Chapter 8

To be honest, neither of them planned it, but that kiss suddenly tripped switches in both of them. Their lips pressed more firmly, and their eyes closed. An urgency crept into the kiss, and they pressed harder as their hands began to move, until her arms were around his neck and his were clasping her waist, pulling her to him. No longer did he think about his erection and whether she'd feel it or not. Now, unconsciously, he ground it against her.

She became almost frantic, panting through her nose as his tongue flicked between her lips and the kiss turned French. She made little mewling sounds and began to try to bite his lips ... his tongue ... anything she could get into her mouth.

He was the first to realize what was happening, but couldn't pull away because now her hands were behind his head, pulling him harshly against her lips. His hands pulled from around her and tried to push her away. Completely by accident his palms landed on her breasts and his push only flattened them.

But that got her attention and she pulled back, eyes wide now, the breath rasping in her throat. She looked down at his hands. He tried to pull them away, but his elbows hit his own body and all he did was lessen the pressure on them, only to have her lean towards him and push her breasts back into his hands.

"Stop!" he gasped. "We can't do this."

She blinked, swallowed, and then leaned back. He was able to scoot away from her and get his hands off her body.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "I don't know what happened."

"I do," she whispered. "You kissed me." He was about to correct her and suggest she had kissed HIM, when she went on. "I've never kissed a boy before." She blinked. "A man," she corrected. She stared at him. "Wow!"

"I didn't mean to," he said helplessly.

"I'm not mad," she said suddenly. Then "Wow!" again. "I see what all the fuss is about now. I've always liked your kisses, but that was completely different."

"I don't know what happened," he said again.

"Kiss me again!" she said, her eyes glowing.

"No!" he barked. "It was bad enough the first time."

"That wasn't bad," she said. "That was awesome."

"I'm your uncle," he said.

She thought about that for a few seconds. "I can't imagine letting any of the boys I know do that," she said. Her whole body shuddered and then her hand went to lie on his side. "But you are my uncle. I know you. I love you." She leaned back.

"I've kissed you before," he said.

"Not like that!"

"That's not the kind of kiss an uncle should give his niece."

"That was the best kiss you ever gave me," she sighed. "Come on. Just one more."

"No way," he said, wishing he could sit up so he could get up. If he rolled backwards any more he'd fall off the bed, and then he'd look stupid. "That kind of kissing leads to things."

"Like you putting your hands on my boobs?" she asked.

"I didn't mean to put them there," he said immediately. "I was just trying to push you away."

"Then why did you squeeze them?" she asked. "That felt really good too, by the way."

"Don't do this to me, Mandy," he groaned.

"You really meant all that stuff," she said. "Didn't you." Her tone of voice made it wound more like a statement than a question.

"What stuff?" he asked, feeling panic eating at his control. She wasn't acting like a scared little girl. She wasn't even agreeing with him!

"That I'm beautiful ... and that you might not be able to control yourself ... all that stuff I thought you were just teasing about."

"For Pete's sake, Mandy, of course I meant it. Any man would love to do what I just did, but I'm your Uncle!"

"You kiss Mom like that," said Mandy, her eyebrows coming together.

"Not like that," he croaked.

"Maybe not quite that long," she admitted, "But you kiss her a lot longer than you ever kiss me."

"That's different," he said. "She's a grownup."

"So she gets grown up kisses, and I get little girl pecks," she said, sounding on the edge of being angry.

"You ARE a girl," he moaned.

"Do girls have boobs like you just squeezed?" she asked archly. "You have a boner, Uncle Bob. I feel it pressing against me. Do you get boners for little girls? Do you get a boner when you sleep in Mom's bed?"

She stopped suddenly, and her eyes went wide again as she recalled all that "tossing and turning" she'd heard, all those nights when Uncle Bob was sleeping in her mother's bedroom. She took in a breath as scenes she'd hurriedly peeked at on the internet took on the faces of her mother and uncle. An explosion of heat in her stomach made her feel like she might puke, except that it felt good.

Bob saw the realization in the teenager's eyes, and knew that she had figured out what he and Jill had been worried she'd figure out for years. Still, they couldn't help themselves. Their love ... and lust ... was too strong.

"Mandy..." His voice sounded sad.

"You and mom ... do it," whispered Mandy.

"Mandy," he said urgently. "It's not like that. I can explain."

"How can you explain that you fuck my mother!" Mandy yelled the last word. She blinked several times. "You've been doing it for years!"

The jig was up, and Bob knew it. The only defense he had was the truth.

"It happened the first time by accident," he said. "We were in our teens ... not much older than you ... and she went on a date that didn't work out, and she wanted me to ... um ... teach her something and ... well ... one thing led to another." He stopped. "It was an accident, but we love each other, Mandy. And I guess we just never stopped."

"What about my father?" she asked. "Did you do that when she was going out with him?"

"I didn't even know she WAS going out with anybody," he said. "She told me it was a one night fling ... that she'd been kicking up her heels, and had decided that it was highly overrated. Then you came along, and she needed help with you sometimes, and she never dated after that. I didn't either. I've never met another woman who could compare to Jill."

"Except me, apparently," said Mandy.

"No, sweetheart," he said urgently. "I'm not trying to do that with you. I love you, and I love your mother. She'd kill me if she found out I tried anything with you. We know what we're doing is wrong in the eyes of the world, Mandy. We just can't help ourselves. I'm not dragging you into all this."

"What if I want to be dragged into it?" she asked.

He didn't take her seriously at all. She was, after all, only sixteen. What did a sixteen year old know about the world and how hard it could be on those who did not conform?

"You don't," he said firmly. "Your mother and I have made our bed." He blinked. That hadn't quite come out like he'd intended. "I mean we know the consequences. We've already had years of joy together, but it could have come apart any time. You have your whole life ahead of you. You're going to college, and will get a great job and never have to clean up puke on this boat again after that. I'm not about to fuck up your life just because I can't help feeling things for you too."

"So you won't kiss me again," she said, her voice low.

"Absolutely not," he said firmly.

"I see."

"Good."

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said. "Your big, ugly body is in the way."

"Oh!" he said.

Unconsciously he started to roll backwards, then flailed his arm as he realized what was about to happen. Her hand in his chest, pushing, overcame his balance and he floundered on the floor of the cabin. She got up and stepped over him and went into the head. She closed the door as he levered himself up.

Unable to face her when she came out, he left the cabin to check on the boat and his passengers.

Mandy wasn't surprised to find the cabin empty when she came out of the head. Her mind was churning, and she used that distraction by going directly to the staterooms and starting the long process of getting the smell out of them. She stripped all the linens out and put them in the washer. Then, with a tub of water mixed with cleanser, she scrubbed down all the surfaces in each room.

By the time she was done, it was past time to get lunch ready. She hurried into the galley and got out the kinds of items that she kept on hand precisely for this kind of situation. Pans of frozen enchiladas went into the oven. The microwave got other ingredients hot and within half an hour she had fixings ready for burritos and tacos. Once she got the sauces, cheeses and other toppings laid out, she rang the dinner gong and started back up on the bridge to clean up herself. She knew she smelled of vomit.

She intended to get clean clothes and take them back down below to put on after taking a shower. But the researchers, famished after skipping breakfast that morning, were already crowding into the galley, and she'd have to fight her way past them to the shower. She didn't want to do that smelling like she did.

The solution was simple, particularly because, while she had been cleaning cabins, she had been thinking about her uncle. That he and her mother were making the bed springs squeak was kind of creepy, but not disgusting. After all, she knew what it felt like to kiss him. And after spending half an hour trying to think of any other male she'd let do that, and thinking of none, she had decided that what was good for the goose, would probably be just as good for the goose's fledgling. She hadn't really thought things out. She just knew that she wanted more of what she'd tasted, and he was being obstinate.