Uncle Bob's Bathrobe
Copyright© 2021 by Lubrican
Epilogue
Romantic Sex Story: Epilogue - I was raised by my uncle and never knew my parents. A tradition we had was to relax at the end of the day in our bathrobes. As I grew up, the way I looked at him, sitting there with his legs exposed, watching something on TV, changed. It changed a lot. My first fantasies about men and sex were the result of Uncle Bob in his bathrobe. I had no idea those fantasies would some day come true.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Consensual Fiction Incest Uncle Niece Masturbation Petting Pregnancy Safe Sex
I graduated in May of that year, and started working at Echo Toys in June. They had a backlog of ideas, mostly vehicles of one kind or another, which they envisioned as motorized. Some would require innovative solutions, such as a tank that both moved forward and backwards, and which had a turret that turned, with a barrel that raised and lowered. Servos were the obvious solutions to the turret, and a simple low voltage motor would take care of movement. The RC tech could be off the shelf, as long as we could find servos small enough.
The toys they produced weren’t cheap, but the niche they filled fit perfectly into sales at COMICON events. In some cases, if the toy had to be licensed, such as GI Joe, or Star Wars, then Brad simply patented the design and sold it to a company that already had a license. Those were the most lucrative deals, because there was no production expense involved.
I got along really well with Brad, Jerry, and Steve, once they got used to having me around. They all slavered a bit, at first, but they knew they had no chance with me, so they calmed down after a few weeks. When I was able to solve problems in their designs, they got excited, and work went forward at a much faster pace than they were used to.
At home, I wallowed in the ability to be with Uncle Bob. We wore our robes again (I’m sure he never stopped, while I was at college) and our hands wandered, sliding into openings in those robes to caress, and tweak, and squeeze.
Then I’d pull him to the bedroom, where the robes would come off, and we’d get in bed.
I had been working at Echo Toys for six months when I stopped taking my birth control pills. I didn’t tell Uncle Bob I was doing it. I was twenty-four, and he was forty-one. I wanted his swimmers to have a chance before he got too much older. I admit I was being selfish. If I got pregnant within a year, I would be in my late thirties or early forties when the child was in her teens. That’s perfectly reasonable, and fairly common. But Uncle Bob would be almost sixty when his child entered those tumultuous adolescent years. Men that age are thinking about retirement, not wrangling a recalcitrant teenager.
I would take the responsibility for my actions. I knew he’d be willing to help, but I already thought of myself as a single mother, who had an uncle there to help me out.