Chapter 1

I looked up as the three girls came running toward me, screaming as if they were being pursued by ogres. I wasn't surprised. It was the same three girls who had been running around my back yard for years, screaming as if the world was coming to an end. It happened every summer, and it should have seemed as normal as the sun coming up.

But this time, as I looked up, the book I'd been reading was forgotten as my eyes took in the lush curves and bouncing breasts of my niece and her two summertime friends.

Emma lived next door to me and was the first to form a bond with Caitlin (my sister's daughter) when I took her in for two weeks so my sister could go on her honeymoon with her second husband. Those two weeks worked out rather well, and the next summer the eleven year old tomboy asked if she could "have another vacation with Uncle Bob". Her mother agreed.

That year Emma introduced Caitlin to Ashley who lived two blocks away and was now Emma's best friend. They became the three musketeers and their kingdom was my back yard. Their "moat" is my in ground swimming pool, and it's big enough to swim laps in.

So when Caitlin and I weren't going on "adventures" there was usually a lot of splashing and screaming in my back yard.

That was all fine back when they were prepubescent. They made a lot of noise, and they dashed around as if they were running from their worst nightmares, but I could still read and do lifeguard duty at the same time. They wore bikinis which, had they been on bigger, bustier girls, might have been interesting. But on these girls they were merely strips of cloth that covered the parts their mothers wanted covered. I honestly think they'd have been just as happy running around buck naked, like they probably did when they were toddlers.

But that year turned into a "tradition", where Caitlin travelled from far away California to the windy plains of Oklahoma each summer to spend two, then three, and eventually four weeks with her Uncle Bob, who treated her like an adult as long as she acted like one. What that meant was that I didn't coddle her, or require that she behave in any particular way. She was just Caitlin and we did whatever she had the urge to do as long as it was safe.

What that means is that she wanted to go rock climbing, and fishing and camping. I had a dirt bike I liked to climb hills with, and she wanted to learn to ride it. Instead of putting her on my 450, I bought her a 175 and let her learn on that. She eventually moved up to a two fifty, which was fine, considering all she weighed was a hundred and ten pounds.

And then one year she asked if I'd drive her back to California, so we could camp and see some of the national parks along the way. The first year we did that, when she was fourteen, we did Yellowstone. I booked us rooms in the lodge and we spent two days there, seeing the sights. The next year it was Big Bend, in Texas, taking the southern route back home. The following year we toured the Rockies and Mesa Verde. That Christmas, when I Skyped them for the holidays, she got in front of the computer and said she'd already decided what we were going to do the next time she came. And that was tour the Grand Canyon and Carlsbad Caverns on the way back home.

"But this year we're going to tent camp instead of staying in motels!" she said, excitedly. "I want to rough it," she had said. "You know, get a taste of what it was like for the pioneers as they moved west."

But looking at Caitlin and her friends now, I had a glimmer of how easily things could all come crashing down. My niece was all grown up, and she was a babe. Spending nights in close proximity to her in a tent might have been disastrous. But, at the last minute, I'd gotten a break. She had some kind of sports camp thing she had to be back in California for and, rather than cut her visit short and drive back, she had opted to stay just as long, and then return to the coast by air, as she had done in the past.

Looking at her now, I was kind of glad about that, because I'd have been a basket case staying in a tent with her for four or five nights.

Yeah, I know, she was only seventeen, but you couldn't tell it by looking. Suddenly she looked like she should be in college, instead of finishing up high school. And her friends were right there with her. All of them had the lush curves of young women ready for the adult dance of love and passion.

Not that I hadn't noticed this over the years before this. Basically, I got a yearly update on how puberty was treating the musketeers. I watched those polka dotted bikini tops begin to show that there was actually something under them, and those mounds got bigger every year. The girls didn't seem to notice, though. While their bodies changed, they seemed to stay exactly the same when they gathered in the back yard to jump in the pool and play the kind of silly games that kids play everywhere.

When they were fourteen and fifteen, they seemed a little shier in some ways, a little less sure of themselves, perhaps. Ashley had braces and she hated them, thinking they made her look like a robot of some kind. I told her that was nonsense and that the braces would simply help her teeth become as beautiful as the rest of her.

It was just an offhand comment ... you know ... something to help her get through a tough time. I had no idea it would have such far reaching effects on my life. In fact, I didn't even think she'd remember me saying it. After all, I was thirty, practically ancient in their minds. The only interest they had in me was that I had a swimming pool in my back yard and a niece who was fun to play with while she was in town.

And it was obvious Caitlin's two friends had no interest in me. Once Caitlin and I got in the car to make the drive to the west coast, I didn't see them for the rest of the summer.

Well, I saw Emma, of course. I mean she lived right next door to me. I almost had to run into her occasionally. But when I did all she did was wave and say something like "Hi, Mr. Simmons" and that was it. All they were interested in was Caitlin, and my pool when Caitlin was in town.

Which is why I was somewhat surprised when Ashley changed direction from the other two and came running directly toward me. They'd been out somewhere and I took the opportunity of the peace and quiet to sit by the pool and read. I knew they'd eventually be back, and I knew they'd want to swim. They always did, and acting as the "lifeguard" was a habit, even though they were now old enough to take care of themselves. I hadn't heard them come in, but it was impossible to ignore them as they ran onto the patio, headed for the pool. I saw a packet of paper in Ashley's right hand as she trotted over to me.

"Here's your mail, Mr. Simmons," she panted, bending over and extending her hand. "We got it from the box on our way in."

I had a premonition of what the Grand Canyon might be like as she held her pose, bent over, waiting for me to take the mail from her hand. Then my mind flashed through a little, admittedly silly fantasy, wherein her much too small bikini top failed in its attempt to keep her entirely too large breasts cupped in their embrace. The bikini parted between the cups and, in this fantasy, they fell about a foot to land on my chest, bouncing up and down like basketballs.

I told you it was silly.

I realized I was staring at her cleavage, and that my mail was still in her hand. I didn't know how long she'd been bent over like that, but I knew it was longer than propriety demanded. I dragged my eyes from her truly luscious cleavage up to her face, whereupon I realized I was busted big time. But instead of screaming at me for staring at her breasts, there was this little half smile, a sort of almost smirk.

"Your mail?" she reminded me.

I grabbed it." Thanks," I croaked.

"No problem," she said, smiling normally.

I would never have known anything was up, except that as she ran back to the other two my eyes saw that they'd been watching this delivery of mail entirely too intently, and my ears heard her excited whisper as she got back to them.

"You were right! He did stare right at them!"

I heard one of the girls say "I told you!" but I couldn't tell which one it was.

The point is that, quite suddenly from my perspective, the girls were all grown up ... and not just physically. I was pretty sure that Ashley Paddington, who had gotten her driver's license just last year, had also just flashed me her boobs.

On purpose!

And that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that, if my instincts (and ears, of course) were working smoothly, there were other partners abetting her in that particular crime.

Hmmmm. Bad analogy. Sorry. There were no victims in this little social offense.

No sir. None at all. I almost called her back to ask her to bend over again so I could give her a second opinion.

But I didn't. Instead I lifted the book, as if nothing was wrong, and pretended to read while I surreptitiously watched the three hooligans over the top of the pages. Their heads were together and they were giggling like they were ten instead of seventeen. As I watched, my niece reached back with both hands and did that thing girls do to reposition their bikini bottoms. You know what I'm talking about. They hook a finger under the cloth and pull it away from the skin and down. It's an unconscious thing most of the time, just instinct encouraging them to be a little more modest or make things more comfortable. I'd seen these girls do that at least a hundred times, if not more.

But not since they were all grown up and teasing me like Ashley just had.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking they had all decided to offer up their virginity to the older man they all thought of as Caitlin's cool uncle, and that I had to satisfy all three of them that night as I taught them how wonderful it was to have orgasms while full of hot, stiff prick.

Okay. So maybe that's what I was thinking about. But it wasn't like that. Wasn't like that at all. They swam for all of fifteen minutes and then ran into the house, where I knew they were taking showers and getting dressed for whatever was actually planned next.

Which wouldn't be their mass defloration, by the way. I knew that.

It might be a trip to the mall, or it might be a session of (re)painting each other's nails or doing each other's hair. They might even go for a run together. Caitlin was a surfer, and liked to stay in shape. And I know Emma played soft ball. She had that muscled slightly broad build that reminds you of those gymnasts in the Olympics, except that her chest was way too busty for that particular group.

And when had that happened? These girls had all gone into a closet and grown up before coming back out again to make my day much more interesting.

Not that I thought anything would actually happen. I knew better than that. Caitlin wasn't a vamp. She was a sweet girl whose major struggle in life thus far had been that she wanted to do whatever her older step-brother got to do, and ran afoul of her mother's desire to protect her from harm in the process. American culture wasn't too happy with her either, for that matter. Girls are expected to want to do girly stuff.

In any case, I was on solid ground now. They'd been taking showers (together?) for as long as they'd been using my pool, and I had fantasized about what that must look like for more years than I would like to admit to. Even at twelve, with those svelte, curveless bodies, I'd wished I could watch them scamper around Caitlin's bedroom naked. And now that they had found all those missing curves, it would be oh, so much better.

So I thought about that for a few seconds, and then adjusted the erection that had suddenly bloomed in my shorts, and went back to reading. If they needed anything from me, they knew where I was.

What I was not aware of was that Caitlin was looking out the window at me from her bedroom when I did the adjusting.

And she was completely aware of what I was doing when I did it.

Things might have ended right there. After all, it isn't unusual for a young woman to experiment a little with trying to see what it's like to get a man to notice her. But it rarely goes farther than that, at least when the man is almost old enough to be her father. I certainly didn't expect Ashley to do anything else, much less Caitlin. At least not with me.

But little things happen that, like the fabled wings of the butterfly on one side of the earth, can cause a hurricane on the other side of the planet.

And some of those little things that I think changed everything for all three of the girls that summer happened just about the time I closed my book and got up to go inside and find something to divert my mind from imagining those three little beauties frolicking together in the big walk-in shower in the bathroom Caitlin had claimed as her own while she was staying at my house.

The diversion I chose was to make myself a three layer sandwich of Black Forest ham, smoked turkey, cheese and Miracle Whip. I had the cheese on it and was slicing the tomato and lettuce to complete the masterpiece when I heard a thump upstairs that was louder than the usual thumps and bumps these girls regularly produced. About a minute later, after I had taken only one bite of a really delicious sandwich, Emma came tearing into the kitchen.

"Kat's hurt!" she blurted." She fell and hurt her ankle! You need to come quick!"

I put down the sandwich and followed Emma, who was now wearing shorts and a tank top. Her blond hair was cut in what used to be called a pageboy style, and as I went up the stairs behind her I noticed there was no bra strap marring the smooth surface of her back. I was thinking about what the front of that shirt might look like until I heard Caitlin moaning in pain and forgot about Emma.

She was lying on the bed on her side, with her left leg out in front of her. She was holding her ankle with both hands. Ashley was beside her looking concerned, but otherwise doing nothing.

"What happened?" I asked, automatically being the adult. It showed how worried the girls were that they told the truth instead of making something up.

"She was jumping on the bed and she bounced funny and that foot went on the floor instead of the bed," said Emma.

"Jumping on the bed?" I asked, incredulous. These girls were in high school, not eight years old.

"Is it broken?" asked Ashley, obviously very worried.

"Let me see it," I said.

I went to the foot of the bed and sat sort of sideways while I reached for Caitlin's foot. I didn't grasp it, but instead just told her to lay it on my lap. She did that, scooting around on the bed and ending up lying on her back with her right foot behind me.

That's one of the "little things" I mentioned earlier. She just happened to position herself with her legs spread. It was simple serendipity.

I formed a cradle with my hands and she gingerly let her calf down on one hand while I supported her bare heel with the other. The ankle was swollen, but normally colored.

"Can you move your toes?" I asked.

Her toes moved just a little, then more.

"Yes," she said, tears in her voice.

"Now point your toe," I instructed her.

Very slowly she extended. I watched the ankle, which looked pretty normal, and then looked up to see what her face was registering.

At least that's what I meant to do. Along the way, as my eyes went up the length of her leg on the way to her face, they encountered the gaping leg of her oversized cargo shorts. Those shorts were all the rage those days, having multiple pockets and being much too big around the hips. They were made of thick cotton and had to be held on with a belt.

What I saw through that oversized, gaping leg opening was the fact that sweet little Caitlin was going commando.

More than that, I got a crystal clear view of pussy lips that belonged on a woman twice her age. By that, I mean her outer labia weren't tight and rolled in to create the classic camel toe. No, these lips were loose and wrinkled, full enough that I instantly imagined sucking them between my lips and sort of chewing on them. They were pale pink, lying nestled between even paler thighs and there wasn't a trace of hair anywhere around them.

I heard Emma gasp beside me. She had ended up standing right at the bottom of Caitlin's foot. When Caitlin had pointed her toe, in fact, it was right at Emma.

So, basically, Emma could see exactly what I could see.

I think it was the gasp, combined with the fact that things didn't hurt as much as she expected them to, that caused Caitlin to move her gaze from her injured ankle to her friend's face. I know this because I tore my eyes away from her delicious looking pussy and finally looked at her face.

"What?" she asked, sounding worried. She hadn't seen anything wrong with her ankle, and the pain hadn't been bad. But Emma's gasp had alerted her that something was wrong.

Emma was apparently still rattled, because again she just blurted out the truth.