Chapter 3

In the shower, Torry was in control. Her body was overpowering for her Uncle. Her touch melted resistance. Her lips curled his toes.

It had been the same in bed in the wee hours of the morning. Torry's hands, lips and her entire body blocked out most rational thought for her Uncle.

When things had toned down, they washed and rinsed each other off. Although, her Uncle quickly had another raging hard on under her soapy ministrations of his sex. She had laughed.

"Henry does have a mind of his own, doesn't he?" as she circled it with her hand and slid it up and down his shaft.

When her hand reached the bulbous head, he jumped a little and then pulled back, effectively halting her penile massage. "Sorry," he had told her. "I'm still very sensitive down there."

"Oh," she said looking up into his eyes. "I forgot."

He kissed her, sending the sparks through her body. That new desire to kiss and be kissed had descended upon her. A nice feeling. Although, one which fed her desire.

After they toweled off, Torry went over to the closet and got another tampon. Standing with one foot on the closed toilet, she spread her lips. After a little adjusting and shifting herself, she was able to get it inserted.

Her Uncle had been watching and when she looked over at him he smiled at her. "Good job," he told her.

She smiled back at him and after she threw away the inserter, bounced over to him, gave him a kiss right on his right nipple, tongued it and received a gasp from him in return.

"You could warn a Guy," he told her as he gave her a love swat on her butt.

"But, you liked it, right?"

"Yes, I liked it a lot, but we do have to talk and we do have to eat something for breakfast," he replied.

They walked into the bedroom and he slipped on his PJ bottoms and she donned the tee shirt. Then it was downstairs and into the kitchen.

"How about some bacon and country style eggs?" he asked her as he looked over at her after scanning the interior of the fridge.

"Country STYLE?"

"Well, that's generous slices of home made bread..."

She cut him off in mid sentence. "You make YOUR OWN bread?"

Smiling back at her he laughed. "It's not that hard. Yes I do. "After all, I do live alone and, well, if I want it, I have to do it myself. I've become a fairly competent cook too."

"Back to your question about 'Country Style' ... that's, thick sliced bread, toasted in remnants of the bacon juices. It adds tremendous flavor and a great crispness to the bread.

"Then, you take medium boiled eggs, cooked for about three to three and a half minutes. That's were the whites are mostly solid, but still soft and the yokes are very runny.

"I usually just have one slice of bread and two to three eggs broken over each slice."

"For me it's a special breakfast and breaks most of the dietary rules about high cholesterol meals. But, like I said, it's a special treat and I think we could be happy with that today."

Torry laughed. "In Home Economics, they did mention that type of cooking and scared us away from doing things like that.

"I like how it sounds though. And I'm very hungry, so let's get to it."

"You fill the pot with water, put in four eggs to boil. I'll start the bacon," he told her. "Then get the bread from the bread box next to the fridge and slice a couple of inch wedges of bread for us."

Steve laughed to himself after he told Torry the pot for the eggs was in the bottom cabinet, next to the fridge. As she bent over, her butt appeared from beneath the long tee shirt and her sex peeked out like it was blowing him a kiss.

Her tampon string was dangling there, like a rip cord or a fuse. It was tempting to reach over and cup her sex but, they had to have a long talk about things like that. "A real long talk," he thought to himself.

Turning his attention to the frying pan, he spread out the bacon strips and covered the whole affair with a spatter screen. Bacon can make a terrible mess and after learning the hard way, spattering some hot bacon fat on his bare chest early on, a spatter screen was a must.

Torry placed the pot of water, with four eggs in it, on the stove. Then she hugged herself against his side and leaned her head onto his right shoulder.

"You know, Uncle Steve, I like it here with you."

"Thanks. I like you being here," he answered.

"No, that's not what I mean," she continued. "I dreaded coming here.

"I really didn't want to come here. I really put up a tantrum, but your brother and my mother made me. They didn't give me a choice."

"I know," he replied.

"And," she continued, "you were definitely not my favorite Uncle. Just the opposite. You always avoided me whenever you visited our house or we visited here.

"I remember when I was real little, you played with me and it was fun. Then we just seemed to drift apart."

"I know," he said.

"I never understood that. I guess I just got mad at you and then it just changed to not liking you."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that, Torry," Her Uncle replied.

"Look, you're 13 and I'm 23. Your dad, my brother, is ten years older than me. It was almost like he was a second father to me. We were never like brothers.

He married your mom while he was a senior in college and you were born just a few months after graduation. You and I were different. It was like I had a baby sister.

"We played together and had fun together until you were about five. Then things changed for me.

"I started to learn what girls were all about and, well, I started to think about girls my own age and that sort of left you behind.

"I always liked you, but somehow, in my guy's mind, playing with little girls didn't work anymore."

"Oh," Torry said. "I never understood. It just hurt me when we drifted apart."

"I'm sorry about that, but sometimes life hurts."

"Yeah, it does," she responded.

"Well, I think we need to pay attention to what's going on on the stove," he said, bringing them back to the present. "The water just started to boil and the bacon is just about ready."

"Set the timer for three and a half minutes, will you."

"Sure," she replied.

Without her Uncle saying a word, Torry got a plate for the bacon to dry on and put a couple of sheets of paper towel on it. Then she brought over the two slices of bread she had cut and after the bacon was removed from the frying pan, dropped in the bread.

As she snuggled against her Uncle, he put his arm around her and leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She gave him a squeeze and sighed.

Her Uncle gave her the flipper to turn over the bread and she giggled. "I always hated cooking at home. The only thing I knew before I went to Home Economics was to boil water for tea."

They both laughed at that. "I enjoyed learning the basics of cooking but I never went near the stove at home except for homework. It seemed like work and I'm a teen and we hate work!"

Again they both laughed and she got a squeeze from her Uncle. With her arm around his back, she returned the closeness with a pull that brought them closer together if that was possible. At least she felt closer to him.

She was feeling a warmth inside of her too. It was radiating from her loins up through her abdomen. It was an urging from her body and her mind, turning any remaining hurt from the years of confusion about her Uncle, into something else ... desire ... a desire for more closeness and intimacy.

"Well," as the timer bell went off, her Uncle said, "Breakfast is ready. Get the plates and let's eat."

Torry and her Uncle had forgotten all about setting the table. But in less than a minute, plates were adorned, each with a slice of bread and two eggs, their broken contents doused onto the bread.

Two glasses of orange juice found their way to the table. They sat down to enjoy their 'Country Breakfast' as her Uncle Steve had called it.

With the first mouthful, Torry told him, "Delicious!"

He smiled back at her and said, "It is pretty good isn't it."

About halfway through eating breakfast, Torry's Uncle got up and filled the electric coffee pot and it started bubbling, filling the glass pot with a couple of cups of brown gold.

"I should have done that before we started to cook. I just forgot," he told her as he returned to the table. "It will be done in a few minutes. There is nothing like a cup of hot coffee in the morning."

"It's not my cup of tea," she told him and then put her hand over her face and laughed, blushing a little.

Shaking her head, she added, "Sometimes I say the stupidest things."

They both laughed again.

Soon breakfast wound down and as the coffee maker had stopped its bubbling sound, her Uncle went over and pulled out a couple of mugs from the cabinet and waved one at her. "Want some?" he asked.