You're Safe
written by:
dubd

You're Safe

I finished making arrangements for the rental car, including shuttle pickup for transport to the offsite lot, and wandered back to the baggage claim carousel where Bri (short for Brittany—I'm not sure why, but she never had answered to her full name and bristled at "Brit") was just collecting the last of our luggage. I slowed my stride, taking the opportunity to appreciate her beauty. Tall, with straight, flaming red hair that hung below her shoulders, she would never be confused with a swimsuit model. Not that she was fat by any means. She occupied that glorious ground between hard body thin and pillow soft. Large of bust, wide of hip and just a touch thick of waist without losing that alluring hourglass shape that gives you someplace to put your hands when you have her bent over a chair, your hips bouncing off her soft ass cheeks with each thrust. In other words, a real meat on her bones woman whose moron husband decided that his rail-thin bleach-blonde secretary more closely matched his mental capacity. Unfortunately, there was a prenup that had given Bri a particularly nasty six months in divorce court that had etched stress lines into her normally angelic face.

As a close friend of her family, I hated to see her that unhappy and since I was going to Hawaii for two weeks, staying at a beach house another, much richer, friend of mine had offered, I asked her if she would like some down time soaking up some sun and eating pineapple. It was an offer made half in jest, since I'm definitely not her type. I really expected her to thank me for the offer, but to politely decline since I pretty much define the type of guy she despises; the fifty year old, divorced guy trying to recapture his youth by bagging the twenty-six year old cocktail waitress. Well, "despises" may be too strong a word, but the fact remains that she regarded such men as - shall we say, pathetic? Have I fantasized about watching that angelic face contort with orgasmic pleasure? Well yeah, I'm a fifty year old guy who'd like to recapture his youth by bagging a twenty-six year old cocktail waitress, what do you want?

She heard me walking up and turned saying, "Did you have anything else, Uncle Ken, or is this it?"

She'd surprised me by turning when she had and I hoped she hadn't caught me checking her out. After what she'd been through - she'd won a sizable settlement but hadn't received the check yet - I didn't want her to feel threatened, so I focused on the luggage and tried to be casual, "Nope, that's all of it. I've got a shuttle coming to take us to get the car."

I grabbed as many bags as I could handle and we headed out to wait at the curb. Because I was loaded down, I followed behind, watching her hips sway as she walked, imagining those hips in a bikini bottom and then, because I was a fifty year old male in the company of a twenty-six year old cocktail waitress, imagining those hips out of a bikini bottom. I felt my cock twitch and chastised myself: this girl was totally off-limits and those kinds of thoughts would only make this a long and uncomfortable vacation in paradise.

I've been to Hawaii many times and Maui is probably my favorite place on earth. This was Bri's first time though and as we headed south from the airport with the top down on our little convertible, her head swung around like a child's, trying to take in all the sights at once, "It's so beautiful," she said, "what's the name of that mountain?"

I looked to my left, "That is Haleakela and it's a volcano, not a mountain. It's dormant, not extinct. It's over ten thousand feet tall and you can drive almost all the way up. Sunrise up there is spectacular."

"Can we go?" There a childlike quality to her question that made my heart ache.

"Um, sure," I said, "but from where we're staying we'll have to be out the door by two in the morning to make it. And we'll need to dress warm; it gets cold up there."

"Where are we staying?"

"A beach house a buddy of mine owns up in West Maui. I've never been there but he tells me it's right on the water with what amounts to a private beach just out the door. Technically, there are no private beaches in Hawaii, but this one is guarded by lava flows on either side so unless there's a dive boat in the bay, you could sunbathe naked and nobody would ever know." I shouldn't have said that; my cock gave another twitch.

She gave me a sideways look, "Naked, huh? Keep dreaming Uncle Ken." She was silent for a bit, watching the cane fields fly by, and then she said, "I caught you, you know."

Oops. "Caught me," I said, trying to sound innocent. "Caught me what?"

"Checking me out," she said simply. "At the airport; at baggage claim and then on the way out to wait for the shuttle. I caught your reflection in the door staring at my ass. Frankly, I was impressed that you didn't trip crossing the threshold."

"Um, okay," I floundered, "I don't know if I'd call it ‘checking you out'. I'd call it more appreciating the genius of God's creation."

She sniffed the air, "Careful, that's a lot of bullshit for this little car."

I tried a different tack, "I wasn't the only one, you know. You had heads turning throughout the concourse and until we drove off in this car." And since we were on the topic of attractiveness, I thought it was a good time to broach another topic, "By the way, I have no illusions that you're going to want to spend the entire two weeks here hanging out with a guy old enough to be your father. You're divorced and a free agent. If you meet someone and want to spend some, you know, quality time with him, I'm okay with that."

I couldn't read the smile and sidelong look she gave me, but I couldn't miss the hint of sarcasm lacing her voice when she said, "You're willing to share me, Uncle Ken? How sweet."

Ignoring the barb, I pressed on, "Just keep in mind that your mother considers you to be under my protection. So please, if it happens, I'd appreciate it if you'd come home and sleep under the same roof as me. Don't make me try to explain to your mother why I let her baby get hurt."

"You mean in case I get horny and just have to fuck a total stranger?" The venom in her words stung, but I couldn't really blame her. She looked at the scenery out her side of the car and continued, "Not to worry. I'm not feeling very attractive right now anyway. I'm damaged goods; full of bitterness, disappointment and disillusion. I plan to spend the time lying in the sun, reading and drinking heavily." She turned back to address me directly, "After what I saw at the airport, I just hope I don't have to fend you off too." She pointed a finger at me as if it were a gun, "If this is some sick, seven year itch fantasy you've got going, you have another think coming." She hooked her arm on the door and looked out the windshield before turning on me again, "And as for not letting me get hurt, where were you the last year and a half when my husband was screwing Barbie and then trying to screw me out a fair settlement, huh? Where were you Uncle Ken?"

"That's not fair," I said. Just to be clear, it's true that I was close enough to her family for her to call me "Uncle" from the time she was seven or eight years old, but I wasn't actually blood; just the guy who had introduced her mother to her father years ago. The tears flowing from beneath her sunglasses told me that she was just lashing out, venting her anger where it would do the least harm.

"I know it's not fair," she agreed while she dug a tissue out of her purse to dab her eyes. "I'm just tired, angry and hungry. But just so we're clear, you know that nothing is going to happen between you and me, right?"

I guessed it was time for some reassurance.

"Bri, you are the daughter of a woman I've known for thirty-five years. Hell, I introduced her to your father. I was there, holding him up when you were born. I've been around your whole life, you are like a niece to me. Making a move on you would be like incest." I shrugged my shoulders, "Sure I might stare -" "Leer," she interjected "—at you and your body parts now and then but what the hell, I'm a guy and I'm not dead. Besides," I added, trying to lighten the mood, "you have a fabulous rack."

She fell back against the door with her mouth hanging open, "Oh. My. God. ‘A fabulous rack'? Do people really use the word ‘fabulous' anymore?" Then she crossed her arms and leveled her gaze at me, "Just a guy, huh?"

"That's right," I said, sensing that my crass reference to her ample bosom had indeed lifted her spirits. I thought she might be finally approaching playful. "But you're safe with me. I'm immune to your feminine wiles."

"You just said that I have a body that you're more than willing to gape at, and I'm safe."

"Absolutely safe," I repeated.

But she was just warming up. "Suppose you see me topless? Am I still safe?"

"As aces. Though you should know, as long as we're having this conversation, I've wanted to have a look at those babies since you were eighteen."

"Well, I'm appalled," she said. "Not sixteen? Not seventeen? Just magically when I turned eighteen? Did they get bigger or something?"

"They got legal. I'm not a child molester."

"Okay," she said carefully, "that's good to know. For the record, I can't believe we're having this conversation either, but now you've got me curious. Suppose I rub my naked bosom against that ancient, decrepit leather you call skin. What happens then?"

"More than likely I'll have an involuntary response, which I'll ignore. You're still safe."

She looked surprised, "You can do that? You can get a woody and just ignore it? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it. And by the way, my skin is not that leathery."

She patted my arm like you would a small child, "Of course it isn't. Alright, let's try this; I go out to sunbathe and when you join me I'm full on, bare assed naked with my knees up and legs spread. You telling me that you're not going to want to dip your wick?"

I gaped at her and said, "Who are you and what did you do with Bri?"

"I'm just testing your commitment. Answer the question."

I sighed, "A monumental temptation indeed, but you're still safe. Let me put it in words I'm sure you've heard and, based on this conversation, suspect you've used. You can parade around in front of me buck assed naked and you'd be safe. You could present your tits to me on a platter and while I might suck on them because I'm a guy and it might give you pleasure, I'd go no further. You're safe. If you walk up to me and lift your leg and ask me to eat your pussy - which, by the way, regardless of what you think about us old farts, a guy who's been around the bush once or twice might just rock your world - I'd do it until you begged me to stop and you'd still be safe."

"What about your involuntary responses," Bri asked, "I could do all that and still not expect to have to fight you off to keep you from fucking me?"

I was tempted to tell her that I was having an involuntary response right now, but held up my hand instead, "Five-finger-Frieda and a toilet and everything's good."

Bri made a face, "Gross! Okay, just so I know, where's the line I shouldn't cross? There has to be one."

I thought for a second, "You can do all that and you're still safe. You touch my cock though and all bets are off. You're not safe and your brains are getting fucked out."

"Okay, note to self," Bri said, talking into her hand like it was a recorder, "no cock touching. By the way, how does that work with the no incest thing? Exactly?"

"You touch my cock and I figure you want it. I'd just have to learn to live with my tortured soul."

"So, what you're telling me is that you're willing to put up with a sadistic, bitchy little cock tease and get nothing in return?"

I held up my hand, "I have Frieda. But seriously, if that's what it takes to get the Bri I've always known and loved back, then sure, I'm willing to take some abuse as payback for the male gender." Then I had an idea, "Tell you what, let's make a game of it. It's not what I had planned for this trip, but what the hell, why not? If I see it naked, meaning tits and pussy, I get to play with it. Without fucking you, of course, unless, well, you know."

"Just tits and pussy, huh; what, no foot fetish?" I didn't expect her to even consider it. Honestly, I was just joking around, trying to lighten the mood because the conversation had my pole straining at my gabardines and a little fantasy had entered my mind. But she sat there considering the proposition before smiling. "Okay, you're on. Just be prepared to be frustrated and disappointed ‘cause you ain't seeing nothin'." Then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, "And I love you too." Then she fidgeted in her seat, "In a fatherly, much older, non sexual kind of way." Then she faced forward and smiled, "So, I'm starved. What's for lunch?"

We had crossed the isthmus of the island north to south and were heading up to West Maui. Up ahead was Lahina and then the resort towns of Ka'anapali, Kahana and Napi'ili beyond that. We were also going to need provisions so we stopped at a bar and grill I knew next to a supermarket in Lahina.

While we were eating, I leaned across the table and said to Bri, "You think you're state of mind makes you unattractive; there are two guys at the bar behind you checking you out right now."

She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin and excused herself, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

When she returned she smiled at me like we were just chatting pleasantly but said, "A couple of dope smoking, surfer dude, wannabe losers. They'd look at anything with bumps on her chest. Not exactly a confidence booster."

At the supermarket she raised an eyebrow at the two 1.75L bottles of vodka I put in the cart. I shrugged, "You did say you were going to drink heavily."

She reached over and put another bottle in the cart. "I'd hate to run short," she said. I gave a little whistle.

After we loaded the car with the groceries, we headed up the lower highway - the one that gave access to the waterfront resorts - and, once we passed Napi'ili, started looking for the sign that would announce the location of my buddy's beach house.

"Look for Jensen," I told Bri.

A few minutes later she pointed to the left, "There it is."

I pulled off the highway onto the dirt track and stopped at a locked gate about five-hundred feet in. I climbed out of the car and said, "I'll get the gate if you'll drive through."

That done, I got back into the car on the passenger side and said, "I don't know how much further down it is but if we go too far we're gonna get wet."

Bri laughed and continued down the track for another quarter of a mile until we came to a small building just off the beach. There were no windows or doors in the wall we could see and a fence extended out from the corner facing the water. The fence had a gate in it.

"Let me get a couple of the bags and we can check it out," I said.

Through the gate we found a patio. The water side wall of the fence was low enough that it didn't obstruct the magnificent view of Molokai and Lanai - two other Hawaiian islands - but tall enough that you could sunbathe on either of the two chaises with privacy.

"My god that's beautiful," Bri said.

"This time of year," I said, pointing between the two islands in front of us, "the sun sets right between them. I have a tradition of toasting sunset with a greyhound every night when I'm in Maui."

"Traditions are good," Bri said before turning to look at our two week home. "It looks small."

I had to agree. The entire west wall was polarized glass with a door so we couldn't see inside. I pulled the key out of my pocket and handed it to her, "It's supposed to be two bedrooms. Maybe it goes deeper than it looks. Let's find out."

She turned the lock and we stepped into large room. To the right was a small kitchen, with two barstools in front of the counter. To the left of the kitchen was an open doorway to what looked like a utility room. In front of us, facing the window wall was a couch. Beyond that was a queen-sized bed, also facing the ocean view, on a mirror wall. To the right of the bed, on the south wall, was another door. The left hand wall, the one without windows behind which our car was parked, boasted a low book shelf with a combo radio/CD player on top, a dresser, and a shelf for suitcases with rod below that for hanging slacks and such.

I headed for the kitchen door and pointed at the other one, "Maybe through there?" The utility room had shelves with towels and blankets and such along with a stacking washer/dryer combo. There was another door that obviously led outside. "Nothing here," I called.

"This isn't a bedroom either," Bri answered, "unless you want to sleep in the tub."

"Well this doesn't make any sense," I said in the living area. "No T.V. and no phone. Let's get the bags in and I'll dig out my cell. See if I have a signal."

As luck would have it, I indeed had a signal, albeit weak. I checked the time, added three hours and dialed Hank's home number. He answered on the second ring.

"Hey Ken, how's the beach? You caught me just as I was sitting down for dinner."

Bri listened to my side of the conversation while she put away groceries. "The beach is great, Hank. We just got here and we're looking around. Nice place. Thing is, I'm here with the daughter of a friend of mine who's going through rough patch and needed some down time to recharge, you know?"

"I'm with you so far, what's the problem?"

"Well, I invited her because you told me this was a two bedroom, but we can only seem to find one bed."

Hank chuckled, "It is a two bedroom; they're just not attached. The guy I bought it from had this big shed out back. He used it store garden tools but, shit, I don't go to Hawaii to do yard work. I sold the tools and converted it to a guest room."

"Out back," I said as much to Bri as to Hank. She and I went through the utility room and out the back door where we both stopped short. "Yeah, Hank, when was the last time you were over here?"

"About six months ago, why?"

"You remember that really big tree to the west of the shed?"

His voice became wary, "Yeah?"

"It got tired and decided to take a nappy," I said, deciding that was the best way to describe the destruction in front of us. A storm must have blown it over, the trunk crushing the roof and cutting the shed neatly in two, blowing out the windows in the process. I stepped up to look through an empty window and saw a branch of the tree spearing what used to be the bed.

My cute description was lost on Hank though and he said "What?!" loud enough to make Bri wince standing next to me. In the background I could hear Hank's wife asking him what was wrong.

He must have waved her off though because he didn't explain anything to her but asked me, "How bad?"

"What's worse than totaled?" Something crunched under my foot. "We're not going to want to walk around back here barefoot."

"Ah, geez. Sorry, man. Do me a favor; take a picture with your phone and send it to me."

"Will do. What do we do in the meantime?"

"You don't want to share a bed with her? You disappoint me Ken. Luckily, the couch is a futon. It's not real comfortable but it'll have to do. I'll be waiting for the picture."

"I don't know if my signal's strong enough so you might have to wait until we go into town, but it'll get there eventually."

He said, "Okay, talk to you later man," and he hung up. I heard a "Shit!" before I lost the connection though.

I looked at Bri, "I think I ruined his dinner."

She snorted and I followed her back inside after taking the pictures and trying to send them. I was right; not enough signal.

"He said the couch will fold down into a bed."

She sat down on it and said, "Kinda firm to try and sleep on for two weeks." She looked back at the bed and shook her head. There was a wistful tone to her voice when she said, "Unbelievable. I'm sleeping with a fifty year old man. Shit." Then she stood up and went to her suitcase, threw it open, pulled out a bikini and stomped into the bathroom, "I'm goin' swimming!"

By the time she emerged I had changed into my swim trunks as well. She gave me a once over and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged and said, "Sounded like a good idea."

I pointedly didn't look at her magnificent body when she stood right in front of me with a finger aimed at the middle of my chest, "You just make sure that when we're sleeping, you keep your hands and the rest of your body parts to yourself." Her eyes never left mine but that last was definitely directed at my crotch, which had decided to look at her magnificent body. "And keep your eyes off my ass," she threw over her shoulder on her way out the door. What could I say, it was a nice ass.

"Hey, wait up," I called after her. She stopped at the water's edge and waited.

"First," I began, ticking points off on my fingers as I went, "I had no way of knowing that the second bedroom in this place had become a mini New Orleans. Second, I happen to like a firmer mattress, so the futon will be fine for me. Third, even if we do sleep in the same bed, I've already told you that you're safe. You're Alice's daughter for God's sake! I'm not going to try anything. Fourth; that said, we've already covered the fact that I'm old, not dead. I'm gonna look, ‘cause whether you want to admit it or not, not only do you have a fabulous rack, you also happen to have a terrific ass an' I happen to like looking at young women. Old guys like to look at younger women. There's nothin' wrong with it and it doesn't mean we're on the make; it's just the way it is. Get used to it and for Christ's sake get over yourself." Then I walked past her without looking back and dove into the water.

I swam out from the shore under the surface for as long as I could hold my breath. I was actually a little pissed at her. Ever since we'd landed this afternoon, all she had talked about was how off limits she was, as if I hadn't already made that abundantly clear. Though I wasn't wearing a face mask, I could still make out a myriad of tropical fish around me. Their bright colors calmed me and I realized that her attacks were really just a reflection of the pain her ex had caused her, which redirected my anger at him. Finally, my lungs were burning to the point that if I didn't surface, I was going to have to grow gills to live. I broke the surface with an explosion of breath, gulping fresh air. I turned and was surprised to find Bri right behind me. She must have kept pace with me as I breast stroked under water. She swam up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her body against mine and forcing me to kick harder to keep us from sinking.

"I'm sorry Uncle Ken," she said into my ear, "you're right. I've been a bitch to you and I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad place right now; please forgive me."

"I know, Bri," I said, uncomfortably aware of what her body plastered to me was doing to mine. "You have nothing to apologize for." I looked over her shoulder; we were over a hundred yards off the beach, "We should probably head back."

But she didn't let go. A small smile crossed her lips as she said, "Is that an involuntary response I feel? It's okay. I'm flattered actually. Feel free to look all you like. I know that that's as far as it'll go."

She pushed away from me and started toward the beach with powerful strokes that I knew I'd never be able to match. I stayed there treading water watching as she quickly covered the distance and walked up onto the beach with her back arched, clearly giving me an eyeful of her ass. Then she turned and reached up behind her head to wring out her hair, raising her breasts to wonderful effect. Such superb eye candy. This is going to be a long, fucking, vacation, I mused as I too started stroking for shore.

"Like what you saw," she asked as I walked up onto the beach.

"Yes I did," I said as I approached her. And as I passed, "You are a shameless tease."

She laughed and followed me into the beach house. Inside, I went into the kitchen, "The sun's getting ready to set. I'm going to make us some drinks."

She looked out the window at the horizon, "Do I have time to take a quick shower? I'd like to get the saltwater off my skin."

I reached into the utility room and grabbed a towel, throwing it to her, "Make it quick; once the sun starts to go down in these latitudes, it goes in a hurry."

"Five minutes," she said and ducked into the bathroom.

Good to her word, the water stopped running after five minutes and at six minutes she stepped out of the bathroom. She was wearing only the towel. I was just finishing the drinks. I almost dropped the jug of grapefruit juice as she crossed to the other side of the bed with a quick glance out the front window to see where the sun was. Because of her bust size, the bottom of the towel didn't provide the coverage that I think she thought it did. The lower portion of her cheeks was clearly visible. Her suitcase was on the floor - we still hadn't unpacked since our arrival - and I kept watching her as she crouched down and rummaged through it. The top of the case opened toward me and so she was facing my direction, the mirrored wall reflecting the fading light from the front windows. That's important to understand. She was completely illuminated when she stood, articles of clothing in hand.

"Forgot clothing," she said sheepishly and headed back into the bathroom.

I nodded stupidly with what I hoped was a pleasant smile on face and watched her go. When she had squatted, the wet towel had folded up against her belly and stayed there when she had stood back up, giving a brief, but unmistakable view of her shaved pussy before it fell back into place. I doubt she had even felt it happen. Even more amazing, backlighting showed that her cunt lips were just as unmistakably swollen. Had she been pleasuring herself in the shower or was it just the hot water or, I looked out the window to the water, had our moment out there affected her as it had me?

For a moment, I remembered our little game; I even took a step toward the bathroom. But then I remembered our more recent spat, the reconciliation afterward and I stopped. By rights, I'd seen it naked so I had the right to play with it. But to press the point would only confirm every denigrating thought she'd had about me and men my age. I was stronger than that.

Then the door opened and Bri stepped out fully clothed in shorts and a tee shirt saying, "See, told you I'd make it. Where's that drink? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, handing her the drink. Thankfully, the moment was broken, "Here you go. Let's go watch the sun go down. You ever see the green flash?"

"I don't think so, tell me about it."

We watched the sunset, side by side, sipping our drinks, timing them so that we took our last sips just as Sol finally dropped below the horizon. No green flash. Conditions have to be just right and they weren't that night.

"It's been a long day," I said turning back to the house, "I'm up for a light dinner, a nightcap and then a firm futon; you?"

"Sounds good," Bri agreed, but she stopped and I could see her finger at her chin in the dwindling light.

"What?"

"Do you remember a light switch," she asked.

As I looked at the dark hole in front of me, I had to admit it was a good question.

We found the switch and had chicken with a tropical fruit salad for dinner. Afterward we had a second drink and talked about plans for the next few days which mostly boiled down to lying in the sun with a couple of trips to town thrown in so we could say we did the tourist thing when we got home. Then it was time for bed.

I got my sleep wear and headed for the bathroom. Used the head, brushed my teeth and pulled on my pajama bottoms, which are all I ever wear to bed. When I emerged, Bri had the futon open and was just finishing tucking in a blanket for me. She was bent at the waist in profile to me wearing only a pair of panties and a camisole which barely restrained her breasts. Her hair hanging down concealed her face, which was good for me since the sight caused my cock to stir. Damn, this girl was going to kill me!

"Um, did I take long enough in the bathroom?"

"Yes," she said, "I'm ready for bed." Then she looked up and, despite my best efforts, something must have been written on my face, "Oh, sorry, I thought I'd have my own bedroom and this is how I sleep. Is it okay? I have a pair of shorts, but they wouldn't be very comfortable."

"By all means, be comfortable," I said and crawled onto a mattress that was best described as slightly softer than the floor, but dressed as she was, I just didn't trust myself to share a bed with her.

She brushed her teeth and climbed into her own bed before turning off the last light in the room.

"Good night, Bri."

"Good night, Uncle Ken."

"Good night, John Boy."

"What?"

"Never mind."

And that was how our first day on Maui ended, with a bad Waltons joke. That night I dreamt of coming out of the bathroom and finding her making my bed in the nude, bent at the waist, her tits swaying unfettered. I was naked too and ready to go, so I walked around behind her, aimed my cock at her dripping pussy and stepped forward. And then I woke up, my cock so hard it was painful. I stroked it a couple of times under the blanket and drifted back off to sleep.

The next few days went as we planned. We'd arrived on Friday and on both Saturday and Sunday mornings snorkel boats arrived in the bay, disgorging tourists into the water to get up close and personal with some pretty fishes. I passed the time on a chaise with binoculars, looking for attractive women and mostly finding them. When the boats were gone, Bri and I would grab the snorkel gear from the house and chase the fish ourselves. On Monday there were no boats—I think we were too far up the coast for the boats to make the trip during the week - and we were starting to get antsy. Tuesday we'd had enough and after breakfast we decided to go into town and do some shopping.

I took a shower and got dressed first. When I came out Bri went in, carrying a wad of clothes with her, and I stepped over to the kitchen. I looked at my watch as I heard the water start up; nine forty-five. What the hell, I thought, it's after noon back home and I'm on vacation, grabbed a beer out of the fridge and headed out to the patio.

I sat on a chaise and listened to the water lap the beach as I sipped my beer. I watched a gecko run along the top of the fence. I think I saw a large fish jump way out in the channel between me and Molokai. I saw a cigarette boat go racing by, headed in the direction of Lahina. I counted how many cobblestones there were between the fence on the north side of the patio and the fence on the south side: seventy-five. I watched mist coalesce into a cloud and then get blown away by the trade winds. Still no Bri; what the hell?

I'd finished my beer a few minutes before and decided that if she was going to take forever to get ready, I was going to need another so I went back inside. The water wasn't running any longer but she wasn't in the room and the door to the bathroom was still closed. I sighed and had just cracked my second brew when I heard, "Shit!" I turned in time to see the bathroom door swing open and Bri come striding out crossing over to the dresser like a woman on a mission. She was wearing nothing but panties. I've mentioned that Bri's breasts were large, and I'd seen them in a bikini top, but naked they were truly stunning. Mounted high her chest, they had the tiniest bit of droop because of their weight, giving them a sultry look. Unlike many red-heads whose nipples were only slightly darker than the surrounding tissue, owing to the fairness of their skin, Bri's were dark pink and clearly defined. She never even looked toward me as she rummaged through a drawer. After a moment, I found my voice.

"You really should learn to remember clothing before you take a shower -"

Her left arm shot up, the palm cupping one nipple, the forearm hiding the other and spun to face me in disbelief.

"—or at least check out the room before you walk into it."

Her other hand, holding the bra she'd evidently forgotten, pointed to the window wall, "You were outside!"

"For forty-five minutes." I held up my bottle, using it to point at the arm protecting her modesty, "I ran out of beer. That's too little, too late, by the way. What's taking so long?"

"We're going out in public," she said. "I showered, had to shave," she colored slightly when she said that and I knew her mound was freshly smooth, "put on some makeup - I don't know; just trying to be presentable I guess."

I came around the counter and sat on a bar stool, "Well, you can stop working at it so hard. Bri, you'd be ‘presentable' in axle grease." She hung her head and headed back to the bathroom. I stopped her, "Where do you think you're going missy?"

Genuinely confused, she used the bra to point at the door, "To finish dressing."

"I've seen them naked," I said.

Memory dawned on her, "Oh, come on!"

"'If I see them naked, I get to play with them,' I said. Your response was, I believe, ‘You're on.'" I spread my hands, "Come on, throw the old dog a bone and let me have a good look at them at least."

Clearly not happy, she threw her bra onto the bed and dropped the arm, fixing my eyes with hers, daring me to break away. "How's that you letch?"

She stood there with one hand on her hip, doing her best to hide her self-consciousness, in all her beautiful, sexy glory. Despite her words, there was no rancor behind them so I squinted, "I don't know, my eyes aren't what they used to be. I can't quite make them out. Maybe if you came closer."

Keeping her hand on the hip, she slowly walked over to me. "Dirty old man eyes," she said, again without malice; she knew she was caught. Now standing in front of me, she used her hands to lift them, "Is that better? Can you see them now? I don't know why you're so fixated on my ‘fabulous rack'."

"Are you kidding? They're half my age and my God, they're perfect." She was looking over my shoulder, out the window, just waiting for my examination to be done as if she were suffering some terrible ordeal. I decided I wanted her full attention and touched the ice-cold beer bottle to her left nipple, causing it to immediately pucker, the nub standing up like a large pencil eraser. She pulled air through clenched teeth with a hiss and then exhaled with a gasp when my warm mouth covered the cold flesh. She tried to back away, but my left hand was at the small of her back, holding her in place while my tongue danced around her nipple. Around her yielding flesh I managed, "What did you think ‘play with' meant?"

She surrendered, her head tilted back and her eyes closed, one hand gently pulling at my neck. What I was doing must have felt at least a little good and there was a quiet, pleasant quality to her voice when she replied, "I hadn't thought about it, ‘'cause you ain't gonna see nothin''. I guess I thought maybe a quick grope; not, mmm, this." That "mmm" came when I switched to her other tit, running my tongue all over it before pulling its nipple into my mouth and sucking onto the rapidly hardening nub. "And how long do you get to ‘play' with my tits?"

"Until you cum or until I'm satisfied," I said, switching back to the left nipple and using my left hand to massage her right breast, "whichever comes first."

With a husky chuckle, "Well then, we're gonna be here all day ‘cause I never cum from just having my - oh hey! Slow down there Magellan; that isn't naked so no play."

Been wondering what my right hand had been doing? It was slowly moving up the inside of her right thigh until the back of my thumb brushed panty covered crotch and she grabbed my wrist. I interrupted my worship of her tits to look in her eyes without letting her move my hand, "That first night. The towel didn't provide as much coverage as you thought it did. You're sporting hardwoods."

She could have said, "Well, you just should have said something then. Play at the time of exposure. You lost your chance," and that would have been the end of it. Instead, she closed her eyes, "I really have to remember all my clothes." Then she whispered, "Damn," and released my wrist.

I returned to caressing her breasts, licking the undersides and blowing on them to give her different sensations, then gently nibbling on the nipples; anything to induce more of the little mmms, aaahs and ohhhs I'd been getting. I had been intending to just massage her pussy through the nylon of her panties but given her tacit approval, I decided to be bolder. I found the waistband and, with my palm against her belly, started south. Her body shivered as my finger tips lightly grazed the smooth skin of her mound and shuddered when I trapped her clit between two fingers. I was rewarded by a long low moan. Bri sagged against me and pulled my head tighter to her chest plus, and I'm not sure if she was aware of it or not, she parted her legs slightly, giving me better access. I moved her clit in small circles, slid my finger back and forth along her slit and finally slipped my middle finger inside her surprisingly moist channel, searching for that little patch of nerve endings that earned me a gasp of pleasure when I found it.

Bri began to respond to the rhythm I maintained, her hips starting to rock to my beat, her moans of pleasure coming more frequently. I was sure that she was approaching the edge of an orgasmic cliff and I slipped in another digit. Getting closer and closer - and then suddenly she pushed away from me, hands outstretched as if to ward me off. "No," she said, "I - I can't. I just - " and then she rushed out the door to the patio.

I sat there in a daze for a moment, trying to focus on the fingers that had just seconds before been buried in Bri's cunt. It seemed that I'd been in a constant state of arousal ever since we'd landed on the island and now my need was urgent. I stood and zombie walked to the bathroom where I knelt in front of the toilet and pulled my aching shaft out of my pants. I looked at my cock's angry, purple head and had to sympathize.

"I'm sure you'd rather be someplace a lot warmer and wetter," I said to it kindly, "but this will have to do." I stroked myself until I had drained my balls into the bowl. It didn't take long.

Remembering the look in Bri's eyes, I stuck a wad of toilet paper in my pocket after I put myself back together. I grabbed my beer, opened another for Bri, our sunglasses and followed her outside.

I found her seated on a chaise hugging her knees and staring at the ocean. I pulled the other chaise close and sat down, wordlessly holding her beer and shades out to her. She looked at me and nodded her thanks, taking them, putting on the sunglasses and downing half the bottle in one pull.

I dug the toilet paper out of my pocket and held that out to her so that she could dry her tears. "I'm sorry," I said.

She looked at me, "What are you sorry about?"

"For making you cry. Believe it or not, what happened in there is not the reason I invited you here."

"I'm crying because I'm angry."

"You have every right to be," I said, sipping my own beer. "I guess you're right about me; just some old guy trying to bag a twenty-six year old cocktail waitress. The game was just flirtatious banter. It was never meant -"

"Not at you," she interrupted, placing a hand on her own chest, "at me. I knew the game was just a joke. I knew I could just wave it off, say, ‘Whatever,' and keep walking. You'd have let me, right?"

"Of course," I said; I would have.

"But I was curious. I wanted to know how far you'd go." She thought for a moment, "Maybe I wouldn't have if I'd known about the towel."

"I expected you to play a loophole," I said. "You know, something like, ‘Well it's not naked now, so hands off!'"

She looked at me over the rims of her shades, "Would that have worked?"

"Well sure. Bri, you have to know that you are in control of everything that happens here. I'll only do what you let me, within reason. I'm serious about touching my cock. Don't do it unless you mean it."

"I'll keep that in mind if there's ever a next time," she said. Then a little uncomfortably, "I sort of left you hanging in there and I could see you were having an ‘involuntary response'. Did you -"

"Yeah, I took care of it."

She nodded somberly, and then laughed. "I'm so sorry about that. That was quite the tent you had pitched in your trousers in there. Though I must say, your body is nice and firm and I was impressed with that underwater swim that first day; I was starting to get worried that you weren't going to come up."

"I've never had any complaints," I said lightly. "But I am curious, why'd you run? I thought you were pretty close."

She slapped my arm playfully, "I didn't run, I hurried." It was good to see a spark of the old Bri's humor. It was short lived, though, and she turned serious again, "I was close. I haven't, you know, cum since just after I found out about the idiot and his bimbo. The divorce was just final a couple of days before we came here so, up ‘til then, I was still married and I sure as hell wasn't going to cheat with another man. And I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of doing myself so, I haven't - I just haven't." She took another pull off her beer. "When you called me on the game, I decided to see what you'd do. Frankly, Uncle Ken, I didn't expect much. I thought maybe you'd mash my tits too hard, maybe slobber on them, be clumsy in your advances, you know, long on mauling, short on finesse; in short, I was prepared to be disgusted."

"Well, thanks for writing me off as a stereotype."

"Stereotypes become stereotypes for a reason," she said defiantly. Then she took my hand, studying it, "But then you surprised me with the beer bottle followed by your mouth. That was different. You were so gentle; not at all what I expected. And what you were doing felt sooo good. I got sort of lost, you know? Then it started going where I didn't think it belonged. After you called me on the towel, I still thought you'd still be just another old fart, sticking his fingers in me without any clue about what he was doing. I was wrong about that too."

"You did seem to be enjoying yourself. So, what happened?"

"You played me like a Stradivarius. Everything you did felt wonderful. I was right on the edge, I wanted to cum and you were making me, and then - and then I got scared."

I was taken aback, "Scared of what?"

But she wouldn't answer. She just dabbed some fresh tears, shook her head and muttered, "So stupid."

We sat for a time without talking, just watching the waves break on the beach and boats speed by out in the channel. Bri relaxed, placing one foot on the ground on each side of the chaise and leaning back with the almost empty beer bottle on her belly, her breasts falling off to the sides of her chest. If I had died right then and at the pearly gates Saint Peter asked me what the sexiest thing I'd seen while alive was, I'd have had to describe Bri sitting in that chaise with her flaming red hair, the dark glasses, perfect breasts and spread legs with the little damp spot in the crotch of her panties demonstrating my success in turning her on. She pointedly stared forward, not acknowledging my surreptitious glances that I knew she was aware of.

"So, now that you've seen the girls naked," she said, using her upper arms to squeeze them together, "are they everything you imagined?"

"Okay, I told you that I've wanted to see them since you were eighteen," I began, choosing my words carefully, "which is true. I haven't obsessed on them, but when I've been around you, I have theorized to myself what they would look like. I can honestly say that I don't have the words to describe the reality of what I've seen, felt and tasted. I can only thank God for the idiocy of that moron you used to be married to for the opportunity."

She smiled wanly, "Thank you." Then she looked at me directly, "You know, Uncle Ken, given the fact that you've played with my tits and my pussy, it would only be polite that you kiss me."

It occurred to me that she was right; I couldn't remember the last time that I'd gotten to do what I had without something as simple as a kiss. But there was a problem. I slipped off my chaise and knelt on one knee, facing her. As I leaned in to kiss her, I stopped. "Given that I have played with your tits and your pussy, Bri, it would probably be best that you drop the ‘Uncle' part of my name." And then I kissed her.

I meant the kiss to just be a tender acknowledgement of what had happened between us, but she snaked an arm around my neck, passionately pulling me into the kiss. My lips parted in response and her tongue darted into my mouth. My right hand cupped her left breast, squeezing gently. She arched her back, filling my hand with her own pressure. I decided to see if she wanted to finish what we'd started inside so, while my tongue battled hers, I let my hand slide down her belly. I got to the waistband of her panties before her hand stopped mine. Not insistently, as if to say, "No! Oh my God! Don't touch me again!" More of a quieter, "Please, stop" telling me that the moment had passed and that she didn't want to go any further. There had been a trust established that I didn't want to jeopardize. Sure, I could have pressed on, and she might have let me. But she seemed so fragile and vulnerable just then, despite the passion of her kiss, I didn't want her to feel threatened. I patted her tummy twice and broke the kiss. "Why don't you go fix your mascara and we'll go into town."

She downed the last of her beer and got up. "Okay, Unc - Ken. Thanks for understanding."

"No problem," I said to her back as I watched her walk confidently back into the house.

Things changed after that. I don't know if really attractive women are aware of just how much men look at them. Could be that they become immune to it, ignore it and get tired of dealing with it. From the time that we first become interested in girls, men start practicing the "covert stare". The way it works is this: say you're in a book store and down the aisle you're in is a woman whose shape triggers that part of your mind that wonders, "Would you like to see that naked?" Pretending to be interested in whatever book happens to be in front of you, you use your peripheral vision to monitor her movements. If she turns away, that's an opportunity for a lengthy perusal - oh yeah nice shape, can just see the outer edge of a tit so she's probably built, mm hmm, nice ass too and - oh crap, she's turning back; oh Tom Sawyer, I haven't read that in years. If she turns toward you, you have the opportunity to face her directly, ostensibly to see if you're going to have to move out of her way to let her pass, but really just to check out her rack and see if she really is built. Oh yeah, and to see if she has a nice face. It gets so it's like ESP. The slightest movement of head or eye is enough for us to break off, unless we want to get caught. Bri said she caught me looking at the airport; I guaran-damn-tee she didn't catch me every time I looked. Maybe five percent. Maybe.

Point is, guys are always on the prowl, so we practice a lot; women, not so much. In addition to our covert stare, because we're always on the prowl, we have the ability to know when we're being stared at. Wouldn't want to miss a potential score by being unaware, you know.

So, while we were in town, I'd feel something on the back of my neck and catch Bri turning away. When I sent the pictures of the ruined guest house to Hank I felt something and turned to find Bri using her phone to take a picture of something over my shoulder - according to her. Back at the beach, I'd be sunning my back, face down on the chaise and look up to catch Bri's shadow turning away from the window. In short, she was checking me out like I had been her.

She became more carefree about exposing her body. Taking showers with the bathroom door open. Tanning her back with her bikini top undone to avoid lines and then propping herself up on her elbows to answer a question I'd asked. Coming out of the bathroom after a shower in only a towel like that first night, unconcerned about coverage. I never called her on the game again, but knew I could if I wanted to. I just didn't want to break that trust.

Perhaps the best change was her attitude. The frown lines and stress furrowed brow that had marked her face when we had arrived on the island had disappeared. She seemed happy to have a man openly stare at her, reveling in her sheer beauty, just for the sake of it, even if that man was old enough to be her father.

Then came Friday night.

To celebrate the halfway point of our stay on the island, we decided to have dinner at one of the resorts in Ka'anapali that I knew also had a nightclub with a live band. I dressed in shorts and sandals with a loud Hawaiian print shirt that I wouldn't be caught dead in back home that I had bought on a whim Tuesday when we went into town. What the hell, it was Hawaii.

Bri wore a sundress that I'd helped her pick out on that same trip. A more subdued Hawaiian print in blue, the top portion was a halter that left her back bare to just below her shoulder blades and accentuated her tits in all the right ways; like two coconuts in their own hammocks. The skirt just reached her knees.

Dinner was wonderful and I couldn't believe my luck to be sitting across the radiant Bri that I had known for almost all of her life. The conversation was simple small talk that wouldn't interest anybody but us, just two old friends catching up with each other's lives.

After dinner we strolled over to the nightclub for a drink before we headed back to the beach. One drink became two and soon we were out on the dance floor, dancing poorly and having a great time; okay, I danced poorly. We danced a couple of numbers, and then returned to our table where a third drink waited for us. It matched Bri's, so she picked it up, looking around. At the bar, a well dressed guy without a fleck of grey in his hair, the bastard, raised his own drink in a toast, waiting for Bri's response. She raised the new drink, watching him, and took a sip.

"Looks like I've lost my dance partner," I said as he broke away from the bar and headed over to our table.

"Do you know how long it's been since a strange man bought a drink for me, Uncle Ken?" She took another sip as the interloper drew closer. "It won't hurt to be nice. Besides, he's pretty."

Well, that made me feel better. I've never been accused of being a "pretty boy".

"Thanks for the drink," Bri said brightly as Pretty Boy arrived at our table.

"The first drink that I buy for a stranger on any given evening," he said with what sounded like a light English accent, maybe Australian, "always goes to the most beautiful woman in the room."

"I'm flattered," Bri said, "even if I have to wonder how many first drinks there are in an evening. What is the usual outcome of the ‘first drink'?"

Unabashed, Pretty Boy pressed on, "Frequently, the lady in question will accompany me back to my room where I shall worship at the altar of her body, driving her to such heights of ecstasy that sanity becomes only a distant memory."

Evidently, they had both forgotten my presence because, not only had Pretty Boy said this drivel - okay, I'm not a chick, but it sounded like drivel to me - in front of me, but Bri was leaning forward, elbow on the table and resting her chin against the heel of her hand as if she were actually fascinated by his witty repartee.

"Okay, that's frequently," Bri replied, "how about usually?"

Pretty Boy held out his hand, "I get a dance to plead my case."

Bri placed her hand in his and stood up. She turned to me before she let him lead her to the floor, "I won't be long Uncle Ken."

I watched them head out to the floor, feeling pity for Pretty Boy, even as his hand "casually" rested at the small of Bri's back just above the swell of her ass. Poor guy thought he was involved in good natured preliminary sparring. The sap had no idea that he had just met the same untrusting barracuda that I had landed on the island with. If that hand went any lower, she'd bite it off. She sure as hell wasn't going back to his room with him even if she did lead him on.

I watched them dance while I finished my drink. I started looking around the room for someone to dance with myself. The problem with Hawaii is, women don't generally go there alone and local women hang out at local hang outs, hooking up with local guys, not tourists. I had no luck.

But, to my surprise, it appeared that Pretty Boy was. They had danced through a couple of quick songs and now the music slowed down. She allowed him to pull her against his body, both of his hands on her hips, hers around his neck. He was talking into her ear and she was smiling; if I wasn't so sure about her, I'd be jealous. Then the song ended and Bri backed away but holding his hands, shaking her head.

She had a small smile on her face as she walked back to our table. "It's time to go," she said quietly.

I downed the last of my drink and stood up, "You looked like you were having fun. You're a merciless tease."

"He's married," she said as we left the club, holding up her bare ring finger. "No tan line, but a fresh indentation where he wears a ring. He got more than he deserved."

Bastard was lucky she didn't just remove his balls and feed them to him right there on the dance floor.

She was quiet on the ride home, like she was pondering a decision. I figured she was upset that Pretty Boy had been married, trying to get her to become "the other woman", if only for one night, and let her stew. In the glow of oncoming headlights, I could see her twisting a lock of hair around a finger with a secretive little smile on her full lips. Maybe she was less pissed at Pretty Boy than I thought.

I kept stealing little covert glances at her, but saying nothing, letting her work through whatever it was that she had on her mind. By the time we pulled up to the beach house, it appeared that she had achieved some sort of resolution in her mind. I thought that perhaps she had decided the best way to pay back Pretty Boy. Having been the woman cheated on, it made sense that she'd feel some bond with the philanderer's spouse.

I followed her into the house, appreciating her languid walk. She turned on a lamp and walked over to the kitchen counter. "I still feel like dancing," she said. "Why don't you fix us a couple of nightcaps and I'll find some music on the radio."

I raised my eyebrows but went into the kitchen to make the drinks. I studied her as she crossed to the bookshelf and turned on the radio, spinning the dial from one station to another until she found swing music. The song had a smoky, sultry feel to it; lots of sax, a throbbing bass fiddle, and drums played with those brushes instead of sticks. Her hips found the rhythm and started moving back and forth.

I walked over to her with our drinks, stopping just behind her, putting me in front of the futon. "If you want me to dance with you," I said, "you can't expect my hips to make those kinds of movements."

She turned and took her drink. Her eyes never left mine as she took a sip and pushed me down into the cushions. "I don't want to dance with you, Uncle Ken," she said with a smile suggesting mischief, "I want to dance for you."

She started by reaching behind her head to let her hair down, lifting her tits at the same time. Okay, I thought, I can watch this for a while. With her hair cascading across her shoulders, her hips moving in tight little circles, her body turning a little with each revolution, until she was facing away from me. At that point, she kept her hips moving but stopped turning her body and I became aware that this was going to be more than a simple dance when one of her hands snaked up to the zipper of her dress and slowly pulled it down, revealing smooth tanned skin and the bumps of her spine. Because the dress was one piece and designed to be stepped into, rather than just pulled over her head, the zipper had to go low enough to accommodate her hips. My cock twitched when the bottom of the zipper run revealed the baby blue top of Bri's - thong. The zipper lowered, she resumed the turning of her body until she was once again facing me now with one hand at her chest and the other behind her neck, obviously undoing the clasp there because the straps of the halter fell across the hand protecting her tits. Believing that I knew where this was going my cock gave another twitch, rapidly becoming uncomfortable, and I felt that I should clarify the situation.

"I love where I think this is going," I said, "but I have to ask - are you drunk?"

Bri smiled without stopping her hips and thought for a moment before saying, "Happily buzzed, but not drunk. I'm just happy enough to do this and have fun doing it."

She kept her eyes locked on mine as she bent at the waist, thrusting her ass backward, and letting the top of the halter go. The fabric fell away and her unfettered breasts swung free. Okay, now my cock was becoming a presence that I was pretty sure couldn't be concealed, though I didn't want to draw attention to it by risking a glance. Besides, to do so I'd have to tear my attention away to the vision in front of me.

Bri had stopped all movement, posing with her left hip thrust out, the top of the dress hanging from her hips, her hands bunching her hair up behind her head, again lifting her breasts, her face turned in profile with her eyes closed, giving me ample opportunity to study the effects that the striptease was having on her. Her skin glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration, her tits rose and fell in response to her breathing and the nubs of her nipples stood out, revealing her excitement. Clearly, what she was doing was turning her on and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and help her along.

But then she broke the moment, again slowly gyrating her hips, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her dress and pushing it down over her womanly flare. In moments, the dress was pooled around her feet and she stepped out of it wearing only her high heeled sandals and her thong. Which, given the nature of the thong - essentially a patch of material covering her cunt held in place by other strips of material little bigger than pieces of string - meant that she might as well have been naked. Confirmation of my guess that Bri was getting more than just a little turned on was provided by a dark spot at the junction of her legs.

My cock was now at full attention and I began to wonder exactly where this was going. I mean, if the object was just to give me a cheap thrill, why would she be getting so excited. I hadn't asked her what she had been thinking about in the car and I had no idea what decision she had ultimately come to. While Pretty Boy had been married, there had been other men available in that club. I had to know what was going on here so I asked her exactly that.

In response, Bri slowly walked over to me, placing one foot on either side of my legs, and offered a nipple for me to suck. Never being one to disappoint, I took the nub into my mouth, running my tongue around it and sucking gently. While I loved first one, then the other breast, Bri explained herself, "God, you are way too good at that, mmm. So, since Tuesday, ahhh, a need has been building in me. Ohhh, I've been trying to ignore it, but tonight it crystallized and I'm hoping you'll help me out with it, Uncle Ken." She stood and removed her thong and then, leaving her left foot on the ground, put the right one on the back of the futon behind my left shoulder, spreading herself and giving me my first unobstructed view of her truly naked - and highly excited - cunt mere inches from my face. When I looked up, it was to see her face looking down at me, framed between the twin mounds of her tits, the nipples protruding like tiny horns.

"You said you would, Uncle Ken, and I'd still be safe." She gently pinched each of her nipples and gave them each a little twist, "Please, Uncle Ken, make me cum. I need to cum." The pleading in her voice tore at my heart strings and I understood why she had chosen me for this task. If she had gone with Pretty Boy, or another candidate, they would have wanted to follow up her climax by giving her a good fucking, which I had already told her that I wouldn't do. Barring the crossing of some clearly articulated lines.

I reached up and ran a finger along the shimmering slit of her pussy and her eyes closed in anticipation. I didn't go any further though until I said, "I can do that for you Bri." But then I admonished her, "But you don't get right to the edge and then run away again. If I do this for you, you cum for me and you cum on my face."

Bri opened her eyes and the desire written there told me all I needed to know even before she spoke with lust in her voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

In response, I slipped my finger inside her, forcing a little moan to escape her lips and her eyes to close again. I slipped it in and out a few times, fascinated at how the swollen lips of her cunt clung to my finger as if not wanting it to leave her body. I put a second finger in and began searching for her g-spot as I started to kiss the insides of her thighs close to her pussy without actually touching it. Bri was all about little noises at this point - little ooos, little ahhs, little mmms, and a moan here and there. The walls of her opening were getting slick and her hips began to move in time with my hand, and I hadn't even really begun yet.

It was time to step up the game a bit. I dragged my tongue across her mound, just above her clit. On the way back, I made sure that the tip tweaked her clit and was rewarded by her entire body jerking and Bri actually crying out. If she liked that, I figured, then what I was going to do next should drive her straight over the edge. Without slowing my hand at all, I ran my tongue along each lip and then closed my lips around her clitoris, giving it a powerful suck. She cried out and her supporting leg nearly buckled. I pulled my fingers out of her cunt and used both of my hands to cradle her ass cheeks through her legs to give her support. With my hand out of my way, I stiffened my tongue and pushed it into her cunt, savoring the sweet-salty taste of her. Her hands were at the back of my head, pulling me deeper into the center of her passion. Her body was in a steady state of vibration and the room was filled with nearly constant cries of joy from Bri as I tongue fucked her for a few strokes and then followed those up with attention to her engorged clit. Her hips started to buck as she closed in on the moment of release. She just needed a little extra something to push her over the edge, and then I remembered my juice soaked fingers. Being careful to maintain surprise, I inched the middle digit of my finger-fuck hand to the opening of her ass and, at what I believed to be the most strategic moment, pushed it in to the first knuckle.

"Ahhh," Bri screamed, her eyes popping open in surprise, her hips bucking forward to escape the sudden invader, pressing her clit onto my active mouth and then, because of the heightened sensitivity, jerking back onto my finger, pushing it in deeper. Her body soon learned that evading the double assault was impossible and transmitted the sensory overload directly into her already swamped cortex. The result was immediate and graphic as her body stiffened and then convulsed, her entire weight settling onto my hands as the orgasm coursed through every nerve in her frame. Her cries of pleasure came rapid fire as her head fell back, her hair hanging straight toward the ground, her back arched, tits pointing toward the ceiling, her hands unconsciously gripping at my shirt as balance suddenly becoming an issue. I say "unconsciously" because, from the sounds coming from her lips, rational thought had taken a back seat to the signals emanating from her pulsating, gushing pussy. Oh yeah, she came all over my face and I drank as close to every drop as I could.

I kept my lips glued to her cunt, riding out the orgasm until she was spent and unable to stand any longer. She fell against me and slowly slid down my chest leaving a juice trail on my shirt that I wondered if I would ever wash out. She straddled me, her tits mashed against my chest, and she kissed me passionately, her tongue exploring my mouth and her lips sucking my tongue when I explored hers. Finally, she broke the kiss and lay herself against me, her mouth next to my ear, "Mmmm, you taste like me. Thank you for that. You were right, you rocked my world."

Much as I liked the praise, I had more pressing concerns just then, "You're sitting on my cock."

Her body stiffened and she pulled back, concern plastered all over her face. Then she relaxed and fell back against me, playing the loophole, "It doesn't count. You still have your shorts on; I'm not touching your cock." She sighed contentedly, "I've never had anyone put a finger in my ass. That was intense."

"You seemed to enjoy it," I said, wondering if I should argue the point about her touching my cock. Did I mean skin to skin? Would her using her hand to stroke me through my shorts count? Hmm. "I'm glad you saw it through to the end."

"After a certain point," she said, "I couldn't have left even if I wanted to." She squirmed on my lap playfully, "You seemed to have enjoyed it yourself. That is quite the involuntary response I feel there, Uncle Ken."

I was having real problems with my resolve, so I chose to change the subject. "Okay, you're naked in my lap and I've eaten your pussy. We've talked about this ‘Uncle' thing before."

She got a petulant look on her face, "I've called you ‘Uncle' almost all of my life and I can't stop now." Then she smiled sweetly, "Besides, calling you ‘Uncle' makes me feel a little naughty."

I gave her ass a little slap, "Given what we've just done, I think you qualify as naughty without the ‘Uncle'."

She giggled, "I suppose. So what now, are you going to - take care of it?"

"Well, since I've licked your twat until you came on my face and you're currently sitting on my cock, with this image racing through my mind of my enraged cock bursting through my shorts and slipping into your sopping pussy, then yeah, I'm going to go take care of it."

"Right now," she asked innocently.

"If I don't," I said, pushing her down my legs where she slid to the floor in front of me, "I'm going to be cold tonight because the blanket won't touch my body."

From the floor, she spread my knees, looking up at me, "Do it now."

Incredulous, I said, "What?!"

"Do it now," she repeated, "right here, in front of me. I want to watch. I want to see you cum. Please, Uncle Ken, cum for me." She reached up to my waistband, started to work on my belt and button but then stopped, "You should probably - I don't want to risk touching it."

My cock wanted release, so I finished undoing the button and started to push my shorts down before hesitating, "Are you sure about this? You really want to see this?"

She knelt there, one hand on each of my knees, her attention focused on my crotch, "Mm hm. It's something I've sort of wondered about. Let me see your cock, Uncle Ken, let me see you cum." She reached up and started tugging at the hem of my shorts, pulling them down toward my legs.

I raised my hips to make it easier and soon I was naked - I had pulled my shirt over my head while she pulled off my shorts - except for my sandals, cock in hand, stroking it leisurely.

Bri leaned deeper into my legs staring at my erection, "My God, it's beautiful."

I kept stroking, taking pleasure in the fact that she liked what she saw. I'm not huge, but a respectable amount of veined shaft rose above my hand, capped by an angry, frustrated, purple head. Like Tuesday, it wanted to cum in something a lot moister and warmer than open air but, again like Tuesday, that wasn't going to be the case and once more I mentally apologized to it.

As I pumped, Bri had raised up slightly, her left forearm resting on my leg, the hand gripping my thigh dangerously close to my pole. The other hand, I noticed had disappeared between her legs, probably rubbing her clit, though I couldn't see for sure. She kept repeating, "Cum for me, let me see you cum," until it became a mantra. Her desire spurred me on and my hand became a blur as the moment approached. At that point, the frustration of not being able to cum inside her and her desire to actually see me do it planted an evil little seed in my brain.

Her fascination had moved her further between my legs to just over a foot away from my cock and the action of her own hand had her mouth hanging slightly open. I felt my ball sack tighten and at that point I took careful aim. I clamped down on my shaft using my thumb and index finger just behind the head as I felt the first spasm. I held it for another pulse, letting pressure build, before I let go. My first shot easily crossed the distance between us, splashing onto her face, some actually going into her mouth. The second didn't have quite the distance, falling instead onto her right tit. She jerked back, stunned as I expected, but rather than racing for the bathroom to get my spunk off of her, she hesitated a moment before lunging forward, closing her lips around the head of my cock, swirling it with her tongue and brushing my hand away. My third stream of cum lubricated her tonsils; providing she still had them. Her cheeks caved in from the suction she created as her mouth slid down my shaft.

Now it was my turn to be stunned as I watched her head bobbing up and down in my lap, but my cock was finally happy, oozing its contents into Bri's warm wet mouth as she now used a hand to milk me dry, swallowing every drop. Long after I should have stopped cumming, my cock was still twitching so I placed a hand on the back of her head and face-fucked her a few times.

Feeling my hand in her hair, it was like she suddenly aware of what she was doing and she looked up at me with a look that clearly said, "Oops." The fact that my cock was still in her mouth gave it a certain comical quality.

Looking directly into her eyes, I nodded my head, "Oh yeah, that counts. You are so fucked."

Bri closed her eyes, accepting the reality of the statement and went back to work draining my tube steak until it finally had its need satisfied and began to deflate. She used a finger to scoop the cum off of her tit and sticking into her mouth. She did the same to her face.

I stood up and walked out to the patio, leaving her there on the floor.

To be continued.