Spiral

My wife Cath has two sisters, Jane and Helen. They're very close, always have been, and get on really well. Actually, all three families get on pretty well together, and so shared annual holidays are the rule rather than the exception. I was skeptical the first time, back when the kids were little, but it turned out pretty well, and I've warmed to it over the years. Colin and Kev are two good guys and the three of us, quite by chance, all follow Fulham FC fairly religiously and all love motors and motor sport, so the big holiday trips can actually be a good laugh. Six kids between us means lots of playmates for them and enough babysitters for us grownups, so yeah, it's not a bad gig.

We don't really live near each other - Helen and Kev live in Scotland these days - so there's not much visiting outside the holiday bash, but the kids all seem to click together when we do meet, which is pretty lucky, I guess. They're all quite close in age, which helps: our two, Robbie and Chloe, are 9 and 8; Ben and Kyle, Colin and Jane's boys, are 7 and 8; and Helen and Kev's boy Christopher is 8 too. The slightly odd one out is Debbie, their daughter. She's the eldest, 11 now, and, well, getting a bit old for simple childish pleasures, perhaps. At nine, Debbie had been a kid, enjoying playing with Chloe, six then, in a big-sister, little-sister kind of way. Pale, blonde, shy and a little chubby, she was kind to Chloe, funny in a way that indicated she was probably a pretty smart girl, and blushed a lot when she spoke to me, which I found kinda cute.

Well, I missed last year's holiday bash through work, and Debbie missed the one before, so I hadn't seen her for a long time. And, well, she'd changed - but we'll get to that.

This year's holiday was southern Spain, usual kind of package deal, three apartments all close together around a swimming pool area. As usual we'd lots of outdoor stuff planned - beach, waterpark, snorkeling - plus enough lazing around to keep us all happy. There was a golf course nearby, one of the few interests I didn't share with Kev and Colin, enough shopping nearby to keep the girls going, and a lively enough scene in the resort. There was also an actual village of real people a half-mile or so's walk away, and that worked for me because I'm a big photographer, with a particular interest in capturing life in interesting places. Whenever I get the chance I like to take some time, just wander in a new place and see what I can frame. I also take most of the holiday snaps, of course.

Anyway, the combo of us all clicking back together again, a pretty neat place and some Spanish sun boded well for a good fortnight. The only possible blip was Debbie. She seemed so much more distant from the others than she had in previous years - a little sullen, a little aloof - and it was clear that she and Helen had had words on the journey over. In bed on the first evening, kids finally settled, Cath had murmured that Helen had told her in exasperation that Debbie had been playing up for months - moody, mouthy, sulky. "She reckons she's turning into a teenager two years too early. Shame; I hope she'll still like playing with Clo; Clo'll be upset if she can't hang out with her 'big sister'."

"Yeah, well, we all grow up, I guess," I'd replied, a clear picture of Debbie's pouty, slightly chubby face in my mind. "Except you, obviously," Cath had giggled, which led to tickling, grappling, fondling, and a surprising but very enjoyable little fuck.

Afterwards, lying there in the warm Spanish night, sweat cooling, Cath murmuring and dozing next to me, I was struck with a sudden thought: Debbie's eyes were really quite striking, a pale-denim blue, washed but bright. There was a light in her eye when she'd looked at me earlier today, a light I swear wasn't there a couple years ago. A light, a sparkle, a gleam. A gleam of... Of what? Unless I was imagining it.

And why would I do that? I asked myself. Imagine what? What are you thinking about? She's a kid; don't be silly.

Over the first couple of days we relaxed into the holiday: pool, beach, lounging about, kids scampering between apartments, nothing too complex. We dads larked about with the kids in the pool while our wives looked on affectionately and swapped thoughts on how many children they really had. Chasing and tickling and throwing into the water are, of course, accepted practice in situations like this - de rigeur, indeed, and the delightful sound of squealing children set the tenor for the fortnight ahead. For all Helen's dark hints of the onset of teenage surliness, Debbie joined in quite happily, and Cath and I were both pleased to see that she still responded nicely to Chloe's friendship-bordering-on-worship. In particular, the two of them frequently ganged up on me, sometimes with help from some of the boys, and I spent a good while heaving them off into the water with roars of mock ferocity. Debbie felt... soft under my fingers. She was a little plump for her age, perhaps, but it rather suited her. Her bright, pale eyes sparkled as she tickled me, her fingers grappling, her laughter high and clear. She held me tight, arm, chest, leg, whatever she could grasp, her exhortations to Clo to "get him, quick!". She climbed onto my back, gripping me with her smooth thighs, and I swear at one point she pinched my bum. I cornered her one time across a lilo, panting, and held her gaze, staring her down, as it were. She met me, unabashed, a firm, strong gaze right back at me, her lips parted as her young chest heaved for breath. She laughed. It seemed like a challenge. I thrust with the lilo, then dived quickly, grabbing her ankles and pulling her over. For a second we grappled, body to body under the water; for the briefest time she wrapped herself around me, arms, legs, pressing her softness against me, then we were up, spluttering, into the sunlight.

The most unsettling thing, perhaps, was that I noticed - all the little details of how she felt pressed against me - noticed and remembered...

Mid-afternoon we took a trip to the beach, a short walk away, crowded as fuck of course, but it's always nice to swim in the Med. After a good splash about in the gentle surf we were sitting at the beach cafe, indulging in ice-cream, coffee or beer according to age and taste, and Colin and Kev were deep in some golf-related chat. I was flicking through some of the early pics on my "snaps" camera when I happened to glance up and caught Debbie's eye. She was eating an ice-cream lolly, vanilla and dark chocolate, already part-smeared across her chin, and it was part-way to her mouth when I looked up. She was looking right at me, and I had the sense she'd been waiting for me to raise my head. With her eyes still on mine, she raised the lolly, her mouth opening slowly. Her lips, thin and delicate, closed on the lolly's body as she slid it in, in and further in, her young mouth encircling the sweetmeat like a...

Like a what?

Was she? Was she really doing that? I watched, spellbound, for eight, ten seconds and more as my eleven-year-old niece looked straight at me and sucked her lolly as if she were giving head. That's what it looked like, swear to God, and dammit I reckoned she knew that that's what it looked like. She was looking at me, and sucking off her lolly. What the fuck was I meant to do with that? What the fuck...?

I looked away, swapping a quick joke with Jane, telling Robbie off for flicking ice-cream at his sister, then I looked back at Debbie. Her eyes were still on me. Her tongue ran slowly up the side of the ice-cream, licking off the last of the chocolate coating, scooping up a blob of thick, off-white cream and curling it into her mouth. She swallowed, ostentatiously, then smiled at me from beneath her eyebrows. Coquette. No other word. Coquette. My pale, prettily chubby niece.

What the fuck...?

That night I found myself replaying the day's shenanigans in the pool, the patently lewd ice-cream at the cafe. No, I wasn't imagining it. Yes, my eleven-year-old niece had been flirting with me - well, coming on to me, for fuck's sake. She'd clearly seen some serious porn somewhere to copy that sort of oral behaviour - seen it and, well, liked it? Where? An older sister of a school friend - my God an older brother, perhaps? Was she getting introduced to stuff she shouldn't be by some lucky teenager?

I had an erection.

No, dammit, not right. Really not right. Stop it.

It was thirty minutes before my cock subsided enough to let me sleep. Thirty minutes with all kinds of thoughts racing around my head...

I felt kinda weird the next day, and avoided Debbie. Colin and Kev were hankering to try the golf course, so I happily took one of the hire cars and all four boys up the coast a little way to a quiet cove that I'd read was good for snorkeling. We had a blast, chasing fish and hunting for octopus among the rocks, and with no injuries apart from a scraped knee for Kyle we had a great time. Ice-cream, Sprite, a stop at another beach for a kickabout with a football, and we were back at the apartments late afternoon, in nice time for a barbecue.

Debbie seemed to ignore me; she seemed a little sulky, in fact. I raised an eyebrow with Helen at one point, nodding at her daughter with an inquisitive eye. Helen had shrugged back and mouthed "dunno", with a rather exasperated roll of her own eyes. I grinned sympathetically, and reclined on my lounger with a beer. I was next to the table where Robbie was showing off his new phone, playing Fruit Ninja or Strike Force or whatever it might have been. The other three boys were crowded around, and after a little while Debbie came over to watch too.

Now there were other places to stand, and behind Rob would have given her the best view, but my edge of the table was where she chose to lean. She was wearing denim shorts, tight, ragged denim shorts, and a bold yellow t-shirt, and she continued to ignore me as she leaned over Kyle's shoulder to watch the game. Well, I say ignore... She cocked her hip; her butt was inches from my face - and she knew it. Really, the little coquette knew exactly what she was doing. There was nothing more, no glance, no covert smile, no flash of the eyes, no sign at all to goad my imagination except her round, tightly-sheathed ass right there in my face, above smooth young thighs pale as milk. Here, uncle Roger, here's my bottom. Do you like it?

Shit... I was chatting across the way with Cath and Jane and Kev, light holiday banter, and Kev's little daughter was sticking her ass in my face, enticing me, inviting me, wanting me... Or was she? Maybe she was just standing there. Maybe she was just a kid and was just standing with the other kids, chatting and playing. Maybe that soft, round ass in its tight blue sheath was just a kid's bum, and it was *my* mind that was bent on seduction, my dirty, perverted mind fancying my niece's hot little bottom. Shit... Maybe that stuff with the lolly was just imagination too, and all that "look in her eye" stuff.

I ignored her.

I couldn't. She changed stance slightly, cocking her other hip. Her butt shifted on the edge of my vision. Damn me it looked hot. I laughed at something Jane said, a strained laugh, I felt sure, over-theatrical, and shifted, giving myself a long glance at Debbie's butt. A shiver ran through me, top to bottom, goose-bumps down my legs. My stomach flipped. I wanted to pull down her shorts and kiss her soft naked ass, bend her right over and lick her between the soft, pale cheeks of her...

Fucking hell!

"Another beer, Kev?" I'm sure I sounded hysterical.

"Yeah, buddy. Nah, you stay put, I'll get 'em. Hey Debs," he continued, rising and making for the cooler, "don't stick your bum in uncle Roger's face, it's a bit rude, love."

Debbie turned a faux-surprised look on her dad, then looked around at me. "Oops, sorry," she said, and smiled.

And I swear the look in her eyes above that sweet, gentle smile was not just in my bloody imagination. That look said everything. That look said, did you like looking at my bum, uncle Roger? Did you? I bet you did. I bet you. I lay awake again that night, and yes, I masturbated. I framed my niece's tight denim-clad butt in my mind and wanked until I nearly came. It felt wrong. It felt exciting. It felt confusing. It felt hot as fuck...

The next day we'd planned a big beach trip, "all the tribes" as Helen put it, and there was much to-ing and fro-ing in the morning as the families got organized. Debbie came round a little after breakfast, to hook up with Chloe. She smiled a greeting, and if I held her gaze a little too long, no-one else noticed.

Chloe had a new swimsuit to show off, a pretty pink one-piece which made her look super-cute. With that casual cruelty of childhood, she berated Debbie for her old turquoise-and-green two-piece, laughing and dodging out of the room to go and get changed. After squealing after her with mock dismay, Debbie turned a half-glance to me. Cath was momentarily across the landing in Jane's apartment. No-one else about.

"Clo says this makes my bum look big," she murmured, more softly than necessary. She half turned, her right hand taking hold of the hem of her long pink t-shirt. "Does it, d'you think?" She raised the hem, carefully, turning a little more, peering over her shoulder, eyes part-hooded in the shadows. I swear she arched her back as the pink hem rose, arched her back and bent her knees ever so slightly. Here's my butt again, uncle Rog. What do you think?

Her bikini bottoms were tight, for sure, and accentuated her undeniable chubbiness. They pinched a little at the hip, a hint of a roll of soft, pale flesh just overflowing the tiniest bit. They hugged her buttocks, with the soft lower crease on the right suggesting they didn't quite contain them all. Debbie's butt was podgy, without a doubt. Podgy, soft, round, and utterly fabulous.

I breathed in, slowly, deeply, then exhaled gently. "Looks fine to me, Debs," I replied, matching her soft, conspiratorial tone. "Just... fine."

Her eyes flashed. Her mouth opened, but snapped shut quickly. She released the hem of her t-shirt and turned to the hallway door just as Chloe burst through wearing nothing but knickers. "Mum! Where's my new swimsuit?"

The spell broke. I shivered, I really did, then took another deep breath, swiftly this time. "Mummy's in auntie Jane's just now. Come on, I'll have a look for your cozzie, you keep Debbie company."

My daughter, naked to the waist, tanned and a little flustered as she fretted about her costume, looked simply cute and lovely. My niece, tight bikini bottoms, pink t-shirt and dangerous, dangerous eyes... Well, she looked cute too, but a whole different kind of cute...

I didn't look at Debbie as I went through to the bedrooms, a strange sense of vacuum sucking in my head, the sound of Chloe's chatter with Debs a distant buzz. I didn't look, but I felt her eyes on me. What d'you think you're doing, Rog? What?

Clo's swimsuit was hidden, of course, hidden in plain sight at the tumbled foot of her bed. What is it with kids? Blind as bats. I called her through, tossed the garment neatly onto her head as she appeared, eliciting a long "daaaad!", and went slowly back into the living room. Cath was back. Debbie sat demurely on the arm of the sofa, answering her auntie Cath's questions and playing with a lock of her blonde ponytail. She glanced at me from under her brows, her bottom lip caught momentarily between her teeth. I winked at her. I shouldn't have, but it was involuntary, just happened. Nothing to do with me, guv. Honest. Her quick little smile in response lit up her whole cherubic face.

Oh my, oh my, oh fucking my...

The beach trip was, of course, a blast, and if I spent time watching my niece run about in her slightly-too-tight two-piece, well... It wasn't a bikini - the top was a halter-style not a bra-style - and there were definitely delicate hints of bulge there; that costume wouldn't last another year, for sure. Those bulges had caused two reactions in me as she'd whipped off her pink T the minute we hit the sand: one, fuck, that's hot; two, hey she's getting boobs so it's OK to fancy her. I was rationalizing, all right, desperately rationalizing my growing attraction for my chubby blonde niece. Hey, she's growing up, she's essentially a woman, so I'm not a weird perv; that's cool. And besides, she's egging me on, clearly up for it, knows what it's all about; she's a mature young lady to all intents and purposes.

And yet, playing with the others, racing around on the hot sand, laughing and giggling, she looked a helluva lot like a little kid still. And maybe, actually, maybe that's what was getting me so excited...

I was doing my usual photographic thing, trying to catch the kids in motion, trying to document the essence of childhood in a few million pixels. I got a good few shots at the highest speed I could drive without a serious tripod, one excellent one of Rob and Ben crashing to the ground in laughter and a spray of sand. I'd taken a few of Debs through the day, always with the others, nothing at all untoward, until right at the end of the day when we were getting our shit together to leave. Cath was helping Clo get changed under a towel, and Debs was toweling herself dry. I had my camera in my hands, looking for the final snaps of the day, and Debs looked really cute at that moment with her blonde hair still damp and her softly curvy body glowing beautifully as the light caught her just so.

"Hey Debs," I called, raising the camera to catch her as she looked around. She did, and I caught a very natural shot of her face - and then, quick as a flash, she crossed her arms and whipped off her halter top in a ta-dah! kind of moment. And the camera clicked again.

"Whoops!" said Cath, who was watching, and "Debbie!" called Helen, "you're getting a little bit too old to run around topless!", and "Yeah, whoops," I said. "I'll delete that one!"

But I didn't.

I pretended to, but instead I moved it, hiding it in a corner of the SD card. Later that evening, in the cool of the apartment balcony, back to the wall, I did delete it, but only after I'd Bluetoothed it to my phone. It was such a good picture, you see, not one to be discarded lightly. Debbie looked so... just so... well... Her softly rounded face was flushed, part sunshine, part running around like a kid, with her blonde hair straggling free. She was bending sideways at the waist so her hair reached her bellybutton on the left. She was smiling, her eyes a little screwed up against the sun, but a smile of delight, pleasure, happiness. And the broad, pale crescent of her body, deep-shadowed bellybutton, palest brown areolae atop the merest hint of new breasts, faint shadows indicating their gentle swell... My eyes traveled back and forth across the light and shade of her body's sweet landscape, and I so wondered what it would feel like to lick her soft little nipples...

The following day we all split up, and I took the chance to do some photography up in the village. There was a part of it that was still remarkably untouched by the bling of the nearby resort (of which we, of course, were a part), and a number of fascinatingly ramshackle buildings - and people, come to that - which made for a series of interesting shots. I might even be able to sell these to one of the travel websites I freelanced for. Anyway, I was busy photographing life, sitting in the shade on the edge of a tiny market, when I caught sight of Debbie. She was standing rather uncertainly across the little square, looking, I guessed, for me. I lowered the camera and watched her for a few seconds, my mind ticking. She was wearing a sleeveless sun dress, brightly striped in yellow and pink and very short. It hung straight up and down on her, and emphasized her young thighs really very well.

I waved, she saw me, and her face lit up. She crossed to the tree where I sat and squatted, knees demurely together. "Hi."

"Hi, honey," I replied easily, "what's up?"

"Oh, we're just back and auntie Cath said you were up here and I could come and drag you back to be sociable. Watcha doing?"

"Photographing life," I replied, watching her face curiously. She clearly had something on her mind. She was quiet for a while, watching the square, then: "Do you photograph people? I mean, like models, like fashion models or something?" She didn't look at me as she asked, just kept watching the slow business of the market.

"Well," I answered, "no, not really. Why?"

She glanced sideways from under her brows, her eyes catching the light. "I like being photo'ed," she said, "although I'm probably too fat to be a model."

"Rubbish!" My expostulation was a lot more vigorous than I'd intended. "Rubbish, Debs, you're not fat at all. You got... just the right curves in..."

Whoa! A yawning pit suddenly opened ahead of me in this conversation and I fumbled to a halt. A flush of embarrassment crossed my face, although she probably didn't notice in the sunlight.

She smiled, pleased, mischievous. "You're sweet, uncle Rog. Would you... Would you take some pictures of me? Like yesterday?"

Her allusion to the topless snap caused me a second hot flush but I tried to appear cool. "Well, sure honey," and I raised the camera and focused on her lovely face. I took a couple, then moved to kneel a little further away and took another. She smiled, a child's smile with something else behind it, and pouted a pretend kiss. I clicked.

Her voice was suddenly low. "I was meaning like a proper model, like posing and that, like... like the girls in..."

"Debbie! Ah, there you are. Hi Rog, had a good day? C'mon, it's beer o'clock back at the ranch."

Kevin's arrival startled us both, but I don't think he noticed. I hoped to Christ he hadn't noticed, or noticed his daughter, pouting and tossing her head as I photographed her. Make love to the camera, baby - no need to say shit like that to her, she was a natural.

Jeez... The camera burned my fingers as I nonchalantly re-cased it and Kev ribbed his daughter for being so slow. "What, you get lost or something?"

Sullenly: "I was just chatting to uncle Rog, dad. He was photographing life." She pouted, but in a different way now.

"Hah, yeah, yours!" laughed Kev, rising above his daughter's sudden sulkiness. "You got a budding model here, mate!"

My grin was sickly. I just hoped to hell it didn't show. I took a quick breath.

"Yeah, let's go. I could do with a beer." And wasn't *that* the truth...

The following day I was grumpy, waking with a grinding headache after a damn disturbed night. We had a big trip planned to a waterpark, and I wasn't sure I was in the right mood for it. We were up early, which never does me any good on a holiday, and getting the lunch ready, the kids' shit together and all the usual hassle of getting out the door to a timetable did not sweeten my mood one bit. I'd heaped the day's stuff into the hire car and was just catching my breath when my darling daughter charged past, laughing hysterically, being chased by her youngest cousin. I winced at the noise. Then: "Dad!? Dad can you get my Crocs from my room? I can't 'cos Ben's going to..." A burst of giggles and they were off again.

Yeah yeah, I'll just slave off and get them for you then, shall I? I stomped a little on my way back to the apartment, and made straight for Clo's room at the end of the little hallway off the living room. The door was closed, but I pushed right in.

Debbie was there, standing in the middle of the room, her back to the door. Naked.

I stopped, my chest suddenly tight, my head pounding. In a second I took it in. Her tumble of hair, soft, blonde, reaching the middle of her back. Her shoulders, a little pink from the sun now, smooth as silk. No hips to speak of, but her butt, soft and pale, her buttocks perfectly, delightfully rounded... What a gorgeous ass...

I stood, rooted to the spot as my naked, blonde, dangerously enticing niece raised her head and turned towards me. Turned...! Fuck...!

The look on her face wasn't shock, embarrassment, panic. Her eyes sparkled, her lips twitched, as she turned slowly and deliberately to face me. I took her expression in in the brief instant before my eyes were drawn down, down across the delicious bumps of her chest, the lovely bulge of her rounded belly, down to the pure beauty of the cleft between her thighs. Oh fuck my eleven-year-old niece had a really, really gorgeous little pussy...

She didn't speak, just straightened her shoulders and looked at me. She was beautiful. She was young and beautiful and oh so desirable...

I turned and walked out, but slowly, and from the hallway I looked back. I looked her up and down, looked into her eyes. She saw what was there. What did I see in hers?

"Oh, Rog! Debbie's getting changed in Chloe's room!" My wife's voice called through from the kitchen, her footsteps suddenly approaching. I met her at the hallway door. "Uh, thanks yeah, I, uh, accidentally walked in." I have no idea how my voice sounded.

"Rog! You look embarrassed!" Cath couldn't help grinning at what she supposed was the cause of my evident confusion. I was confused, all right, but it wasn't through embarrassment. All sorts of other confusions were spiraling round in my head, and causing dangerous stirrings in my shorts. Hey, now *that* really *would* be embarrassing.

"Um, yeah, well, I guess, well... Could you ask her to bring Chloe's Crocs with her when she's ready?"

And suddenly overwhelmed, I fled, leaving my wife slightly bemused, bright images of a soft, warm naked eleven-year-old burned into my retinas.

I'd calmed down by the time we got to the water park, calmed down and cooled down and taken four aspirin. I'd replayed the scene, replayed the look in her young eyes - fear, excitement, want; love, maybe, or signs of a crush at any rate. I'd realised we were in a dance now, my niece and I, a dance we probably couldn't stop any longer, a circling, spiraling dance that was going to lead us both to - a center. What we would find at the center I didn't yet know, but I knew we'd reach it, for good or ill.

The park was a laugh - big water slides, big fun. I spent a good chunk of the day with my camera, photographing her - together with the other kids, of course, although photos of her just seemed to be that little better composed... She wore a one-piece and a plain white t-shirt, and her wet hair clung to her face, and she laughed and her eyes glowed, and the sullen miss was nowhere to be seen. At only one point did we really engage, one on one, and it was across a large inner tube in the wave pool. It was part of a game, and she and I reached the tube at the same time. We stood, panting, grinning, and our eyes locked across the huge ring, and I remembered the lilo the other day in the apartment pool, and we gazed for far too long, and everything else became dulled for an instant, and I had to fight the urge to push the ring aside and take her in my arms...

On the way home we all stopped at a cafe, and the adults swapped photos of the day. As expected mine were hailed as the best - "You ever thought of turning pro?" Colin had asked - and, "You've some nice ones of Debbie," commented Helen. "Can you send us some of those?"

"Sure," I'd said, and Kev had smiled and reminded me of the village market. "Debs is going to model for Rog when she's older, ain't that right buddy?"

"Ah, I've never really been one for portraits or poses," I'd replied, stammering just a little, trying to keep my shit together. "Capturing real life, now that's my style." I'd looked across at Debs who was trying to pretend she wasn't listening. She'd ducked her head, hiding the grin that burst across her lips.

That night I'd wanted sex, really wanted a good, energetic fuck with a grown woman, but Cath was tired and a little short with me, and so I lay there, hard and frustrated in the warm night as she drifted off to sleep. When I heard her gentle snores begin I got up. My camera was on the coffee table in the relative cool of the living room. I sat on the sofa and flipped through the day's pictures of Debs, my cock rigid, my hand inside my boxers. I zoomed in on her face, her ass, her crotch, her belly, superimposing my memories of her naked body. I was so hard, painfully hard, and it was all just wrong, she was my niece, a kid, just eleven, but I masturbated, thoughts spiraling, dancing in my head. I found my phone, fingers trembling in the dark, and kicked up the topless picture of her, and suddenly my cock was iron and my balls throbbed and I squeezed my fist tight as I came, filling my shorts, soaking myself, Debbie's name a silent cry on my lips.

I thought I would feel bad afterwards, dirty and disgusted with myself. But I didn't.

We'd hit the midpoint of the holiday, and the day after my photographic wank Jane, Colin, Helen and Kev offered to take the boys off for the day while Debbie stayed with us. Again my feelings on seeing her in the morning defied my expectations - I didn't feel guilty or embarrassed, and nor did she seem any less alluring. In fact, in those tight denim shorts and a pink Hello Kitty t-shirt she just looked...

We lazed about for a bit, and then Chloe announced she wanted to go to the kids' club up in the main resort. Debbie didn't. Cath suggested that I take Chloe up the club and she and Debbie would do something else, but my daughter had other ideas. Whether, by some daughter-father sixth sense, she'd picked up a weirdness between daddy and cousin Debs, a weirdness she found subliminally annoying or what, I don't know, but she wanted mummy to take her to the kids' club. Only mummy would do, and Clo came the closest she'd been all week to a tantrum.

"Whoa, sweetie, don't get all upset. It's OK, mummy can take you -" I'd shot Cath a semi-apologetic glance at that "- I don't mind staying here with Debbie if she really doesn't want to go."

No, Debbie didn't. And so, in the space of fifteen minutes it was just the two of us - and she clearly felt as strange about it as I did. We were suddenly awkward, shy of each other. I asked her diffidently what she wanted to do, and she mumbled and shrugged, casting timid glances my way and playing unconsciously with her hair.

"Did I show you the pics I took of you?" I asked. My mouth was suddenly rather dry. "There are some... really nice ones."

We sat, side by side, on the sofa, and the locus of the camera became our focus. Suddenly she was close beside me, her soft, warm thigh against mine, and neither of us commented. I showed her the photos I took of her, taking time, pointing out details, and she leaned over, her elbow brushing my thigh. Her hair smelled clean, and ever so slightly of the sea. Her pink-brown shoulder was warm against my arm.

"Do you like taking pictures of me?" Her question was quiet, asked without looking up. I waited until my silence caused her to raise her eyes, surprised.

"Yes, Debs, yes I do. You're very pretty, very photogenic. I... yes."

She looked away, then back again. She bit her lip, though there was no indecision in her eyes.

"Can you take some more? Like a model now?"

And then she was posing for me, casually, demurely, the sunlight glittering in her hair, and I was photographing her - on tiptoe, arms raised; sitting on the edge of the chair, hands on knees, leaning forward, pouting, preening; reclining on the sofa, dreamy, sexy.

She stuck out her butt, denim shorts stretching, and looked back over her shoulder, and I photographed her because she looked so good. I zoomed in and photographed her ass and she noticed and stuck it out further. The she was on her hands and knees and I was photographing her, legs apart, back arched, shorts tight.

She sat on the edge of the coffee table. I knelt before her. She spread her legs. I don't know if I asked her to. She spread them wide and I photographed her like that as she made love to my camera, her eyes flickering and glowing.

I *did* ask her to take off her t-shirt. Topless, she posed lying, sitting, standing; kneeling on the coffee table. My God, kneeling topless on the coffee table, the clean smooth curves of her back, the gentle rounded bulge of her glorious tummy... I framed her face, her butt, her chest - her tits, for fuck's sake - and she was fabulous.

We did a few shots of her shorts unbuttoned and unzipped, then she was in panties. Simple white cotton, but tight across her glorious ass. Standing, lying, kneeling; stick your butt out, honey, you have a beautiful butt.

And then she was nude.

Glowing softly in the filtered sunlight she was wonderfully, gloriously nude. Her body was gorgeous, and this time I looked, really looked, long and hard. Face, shoulders, arms, chest, belly, thighs, butt, and fabulous, fabulous little pussy... Beautiful, honey, just beautiful. Lift your head there. Arch your back a little more. Stick out your butt. Yeah, oh yeah, like that. Now sp... open your legs... Oh yeah... Oh honey you're so beautiful... lovely...

Arching, writhing, stretching, reaching; kneeling, spreading, displaying. Eyes blazing. Lips curling, pouting, smiling, snarling. In front. Behind. Her chest, her belly, her thighs; her butt, smooth, pale curves. Her pussy, simple cleft and opened flower, pink, shiny, a soft bud above a deep, narrow cave; and her asshole, peeking pinkly from between those gorgeously rounded buttocks. She showed me everything and I captured it all, and the world spun and wavered and danced and whirled, and we spiraled toward the center.

"Do you like me?" Legs wide apart on the sofa, she was trembling, her voice hoarse.

"Yes." My hands were shaking. I laid the camera to one side. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. She reached out a hand. I took a step toward her.

"Rog! We're back!"

"Dad! Dad! Come see what I got!"

Wh...?

Oh my fucking Christ...

Oh my fucking, *fucking* Christ...

Wait! From the window! From down by the pool! Not the door, the window, but Jesus...!

I was at the door when Chloe came belting up the staircase to charge across the shared landing, her tiger-face paint alive with the biggest grin. I scooped her up with some kind of cry of welcome, loud enough to cover the click of the front door to Helen and Kev's apartment across the way.

I was pouring out praise for my daughter's tiger-face when my wife appeared, smiling. "Everything OK?" she asked. "Where's Debbie?"

"She just popped up to the loo, I think. I was about to make us some milkshakes. You wanna milkshake, tiger-girl?"

"Yeah! We had fun, dad, you should've been there. It's Debbie's fault..."

"Well, hey, Debbie's maybe a bit old for that sort of stuff now, and, well, maybe next time, yeah?"

"Yeah. Hey, daddy, can you take a picture of my face? I want a picture before it all rubs off!"

She squirmed out of my arms and ran through to the living room. The camera lay on the coffee table. The coffee table where... The coffee table. The camera!

I think my heart stopped just then.

"Y - Ah - Sure, ah, Clo. Ah, hey careful now, you know you're not meant to... Wait, just wait a..."

Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck.

In slow motion, it seemed, I lifted the camera from my daughter's eager fingers. "Ah, OK, honey, just... Over there, let's get the light right."

I took a photo of the wall, then the floor.

Cath looked on smiling as I framed a few of Chloe's grinning tiger face in a variety of grins and tigery scowls. "Can I see, daddy, I want to see!"

My wife came to stand behind us, and my daughter craned forward as I flicked the camera into review. Six thumbnails to a screen: one, two, three pictures of tiger Chloe, a fourth, then the living room floor, then the wall. We flicked through the tiger ones. Chloe was pleased, Cath laughed and said "you're a real tiger there, Chloe" and I hit exit. Six thumbnails - tiger Chloe, the floor, the wall, and - Debbie's open legs, a closeup of her pussy, her face like a mask of sex.

But I was the only one looking by then.

That evening we all went out to a restaurant, a big Spanish-themed do for tourists, mediocre tapas, flamenco and all that, with the usual slightly drunken audience participation. It was a tough gig. Debbie wanted to sit opposite me, made a bit of a fuss about it. Not "I want to sit near uncle Roger" but "I want to sit *here*", but even so it made me twitchy. My head was still spinning, reeling with the afternoon's activities. I'd gone, crossed over, stepped over the line, not gradually but bang! just like that. I'd gone from wondering whether I fancied my niece to taking out-and-out naked glamour photos of her all within the space of an hour. And if we hadn't been interrupted...? What? What would've happened? What was just about to happen when...?

So her sitting opposite me was not going to help. And she clearly wasn't in the mood to let me get my thoughts together. Her eyes barely left mine all evening, and the blaze in them was - well, Jesus, it was almost obscene. I swear the others must have noticed, it was all over her face. And her feet were all over mine below the table. She laughed at everything I said, giggled, grinned, and hauled me up to try dancing a flamenco. I tried to play detached and cool, but it must have been so bloody obvious - serious little-girl crush, writ large all over her beautiful, round face.

And I, of course, was completely unaffected. Completely unfazed by having this sweet little Lolita hanging on my every word, images of her naked body - dammit, closeup images of her *asshole* - bursting like fireworks in my brain. Public place or no, I was at least semi-erect the whole meal, though I fought like a motherfucker to preserve an outwardly indulgent-but-amused avuncular face on things. Shit, I'd been taking child porn pictures of her not three hours ago. Shit shit shit... Not glamour, no mate, they got words for that - kiddie porn, nothing fancy, just "kiddie porn" - and they've reception committees inside for nonces who do that kind of shit.

"Yeah, I reckon Fulham gotta pull their socks up this season. 1-0 down to Bremen? Not a good start to a European campaign, is it? Jol needs to give them a kicking."

"Yeah, spot on, Kev." And by the way, have you ever noticed the way your dau's pussy unfolds beautifully when she spreads her legs? No? Here, lemme show you some pictures...

Shit shit shit shit shit...

So we chatted, our big, friendly, extended family, and my niece played footsie with me and her eyes blazed and my brain swam through treacle, and she and I danced a flamenco, and I've no idea what we did but we finished with a flourish, me standing slightly surprised, holding a flushed and beaming Debbie, and she flung her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek big time, and the Spanish MC raised a cheer from the whole fucking restaurant. I hit the brandy soon after.

A little later, at the bar flagging down my fifth brandy, Kev stepped up beside me. My heart did the most discomfiting stop-start. I strove to sound normal.

"Hey, Kev, how's it going?" I think I was slurring some by this time.

OK, cunt, what's this about you taking pics of my daughter? Fucking cunt! You're fucked, you cunt, fucking fucked. Cunt!

"Hey Rog. Yeah, not bad. Look," he paused, eying me for a second. "Look," he began again, "sorry about Debbie. I think she's gone a bit spoony on you, you know? She's been a real moody moo for months, but you've really helped her snap out of it this holiday and now she's maybe gone a bit, I dunno, bit of a crush or something. I guess it's hormones or something, yeah?, but it must be a bit weird for you. Specially tonight! Crikey!"

I breathed out, slowly, before I replied. "Ah, what the heck, mate, she's a nice kid. Doesn't bother me at all, happy to have helped cheer her up, y'know? You think I should have a chat with her, though? If she's y'know, getting some sort of crush, maybe I should...?"

Kev grinned. "Mmm, dunno, mate. New territory for me, this. Shades of things to come, I guess. Probably something I should do..."

Now that might not be a very good idea *at all* mate...

"Well, tell you what, if it comes from me it might go down better, and if she gets pissed off, better she's pissed of with me than you, yeah?"

"Good thought, mate! Thanks! Yeah, OK." Kev was clearly relieved at not having to talk to his daughter about inappropriate crushes. Thank fuck for that, because I really needed to talk with her...

I caught up with her a little later, just for a minute or two, a snatch of conversation in the hallway where the toilets were. She was just coming out of the ladies'; I'd timed my run to the gents' to meet her. Her face lit up when she saw me.

"Uncle Rog! I..." I raised a finger to my lips. She stepped closer. The hallway was narrow and cramped. We were too close together. Her eyes shone, her lips quivering in a half-smile. The brandy was making my heart race. I'm sure it was the brandy.

"Honey, you need to be cool, OK?" My voice was little more than a whisper, but I spoke fast, urgently. "What happened... was... Well, it wouldn't be good for either of us if anyone else found out."

Her color rose as I spoke. "You mean you want to pretend it didn't happen? Is that it? You're saying it didn't happen, we didn't do, you didn't do it?"

"No, honey, I'm not saying that, I'm saying..."

"You had a stiffie. I saw it. That was for me wasn't it? You wanted to have sex with me didn't you?"

"...Debbie, you can't ask me that. What we did was..."

"Well I am, I just did. It's true, you did!" I shushed her again, my finger on her lips this time. "You did, and I did, and why can't we? I love you! Do you love me?"

"I..." Fuck. "I... Yes." Oh fuck, what sort of a lie was that? "Yes. Yes, OK, yes, I wanted to make love to you."

Oh my God...

With those few words I damned myself nineteen ways to Hell. Debbie grinned, her smile part shy, but oh, oh-so pleased. She bit her lip, looked down, looked back up.

"Are the photos good?"

"Ahh... Yes, yes they are."

"Can I see them?"

"No... Yes..."

"Can we... do it again...?"

"...yes... Maybe... Yes..."

Oh fuck...

For the remainder of the evening she was calmer, more, one might say, demure. I sank half a bottle of Spanish brandy and was stone-cold sober. My wife was pissed with me, I don't know why. I didn't much care. I had no idea where I was going, or what I was doing.

I didn't sleep. I lay awake until two, then got up. An hour it took me to transfer the pics of Debbie, in batches of four or five, onto a spare SD card. I could just have deleted them. I should just have deleted them. I didn't. I masturbated instead, cumming quickly and messily all over the tiled floor with the image of my niece's pink-perfect pussy on the screen in front of me and my words in the restaurant echoing through my head.

I felt better for it.

For the next few days I threw myself into fun and games with all the kids. I joined in like mad, suggested fun stuff, made up games, took them places, tried not to be alone with Debbie. I'd managed to speak to her the day after the flamenco night and had a more measured conversation about not causing suspicion. She demurred, still with that light in her sweet blue eyes. She was indeed a smart girl. She didn't mention my telling her I loved her.

So we were cool again, and the knot in my stomach loosened. And we all had a blast, I think. Kev and Colin got to play some golf, Cath warmed to me again, and I even paid my own kids some attention.

And every night I woke up in the early hours, and went to the bathroom, with my phone and the spare SD card I'd carefully moved 213 images to, and I masturbated. I masturbated to tiny, perfect pictures of a gorgeous blonde eleven-year-old, to the curves and dimples of her glorious little body, and I came like a motherfucker every time.

As the fortnight drew to a close, I cashed in my child-care credit and took a day to finish off a few photos - that travel website might indeed be worth a few pennies. Cath took Chloe off shopping, while Robbie went off with Helen and Kev and Chris and, of course, Debbie to a beach a little drive away. I wasn't involved in the planning, so I don't know whether Debbie went gracefully or otherwise, but everything was quiet at the apartment block when I came back from the village.

I chilled for a while out by the pool, toying with the idea of going for a long, slow wank with Debbie's pictures, wondering for the billionth time what minefield I'd stumbled into, fighting the occasional stabs of pure panic. I'd just made up my mind to have one last wank before I deleted the pics forever, when a car pulled up outside. Several doors slammed, almost at once, and Helen's voice was raised in shrill anger. "You are just behaving like a *spoiled* *brat*, madam, and you have managed to *ruin* the last day for the rest of us, so you can go *straight to your room*."

It was pretty thermonuclear. I waited until Helen appeared around the side of the building, a rather disconsolate Robbie in tow.

"Roger, I'm really sorry about spoiling Robbie's day but, well, you probably heard. Debbie has... well, she's grounded and, well, I guess so are we."

My heart was beating very, very fast.

"Bummer," I said, carefully, "but look. I'm not going anywhere else today, no plans, just going to veg. I can keep an eye on Debbie if you like, and you guys can shoot off again."

Robbie's face lit up like a sunny Sunday. "Aw, thanks dad! Auntie Helen, that would be OK wouldn't it? Dad, there was this really cool surf school and uncle Kev said we could have a go, before Debbie... But can we, auntie Helen? Can we? Please?"

Attaboy, son, attaboy. My face was a study in polite helpfulness; my stomach churned like a snakepit; my heart hammered like a spastic carpenter.

"Oh Rog, are you sure?"

"Sure, no probs. I don't mind."

"She's grounded, OK? No trips or treats or anything? She's a spoiled little..."

I held up my hand. It trembled, but Helen didn't notice. "I understand. Scout's honor, I'll just make sure she doesn't burn down the flat or anything."

"Well, thanks Rog. I'll see what Kevin thinks, but... thanks."

Kev was fine with it. Good old Kev was happy to leave his daughter in my care. Cheers, mate. I'll take good care of her, promise.

I waited five minutes after the car had disappeared around the corner of the street, then went up to see Debbie.

The curtains in their apartment were all drawn; it was dim and cool. I called hello as I came in, but there was no reply. I closed the door behind me, and locked it. My hands shook, but less than I might have expected.

"Debbie?" I called again, softly, moving slowly through the apartment toward the bedrooms.

She was lying on her bed, face down. Naked.

She looked up, a little red-eyed, face still flushed with upset and childish anger, but her eyes sparkled when she saw me. And I mean sparkled - sparkled, flashed, and ignited.

Naked. Oh God, but she looked ravishing. Pale still, the faintest hint of tanlines emphasizing her smooth, round butt. The beautiful curve of her back and shoulders, the tumble of hair. Her legs, long, fabulously shaped. My cock hardened. I wanted this girl. No doubts, no churning stomach, no spiraling whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, just the pure clarity of desire.

I walked toward the bed and looked down into those flaring blue fires.

"You're in disgrace, miss," I whispered.

Her voice was high, hoarse, yet so, so sweet.

"I wanted to be with you again. I wanted to..."

I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her, ignoring, for now, her smooth nudity. She stretched up, her eyelids fluttering, her lips parting. I could hear her breathing, fast, intense. Her mouth was pink, moist, trembling.

We kissed.

I don't know how to describe it. It was like a first kiss, all over again. She was eager, childishly eager, but I guided her with nothing more than the pressure of my own lips and tongue, and it was the sweetest, the absolute sweetest thing in the world.

I entered a dream.

Her bottom was smooth and cool and soft. I stroked her gently as we kissed, the softest massage. I felt her response in her breathing, the pressure of her sweet lips. I opened my mouth on hers as her hips rocked beneath my touch. I caressed the silk-soft curves of her ass, round and fleshy and yet so compact, so... child-like. I was direct; we had so little time and there was so much of her I wanted to explore, so much I wanted to give her. My fingers delved below her buttocks, finding, touching, stroking, caressing the soft lips of her pussy.

Her bottom was cool, but there, down there between her smooth, pale thighs, she was warm. As my fingers touched her she moaned softly into my mouth, her hips squirming. We broke the kiss and she buried her face in her arms as I, my lips tingling, fingered the heavenly curves of her smooth, warm pussy. She felt fabulous. I traced the smooth cleft of her girlish opening, warm, damp and slippery, soft and delightful. Her hips rocked, raised, her thighs moved apart and slowly, any embarrassment hidden beneath her tumble of hair, she lifted her bottom for me, lifted it up, back arching, buttocks spreading, begging my attention.

I moved lower on the bed, my free hand trailing over her raised butt, my busy fingers stroking the slippery outlines of her pussy. She glistened there, wet with girlish desire, pink and glowing and unbelievably erotic. I leaned in, my breath blowing gently across her bottom. She moaned, a muffled, animal sound, and buried her head deeper, lifter her bottom higher to meet my lips. I breathed her in - warm, wet girl. Achingly beautiful. Like a gourmand faced with the most delicate dish, I drank in her aroma, filling my nostrils with her softly tangy scents before I took my first taste.

I licked her slowly, from the soft bulges at the head of her cleft along, over the super-soft fold of her clitoral hood, tracing the damp cleft to her perineum and on, across her sweet little asshole and out along her butt crack. The sound she made made my cock hurt, a mew, a tiny, muffled slut-kitten noise; the taste of her brought precum welling from my tip. Again I licked her, clit, cunt, asshole, and again, and again, and still again until my licks merged into one long, hungry feasting on her sweet, sweet holes.

I stroked her back, her butt, her thighs as I ate her out, ate her deliciously young cunt, licked her sweet asshole. I felt her trembling, shaking; her hips quivered, her butt rose, spread. She displayed everything to me again, but this time there was no camera. This time I could touch her, taste her, lick her, suck her, make her cum.

And she did, very soon, her face muffled still in her arms and pillow, her butt high and shaking. She cried out, loud, long, high-pitched and child-like, and shivered mightily as I brought her to edge and helped her jump. She collapsed, her bottom grinding down into the bed. I held her, squeezed her, kissed her hair, murmured to her. Oh sweetheart, oh darling, you know what that was, you just came, honey? Uh-huh, mm-hmm. Oh sweetheart that was beautiful, you are beautiful, oh Debbie, you're so beautiful.

I cuddled her for quite a while before she raised her head. Her face looked fabulous, flushed, glowing with sexual awakening, love and simple, childish pleasure.

"Oh, uncle Rog... Oh my God that was...

"Oh my God, did you... you licked my... did you lick my bum?" The realization seemed to shock her some.

"Yes, darling, I did, and your - what do you call her?"

"Pussy, I guess. Isn't it... didn't it taste...?"

"You tasted fabulous, honey, just fabulous."

She flushed again, bright red, but her smile split her face from ear to ear.

I held her again, hugged her, squeezed her deliciously soft body against mine, stroked her flanks, her bottom, her thighs until, very soon, I felt her fingers stroking back. Her hand under my t-shirt was delightfully hesitant; her fingers on my thigh more so. I slipped off my t-shirt, letting her fingers walk my chest and curl inquisitively in the hair. I stroked her hair, her butt as she explored this large, male presence now before her, letting her find her own pace before, gently, I helped her fingers with the button of my shorts.

She could see the state I was in, feel me through the bulging cotton, but nevertheless the emergence of my erection plain for her to see caused a sharp intake of breath. She looked up, eyes wide, teeth catching at her lower lip again.

"See what you've done to me," I murmured. "No wonder you're in disgrace, miss."

For a half-second she wasn't sure, then she giggled, her fingers going to her mouth in a gesture that was irresistibly child-like. Her eyes flashed with mirth, and something else.

Smiling myself, I reached out, took hold of her right hand and, murmuring soft encouragement, gently introduced her to my cock.

Her touch was fabulous, her small hand cool, her fingers delicately eager. I showed her where to touch me, how to stroke me, when to lick her fingers. I showed her how hard she could squeeze me, and she was amazed. I showed her how to hold and pull my balls, and I was amazed at her dexterity. It wasn't long before I could sit back and let her play with me, exercising her new found skills in male masturbation. I stroked her bottom, my fingers dallying with her pussy and her butthole, while she caressed me deliciously well. I encouraged her to spit on her fingers every now and then, and then to spit down onto my cock as she squeezed me delightfully, and then:

"You can lick me if you'd like to," I murmured. I think I knew her response before I asked. She hesitated a little.

"What does it taste like?"

"Well, I dunno really. I can't reach, myself."

This brought a broad grin after a second or so's pause. She slapped my thigh playfully.

"You know what they say though," I continued, "if there's something you're not sure of?"

"What?"

"Suck it and see." My face was completely straight as I said this. Again, she looked serious, pondering my words, then:

"Oh! You...!"

Another slap on the thigh, and a stuck-out tongue. But then, after barely a pause, she dipped her head, a cascade of blonde hair following, and kissed the end of my cock.

A shudder ran through me. She clearly felt it, and kissed again, letting her lips linger this time. A third time and her kiss was deeper; a fourth, and her mouth slid down, slowly, enveloping the tingling, throbbing head of my cock. And oh, God! My legs quivered, I remember quite clearly, and my fists bunched in the bedsheets as my sweet, sassy little niece took my cock in her mouth and sucked me like she'd been doing it for years. Sucked me like a pro, just like she'd sucked off her ice-cream the other day.

That quiver, the bunched fists - that was enough for Debs. She noticed my reaction, of course, and suddenly she had power beyond belief over a grown-up, and a man at that. For fifteen, twenty minutes she experimented with every damn way to tease me with her mouth and tongue, and my God it was glorious. She knew instinctively not to use her teeth, except in teasing demonstration, and she figured out quickly how to suck and lick to best effect. I always said she was a clever girl.

It was only when I squirmed around into the middle of the bed and guided her leg over my chest that I regained a little control. Her fine, silken thighs straddled me and her glistening pussy quivered in my face, enticing, delicious. I began again, gorging on her fabulous cunt, my tongue delving into her as far as her hymen would let me. I squirmed an arm around and wriggled a finger against her asshole. As she squeezed and sucked my cock, I licked her sweet pussy and gently worked my finger one, two knuckles up her ass. She arched her back, and pressed her cunt down onto my tongue.

Heaven. Heaven to lick and be sucked by my gorgeously chubby little niece, my little blonde sex-moppet of a niece. Sixty-nine with her soft, sweet ass in my face and her eager young mouth on my iron-hard cock. We must have been there for half an hour and more, licking and sucking, my finger up her ass, her hands shaking and trembling on my cock and balls. We could've brought each other to the edge there, but I wanted us to finish face to face.

I disengaged her gently, and raised her into my arms. I kissed her, and she either forgot or didn't care that my mouth had been suckling her cunt only a short while. I tasted my own cock on her lips, and my blood pulsed in recognition. I was so hard, and not far from cumming; she was flushed, cool no longer, her pussy wet and deliciously pink. I sat up on the bed, legs astride, and pulled her into my lap, sitting her down between my thighs so my cock pointed straight at her soft, pink pussy. I leaned down and kissed her. She looked ravishing - soft, round face flushed, eyes glowing deep, blonde hair tumbled girlishly about her shoulders, gorgeously rounded little tummy rippling gently to her deep, fast breathing. Her chest was almost as flushed as her face, her sweet, gently-rising areolae marked by two hard little nipples. Another six months, I though, and they would be so gorgeously puffy and tender and erogenous as hell.

I kissed her and stroked her face and nestled my cock head in between her smooth, soft pussy lips, and with a gentle but insistent rhythm began to rub. I rubbed her pussy all over, under, inside, nudging her tiny clit, masturbating us both toward the edge. She came first, her fingers gripping my shoulders tightly, her head thrown back, her face flushing bright red as she shivered and moaned, and that sweet, hot face finished me off. With my cock pressed deep between her lips I came, hard, long, shaking with the power of it, my cum squirting out from her glistening pussy lips and ribboning across her flushed mons, smoothly naked, pink and glistening beneath my splattering, ejaculating cock.

"Oh Debieeeeee..."

And after?

Afterwards, when the sticky fluids had cooled between us in our sweet, loving embrace, I bathed her, beautiful girl that she is. I bathed her and we kissed and petted like lovers, and we talked, low and gentle and we tried to come to the right arrangement. She told me she loved me, and I told her I loved her, and I meant it this time, no strings, no bullshit. I told her she'd given me something so beautiful it hurt, and she said there was more she wanted to give, and we'd work it out, somehow we'd work it out.

And the next day, we were cool. The centre of the spiral was a still point, not a maelstrom. It was the last day of the holiday, and a last big trip out to the beach, and we all had a good time. Debbie was all kindness and fun playing with Clo, and chatted contentedly with me and Cath like a good niece - and if there was a special warmth in the smiles she gave me, only I could see it. Helen and Kev seemed particularly relaxed with Debs; whatever rough pre-teenage edges had been there when they arrived had now gone, though only two of us knew how or why... Kev mentioned it in passing to me: "Thanks for holding the fort with Debbie yesterday, and sorry for landing it on you. Mind you, the bust-up seems to have worked. Seems you have to snap sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, mate. Kids, eh?"

Debs and I managed only a few minutes alone together, and we held hands and I kissed her hair and she hugged me beautifully, and I got an erection and she giggled. I asked her if I should delete the pictures, and she thought for a quite a while before her smile spread. "No," she said, with a hint of the old mischief in her eyes, "keep them. Show me them next time."

Next time...