Chapter 2

When you're removed from a situation like that, you have time to think. What you think about is the key to things. You can think about why everything happened, and what led to things happening. You can try to figure out what to do next. Or, like me, you can close your eyes for ten minutes and think about that pretty, pink pussy that's just begging to be skewered by a spurting prick.

So, when I returned with the ace bandage and interrupted an excited conversation that was cut off like the end of a carrot with a meat cleaver, I was still reacting to things, rather than pursuing some actual plan. What kind of plan I should have been pursuing will forever remain a mystery, because I didn't think about that, as I mentioned. I say this because, considering how things eventually turned out, I do not want anyone to think I became a predator, who stalked those poor girls like the pervert I was.

I was still a little rattled, but I couldn't miss the fact that the skirt had been rearranged. It was now tucked demurely between her thighs. Only an idiot would have thought about reaching for the skirt and putting it back the way it had been. So I ignored that urge and all I did was pay attention to the ankle as I wrapped it. That wasn't as easy as it sounds, by the way. That's because she put both feet in my lap when I sat down to wrap her ankle, which meant while I was holding her left one, her right foot was lying smack dab on top of my penis, which was still somewhat firm. Lest you get the wrong idea about her, she didn't move that foot around, trying to feel my cock. It just lay there, all pink and bare. When I was finished I looked directly at her still pink face (meaning I didn't let my eyes stop anywhere else on the way from her foot to her face) and said, "Gently, now ... try to put a little weight on it."

She lifted her legs and rolled to sit on the side of the bed. Emma went to lend her a shoulder as she scooted forward and touched the floor.

"It's not so bad now," she said.

Pervert that I am, my mind flashed to that fantasy every guy has had at one time or another, where a girl, who is naked and underneath him, says those words in a very different context. Such is the power of pussy. And even when all you do is glimpse it! I tried to push that thought away.

"You want to try standing up?" I asked.

She nodded, looking down at her ankle. I think the pain had all her attention at that point. Ashley came around and her two friends became her crutches as she stood, first on one foot, and then letting her weight settle on both.

"It hurts," she said. "But I don't think it's broken or anything."

"I don't either," I said. "But we need to keep an eye on it. First, though, let's get an ice pack on it for a while. You can try walking on it later."

I went to put ice cubes in a quart sized zip lock bag and returned. My cock was under control now, and hanging harmlessly again.

"Twenty minutes lying down," I said, "before you try to stand up again. I'll go look for the crutches."

"Yes, sir," she said, looking at me. I saw her blush again. I wondered if something bad had just transpired, and I wasn't thinking about the ankle. I hoped not. I really did think the world of her, and the last thing I wanted was for her to decide that her summers with Uncle Bob had come to a screeching halt.

"We'll stay with her," said Ashley, needlessly.

I hadn't really expected either of them to come help me search for a pair of crutches.

I found the aluminum crutches in the garage, right where I thought they'd be. When I got back to her bedroom, the girls had recovered their composure. I say that because I didn't interrupt an excited confab this time. They were confident again, and there were no traces of giggling or tomfoolery, though all those nipples were still erect. Now that I think back on it, that should have told me something ... warned me that there might be further consequences from this little serendipitous incident. It would have been better if they'd been a little giddy and "girlish" about things, if you know what I mean.

But young women who are stretching their sexual wings, in an environment they feel safe in, are often less wary than would be wise.

Again, I want the kind reader out there to understand that I wasn't trying to help these girls explore their sexuality. Not at all. But girls do that, just like boys do, and they do it whenever and wherever they feel is the "right time" to open up to new experiences. Every girl decides, usually quite suddenly and without warning, to try something sexual for the first time. It just happens.

But I didn't recognize any signs that something like that might be going on, so all I did was deliver the crutches, remind her to keep the ice on her ankle for at least ten more minutes, and call me if she felt like she needed to be seen at the hospital.

Then I left them in her room to return to my sandwich.

The bread had dried out and was all crusty.

I sighed and ate it anyway.

I'm an architect, and I have my own business, so I get to work when I want to. I was working on a project in my CAD program when Ashley tapped on the open doorway of my office.

"She's going to take a nap," she said, leaning into the room just a little. "We didn't know if we should leave the ice pack on her ankle while she falls asleep or not."

"Won't hurt a thing," I said. "No more jumping on the beds. Got it?"

"It was just this once," she said, immediately. "It was just to..."

The silence made me look from the screen to the nervous looking girl at my office door.

"Just to what?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, obviously lying. "We're going to go now."

"Okay," I said. "See you tomorrow?"

I don't know why I asked that question. Maybe it was just me on autopilot. The musketeers got together every day that Caitlin was in town, unless she and I were doing something that excluded her friends. That didn't happen all that often. We'd done all the museums and sights-to-see things when she was younger.

"Really?" She sounded worried, somehow. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" I asked. "She jumped on the bed, and now she's living with the consequences of it. It's just a life lesson in making better decisions," I said.

"Decisions," she said, softly.

"Yes," I said, looking at her. I suddenly realized she was wearing a bra under the tank top. She hadn't been wearing a bra earlier. "You make decisions as you grow up, and then you have to live with the results of those decisions."

"Of course," she said. "Okay. Good."

I wondered what that meant, but she turned and was gone like smoke from a good cigar in a cool breeze.

I gave it another twenty minutes at the computer and then went upstairs to check on Caitlin. She wasn't in bed.

I found her outside again, on a chaise lounge by the pool. The crutches were lying on the concrete beside her and the ice pack, or what was left of it, was draped across her ankle. She was in her bikini again, laying out in the sun, eyes closed.

"Well, you made it down here," I observed.

She opened her eyes. "Yeah. It's not as bad as I originally thought."

"Good," I said. "You need to take it easy for a while, though."

"I know," she said. Then, "Uncle Bob?"

"Yes?"

There was a long pause, until she eventually said, "Never mind."

Now she wasn't so confident. Gone was the brash young woman who put herself out there to see what would happen and didn't worry about it before hand. It made me a little sad to see that. I was used to the fearless tomboy, who was willing to take on just about any challenge. We'd always been able to talk about things, just about anything, in fact, and I did not view her reticence now as a good thing. I think that's what made me say what I said.

"You want to talk about it?"

"About what?" she responded, still firmly reticent.

"I think you know," I suggested.

She blushed beet red, and I knew she knew that I knew she knew.

"Maybe," she said, softly.

"Whenever you're ready," I said. "I'm going for a swim."

"Is it okay for me to get in the water with my leg like this?" she asked, obviously glad that the subject had been changed.

"Sure. In fact that's probably the best thing you could do for it," I said. "The water will support your weight, and you can work the ankle, loosening it up."

"Will you help me get to the water?" she asked, sitting up.

"You don't mind if your pervert uncle touches you?" I couldn't resist it. Don't ask me why.

Her eyes widened. I knew she was shocked that I was that open about things. Then that stubborn tomboy appeared suddenly on her face.

"I don't think of you as a pervert," she said, firmly.

"Maybe you should," I shot back.

That got her, but not for long.

"I'm not worried about being around you," she said. "In fact..." She closed down, and then hastily said, "Never mind. Help me into the pool, Uncle Pervert."

I helped her to the edge of the pool with her arm over my shoulders and my hand on her side, my fingertips just below her breast, lying on her ribs. It was so tempting to cup that breast ... but I didn't. She hopped along to the edge of the pool and then let go of me to fall in, body extended. She landed on her back, arms spread, bad foot up in the air. I saw the cups of her top float briefly to the surface before being dragged down by her descending body. Through the wavering water, I had a tantalizingly unclear view of her naked, young breasts as she grabbed for the errant top and tried to put things back into place while holding her breath and staying off her bad foot.

She came up, spluttering, arms behind her and kicked, like she normally would. That hurt the ankle, though, and she went under with a gurgle.

I jumped in, dove under her and pushed her up with one hand on her firm bubble butt. Her arms had left off trying to get modest again, in support of not drowning, and the bikini top was again floating in the water. My underwater vantage point was much clearer, and I could see her breasts were just as delightful as her lower parts had been. I pushed off the bottom to come up beside her and gripped one of her upper arms, pulling her toward the shallow end.

She struggled at first, and then realized what I was doing, and went limp, knowing it would be easier for me to tow her like that. She spent plenty of time in the ocean and was well trained about water safety and lifeguard type things as a result.

I got her to where we could stand and put her on her feet. Her hands covered her breasts as she stood up, but the instinct to wipe the water out of her eyes was too strong and her breasts were left briefly bare as she cleared her vision. Then the hands went back to cover her nipples.

"I've seen them before," I said, calmly.

"When?" she gasped.

"Not yours," I laughed. "But I've seen other breasts on other women. Coochies too, for that matter." I said that intentionally, emphasizing the word I was deriding.

"That's just the word we've used since we were kids," she groaned, obviously embarrassed about it.

"And now you're old enough to use the proper word," I suggested.

"Vagina sounds so stupid," she shot back.

"I was thinking pussy," I said.

"Uncle Bob!" she gasped.

"Well, when you flash yours at someone, don't expect them to call it by any other name," I said, grinning. This didn't seem so terribly serious now. It was more like before, when we were able to talk about other things most people don't talk about. Like the time she'd been watching a DVD and I told her I was going to the grocery store and asked if she wanted anything.

"Tampons," she'd said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. In truth I think she was distracted by the movie, and that lowered her inhibitions.

"I've never bought tampons before," I said. "Are there more than one kind?"

She had blushed then, and said "I'll just go with you."

But on the way I'd insisted she teach me all about tampons. By the time she was finished, it didn't seem so strange any more. That kind of atmosphere asserted itself now, as odd as that might sound.

"I didn't flash it at you," she said. "I mean I didn't mean for you to see me like that."

"Why didn't you cover up, then?" I asked. It was a legitimate question.

"I did," she said.

"Not until I left the room. Why didn't you cover up as soon as you realized what I was staring at?"

I don't know," she pouted. "Now turn around so I can fix my suit."

"No," I said, calmly.

"What do you mean, no?" she asked, staring at me.

"You turn around and I'll tie it for you," I said.

She blinked several times, looking confused. I could just see her mind turning over what I'd offered, looking for some joke or catch. She didn't find one.

"Okay," she said.

She turned and arranged the suit to cover her breasts. I reached around, inserted my fingers under the edge of the bottom of the cups, and then slid them back to find the strings. My fingertips brushed the bottoms of her breasts in the process and she sucked in air and moved backwards. All that did was make her run into me, and that bubble butt pressed right on my cock. Thankfully it wasn't hard at the time.

"I thought you weren't afraid of me," I said, pulling on the strings.

"I'm not!" she barked, looking over her shoulders at me. "You just startled me."

I tied the strings in a bow and pushed her away from me. She turned, looking disgruntled.

"You're a beautiful young woman," I said, calmly. "Don't be surprised that, like any other man, I'd be more than happy to view that beauty any time I get the chance."

She was startled. That was plain. I would find out later that the bouncing on the bed business was for the purpose of exploring what bouncing breasts looked like without a bra on. The idea was for them to watch each other and decide whether it looked sexy or gross. The going commando part (they were all that way too) was just for the excitement of doing that. They didn't intend anybody (me) to see them like that, and when it had happened, it had all seemed out of control to them. They weren't ready for that much exposure, but when it happened, it was something none of them could ignore. They were still processing the results, and she didn't expect me to approach the subject so boldly.

"Thank you," she said, somewhat dazed. I think it was just her mother's training on what to do when one complimented you.

"You're welcome. I've abused you more than enough for one day. I'll go get something ready for supper."

I had the sliding door open when she called out to me and I turned. She was standing there, looking at me.

"You didn't abuse me," she said.

"I'm glad you feel that way," I responded.

It took two more days for things to smooth out. Ashley and Emma came over each day, but they were reserved around me. It was obvious the first day when they arrived and rang the bell instead of just coming in, as they had made a habit of for the last year or so. I hadn't paid any attention to that, but was surprised when I found them waiting to be invited in.

"Yes?" I asked, not understanding.

"Can we come in?" asked Emma, who got a little pink in the cheeks.

"Of course," I said. "Why? What changed?"

Ashley, who apparently felt a little more secure in this new atmosphere, rolled her eyes. "You're very strange," she said, as if that made any sense at all.

They disappeared upstairs and the girls spent all day up there. Caitlin took care of feeding them and herself that day, and asked if she could spend the night at Emma's. She'd always just told me when she was going to do that, but I waved a hand at her and told her to have fun.

The next day, though, things appeared to have returned to normal. I was working, and heard the front door open as the girls came in. A little later Caitlin popped her head into the doorway.

"We're going to swim," she said.

"Please don't drown," I replied. "I've got a little more to do here before I can do lifeguard duty."

"Be sure to come out when you're finished," she said.

That seemed a little odd, but maybe things were still a bit unsettled.

When I closed things down and went outside, though, it didn't take long before I realized something was going on. They were in the water, but when I had settled into my chair with my book, they all got out and came toward me. I figured they were going to ask if they could order pizza or something, but part of my mind went on alert. I didn't know why at first until they reached me.

Modern bikinis, at least the expensive ones my niece and her friends favored, have a feature I'm not sure most parents are aware of. They have modesty panels in them. That's not the strange part. Almost all bikinis have modesty panels in them. But with the expensive bikinis, they aren't permanently sewn in. You can remove them. That's the part parents may not be aware of. And as the girls arrived to stand, displayed before me, I was treated to the view of three girls in bikinis from which the modesty panels had been removed.