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WARNING: This story may depict sexual activity of fictional beings, solo, or between men and women, or women and women, or men and men, of various ages, which may be above, or below, the age of consent, in one or another real-world polity. Or something like that. If that freaks you out, or violates some law that applies to you or your computer, please don't read it.
Wow Thanks (MFf, exhib, voy, inc, cons)
Chapter 6. Thanksgiving Morning.
I rang the door bell and I heard Lissa excitedly call to her mom "It's uncle Jason." She opened the door, and I beheld my gorgeous, exotic, spritelike 14 year old niece. She leaped out and hugged me, and although it was cozy, it was tentative and completely chaste. Then my sister came out and gave me a warmer hug, and I knew right then that at least she hadn't been making everything up, as I could plainly see the shape of the cones and peaks of her nipples through her lovely emerald blouse. Though the cloth was dark enough and thick enough to conceal the coloration, it was still evident she wasn't wearing a bra. She had her hair in an unexpected "corn-rows" style I'd never seen on her before, and she looked very sexy and exotic.
For the first time it occurred to me that I was, in a way, setting myself up for a profoundly frustrating weekend, if these two women carried through with even half of what I'd outlined for them. For that matter, it occurred to me that they could do absolutely nothing, and solely driven by my own imagination, I was going to be spending an amazingly stimulating Thanksgiving, as I searched for any minutiae of evidence that would suggest that the strange fantasy that had developed over the last several months had any elements of truth to it. Such as my sister's bralessness I was noticing upon the moments of my entrance. And was that a musk of female horniness I smelled in the air? Or rather, just something cooking or having been cooked in the kitchen?
We chatted for a while, and I told Denise how well they both seemed to be doing. She said, nonchalantly, "I've been in a really good state of mind the last month or two... can't really say why." Let him read that as innocently as he wants, I imagined her thinking.
Both she and I had inherited a strong tendency to "double-entendre" humor and irony from our parents (clearly an argument in favor of nurture of nature, given her status as an adoptee). Not to mention a preference for sarcasm. But we'd always been a bit shy about deploying such double-entendre directly at one another - it was more something that would come out with our respective spouses, for example, but in each other's presence.
As mother and daughter sat next to one another on the couch, I observed to them that they indeed seemed very happy. Lissa piped in, "Me and mom are getting along really well, too - no fights for like a couple weeks now." We all laughed.
Finally, we wound down the "haven't seen you in so long" small talk, and comments on work, work, school (respectively), and I said I was exhausted from the flight (which was true) and should be heading for bed. They agreed it had been a long day, and without further incident I was ensconced in the guest room (actually the small den off the living room), and, despite how horny the whole situation had me, in the spirit of solidarity I felt with the two of them and what I was asking of them, I only edged myself very briefly before allowing myself to drift off to sleep.
I woke in the morning with a raging erection. Now, that's not unusual, as anyone who is a male (or knows one) can attest. But the circumstances meant that I was a) more conscious of it than usual, b) I would have to traverse their living room to get to the hall bathroom for my morning shower, while c) they were both evidently already awake - I could hear voices outside, probably from the kitchen or dining area. Normally, I'm an early riser, but, without the obligation of an alarm clock, I discovered I'd slept almost to 8 am.
Well, I stretched and yawned, it was a holiday. I dug out my kimono, and, daringly, removed my other clothing before slipping it on. With hands in pockets, it wasn't too obvious, I decided.
Grabbing my bathroom kit, I opened the door to the guest room and saw them both. Lissa was at the table, reading the comics page from the newspaper. Denise was in the kitchen (the whole kitchen / dining room / living room were open to one another), doing something with a casserole pan on the kitchen island. "Good morning, little brother of mine," she said with a chipper, almost flirtatious voice I hadn't heard from my sister in years. She was clearly in an extremely good mood. "Good morning," I said. "Hi uncle Jason," said Lissa somewhat distractedly, not looking up from her comics.
Denise offered me coffee, and I said I'd get some as soon as I got out of the shower. And as I walked past I realized that both were still in their sleepwear: Denise had on a matching set of silken, olive green real old-fashioned pajamas, while Lissa was in one of those long t-shirts so common with girls as sleepwear. I wondered if both of them were truly pantiless and braless beneath, but decided to defer closer inspection, partly because my already raging woody was getting more aggressive under the kimono.
Holding the bathroom kit strategically to conceal the situation, I went into the bathroom. I took a very relaxing shower and, rather than stroking myself, I tried to will myself to a more quiescent state, and cursed at my not having brought in a pair of jockeys to put on after I was showered.
Finally, after an extra few minutes thinking hard about some mysterious database error messages from work, I felt under control enough to come back out. I was feeling a kind of weird, nervous, erotic arousal I hadn't experienced since adolescence.
I came back out and Lissa was missing from her seat at the table, but Denise was there, and she patted a chair at the table and invited me to have some coffee. "You remember where the cups are, right?" she said, as I strolled into the kitchen.
I got my coffee and added some cream from the fridge. With the cup, all steaming hot, I sat cattycorner to my sister at the table and took in her sheepish grin. "You're really doing well," I commented.
She just nodded, and suddenly we were in a very serious conversation about David's suicide, the hard months after, her own depression. I completely forgot the games for a little while, and was relating to my sister in the way we always had, emotionally close and devoid of sexual baggage of any kind. I felt some relief that the dynamic wasn't lost between us, and felt a huge pang of guilt over the deception I was engaged in.
"But I'm really doing much, much better the last few months," she concluded.
"I can see," I smiled, and patted her arm.
At that moment, Lissa emerged from her room, now wrapped in a large bath towel. Not part of a task I'd given them... but who's to rule out improvisation? Or, in the event it's all fantasy, who's to rule out coincidence, for that matter?
She actually strolled over and stood at the corner of the table between her mother and me. "I'm going to take a shower now," she announced, a little superfluously.
The white, fluffy towel was wrapped, modestly enough, at her breast line, and hung to what I judged to be 5 inches below her crotch. Nothing was uncovered that shouldn't be, but it'd been a very long time since I'd been so close to a nubile teenager who was so close to nakedness. Just under there, I thought to myself. And was that a muskiness I smelled? If things were as the emails had said... she'd been masturbating on and off all day yesterday, and she hadn't showered last night that I was aware.
"Go ahead, dear," said Denise.
"Are you done in there, uncle Jason?" she asked me, turning my direction. I nodded, trying not to stare at the way the towel squished her tiny breasts into two quarter-spheres above its bunched up edge, and the long, never motionless, crinkly black hair that flowed freely around her cheeks and shoulders and down her back.
So Lissa ran off to the bathroom. Denise grinned at me, "she's growing up, isn't she?"
I raised my eyebrows, inviting her to elaborate, pretending ignorance.
"It's ok, Jason... you're male, of course you'll notice such things."
I smiled sheepishly, and cleared my throat. "Sorry, was I staring so obviously?"
"Not too obvious. Don't worry about it. Do you want me to make more coffee?" she changed the subject. As she stood to go to kitchen, I studied her pajamas carefully, trying to see if she was pantiless. Braless, obviously... the pooky outlines of her cones and nipples were there to be seen as they bounced under the silky button-down top.
"While it brews, I'll go get dressed," I finally offered, and ran into my sanctuary, the den, for a few minutes to get dressed and still my beating heart (and beating you-know-what but not beating ON it... not too much, anyway).
When I came out, fully dressed now, Lissa was still in the shower. I got a fresh cup of coffee and sat back down at the table. Denise had disappeared into her room - she had her own bathroom there, I recalled. As I browsed the newspaper Lissa finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the towel much as before, but now with her hair ensconced in turban-like arrangement over her head.
She saw me sitting at the table by myself and came over and sat down across from me. I realized that given the length of the towel, it was only the presence of the table that prevented me from gazing between her legs - but prevent it, it surely did. Oh well, I grinned to myself.
Lissa to all appearances intended to hang out with me at the table wrapped in her towel. She toyed with a few sections of the paper and finally appeared immersed in something from the food section (always a huge section in a Thanksgiving day newspaper). Her turbaned head bent over her reading, a few wisps of her kinky (not THAT way) hair slipping out the edges around her ears, she held one hand down on her reading, and leaned a little forward.
Suddenly I became aware that her other arm was DOWN... out of sight... in her lap, perhaps. Of course I recalled a particularly relevant "general rule" I'd given earlier - they could masturbate if someone else was in the room and within 10 feet. Dare I imagine she was...? I realized I was holding my breath as I studied her, and quickly I sipped some coffee, to look busy, and looked back down at my own paper, but soon enough I was compelled to begin studying her again.
She seemed so relaxed, calm, and absorbed in her reading. Lovely. But not completely still, I noted. No... little twitches, movements. Consistent with... yes. My god, what was it I'd engineered, here? This situation.
I tried to read some political commentary in the paper, but I couldn't concentrate. Clearly it would be "out of character" for me to acknowledge any possible awareness as to what was going on. I tried to imagine, what would I be thinking, how much would I be aware of, if I didn't have the background knowledge and presuppositions I had.
Was there any chance that, being innocent to the supposed tasks I'd assigned, I would suspect my niece of doing what I suspected she was doing? Probably not, I concluded. But I also concluded that even if I were innocent of my suspicions, there was no way that even a hypothetically uninformed and well-intentioned uncle Jason could be unaware of the sheer sexy nubility that hovered so close, wrapped in her towels and to all appearances so absorbed in her reading.
With such rapidity and spontaneity that I was genuinely startled, Lissa looked up from her reading, caught my gaze on her, and said, all lightness and sweetness, "so... what are you going to do today, uncle Jason?" With that she engaged in a kind of stylized stretch that was noticeably exaggerated - hard to discount , an evident act of flirtation.
I looked away, and said, "Oh probably just hang out and stuff. Do you have any plans?"
"Not really," she said, cheerfully, and with gazelle-like grace she stood and strolled into the kitchen, the towel around her billowing slightly as she moved. "Time for some breakfast, I think."
I watched her as she moved about the kitchen, fetching herself a bowel, a spoon, a box of cereal. She pulled open the fridge and got out the milk container, and brought it all to the table, returning to her seat and pushing the newspaper aside. I reflected I really shouldn't be so fascinated with every move of this girl - I was going to creep her out, I was certain.
With some reluctance, I got up from the table and went back into the guest room - but didn't shut the door this time. I had, in fact, brought some items with me to work on (though I was under no obligation) and so I pulled out my laptop and fired it up.
About this time, I heard Denise come out from her room, and I came out of the den with my laptop and took a seat on one of the comfy chairs in the living room, where I could overlook the goings-on. Denise was dressed now, and Lissa was spooning cereal into her mouth distractedly and reading another section of the paper.
Something twisted in made me open up the document I was working on that would evolve into this story (I'd already decided I absolutely must write the whole experience down), instead of the requirements document I was working on for my job. Because of where I sat in a corner of the room, I knew I'd have plenty of time to minimize the document if one of them came over.
Denise was plonking around in the kitchen, and Lissa finished her breakfast and called out to me, "watcha doin?"
"Just some work I brought with me," I commented, and, seeing her stand up from the table and lean on the half-wall room divider into the living room, I minimized the document "just in case."
"That's boring," she commented, exaggeratedly. "Hey, mom, can I get on the computer?" she called out.
Denise looked around from where she was in the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, and saw her daughter standing there in her towel and turban. "Since the computer's in the den, honey," she reminded, "you'd better check with your uncle Jason."
Lissa looked back around toward me, and said, simply, "is it ok?"
"Not a problem with me," I shrugged, and grinned. "I've got my own," pointed out unnecessarily.
"So it's ok for me to go online?" Lissa double-checked she had her mom's approval.
"No problem, hun," Denise said. "You might want to get dressed, though," she added, in that special tone reserved for a mother's addressing her teenage daughter. Lissa looked down at herself, and, appearing genuinely amazed that she was still in a towel, without a word, leaped across to the hall and down to her room, disappearing.
She's going to be going online, I thought. Wish I could go online, too, I thought. And suddenly, I had an inspiration. These days, lots of people have wifi. And many people are either too naive or too technically limited to set up secured connections - more than once on a business trip I'd freeloaded on some nearby business or private unsecured wifi network.
I pulled up the wifi connection utility on my laptop. Sure enough... there was a "very low" signal strength from a hub called "linksys" - some neighbor of my sister's had a totally basic, unsecured, default-setting wifi network running. I connected to it, and brought up firefox. Sure enough! I felt very devious indeed, at that moment.
Lissa re-emerged from her bedroom, dressed now in an adorable little yellow sun dress, still barefoot, her hair damp but rumpled from a hasty toweling. I definitely could see her nipples through the cloth of the dress - much smaller than her moms, and perched on unambitious little globes, but the bralessness was undeniable.
She strolled past me without a glance and disappeared into the den (actually I guess it was their home office, with the computer and all that in there), leaving the door open. I heard her fire up the computer, then the familiar "Bill Gates's love song" as I called it, a few other beeps and whirrs.
Quickly, I logged on to yahoo under the username I'd been using with them, and, sure enough, within minutes Denise's username appeared. Seconds after that, a message popped up on my screen (I almost always have my sound muted on my machine, so there was no tell-tale beep from the messenger software on my end).
"Finn! Happy Thanksgiving!" came the instant message. It was all real. I had no more doubts.