Chapter 4

When Caitlin declined my offer to teach her to jerk me off, that seemed to end the festivities for the day. The girls got out and went into the house to do whatever it was that they did after swimming. Usually, in this situation, they ran, and were yelling as they did so. Their quiet walk convinced me they were all thinking about what had happened. I wished I could somehow hear into Kat's room. That was a conversation that I would have bet serious money would be most interesting.

Sometimes Ashley and Emma stayed for supper, but not that night. By the time I had put things away and checked the pool filter, I entered a house that had only one teenage girl in it. She was dressed, but it was in only panties and a tank top and neither of them did much in the interests of modesty. Her nipples were still firm and she was humming.

"You okay?" I asked. I should have put something on before I asked that, because I was still naked and my cock, which had gone soft while I worked, had noticed her nipples and the fact that the shape of her pussy lips was visible through those panties. It rose to half mast.

"I'm fine," she said, carelessly, glancing at my penis. "So is Emma, which practically astonishes me. It was Ash who was a little freaked out, I think."

"Why do you think that?" I asked.

"Because she said she wished she'd had the guts to suck you, and now she really does think she's a slut."

"Maybe we can work on that," I said. I realized how that might sound, and hurriedly added some information. "About her self-image, I mean ... not the other."

Caitlin, who up to a couple of days before had been my very cute, very smart, tomboyish pal, stood and looked me up and down quite frankly. "So you don't want her to suck your cock?"

"Things have gotten awfully adult, all of a sudden," I said, weakly.

"Well... you're an adult ... and in exactly thirty-four days the great state of California is going to say I'm an adult." She smiled brightly. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is I'm not used to you being an adult," I said.

"Me either," she giggled. "But it sure is fun. I'll tell you that."

I looked at her seriously. "Caitlin ... I love you. And I don't want anything to happen that will make you sad, or freak you out or be uncomfortable. Okay?"

She walked up to me and stood within ten inches of me.

"I'm not freaked out," she said. She put her hands on my shoulders. She glanced down at my bare groin, and then back up to my face. "Not freaked out at all."

And to prove it, she kissed me again, like she had out in the pool.

And this time she was the one who started with the tongue.

When she stepped back and looked down at a now fully engorged penis, she grinned.

"I love it when it does that," she said.

I put on some shorts while Caitlin boiled macaroni. I got out a loaf of garlic bread from the freezer and put it on a cookie sheet in the oven, and then put together a garden salad.

Supper was normal, and there was no mention of anything even remotely sexual. That was good, actually, because I was having a hard time fitting the sexual component Caitlin had exposed in her life into my understanding of her. I bet all parents face this thing too. At some point they realize their child's life contains some sexual component, and no matter how hard they try, they can't adjust to that. It was a little easier for me, probably because I had recognized her sexuality for a number of years already. I'd even fantasized about her.

But actually doing something is very different than fantasizing, and it was that difference I was having trouble with.

As it turned out, she was more comfortable with things than I was. Not only that, she was not willing to give me the time it would take to process things and get comfortable.

This became evident when, as I lay in bed that night, reading the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe, there came a tapping at my chamber door.

It wasn't a raven.

It was Caitlin.

She was still dressed in those panties and the tank top, which, in the past, had passed for PJs. Now I didn't think about it that way any more.

"Uncle Bob?" came her soft voice, needlessly. I was already looking at her.

I kept looking at her.

"I was just wondering," she said, fidgeting.

"Wondering what?" I asked.

"Well ... remember out in the pool, when you asked if I wanted to learn to ... um ... make it squirt?" She looked away, and then down at the floor, before bravely meeting my eyes. "I think I'm ready to learn that now," she said.

My cock came alive in my shorts. It was just full of tingles as blood flowed into it.

"You sure?" I asked, carefully. I concentrated on doing that instead of ripping my shorts off and saying something like "Git on over here, darlin' and make Little Richard puke!" I am somewhat ashamed that, not once, did I think about telling her that wasn't a good idea. The train was already derailing by that point.

She nodded.

Something in her nod calmed me down.

"What changed?" I asked.

She came over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I actually wanted to out there," she said. "But I was afraid."

"Afraid of what the others would think?" I guessed.

She nodded.

"So Ashley isn't the only one who thinks she's a slut," I guessed again.

"Am I?" There was fear in her eyes.

"No," I said, gently. "Like I said, you're curious. That's all. You're perfectly normal. I just didn't expect you to be this normal while you were visiting me, that's all." I figured a mixture of different kinds of truths would make communication between us easier. "Actually, I never expected for me to be involved in you being normal like this," I added.

"I've had a crush on you since I was twelve," she admitted. "So have Ash and Em."

"I suppose that's normal too," I said. "As long as you understand it's just a crush."

She looked at my shorts, which now had a nice bulge in the front.

"So ... can I try it?"

I thought about it. It threatened to blow my mind. It really is quite different to contemplate actually doing something that, before this, was firmly in the realm of fantasy. But, as she had pointed out, in a little more than a month she'd be legally an adult. And she was already over the age of consent.

And all she wanted to do was learn how to jack a boy off ... right?

"Sure," I said.

"What do I do?" she asked, suddenly excited.

"Would you consider taking that shirt off?" I asked, just hoping.

She blew me away by skinning out of both the shirt and panties. She struck a pose.

"Am I pretty?"

I shoved my shorts down, exposing a slightly drunken erection, which weaved and bobbed as blood continued to fill it.

"Is that any indication?" I asked.

"That just means you want to get in my panties," she said, arching one eyebrow.

"You're not wearing any," I pointed out.

"Oh!" she said, her eyes going wide. One hand went to shield her pussy. "Should I be scared?"

Only then did I realize she was teasing me. It was surreal.

I pushed the shorts off and lay there.

First, she leaned over to reach and grip me. That turned out to be awkward, so she crawled up onto the bed and got on all fours, next to me. She held herself up with her left hand while the right stroked. But she was too high up to be able to bend her wrist properly and it fatigued her arm. Eventually I moved her onto her knees next to the bed, and moved over to the edge, where she could reach normally.

Then things began to happen.

She was a natural. As I explained why I wanted her to do things this way, or that way, she grasped the concept quickly, and soon she had the right grip, and the right speed.

Everything was going fine when she suddenly stopped with a yip.

"Oh! I completely forgot!"

"What?" I asked, breathing deeply.

"I wanted to try this," she said.

Then, with no warning, she got up, leaned down, and surrounded the tip of my cock with loose lips.

It's hard to describe what she did. It wasn't a kiss, exactly. The head of my cock didn't go in her mouth. There was no tongue involved. It was more like her lips hugged the tip of my penis gently. Then she tightened her lips as she pulled away, which made them sort of nip and caress the skin right on the tip of my cock. You know how someone bites the tip of a fresh soft ice cream cone with just their lips? It was like that.

She went back to her knees and licked her lips, looking thoughtful.

"It doesn't taste like anything," she said.

"It almost did," I gasped.

"What do you mean?"

"You almost got a mouthful," I panted.

"No way," she scoffed.

"You just make sure you don't do that any longer than you just did, or put it any deeper in your mouth, or you'll find out the hard way," I said.

"Really? It's that easy?" She was clearly amazed.

"It's a whole different thing than what you were doing," I said.

"Speaking of which ... should I continue?" she asked.

"Please," I begged.

Pretty soon she was going again, stroking me expertly.

"I like this," she said, happily.

"Not as much as I do," I panted. "Keep going like that until I tell you to speed up. Then tighten your grip just a little."

"Okay," she said, already speeding up.

"I'm close," I panted.

"I want to see it," she said, excitedly.

"Now!" I gasped.

She did it perfectly. Her grip tightened and her hand sped up. I didn't even have to help her. I felt myself go over the edge and, suddenly, my cum was shooting all over the place. Most of it went on my stomach and chest, but the bed spread was spotted on both sides of me as her hand wobbled. But she didn't let go or back away. Instead, she continued to milk the beast until I had to tell her to stop because I was too sensitive.

My cum was already on her wrist and forearm, which apparently hadn't bothered her, because she reached, tentatively, and pushed the tip of her right index finger into a blob of the liquid on my abdomen. She smeared it maybe half an inch and then pulled the finger back to examine the tip.

"You'd have done that in my mouth?" she asked, weakly.

"If you'd have kept going ... yes," I panted. "When it wants to shoot ... it shoots."

"Wow," she sighed. She brightened. "That was so cool! Thank you!"

"I should thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," she said. She stood, leaned over and kissed me, with tongue.

"Night night," she whispered.

Then she picked up her PJs and left the room.

Just watching her naked ass wiggle as she left made my cock want to stiffen up again.

But it didn't.

She'd worn it out.

I slept like a log and then woke up worried. By any measure, I'd taken things an awfully long way with Caitlin in the last couple of days. And I found it very difficult to accept that she would be fine with it. I assumed that she'd have an attack of guilt, and that things would be strained between us.

But she was already up and had eaten when I got up. There was a note on the table that said she'd gone for a run. I wondered if that was wise, considering that her ankle injury was so recent. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I took a shower and ate some cereal by the time she got back, panting and looking every bit the athlete. Girls look good in sports bras, especially when they treat them like they are outer garments. Her running shorts were loose, but her leg muscles were tight and well defined.

"How's the ankle?" I asked. "Sore," she said. "I mostly walked, but tried a sprint at the end. I think it's okay." She then announced she was going to take a shower, and bounded down the hall to her room. The ankle looked fine.

I had some work to do, so I went to my office. Maybe an hour later I heard Emma and Ashley come in. There was some noise as they searched for and found Caitlin, but then it got quiet as they all retired to her room.

It was only quiet for maybe two minutes before I heard the uproar that resulted when she told them what she'd done.