Chapter 5

I said that nothing new happened over the next three months. What that means is that there was no escalation of our activities. She did not pull back from me or anything, but she was busy at school, and I had some projects that needed extra time to get done, so I spent a little less time at their house. I knew things were okay between us, because she still gave me long, passionate kisses in the hallway, or if we were in some part of the house alone.

So I was pretty sure that, if getting my semen on her had freaked her out, she'd gotten over it. That was confirmed the next time we got some extended time alone. Basically, she had me masturbate her to several orgasms (we made out for half an hour and I supplied her usual nipple foreplay) and then she wanted to try getting me off again. She was better this time, and had obviously grasped the concept of the fantasy, because she teased me.

"So you want to put this big, nasty thing in me? You want to have sex with me? You're so nasty. And you'd put it in me bare. You'd make it squirt inside me, wouldn't you! You'd actually put your sperms in me!"

She got me close enough that I didn't want to stop to 'arrange' things, so I just gripped her hand in mine and got to the point where it started spewing. She giggled maniacally and kept on pumping, making spunk fly in all directions, chanting "I did it! I did it! I did it!"

But we only went deeply into things about once a month. It wasn't nearly as easy to get time alone as one might think. On one pretty important night, she had come over to my house "to do her homework" because "her brothers were making too much noise and she couldn't concentrate."

That was the third time we played our little game, and her vocal delivery of lines designed to get me to spurt, was much more polished. Also, she had developed some masturbatory muscle memory, and didn't have to spend as much attention on her hand. That let her brush her lips against mine, talking into my mouth. We were lying side by side, that time, and she brought me all the way with no help whatsoever.

She was elated. The only problem was that she had been so busy kissing me, that she didn't pay any attention to where, on her body, she was aiming my penis. As a result, those pouting pussy lips got drenched. She also demanded that I clean her up, each time, and had a little spiel she went through while I did that, telling me how naughty I had been, and how sweet and innocent she was, until I spunked all over her. And this time, as she lay there, waiting for me to clean her up, telling me how terrible I was to threaten her virginity, she wasn't prepared for the washcloth to touch her sexual opening. It had always wiped across some other part of her body before this.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, as I carefully peeled her pussy lips apart, only to see that the semen had acted like glue, and had seeped past those gates.

"Be still," I said, trying to figure out how to clean her out without shoving it even deeper. "You got it in the wrong place."

"Is it in me?" she gasped, jerking so that my fingers slipped.

"It wasn't!" I snapped. "Until you moved after I told you not to!"

She went very still. "Is it in me now ... Uncle Bob?" she whispered.

"Don't panic," I said. "I have a plan."

I put my hand on her stomach as I said that, because I was pretty sure she was going to do something stupid, like move around, which would only suck that semen deeper into her sexual opening. I was right. I had to hiss at her to get her to stop.

"I wasn't going to do this to you," I said. "What I mean by that is that you have no business doing what I'm going to do on any date. Not until you're a whole lot older."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice full of angst.

"I'm going to get that semen out of you," I said.

"How?" she whined.

"Like this," I said.

I wiped the washcloth through her furrow, and then leaned down and sucked her sweet little pussy for all I was worth. I was trying to get every drop of moisture from her pussy into my mouth, swallowing and sucking like an industrial grade vacuum cleaner. I didn't know if it would work, but it was the best I could do, under the circumstances.

I was so intent on that, that I sort of blocked out the sounds she was making, or the fact that her fingers gripped my hair hard enough to rip some of it out. When she bucked so hard that I lost my lip lock on her pussy, that's when I figured out she was having a heck of a good time.

At that point, I had either gotten all my semen out of her ... or it was impossible to do so ... so I concentrated on technique for a while, until she finally pushed me away, moaning "Stop! I can't breathe!"

I stayed where I was. She tasted really good. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, and she lay, limp and satisfied.

"I never thought anybody would ever do that to me," she sighed.

"Wrong," I said. I licked her split one last time. She jerked, but then relaxed as I did a pushup and she could see I was stopping.

"That was amazing," I said.

"That is also dangerous," I said. "I don't recommend letting boys do that."

"You don't recommend letting boys do anything." She smiled tiredly.

"They can kiss you, and buy you pretty things," I said.

She laughed.

"But if you let them do that, there is a point in time where you are so distracted that they can move up and put something besides their tongue in you, while you're not paying attention."

"I believe that," she said, no trace of humor on her face or in her voice.

"Good," I said. "I hadn't planned on doing that to you, but under the circumstances..."

"I can't believe there has been semen inside me." Her voice had a dreamy quality to it. "Uncle Bob's semen."

"Let's not do that again," I said.

"I can't believe you put your mouth on me!" she moaned. "Ewwwww. And with your stuff down there too! Ewwwww!"

"Don't be silly. You taste delicious. I don't know what I taste like, because there was a lot more of you than there was of me. I'd be happy to eat your pretty pussy every day of the week."

"Really?" That dreamy tone was back in her voice.

"Except, of course, that's way out of line."

"Of course," she said. She reached between her legs with a finger. "It doesn't feel any different."

"It's not," I said.

"It sure felt different while you were doing it."

"I'm sure it did. A woman's mouth feels completely different on Mr. John Thomas than her hand does."

There was a long silence.

"Are you asking me to give you a blow job?" Her voice was low, and guarded. At least in my imagination, it was.

"Of course not. You need to save something to learn how to do when you're older. Don't jump ahead of your educational comfort zone, girl. You have all the time in the world to perfect sex. All you need to know now is how to kiss and fool around a little bit. A little bit!"

"Okay," she said. Her fingertip moved in a circle around her clit. "I agree. After tonight, you won't get your semen in me, or put your mouth on me any more."

I fell for it like a third grader. "Right."

She reached for me and pushed me down between her legs.

"I'm really happy tonight isn't over yet," she said.

There was a subtle change to our normal relationship after that. I think she knew that we had taken things to a point where anything further was going to be really important, as opposed to fooling around. She understood that fooling around was one thing, but that beyond that, it could complicate her life significantly.

And I think she took that philosophy with her on her dates. She never wanted for a date. In the past, she had actually turned down dates so she could spend time with me, "practicing," as she put it. But as she finished her junior year, that changed, and she spend less and less time with me, and more and more time with boys her age.

That was appropriate, of course. I had already been incredibly lucky, having access to young pussy, to put it crudely. Most guys don't get that lucky. And even though I wasn't fucking that young pussy, that didn't matter. If anything, I was glad about that. As best I could tell, she had actually learned a lot, without it messing up her mind. And that was important to me, because I loved her.

This is not to say things cooled off between us, though. She had one well-defined habit. Whenever Cindy and I were alone, even if it was only for twenty seconds, she kissed me. And they were the good kisses, not the uncle kind. Each time she did this, she whispered "Thanks" when it was over, and grinned and went on about her business.

Once I smacked her on the ass after she did that. It was a nice, full contact, perfect slap, that had to sting, because I didn't hold much back. I don't even know why I did it, other than the fact that she had a bubble butt that packed a pair of jeans in a way that made me want to howl at the moon. Maybe I thought it was a reminder that I was the Alpha male or something. That kind of thing is built into males. She stopped, as if she had been flash frozen, with her back to me. I expected her to complain, or maybe even be outraged. I was sure if she dropped her pants, my handprint would be on her ass cheek.

But the look she gave me when she turned around was one that suggested hungry lioness, and I was the rabbit. Or ibis, or whatever lionesses eat. She clearly wasn't unhappy about it. I was reminded of Jeanette, a woman I went out with for a while, who liked to be spanked as a prelude to what she called making up. If I got her butt nice and pink and mottled, she was so wet we needed a towel. When I spanked Jeanette, she wanted it bareback. And the look on Cindy's face was that look.

So I resolved never to do that again. After all, that wasn't part of Fooling Around 101. That was part of an upper division class.

I honestly think things would have stayed that way, with Cindy learning something with me, and then exploring it further on her dates. When the summer got there, she spent the whole day with her friends, or some boy, usually both at the same time. Kids these days date in herd.

Normally there is safety in the herd. And I think adults look at those groups of kids and think "They're in a big group. Good. No privacy to get in trouble. Good."

But think about it. When you were growing up, adults went to great lengths to assure that you had no private time with a member of the opposite sex. Right?

But you engineered it anyway.

And now that kids present the illusion that they're always in a group, I think their parents are less vigilant. I know the teen pregnancy rate hasn't dropped much in the last four or five decades. It's gone up, if anything.

But, as I was saying, I think things would have perked along like that until she went off to college, except for the accident.

It happened while Jill and the boys were at Southwestern, getting them enrolled for the fall semester. On the way back, Dennis was driving, and some asshole who was texting while driving, drifted into them in their blind spot, and sent them into the ditch. The car rolled four or five times.