Chapter 10

His fist froze, gripping his prick tightly, as complex emotions washed through him. There was the instant hot stab of fear, seasoned heavily with shame. But there was also the catharsis of confession as his actions admitted, at least in part, how he felt about this woman/child. There was amazement as he realized her eyes showed no fear. They glittered, in fact, as she turned her head a little. It was a completely normal movement, just that of someone wanting to see something a little better.

"I'm sorry!" He gasped, still otherwise frozen.

She sat up suddenly and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was graceful and effortless, as only the young and fit can accomplish so smoothly. The book fell to the deck, ignored. What Mandy was thinking about at that second was the 'master baiter' incident, and that intern saying she'd talk to Bob and offer to help him with his "problem."

"I want to help," she said softly, staring right at his penis.

"Oh baby," he groaned.

She looked up at his face, and the transformation on her own features was plain. There was indecision there, at a minimum, and fear at most.

"That is because of me ... isn't it?"

She sounded terribly vulnerable in those seconds and Bob knew that, if he said it was because of one of the other women on the boat, his problem would be solved. He also knew it would crush her, and could well cost him their relationship. If he'd had time to think ... to talk ... to slow things down, he might have avoided the collision this trip had fated for them.

But he couldn't think past not wanting to hurt her.

"Yes," he whispered. In agony he tried to do something right. "It shouldn't be. I mean this is wrong. I thought you were asleep. I didn't mean for you to see."

"I know," she said softly. "I know you love me." She frowned. "I mean I know you're trying to do the right thing, except that I don't think it is the right thing. I thought what Chastity was doing with her father was gross and nasty, but I'm not so sure any more, because I know how I feel about you."

She looked down at his fist again, and the head of his cock protruding from it.

"I think I know how my mother feels too ... maybe ... just a little bit."

"This is crazy!" he panted. The urge to start stroking again was almost irresistible.

"It doesn't feel crazy," she said, tilting her head to one side. "It feels weird, because I've never wanted to touch one before ... but not crazy."

"You want to touch it," he said weakly, running that information through his processing centers for possibly the third time in a row.

"Don't ask me why," she said, looking slightly confused. "It's like going nude. I never thought about it until suddenly I wanted to try it." She looked down at her body. "I didn't actually mean to go to bed naked," she said, looking back up. "I just fell asleep."

"It's okay," he croaked, simply trying to respond to her apology, rather than the substance of it.

"So..." She was staring at his groin again. The inference was clear, and yet she didn't seem ... passionate ... about it. It was more like she was simply curious, and for reasons he couldn't fathom it made him feel less like he was about to see a train wreck.

"You just want to touch it," he breathed. "That's all ... right?"

She nodded, never breaking her gaze.

He had to concentrate on making his fingers loosen their grip. He was mildly astonished to see the stark white imprint of his fingers fill rapidly with blood. It distracted him enough that he didn't see her move forward and reach. Her hand encircled his prick and squeezed tentatively. She pushed, the heel of her hand moving to impact his pubic hair, and then pulled. He stepped toward her instinctively, which brought his prick close enough that she could bend her elbow.

"Like this?" she asked, her eyes wide. Her hand moved back and forth several more times, the grip alternating from loose to tight as she experimented.

"Oh fuck me," he groaned, staring at her hand. His emotions surged.

"Uncle Bob!" she chided. "Such a potty mouth! You can't say that. I didn't say anything about doing that, Uncle Bob. I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."

The "yet" in her sentence ignited something deep in Bob Masters, something primal that interpreted "yet" as a promise of things to come "later." The stab of elation/anticipation that speared into his groin blew the doors off the sperm bank, and a thick rope of semen leapt from the tip of his penis to land on her left breast, an inch above the nipple.

"Oh fuck me to tears," he gasped, bending forward, so strong were the muscular reactions to his orgasm. He flailed blindly with one hand, seeking purchase on anything at all, and his hand closed on her shoulder. He gripped it hard as a second and then third line of white launched from his penis to paint the startled girl's chest. She let go of his penis like it was burning her hand and leaned away from him instinctively. His weight, leaning on her shoulder overbalanced her and she fell backwards with a squawk. Bob, helpless to do anything else fell on top of her.

Mandy felt her uncle's body crushing her, but it only lasted a second or two before he pushed up with his arms. She had fallen straight back, and he fell in such a way that his knees would have landed on the edge of the bed, had her body not been in the way. As a result, when he pushed himself up to get off of her body, his thighs slid, dragging the tip of his still weeping prick from her belly button through her pubic hair. With her butt still right on the edge of the bed, and her legs spread, his balls fell off her mons as his weight pulled his hips toward the floor. His penis, still mostly hard, followed, splitting the tight lips he had gazed at, and scraping across Mandy's clitty in a stroke that only lasted half a second before his knees skidded on the deck painfully.

In that half second, though, Mandy's hypersensitive brain, bolstered both by sexual hormones and the sudden introduction of adrenaline, registered a plethora of sensations. There was the smell of Uncle Bob, unique in its own way, as well as the heavy overlay of the odor of what had come leaping from the tip of his penis, and which now coated her chest and abdomen. There was the feel of his weight on her, which was somehow both scary and intoxicating at the same time. And there was that very brief zing between her legs that fairly screamed that there was more ... much more ... that could be felt there.

"I'm so sorry!" gasped Bob as he ignored the pain in his skinned knees and struggled to his feet."

"'Sokay!" she gasped in return, sitting up. She looked down. Her front was a mess of creamy off white, that had clear mixed in it. It was even in what she laughingly referred to as her "girly hair" because otherwise it seemed gross after it started growing. The faint echoes of that electric zap she'd felt drew her fingers between her legs, where they found the spot and pressed briefly, as if to confirm that she had, in fact, felt what she'd felt. When she pulled her fingers away they were messy with his white spend too.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Bob groaned, backing up. Looking at her, stained with his ejaculate, he could feel his penis trying to harden again. It was insane.

"Would you please stop cursing like that?" she barked firmly. "You don't sound like my uncle when you do that!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is just so fu--" He stopped suddenly. "Messed up," he finished.

"It does make a mess," she agreed, dragging her already spermy fingers through the sheen on her abdomen. She looked up. "Time to go for a quick swim."

"What?" Bob was still trying to come to grips with what had just happened. He was far, far behind the power curve, though.

"To get this gunk off of us," she said, holding up one white-covered finger.

He looked down and then saw what his brain had been trying to alert him to. His chest and abdomen were similarly soiled, where his chest had dragged across her.