Chapter 3

Jennifer was mildly interested in CSI Las Vegas when Bob came out of the bathroom, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. It looked like a pretty small towel when she glanced at him. She'd never seen him like this. She stared at his chest and the muscles rippling there as he used another towel to dry his hair. He caught her staring.

"Sorry," he said. "I forgot to take my clean clothes in with me, and I've been wearing the others for two days. I couldn't bring myself to put them back on."

"It's ok-k-kay," she said, feeling a little flutter in her belly. She'd examined her uncle before, and had decided he was handsome in a dangerous looking way, but she'd never thought about what he might look like naked. That she suddenly found herself thinking exactly that confused her. Her eyes flitted to the front of the towel, which seemed to be tented out quite a bit. She felt guilty for wondering what the thing causing that tent looked like, but she still couldn't help herself.

"I left you some hot water," he said, tossing the towel in his hand onto the bed. He bent over to get his clean shirt and pants out of the backpack and the towel ends split apart on his right thigh. She stared at that area and saw muscles rippling there too.

"R-r-right," she said a little breathlessly. She bounced up out of the chair and hurried into the bathroom.

She kept thinking about Bob as she showered, running her hands over her naked body. She suddenly realized her right hand was between her legs. It had already done everything necessary to get her clean down there, but it was lingering. She remembered all those delicious orgasms and, curious, began to feel around to see if anything felt different. It didn't, but she got excited and continued to rub.

Jennifer was a virgin, as Bob believed. She had played with herself before - lots of times - but she'd never actually inserted anything other than a tampon in her body. Now, tentatively, she began exploring deeper with a soapy finger. It felt completely different from when she just pushed her clitty around with a fingertip. She realized she was trying to have another orgasm and felt embarrassed. What was happening to her? Was she turning into some kind of sex fiend?

She jerked her finger out of her pussy and quickly washed the rest of her body. She washed her hair too, even though it would just have to dry nature's way.

It wasn't until she got out that she realized she'd done exactly the same thing ... she'd forgotten to bring in a change of clothing.

There were two towels left. She wrapped one around her body, which left a little cleavage exposed and barely covered her butt. The other she wrapped around her hair. Her comb was in the backpack. She looked in the mirror and blushed. Then she went to the door and opened it four or five inches.

"Uncle B-b-bob?" she called out. She peeked through the door to see him sitting on the end of the bed. He leaned forward and pushed the off button on the TV. He had on jeans, but no shirt. He looked around at her.

"Yeah?"

"I f-f-forgot my c-c-clothes. Just d-d-don't l-l-look when I c-c-come out, o-k-k-kay? This t-t-towel is k-k-kind of s-s-small."

"No problem," he said, turning back around.

He really didn't intend to look. But with the TV off, the screen became a poor quality mirror and when she ran to the bed, where the backpack was, he couldn't help but stare at her reflection. With that other towel piled high on her head she brought to mind an exotic Egyptian queen.

When the towel around her body came off, he couldn't help but admire her full breasts, capped by nipples he wanted badly to turn around and look at directly. He wondered what color they were. It took her a while with her arms raised to work the neck of the T shirt over the towel on her head, and he was reminded of the statue of the Venus de Milo. His eyes dropped to her lower body just before the T shirt fell to cover her hips. The afterimage of the fluff of stark white hair on her mons was still in his mind as she wiggled into clean jeans. He realized she'd put on neither panties nor a bra, probably because of her hurry to get dressed. Twice he saw her reflection dart looks at him.

"Okay," she said as she buttoned the jeans.

He turned to see her lifting her hands to the towel around her head. The T shirt was maroon, and those nipples, which might be maroon colored too, pressed outwards proudly through the dark cloth. She was, in his opinion, as close to perfection as anything he'd seen, and he just watched as she dug a comb out of the backpack and started running it through her tangled locks.

"W-w-what?" she asked, stopping long enough to stare at him.

"Nothing," he said. "You're just all grown up now. I hadn't realized it until right now, I think."

"I d-d-don't f-f-feel all g-g-grown up," she said sadly.

"Well you are," he said firmly. "And you're drop dead gorgeous to boot."

She stopped and put her hands on her hips.

"Y-y-you always s-s-say th-th-that," she said, laboring as usual.

"Because it's true," he said, grinning. "Now, don't argue with me. We've got a long day tomorrow. You're a stone fox, but I need my beauty rest." He looked around. Other than the bed, the only furniture in the room was the credenza the TV was on and one plastic chair with steel legs on it. The bed only had one pillow on it. At least there was a thin rug on the floor. He picked up the pillow he'd bought to defuse the problem with the babe bike. "You can have the bed."

She went back to combing her hair out, and her tugs at her hair suddenly seemed to be producing the stutter in her speech.

"You c-c-can't sleep on th-th-the f-f-floor."

"Sure I can," he said. "I've slept on dirt plenty of times."

"W-w-we'll b-b-both sleep on th-th-the b-b-bed," she said.

"I don't think so," he said. "Didn't you just hear me tell you you're all grown up and beautiful? Who knows what evil things I'd try to do to you in my sleep?"

"Ha ... ha," she said, slowly and with obvious effort not to stutter.

"I'll be fine," said Bob. "Trust me on this, Princess. The last thing you need is me hogging the bed or rolling over and squashing your pretty little self all flat. Besides, your daddy would skin me alive if he found out I slept in the same bed with you."

"W-w-we're w-w-wearing clothes!" she said, frowning. "And D-d-daddy w-w-would n-never hurt y-y-you. You're his b-b-best f-f-friend."

"Just get some sleep," said Bob. "I'll probably get you up way earlier than you're used to."

He got into position on the floor, on his back, with his arms spread wide and the small pillow under his neck. He only intended to use it to keep his head from rolling to the side, which might cause a kink while he slept. This position was one he was very familiar with. It was for power naps and he firmly believed that twenty minutes of sleep in this position was worth two hours in a bed.

"Get the light, would you?" he said to the ceiling. His imagination was running wild. He thought he smelled pussy.

The room went dark and he heard the bed move as she got into it. It was quiet for half a minute, then she shifted, making the bed creak. She tossed and turned some more, but didn't say anything. He sensed the bed moving and heard the rustle of the sheets and blanket as she tried to get comfortable.

He was almost asleep when her voice came from right above his face.

"Uncle B-b-bob?"

He opened his eyes and saw the silhouette of her head, hanging over the edge of the bed.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sc-sc-scared."

"There are no monsters under the bed," he quipped. "I checked."

"Th-th-they m-m-might d-d-die." He heard tears in her voice and felt like a heel for having joked.

"They're getting the best care," he said softly. "We'll get there tomorrow and then you'll get to see that everything's going to be Okay." He hoped he was telling the truth.

"I'm st-st-still s-s-scared," she moaned.

He stared up at her dark outline.

"I know, baby," he said. "Just try to remember something good. Concentrate on that memory and don't think about anything else. You'll fall asleep. I promise."

Jennifer stared at the ceiling. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and there was a surprising amount of light coming through the front window in the room. She tried to do what Bob had told her to do, but it was hard. Every good memory she thought of included her parents. Frustrated, she tried to think of something else. The recent motorcycle ride popped into her mind. She thought about all those delicious orgasms she'd had sitting behind Uncle Bob as the feelings overwhelmed her over and over.

Her hand drifted to the crotch of her jeans. She pressed firmly and felt tingles of anticipation. She unbuttoned the jeans, intent on keeping that feeling of anticipation in her mind, and slid her hand inside them. The jeans were too tight and she wiggled them down off her hips. Then, unable to spread her legs, she worked them all the way off. That was better. She stroked her pussy lips gently and let one fingertip find and produce zings from the hard little button that had so recently flooded her body with pleasure.

She felt a stab of shame that she was doing this while her parents were on death's doorstep in the hospital, but shoved that thought away. She concentrated on what she was doing, trying to keep her mind clear of the fear that went with thinking about her parents.

Bob woke, suddenly alert, and then realized it was just the bed that was making noise as Jennifer tossed and turned. He heard her make a little sound in her throat. Was she crying? The bed moved more and she whimpered. He sat up. His eyes had adjusted to the dark too, and he saw her bare legs, knees slightly bent and spread-her hand busy at the juncture of her white thighs. He watched as her neck arched and a long sigh escaped her straining throat muscles.

He lay back down, aware that his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He had a raging boner. His mind whirled. She was grown up. She was fully a woman. If she wasn't his best friend's daughter she'd be a prime candidate for the Babe Bike. It had obviously gotten her going, and now she had him going.

He thought about masturbating too. The thought of doing that along with her was very appealing, but he had nothing to shoot his spooge into and he wasn't about to put it on the carpet. He felt helpless, something that was very unusual for him.

He listened and realized he hadn't heard her moving for a while. Maybe she was finished. If he played it cool, he could get up, go to the bathroom, take care of his aching prick and she'd be asleep by the time he came out.

He got up and, facing away from her, went to the bathroom.

Jennifer was in the middle of making slow, soft circles with three fingers, rubbing the tips of those fingers over the slippery lips that folded together to cover her clit. It had been delightful. Knowing now that she could have more than one of those delightful feelings in a row, she was slowly working her way up to another one.

Then she froze in horror as her uncle suddenly stood. She felt completely exposed, but could tell he wasn't looking at her. She pulled the sheet over herself as he closed the bathroom door. Light suddenly shone brightly through the crack at the bottom of the door. She played possum, wanting him to think she was asleep when he came out.

It took so long she was actually sleeping when Bob slipped out of the bathroom, his prick now soft and empty. He couldn't help but look at her as he returned to his part of the floor. He'd thought about her the entire time he'd stroked his manhood. He knew he should feel bad about that ... but he didn't.

Ten minutes later there was only the sound of two people breathing as they slept.

Masturbating had helped Jennifer get to sleep, but it didn't keep the nightmares at bay.

She woke, crying out at a dream in which two coffins were being lowered into one hole in the ground. She clutched at Bob, when he appeared on his knees beside the bed, and pulled him up onto the bed. It was just natural for him to hold her as she sobbed, stroking her back, whispering into her hair that it was going to be okay.