorry I intruded on your privacy," I said, urgently, trying to get my message out to her before she reacted loudly. "I didn't know whether you'd sent it on purpose, or by mistake. I was trying to figure that out, so I snuck in here earlier tonight to take a look around. I found the others ... I figured out it was just a slumber party picture, or something like that. I'm sorry. I swear I won't ever do it again."
She stood up and looked at me.
"You thought I sent that to you on purpose?"
You know how you can have the high ground one minute, and lose it instantaneously the next?
"Well ... you know how you've teased me all these years," I offered in my defense.
Suddenly the color drained from her face.
"Did you look at ... all of them?" she asked, her voice in a whisper.
"All of them?" I didn't know how to answer that question.
"How many did you see?" she asked, suddenly very intense.
"Three," I said. "Your mom called me and I had to stop. I thought I turned it off, but I only put it to sleep."
"Three," she said, looking past my head. "So that's why the picture was there when I brought it up."
"I'm really sorry, Lizzy," I said. "I didn't mean to spy."
"Of course you did," she said, folding her arms under generous breasts. "But you only saw three pictures?"
It sounded important to her. I know I should have said "Yes," but I didn't.
"You mean there are more?"
The male part of me must have shone through, because she said "Down, boy. You're not supposed to see those."
My question was the obvious one. "Well who is?"
Now she blushed.
"It was Sam's idea. She wanted to send them to this tumblr site.
I blinked. I knew what she was talking about. Tumblr.com hosts what they call blogs, which can, in fact, be a traditional blog format. But a significant section of their users simply use their blog to post porn. There are literally thousands of them, with page after page after page of pictures of naked men, women and everything else under the sun. Suddenly, thinking back on the pictures I'd seen on her computer, I realized they were very much like pictures I'd seen on various Tumblr blogs.
And that meant those pictures were out where anybody in the world, who had a computer, could see them.
"Are you fucking insane?" I gasped.