Chapter 3

"So ... what do we do next?" I asked. Having basically given my niece permission to make an official pervert of me, I also wanted to make sure she had the full opportunity of controlling both me and events in general.

She looked thoughtful, and I realized that, while she'd had a "plan" for the night, it wasn't nearly as well fleshed out as it could have been. Having been young myself once, and knowing how little confidence most young people have, it's quite possible that she didn't actually believe her plan would come to fruition at all. She wanted it to, and was devastated when things didn't go to "plan", but now that it had been revived, there weren't as many details in the plan as were needed to move forward smoothly.

"Do you like to make out?" she asked, tentatively.

"I love to make out," I said.

She looked at me and I saw her face turn red.

"Would you make out with me ... naked?"

"Not a good idea," I said, immediately.

"I just wondered what it would be like to be up against you. I mean I know what Em and Ash feel like, but..."

She really was killing me.

"How about you keep that lovely bedroom attire on while we make out," I suggested.

"I guess that would be the next best thing," she said.

"Speaking of your bedroom attire, your taste is impeccable. I would never have thought a girl of your tender years could select such a devastatingly effective ensemble."

"Oh, I didn't choose it. I had no idea what to get. Valerie helped me."

"And Valerie is?"

"She works at The Hen's Nest, at the mall."

"And she put together that outfit for a seventeen-year-old girl," I sighed.

"We told her I was eighteen," said Caitlin.

"We?"

"Em and Ash were with me, of course," she said." It was their idea for me to get something to take advantage of the fact that you saw my coo -. "She took a breath. "Pussy," she substituted.

"Because I wasn't coming around," I suggested.

"No, you weren't. And I was chicken anyway."

"So Emma and Ashley helped."

"Yes. I only have two weeks left and if you're going to pop my cherry next year, we need to get you ready this year."

"So I'm supposed to ... um ... pop your cherry next year?"

"The girls said I should do it now, but I thought it would be best to wait."

"May I ask why?" I asked. This was fascinating. Again, she looked twenty-two, but her thought processes kept reminding me of how young she really was.

"I turn eighteen in August," she said." And I'll be a senior when I go back to school. My mother might not completely freak out if I ask her to go on the pill during my senior year," she said, calmly. "Then, when I come back next year, it will be safer."

"That's very wise of you," I said, imagining trying to defeat birth control pills.

"Plus, everybody knows that the only hundred percent effective birth control is abstinence. Even the pill can fail. And if I got pregnant after I graduate, it wouldn't be the end of the world. I mean, not with your baby, anyway. But if I got pregnant now, that wouldn't be good at all."

"I'm toast," I sighed.

"What?"

"Please don't go around telling men that you wouldn't mind having their babies," I said.

She looked shocked." I'd never do that!" she said.

"You just did," I pointed out.

Her eyebrows rose, then relaxed.

"You mean your baby? That's different. You're special. If I could marry you, I would. I want to have your baby some day."

I groaned.

"Maybe I should keep my clothes on while we snuggle," I said.

"No," she said, doubtfully. "I don't think so."

"Believe me, it would be better," I sighed.

She shook her head and some of her hair fell to cover one breast.

"No," she said." I want you naked."

I got naked. I did it efficiently and quickly. She sat in that Indian position, like she was doing yoga or something. I was as hard as I'd ever been in my life when I dropped the last of my clothing. Her mouth sagged open.

Then it closed and she licked her lips and swallowed. I was pretty sure she didn't have in mind what I had in mind, concerning those lips and swallowing and such, but that didn't help suppress the desire to put my cock where it thought it belonged.

Still, I controlled the urge and just stood there, letting her look. One of her hands lifted and extended towards me. Her index finger, which was beautifully painted, extended and crooked.

"C'mere," she whispered.

I walked until the front of my thighs ran into the side of the bed. She lifted her butt and transformed into sitting on her calves as she leaned closer to examine my cock.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. She looked up at my face. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see it like this."

"Since you were twelve?" I suggested.

She stuck out her tongue at me. My cock bobbed up and down as a result.

"What happened?" she asked, curious.

"You stuck out your tongue at me," I said.

"Why would that make it move?"

"It's thinking about what it might be like if you licked it," I sighed.

"Oh!" she said in a little yip.

"You don't have to," I assured her.

"It's something Em and Ash say I need to learn," she said, but she looked doubtful.

"Maybe someday," I said.

"Maybe," she agreed. She moved back and patted the bed. "Lie down with me?"

I felt a soothing drip of precum ease through my penis. This girl owned me.

I lay down and she arranged herself in front of me. We weren't quite touching, but some of that belly lace was touching me.

"Thank you," she said, staring into my eyes.

"You're welcome," I said.

Then I leaned in and kissed her.

I meant it to be a normal kiss. I know that sounds stupid. What's a normal kiss, after all? I guess that what I mean by that is that I meant it to be a kiss that lasted a couple of seconds and then ended, so we could talk some more. The talking part had been going really well, you know?

But it wasn't that kind of kiss at all. Instead it turned out to be one of those "I hope you brought a lunch, because you're going to be here a while" kinds of kisses. In the first place, she had practiced kissing with somebody, because she was really good at it. She didn't open her mouth like a hippo, like all the actors seem to do in movies, and she didn't move her jaw up and down like a crocodile trying to engulf my head. Again, like they all seem to do in Hollywood. Instead, she just made her mouth available to me while she took advantage of the fact that my lips had parted too.

Within seconds we were moving against each other and our hands were roaming. I swear it was just instinct, at least on my part. She had a firm little ass, and since that ass was naked, I couldn't keep my hand off of it. The other one was under her and more or less trapped.

And her free hand ended up on my prick somehow. I'm sure it was an accident. There was no way she planned to grip me like that and stroke me like she'd done it a hundred times before.

And all the while her sweet lips were moving against mine, and her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth, dueling with my own tongue.

And then I was disappointed as she abandoned my cock, probably realizing at last exactly what she had in her hand.

Then I understood as she threw one of her long, slim legs over me and pressed her barely clad pussy against my thigh. Her abs must have looked like a belly dancer's as she started moving her pussy all over my thigh, clearly masturbating against my leg.

And she whimpered into my mouth.

I was fucked. She was a willing woman, in heat, and I was fucked.

By that, I mean, of course ... that she ... was fucked.

I didn't exactly lose control. In my defense I'd like to point out that she took very definite steps to end up where she ended up.

Like for instance when she suddenly pushed away from me, her eyes wild, and said, "Stop!" She literally jumped off the bed, to stand panting as she stared at first my face, and then my bone. I thought she was scared, but then, as if she'd practiced it to perfection, her hands went here and there and tugged and did things, and that beautiful outfit came free and drifted to the floor like it was made of feathers.

Not the panties, of course. Those she pushed down, bending over. I could see her breasts as they hung, and her nipples looked like they might be half an inch long. She stood back up, gloriously naked, and I just barely had time to register that there was no hair anywhere below her belly button before she jumped back on the bed and back into the same position we'd been in before.

"Start!" she breathed into my face, and then we were kissing again.

This time it was her naked, slick pussy rubbing all over my thigh, and as anybody who would take a second to think about it knows, a man's thigh is not all that far from his penis. That penis had been pressed against a wad of lace, but now it kissed her naked abdomen, smearing precum all over her soft, pale skin.

She helped by deciding to try something else, which means she left off masturbating against my thigh and moved so she could grip my erection and masturbate with that.

I think that's what actually fucked me. I mean got her fucked.

I'm not circumcised and, for whatever reason, my foreskin is really long and loose. Even when I'm hard as rock, the skin around the tip isn't tight. I understand that with most uncut men, when they get ready for sex, the tip of their cock peeks out of the foreskin, which is partially retracted. That's not how I am. With me, the head is still fully covered. I've always thought it made me look a little deformed, but Caitlin had said it was beautiful, and that was good enough for me.

I tell you this because when she started sliding the end of my bone up and down between greasy pussy lips, what she felt was the soft mass of my foreskin, which kind of matched what turned out to be the soft mass of her inner labia. And it felt really good. To both of us.

But then, because her grip was on the shaft, she eventually moved it in such a way that my foreskin was pulled back, and the texture of things ... at least my texture ... changed. Plus the shiny knob slipped into the opening of her tunnel.

I could go into detail about why I think what happened, happened, but I'll spare you. What happened was that her hips jerked, almost like they had while she was belly dancing on my thigh, and the next thing I knew my knob was clasped in her pussy.

I don't have to go into detail about why I did what I did. It was just instinct. I rolled on top of her and pushed it in further, until my hairy skin over my pubic bone rubbed against the hairless skin over her pubic bone. She had a prominent clit, and it was standing at attention by this time, and it got crushed.

Our mouths had come apart as I rolled on top of her, and she let loose with a sobbing sort of crying groan that an uninterested observer might have interpreted as a groan of pain. But I wasn't uninterested, and what I heard in that sob was the joy of completion ... the celebration of finding out that what you'd fantasized about had just turned out to be true.

Just to be sure, I gave her a little wiggle, trying to roll her clit in a circle.

I got another of those groans.

Then she whined and said "Oh I love you so much!"

And then, like a sixteen-year-old boy with his first girl, I lost it and blasted her pussy full of my not-so-manly spend.

There are men in the world who don't really care about the woman's pleasure during sex. For them, the purpose of sex is so they can dump a load, pure and simple. If the woman cums, that's fine, but that's not a priority. Those guys like to fuck a lot, and they like to fuck a lot of different women. It's not that they are heartless beasts. They're just following Mother Nature's prime directive, which is to spread your seed far and wide. It works. You know those guys you hear about who have fourteen children by three or four mothers by the time they're twenty-five?

But there are also men who care a great deal about the woman's side of things. We like to spread our seed too, as far as that goes, but the spreading part isn't the most important thing to those men when it comes to being in a relationship. To those men, in fact, the primary thing is that, when things are finished, the woman still has smoke in her gaze, and says things like "That was the best sex I've ever had," or "Don't get dressed, Baby. I think I have some oysters in the pantry," or "We're definitely going to do that again, and soon."

They're not vain. It's just that sex for this kind of man requires that it be a partnership, where the woman gets as much out of it as he does.

I know this because that's the kind of man I am.

I'm not saying we're better than the guy who casually fucks anything he can get his hands on. Our type doesn't have all those kids, generally speaking, so those other guy's genes get a lot more space in the pool than ours do. I would suggest that most sexually transmitted diseases get a leg up from his habits, and that it's practically impossible for a man like that to actually support all those children. That wouldn't work out at all if there wasn't a social safety network that used taxpayer dollars to do the supporting for him.