A Niece in Nice is Nice Twice – Part 2
by
Rwxxx13 (rwxxx13@yahoo.com)
That’s when the whispers, sly looks and secret giggles started. Of course, they often spoke in French, so who knows what they were saying? When I went down to the kitchen about fifteen minutes later it was to find the girls already eating breakfast. Sam was dressed as she’d been before, which surprised me, and she was eating a croissant with strawberry jam. Hannah, more concerned about healthy eating, had a plate of cheese and fruit in front of her. She at least was wearing the usual shorty pajamas.
I was dressed as I usually was during the day, in a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. If I went out during the day I’d usually change to actual shorts. The kind with a zipper and a belt. Those weren’t comfortable around the house, though, so I usually stuck with the gym shorts.
I’d heard soft talking as I approached the kitchen in my bare feet, but that abruptly died as I entered the room. I thought the girls immediately eyed my crotch, but I could have imagined it. Imagined or not, I felt myself blushing. Then, in chorus, the girls said, “Good morning, Uncle Jason,” and I certainly wasn’t imagining the sly smiles afterwards.
“Morning, ladies,” I replied, trying for normal. I went to the cupboard and grabbed a bowl, then filled it with cereal and milk. The girls thought cereal was odd. Grabbing a spoon, I joined the girls at the table. That’s when I realized I’d sat myself across from Samantha and her thinly-covered young breasts. Were her nipples stiff? I concentrated on my cereal.
Head bent over my bowl, I listened as the girls talked. I’d already learned to tune them out the majority of the time, so I doubted I was missing much. Mostly I was thinking about what had happened and what they had been talking about before I’d come down to the kitchen. I guess it wasn’t surprising that girls their age would have some curiosity about boys and sex and such, but it certainly wasn’t something I needed to encourage. Especially in my own nieces. I vowed to start locking the bathroom door from then on.
“Uncle Jason!”
The volume of Hannah’s voice made me realize that my youngest niece had been asking me a question and had repeated my name several times. I shook my head and looked at her saying, “Sorry, wool-gathering. What did you say, hon?”
Hannah looked at her sister then back to me and asked, “We wanted to know if you wanted to go swimming with us.”
Was that a flash of wickedness in her eyes, quickly hidden? The girls had never asked me to go swimming with them. In fact they very rarely seemed to use the pool themselves. I was only aware of one occasion, a few days earlier, when they’d had four or five other girls over. I’d thought about going outside to check on them. You know, like a responsible adult. In the end I figured it might be a bit of a creeper move, or at least perceived as such, so I just avoided the back patio until the party had broken up and the other girls had gone home.
So the question was, did this invitation come because of the incident this morning? Awfully coincidental if not. So what did that mean? Probably just more curiosity. How should I respond to that? In my mind I had a vision of the girls busting into the bathroom on me again and although I had absolutely no reason to think something like that might happen, especially with my new vow to lock the door, I thought that swimming might somehow keep that from happening. So I said yes.
The girls seemed happy and they got up to clean their dishes with promises to meet me at the pool as soon as they’d had a chance to change. I very carefully did not watch Sam in her tiny panties as she moved around the kitchen. Much.
Upstairs I stripped, after locking my bedroom door, and changed into my swim trunks. That’s when I found myself in a bit of a quandary. The least revealing trunks I’d found in town were simple black with maroon trim. They were made out of some kind of microfiber mesh which was supposed to breath better and keep you comfortable, but they did tend to hug the junk a bit. Not as bad as if they’d been Speedos or something, but there was little doubt what was under the hood if you get my drift. They were also fairly short, only extending a couple inches down my thighs. I began to rethink this whole swimming thing.
I heard Hannah yelling at me from the bottom of the steps and knew I’d committed myself. I took a last look at myself, at my hairless upper body, down to my lightly haired legs, and finally back up to the outline of my cock in my trunks. I was really nervous showing my small bulge, but I reasoned that these were young girls who had no real idea what to expect. Having the feeling that this was a bad idea, I headed down the stairs.
*
I knew I’d made a mistake the moment I got down to the pool. Not only did the eyes of each of my nieces immediately lock onto my crotch, but I also found myself staring at them. Sam, with her short blonde hair styled to mimic her mother’s, looked amazing in a peach colored bikini. While the bottoms actually covered more than the panties she’d been wearing earlier, there was something equally sexy about them. Perhaps it was the pull strings on the sides which you couldn’t help imagine pulling. The triangular cups of the top seemed to barely contain her small breasts. Her tanned skin showed that even if she wasn’t swimming, she’d at least been spending some time in the sun, and it was likely topless. Of course, this was the French Riviera and the girls likely sunbathed topless and thought nothing of it.
Hannah seemed a bit more reserved than her sister, but that may have been only a surface impression. Her hair was longer and while it was often in a golden wave down her back, in this instance it was tied up in a ponytail. She was wearing a one-piece. A light blue which perfectly complimented her blue eyes. You might think that a one-piece would be more conservative than Sam’s bikini, but I slowly realized that the younger girl was somehow even more on display than her sister. The suit hugged her tightly, stretching lovingly over her swollen little buds and cupping her small mound like a lover, the shadowy cleft at the center of her vulva clearly visible.
I shook myself and looked away, heading towards the pool at high speed, anxious for the cool water and a bit of camouflage. The girls didn’t wait too long to follow.
Things got a bit more normal then. Or so I felt. Just usual pool horseplay, where they hung on me a bit and I threw them around and we raced and played some Marco Polo. Just the usual stuff. Okay, maybe when they hung onto me their hands were a bit playful on my shoulders or neck or chest. Maybe their thighs occasionally brushed against my dick with a bit more pressure and frequency than strictly necessary. Or maybe I was just imagining things. Still, the talk was innocent, and the screams were just those of girls having fun in the water.
Eventually Sam looked at her fingers, gave a girlish, ‘ewww’ and decided swim time was over. As she climbed up out of the pool I tried to ignore the fact that half of her bottoms had slid aside, revealing a firm, lovely asscheek which showed no tan lines at all. I decided I’d had enough as well and after helping to push Hannah up and out I climbed out, announcing to all that I’d get lunch together after a chance to shower and change.
Then we stood around around drying ourselves for a minute. I quickly noticed that both girls had obviously stiff little nipples. I also knew that the coolness of the wind after the pool had done it’s job on me, and a glance downward confirmed that I was looking significantly smaller downstairs than I had before I’d jumped into the pool. I saw the sneaking glances and wondered what was going through their heads.
Upstairs I stripped out of my clammy trunks and a look in the mirror showed that shrinkage is man’s worst enemy. I was practically inverted, just the barest hint of purplish glans poking out of my bush of blond pubes. I decided to take my time in the shower, although I only needed to rinse off the chlorine because I’d showered earlier. However, the sight of my little guy at nearly three inches afterwards gave me a little boost of confidence, so I counted the extra time as well used. Exiting the bathroom in my robe, I found Hannah waiting in the hall wrapped in just a towel.
“Sam beat me to Mom’s,” she explained. Then she stepped past me into the bathroom and within moments I heard the shower starting.
I’d left my damp trunks in the bathroom, so back in my room all I had to do was dress in the clothes I’d worn earlier. Heading back to the stairs I cocked an ear at each bathroom door and heard both showers running. Downstairs I started putting some lunch together. The girls rarely wanted anything heavy in the afternoon, so I just set up some fruit and cheese and materials for turkey sandwiches.
They came down together, smelling of shampoo and perhaps a bit of girly perfume. Sam’s hair had been blow dried and was artfully arranged. She was dressed in a low-cut spaghetti-strap shirt. It was looser than the one from that morning, but the lack of bra straps and the way her nipples pressed against the material showed that she was clearly braless. Below, she wore tight-fitting yoga pants, or culottes or whatever they were called. I just know they were tight, and ended a bit below her knees. I hate using the term camel-toe, just because it sounds so crude, but I suppose that’s the best descriptor I can come up with right now for what I was seeing, and I seriously doubted that she was wearing panties. Her top was yellow and the bottoms were light blue.
Hannah was dressed much the same. No training bra today, although I knew she sometimes wore one. I’d been given quite a few vaguely uncomfortable lessons in young womanhood by Carly before she left, so I’d be prepared for such things as bras and periods and the like while she was gone. Hannah’s top was pink and the bottoms a shade that I’m just going to say was purple although it was probably mauve or fuchsia or something like that. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back in a golden wave. Her bottoms were just as revealing as her older sister’s, and I glanced away uncomfortably from the wedge in her vulva, wondering if either girl was wearing underwear.
So, at this point, considering the type of story this obviously is, and where you’ve found it, you’re probably expecting me to sweep the food off the table and ravish my nieces right about now. I can tell you, that never happens. Not that there isn’t ravishing. I suppose there is. Although who exactly does the ravishing and who is ravished is pretty much still in question in my mind. In any case, it doesn’t happen on the kitchen table and doesn’t happen right then. I didn’t go from concerned, loving uncle to preteen girl ravisher (or ravishee) overnight.
Okay, so now you’re thinking, ‘Hey, wait a minute. Didn’t this story start with the guy still marginally in control of himself?’ Well, Mr. (or Ms) Smartypants, you’re right. That was a bit of artistic license on my part. I already know the whole story, and I’m just relating it as I remember it. Consider it a confession of sorts, I guess.
In any case, there was no ravishing that day, or the next, but there was definitely something going on in the Middlebrook household. My last name; they use their dad’s. Anyway, there had been a shift. It was subtle at first, but felt nonetheless.
First, and most glaringly, was the change in nighttime attire. Did I say subtle? Evenings usually ran like this: We would have dinner, with either me cooking and the girls cleaning, or vice versa. After dinner and cleanup, the girls would head upstairs to do whatever girls did to get ready for bed. So far as I’d been able to figure, this mostly consisted of removing the little makeup the girls wore, brushing their teeth and hair, applying… stuff, and changing for bed. As I said, they usually wore shorty pj’s or a shorts and t-shirt combo. After all that, they’d come back downstairs and we’d watch tv for a couple of hours either curled up on the couch together, or with them on the floor or some variation on that.
That night they stuck with the little spaghetti-strap shirts they’d worn through the day; shirts, I should mention, which showed an alarming amount of gently swelling chest when they bent over near me, which seemed to happen several times throughout the day. Also, no pj shorts that night. Each girl was wearing panties only. Hannah wore what I thought of as the traditional girl panties, in a pink to match her top. They were trimmed with frilly white lace. Sam wore athletic looking boy shorts, also in an outfit matching yellow, but cut so high in the back that half her cheeks were exposed. Think Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn.
I raised an eyebrow as they came into the room together, and they had the good grace to at least blush, but when I asked if they’d forgotten a certain article of clothing, namely pants, they told me they were warm and to lighten up. Lighten up. I suppose I could have nipped the whole thing in the bud right then, but I have to admit that they looked so cute, and I was just the slightest bit curious to find out how far they’d go. I seriously thought it would go no further than a bit of innocent flirting. How wrong I was.
I’d been sitting on the left side of the sofa, and Sam quickly claimed the spot to the right of me, leaving Hannah to pout a little and take a spot on the floor in front of us. Of course, that didn’t help me, because now the girl was lying stretched out on the floor, her legs spread, and that left me with a clear view straight up to her panties-covered crotch and ass.
Samantha meanwhile was glued to my side in a way that seemed much more clingy and intimate than previous nights. As we watched tv she had her left arm wrapped around my right, and with her right she played teasingly with the hairs on my arm. Also, from time to time she’d ask some obviously unimportant and just thought up question, all designed to give her an excuse to lean in closer, pressing her small breast against my arm. A nervous glance showed that her nipples were stiff against the thin cloth of her shirt and every time she leaned forward, she seemed to do it in a way which made the front of said shirt gape open further. On at least three occasions I was sure I caught the soft brown flash of areola topping the conical swell of preteen breasts. I crossed my legs to hide a growing erection.
At eleven I shooed them off to bed. I did it from a sitting position, afraid if I stood that my condition would be evident. They grumbled, but headed up the stairs, Sam giving me a saucy little shake of her tiny ass before she turned the corner.
I breathed a sigh of relief after they left, then I headed upstairs myself. I walked softly by the girls’ room on my to my own and heard the soft whisper of voices, although there was no light showing under the door. In my own room, I stripped and slid into bed, my mind whirling. How had things gotten so weird, I wondered.
End of part 2
Copyright 2018 – Rwxxx13
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