Forty was a bit old to be having a 'gap year', and it turned out to be more than a year anyway. It really wasn't all that odd: when I'd been eighteen, I didn't have the qualifications to go to university, so I went straight into work while a lot of my former classmates, who were qualified, took their 'gap year', travelling to distant places for twelve months before coming back and starting their undergraduate studies.
In the next twenty-odd years, I reckon I did better than a lot of them, even without a degree to back me up. By the time I was forty, I'd built up an IT company which supplied a niche market — no, I'm not saying which — too much competition dilutes the pudding, to thoroughly mix metaphors — and an even bigger IT company decided it wanted a piece of the action — my piece, actually. They made me an offer I couldn't resist, and suddenly I was footloose and fancy-free at forty with a seven-figure bank balance along with securities and stocks.
I'd never had time to marry, but my brother, John, had. He and his wife, Jenny, had produced two children, both daughters, and both, in my eyes, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, even allowing for the fact that, Hazel, eleven-years-old at the time I set out on my travels, was still little-girl shaped. Her then-thirteen-year-old big sister, Melanie, with the honey-blond hair, firm breasts, hips which just screamed how ready they were to bear children, and absolutely fantastic legs which I fondly imagined went all the way to her armpits, was a centrefold. In my twenty months or so away, she had bloomed, and when I saw her, following my return — I'd bought a sea-going yacht in the Bahamas and sailed it home single-handedly — I'm afraid I found myself assessing her not as my niece but as a stunning and sexy young woman.
I'd had my share of offers from women in many of the countries I'd visited, and accepted a few, but I'd always been careful to use a condom and check out the women's genitals visually before fucking them. A couple had failed this test, and I restricted my activities with them. Anyway, they were never more than one-night stands, and the result of my precautions was to stay clean — and, incidentally, childless.
My childlessness caused John to have a quiet chat with me the day after my return.
We were sat in the garden of his Channel Island home, where I was staying until my own place was ready to move into again, watching Hazel and Mel splashing around in the pool. Jenny was indoors preparing lunch.
'You realise we're the last Hallorans in this line of the family, Jeff?' he said.
We watched his girls, splashing and shrieking. Why do girls shriek?
'I think when Hazel arrived, Jenny decided the odds of getting a boy were reducing. Besides, it wasn't a good time for us to have another child of either kind. Work wasn't always working, ' he added, hinting at the bad times which had been around in his industry ten years or so earlier. 'Being a woman, Jenny doesn't see it as particularly significant that when the girls marry — which I hope they do — their children will take their father's surname. After all, she took mine.'
'Yes?' I said, having a strong suspicion where this conversation was headed. 'Let me guess, you think I should father as many boys as possible?'
He sniffed and raised his whisky and soda to his lips. 'Well, you have fuck-all else to do these days — and you can afford an entire stable of women and babies.'
I knew my eyebrows arched at this; I could feel my forehead furrowing.
'That's a bit extreme, coming from you, ' I said. 'Mister Two-Daughters- and-I'm-Done-For.'
'I told you! It wasn't that we wanted to stop, ' he whined, draining his glass. 'But you have to admit, even if you can't accuse me of breeding quantity, I didn't do badly on the quality front.'
We both watched the girls in silence for a moment. Melanie was a total babe, and I felt the usual signs from my cock that it appreciated her looks. Even Hazel, now thirteen, was showing promise, and I don't think — if I'd been the kind of guy who went for girls — I'd have had any difficulty at all in lusting after her even in her present, prepubescent state.
'No, you did not, brother-mine, ' I said to him.
He refilled our glasses without asking. I was beginning to feel the effects of his generous shots, so probably wasn't quite as in control of myself as I prefer to be.
'So what are you going to do about your childless state?' he pressed.
'Look, ' I said, turning so I could see him properly, 'you already married the best girl I know in my age range. I've been away for a long time, and it's going to take time to look out my old circle of friends — not that I ever had that many, I was too busy working. And then, there'll be the little matter of whether any of the women I used to know are (a) single, (b) still interested in me, perhaps enough to think about marriage, and© whether even so, they would still want to perform the most important function — in your idea — of producing an endless supply of babies.'
John held up his hands in surrender. 'Okay, okay! So it'll take time to find the perfect wife, but does that stop you looking for the perfect girlfriend in the meantime?'
'No, of course not. But you know I'm pretty picky in the sort of women I like.'
He didn't reply at once to that.
'I know I'm not a monk, ' I went on, eyeing the girls, who had climbed out of the pool, wrapped themselves in beach towels, and were now coming towards us, grinning.
John must have had a clue what they intended, because he put his glass down on the small table between us. The girls suddenly jumped us, Hazel landing astride John's knees, Mel astride mine. I was unprepared and my whisky and soda was still in my hand. It splashed all over my shirt and trousers, and some probably landed on her chest, but as that was still damp anyway from the pool, I suppose she hardly noticed.
On the other hand, I was noticing that her swimming costume was still wet, under the towel. It had soaked my trousers across my lap, and the water was cold! One good side-effect of that was that it killed off my tumescence before the girl noticed.
John smiled at me and rolled his eyes as his youngest daughter leant forward and rested her head on his shoulder.
'Do you want that topping up again?' he asked, indicating my drink. There was about a tablespoonful left in the bottom of the glass. I drank it and put the glass down on the table.
'No, thanks, ' I said. 'What I do need are some dry pants.'
My stuff was still aboard the yacht, down in the harbour.
'Sorry, Uncle Jeff, ' said Mel as she copied her sister in leaning against me and resting her head on my shoulder. The scent of her hair filled my nose, until she moved her head, leaning back so she could see me. Then I could only smell fresh young woman. It reminded me that although the girls were less than two years apart in age, there was a significant difference in their physical maturity.
'Take your uncle indoors so he can get out of his wet things, ' said John. 'Let him have my robe — the one on the hook on my bedroom door — and ask your mum to put his trousers and underpants in the dryer.'
Mel sat up and slid off me, threatening to set my boner off again, and grabbed my hand.
'Come on, Uncle Jeff, soon have you out of those cold wet clothes and into something warm.'
Did she know what she was saying? Did she realise the ambiguity of her remark? My cock lurched again, needing no better signposting, and it's as well I'd turned away from both Mel and John as I stood up.
Mel continued to hold my hand as she led me into the house. Jenny looked up from the kitchen worktop where she was preparing vegetables.
'Hello, dear. Where are you taking Uncle Jeff?'
'Up to your bedroom, Mum. He has to take off his trousers and underpants, Dad said, while you dry them off.'
Jenny's face was a picture as her gaze travelled from Mel to me. I held out my hand and shrugged to emphasise my innocence in all this, and turned so Jenny could see the wet patch all across the front of my trousers.
'That's, er, just what he said. John that is, ' I said, nodding to emphasise the truth of it.
At the same time, while my niece had accurately reported her father's instructions, somehow they came out of her mouth with a slightly obscene edge to them. I noticed, and I'm sure as hell Jenny noticed.
Her mouth opened and shut once. 'Okay. Well, do you need any help or will you be able to manage?'
It still sounded terribly ambiguous to me. Maybe it's a sign that I hadn't had sex for a long time and was suddenly surrounded by all this pulchritude — I mean, Mel and Hazel were gorgeous, and it goes without saying their mother was, too. Blond, curvaceous, in a simple, figure-hugging cream dress with slits up the sides and a generous amount of décolletage showing. Her breasts looked firm, but what did it for me — a confirmed 'leg man' — were her legs. It was quite obvious that Mel had inherited her long and gently curved legs from her mother.
I found myself for a moment imagining being in the saddle between those long limbs, having them wrap around me to pull me in, even as her pussy was thrusting upwards to sheathe my cock as deeply as possible...
I mentally shook myself. Having sexual fantasies in front of the objects of them — and I couldn't honestly say whether the legs I'd imagined were mother's or daughter's — was not a good thing to do. I realised she was looking at my damp patch again. Unless she was actually looking at the strange tent-like shape it had suddenly adopted.
Mel tugged my arm. 'Come on. We've got to get your trousers off.'
I followed her blindly as she led the way upstairs, She let go of me to do that, but she also let the towel fall away so she was dragging it behind her, and I had the benefit of watching those superb legs, and the butt to which they connected, flexing as she climbed the stairs ahead of me.
If it hadn't been so long, and if I didn't anyway love my nieces — and their parents — I probably would have been so much less susceptible to Mel's unwitting ambiguities. But it had been a long time, and she was in front of me in the flesh, and she still looked gorgeous and sexy. I had an erection you could have balanced a piano on.
We went into her parents' bedroom and she shut the door. I just stood there looking baffled. When I didn't move to undress — obviously, since Mel was still in the room and showed no signs of leaving — she shook her head, probably at the folly of men, squatted in front of me and before I could move, she unfastened my waistband, unzipped the fly and tugged my trousers down, easing them over the projection of my ramrod-stiffness.
'My, my, Uncle Jeff!' she muttered. 'What a huge problem you have!'
So saying, my darling niece got hold of my underpants and, stretching them past my prick, smoothly yanked them down to join my trousers round my ankles. She pulled off my loafers and socks and pulled trousers and underpants clear. I suppose I co-operated: I don't remember much.
I do remember she stood up, and clasped my cock in one hand. She glanced down at it then back at my face.
'Do you mind if I touch it, Uncle Jeff?' she asked.
I stared at her. The words wouldn't come, so she took my silence as assent and began stroking my cock, using both hands.
'It's warm, and smooth, ' she observed.
'Yes, ' I gasped.
'Soft, and yet, very hard.'
She paused in her manipulations and squatted again, this time apparently looking at my balls. She touched them experimentally. My cock gave a little bound of joy.
'These are so fat, ' she said dreamily. Then she looked up sharply. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.' She looked back down at them again and stroked them. 'It's just that there are so many Halloran babies in there.'
Her words pulled me out of a pleasant reverie. 'Halloran babies?' I asked.
'I heard what you and Daddy were talking about.'
She went back to slowly stroking my cock. I stopped her because I could feel it getting sore.
'Sorry, Mel, but it's beginning to hurt. Needs lubrication, ' I muttered.
'Oh, yes!' She chewed her lips a few times then allowed a long sliver of saliva to drip from them onto the tip of my cock. She slowly rubbed it over the head. That felt good.
'Er, Mel, I'm gonna... '
Before I could complete my warning, by balls jerked and sent the first pulse of semen along my cock shaft to the head which promptly projectile-vomited it onto her face. She moved her head back, but some instinct made her leave her hand round my cock, along which further pulses of cum were now travelling. She opened her mouth reflexively, I think, and promptly took the next thread of sperm on her tongue. She closed her lips for the third, which blasted across them, but opened her mouth again at once and moved it over my spurting prick as its convulsions began to die away. She closed her lips over the head and used her tongue to clean the last of my spooge out of it.
Oh, shit! As the blood left my prick it started to fill my brain again and rational thought recommenced. What had I done? My niece would hate me. My brother and sister-in-law, when they found out, would probably kill me. I fell back on the bed and covered my face with my hands.
Small fingers pried at mine. I opened my eyes and gazed at Mel, who was staring at me in great concern.
'Uncle Jeff! Uncle Jeff! Are you all right? Did I hurt you?' As she spoke, she brushed my cooling sperm from her lips and cheeks and seemed not to notice when she licked it off her fingers and swallowed it.
I shook my head sadly. 'I'm so sorry, Mel. I didn't mean ... I'm sorry.'
Give me a gun and let me shoot myself.
She leaned towards me and took my head in her hands, pressing her spermy lips on mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, while at the same time, my own began to explore hers.
She held the kiss for a very long time before breaking it and whispering, 'I'm not a bit sorry, Uncle Jeff. I'll prove it to you later, if you like — after all, you owe me one, you know.'
She placed her lips to my ear. 'An orgasm, of course.'
She straightened up and passed me her father's bathrobe.
Somehow, I got through dinner. I was, of course, wearing the bathrobe. My seductress/ niece had changed into a short lilac sundress, very frilly and feminine, a floral cotton print. It was clear she'd omitted to put a bra on beneath it, as her nipples were clearly visible poking against the thin material. She sat next to me at the table, facing her mother, while opposite me sat Hazel. John sat at the end of the table between Hazel and me.
Under cover of the tablecloth, Mel rubbed her slimly-muscled thigh, allowing her fingers gradually to move up to her crotch, drawing her skirt up with them. She made very sure I saw what she was doing, and that when I glanced at her, I also got a good look down her cleavage. By the time we were on dessert, a wonderful cheesecake Jenny had made — her speciality — Mel's skirt was nearly round her waist and her fingers were clearly visible rubbing slowly at her pussy. She obviously had a set: she wasn't wearing a bra and she wasn't wearing panties, either. I didn't get the impression the omissions were through necessity.
I could smell her arousal.
It was beyond the realms of possibility that I wouldn't get hard. It's only a miracle that my stiffening cock didn't lift the table off the floor. I know she noticed, because I could see a satisfied grin on her face when she glanced down at my lap. Trouble was, John saw her grin, too.
He looked at her, then at me, and an interrogatory eyebrow lifted. He couldn't see the way I was tenting the robe, and I simply shrugged, I don't know why she's smiling. I caught sight of Hazel's face at that moment. She was watching her sister's arm, the one she was using to rub herself. No matter how careful she was to keep it still, there must have been a slight movement. A frown flickered across Hazel's face. She picked up her fork, checked that neither parent was watching her, and tossed it under the table.
'Whoops!' she said, as the others looked at her, and promptly slithered off her chair onto the floor, completely under the table.
A moment later, I felt a small hand part the robe and warm breath on my cock.
'Are you all right down there, Haze?' asked Jenny.
'Yes, mum, ' came the reply, along with a quick rub of my cock. Moments later, Hazel reappeared in her chair, clutching her fork. Her face was red, which might have been caused by her exertions. She looked at me and smiled impishly.
'You have ... hairy legs, Uncle Jeff.'
John rolled his eyes and smiled at her. 'It's a man thing, Hazel. Like whiskers on chins.'
She sucked her cheeks right in and nodded. I'm not sure what that meant, but as she got on with eating her cheesecake, and even Mel stopped playing with her pussy — and my head — long enough to finish hers, we managed to get through the rest of the meal, and my cock slowly deflated so at the end of it, I could stand up and walk away from the table without having to bend double.
My troubles were not over that evening. We sat in the lounge after dinner to watch a soccer match on television. I found myself manoeuvred onto the settee between Mel and Hazel, not before Mel had fetched a quilt from her bedroom to drape over us.
'We don't want Uncle Jeff to get cold while his clothes are still wet, ' she muttered by way of explanation.
Jenny looked surprised, sitting next to John on the other settee, facing us. 'No, but I should have his clothes dry enough to iron soon enough, ' she said.
'No rush, ' said Mel, settling herself comfortably next to me and pulling the quilt over both of us. On my left, Hazel had settled herself in a similar way.
Somehow, I wasn't a bit surprised to feel two small hands inching their way under the robe, out of sight beneath the thick quilt, until they found my balls and cock. Mel made sure neither parent was watching and grabbed my right hand, tugging it under the quilt, too, and on to the top of her thigh. There was no doubt about what she wanted.
My cock had quickly scented fresh pussy and risen to its full majestic height — of probably about six inches. No, I've never actually held a tape measure up to it, but the girls were repeatedly measuring it against the width of their hands, and I was going to have to stop them before making a really embarrassing mess on the underside of the quilt.
'Will you put your arm round me, Uncle Jeff?' Hazel asked in a plaintive little voice she'd always used when she wanted her own way — and usually got it.
I couldn't resist any more than I ever could. I slipped an arm round her. As I did, she rolled towards me under the quilt and brought her left leg over my thigh so that her knee was pushing against my cock and balls. Both girls, it seemed, had pushed their shorts off.
Even covered by the quilt, I figured it was impossible to believe that neither Jenny nor John were unaware of what was happening beneath it. They were certainly watching the movements of Hazel's leg, even if they didn't quite know exactly what was causing the quilt to ripple. Mel, meanwhile, was slowly rubbing my fingertips up and down the closed lips of her pussy. As they reached the bottom of her slot, where her entrance lay, she quite deliberately pushed my fingers against her yielding flesh. Moisture sprang from her and wetted them.
I couldn't help myself. I twisted my fingers gently and opened her slot, easing my index finger inside as far as the first knuckle.
She gave a little shudder and I felt her pussy lips tense around my invading digit.
'You okay, Jeff?' asked John, staring at me.
'Sure, ' I replied, smiling. 'The girls are just getting comfortable.'
His eyes on the gently moving quilt, he said, 'They're very fidgety this evening.'
Mel smiled at him. 'We're just so pleased that Uncle Jeff has come to stay.'
'Yes, ' agreed Hazel, as she carefully positioned the tip of my cock into the gap she'd created between her legs so her pussy lips were resting on it. I could feel them splaying round it and pussy moisture gathering. 'Mmmm, ' she sighed, making it sound like simple emphasis of her earlier word, though I suspected that wasn't the real reason.
To my relief, the moving and rubbing beneath the quilt slowly ceased. I was glad, because I was in no doubt that had they continued, I would have been making a mess of it, and there was the definite risk of Hazel getting her pussy spermed with my active little baby-makers.
It helped enormously that John started talking about the roller-coaster fortunes of the local football team — helped in the way that it assisted me greatly in getting my mind off what Hazel was doing with my prick. Not enough, though, to prevent what I now knew to be inevitable. I felt the tip being drawn up an inch or two into her comfortable and warm sheath, then being massaged as she used her internal muscles (I'd never have dreamt she knew she had internal muscles in her pussy, let alone know how to use them) on it, slowly and erotically.
She was holding her head in front of mine, so neither of her parents could see her face, especially the glazed look in her eyes, or the tip of her tongue moistening her lips.
Under the quilt, I moved my hands until I had the firm cheeks of her bottom in them, mainly so I could stop her movements, when — if — as I suspected, she became unable to stop trying to wriggle or hump against me. I felt her relax into my hands, and another inch or two of my cock slip up her channel. Her juices were running freely, and I could feel them wetting my balls.
Suddenly Hazel narrowed her eyes and pulled a hand out from under the quilt to cover her mouth as she affected to cough a couple of times, using the distraction to jam her little pussy hard down, to take the full length of my cock inside her — I'd never felt as hard in my life as I was at that moment. I felt the tip nudge into the spongy mass at the end of Hazel's baby tube that was the gateway to her uterus.
'Sorry, Uncle Jeff, ' she said politely, and leaned forward to kiss me. I know it was supposed to look like a kiss of apology for coughing in my face, but she held it just a moment too long, and I noticed her mother stare. It didn't change anything.
I couldn't have done anything about what happened next, anyway. Hazel began to tremble, her tummy rippling and suddenly my cock was being squeezed and massaged by my niece's orgasming pussy, as it tried every trick it knew to extract the cream it needed from my balls.
Human physiology is such that enough physical stimulus of a person's sexual apparatus will trigger an orgasm, whether the person wants one or not. I have to admit that I certainly wanted one; I wanted to pump Hazel's womb full of my jizz, and any little voice in my head muttering about the possibility of planting a baby in her if I did was something I found easy to ignore. I was just concerned that her parents, sitting across the room from us shouldn't cotton on. Despite my caution, the ripples of her pussy finally succeeded in winning their reward. I felt my balls tighten and that delicious ache in the perineum and prostate which heralds the start of ejaculation. I held her butt down and pressed our joined parts together hard as the first pulse of sperm was fired along my cock and splatted and sprayed her cervix.
Somehow, Hazel managed to press even further down on my spurting cock, so that the next two or three belches of my seed were directly into her womb. She 'coughed' and wriggled again, finally laying her head on my shoulder and lying still at last, while the last of my baby cream flowed sluggishly into her still-rippling pussy.