August 2025

A Niece in Nice is Nice Twice – Part 4
by
Rwxxx13 (rwxxx13@yahoo.com)

Of course, that wasn’t the end of my problems. Not by a long shot.

I’d been dreaming when I heard whispered voices. At least I thought I’d been dreaming. Or perhaps I was dreaming the voices. In the way that the time between dreaming and waking can often become jumbled, I slowly became aware that I really was waking, and there really were soft voices, but something about it made me very cautious and told me that I should lie there quietly and not let on that I was aware of them.

Eyes closed, I did my best to keep my breathing slow and even. As someone who often tosses and turns in the night, rolling over and changing position several times, the ability to keep myself in that sort of twilight sleep was well tuned. So I was able to float there, just barely holding onto part of an unconscious state while the rest of me began to focus.

The first thing I became aware of, besides the soft sounds of the voices, was that I wasn’t alone in my bed. The movements were careful and subtle, but there were minor shifts that let me know there were others here. As my focus sharpened I of course realized that it had to be Samantha and Hannah.

Holding onto the physical semblance of sleep, I took closer stock of my situation. I deduced from the vibrations on the bed and in the air that I had a girl on either side of me. I imagined they were sitting. After a moment I could even smell them, their girlish scent tickling my nose.

“Pull it down,” I heard Sam whisper.

“You do it,” Hannah replied softly. “You’re the one that wants to see.”

“Only because you cheated and did it first. I still can’t believe you used the storm trick.” Then, pitching her voice in a higher, mocking tone, she said, “Pwease, Uncle Jasown, I’m scawed of wightning.”

“You’re only mad because you didn’t think of it,” Hannah said in a smug whisper. “At least I was nice enough to come get you.”

Silence for a few moments, then, from Samantha, a huffing, “Fine.”

The last of the fog leaving me, I realized what was happening. Making sure to keep my breath steady, my mind went into overdrive, trying to figure out what, if any, action I should take. I was naked under my sheet, and the girls had obvious plans to pull down the sheet in the next couple of seconds, exposing my naked body. Is that something I should just let happen? I mean, was that wrong? Didn’t girls need a little sex ed? I mean, a little peek wouldn’t hurt, right? What if it did, though? What if this was some weird incestual abuse thing I was doing. Of course, Hannah had gotten a show and then some last night, but I told myself it had been dark, and that somehow made it less wrong.

Besides, I’ve explained how I feel about being naked in front of others. Although my nieces were clearly inexperienced, they had surely at least seen some nude guys on the internet. There’s no way I could compare to that and the thought was embarrassing. I didn’t want the girls seeing my cock in that state, in the full light of day. What if they laughed? I couldn’t count on their inexperience translating to ignorance of what a guy had between his legs. At least Hannah hadn’t seen me until I was completely hard. I wasn’t even a little bit hard now, and the thought of being seen now made me squirm a bit inside.

Then I thought, what if I wasn’t the only guy they’d seen naked? I know that I played around with little girls when I was a little boy. If they had seen boys naked then maybe I’d seem large in comparison. Or maybe I wouldn’t. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the thought that there were probably twelve and thirteen year old boys out in the world who had bigger dicks than I did. Hannah hadn’t said a word last night, and with pretending to be asleep, I couldn’t know if mine had been the first she’d seen, even if the light had been bad. I couldn’t make up my mind what to do.

Before I could make a decision either way, I felt the warmth of Sam’s fingers against my belly as they gripped the sheet and then the coolness of the air against my skin as I was slowly exposed. A gasp from both girls told me that my cock was in plain view. I was too conflicted by what was happening to have to worry about getting hard, but part of me wished I was, just so it was more impressive looking.

“See? It’s hairy,” Hannah whispered softly. Then followed up after a few long moments with, “It looks weird. Like a wrinkly worm. Last night it was all stiff.”

“This is what they look like when they’re soft,” Samantha whispered. “Gabriel was the same way. His was tiny and curled up until I touched it then it got straight and stood up.”

Another few agonizing moments of silence then Hannah spoke again. “He’s got hair on his balls. They feel weird.” My balls aren’t very large either, about the size of large grapes, and they are lightly covered in blond hairs.

“I know,” Sam said, obviously the voice of experience. “I touched Gabriel’s”

“Did his look like Jason’s?” Hannah asked softly.

“Well, he’s only twelve and he doesn’t have hairs, and his was littler. Plus he has skin on the end, like a funnel, because he’s unsermonized.”

“What’s that?”

“When some boys are babies they have this extra skin on the ends of their things and sometimes they get it cut off because of religion. So those are sermonized, like Jason.”

My heart was beating so loud in my chest by this time that I was amazed the girls couldn’t hear it. Then once again Hannah broke the silence with a surprised whisper asking, “Are you gonna touch it?”

I realized it wasn’t a question out of nowhere, but a reaction to an action, and then a moment later I felt a whisper-soft tickle against my cock as Sam ran her finger downward along my wrinkled shaft. I didn’t want to look, but I know myself well enough to know that I was probably not much more than an inch or two long at the moment. Again, I felt so shocked that even my body didn’t react. Then, seemingly emboldened, I felt two fingers gently lift my cock. She allowed her fingertips to encircle the shaft. They danced lightly upward, like a skittish spider, gently exploring the sensitive head of my circumcised penis, and then down, hesitantly exploring the thin skin of my scrotum.

That was apparently too much for my nervous system, or whatever system it is that controls your dick. I began to stiffen quickly at that point. As unimpressive as I feel my dick is when it’s soft, I’m a bit happier with my size when I’m erect. As I said, I grow to a bit over four inches and I also gain a good bit of girth. Having my twelve-year-old niece playing with my cock supplied me with plenty of girth. I only hoped it was enough to impress a girl who’s only seeming real life experience was with a prepubescent twelve-year-old.

Hannah announced the obvious, saying, “It’s moving!” in a pleased whisper.

A few moments later, I heard Hannah whisper again, this time with a sense of satisfaction evident in her voice, “See? Look how big it is.” I have to say, it was kind of a proud moment for me. Sad that it took an inexperienced eleven-year-old girl to give me that feeling.

Then Sam dashed those feelings by whispering, “I thought it would be bigger. Gabriel’s was almost as long. Jason’s is thicker though.” Great, so I was barely beating out a hairless twelve-year-old.

Sam’s fingers left me for a moment, until I reached my full size, and then they returned, even bolder than before. This time she took me into her hand, her fingers closing tighter until she had me in a proper grip. Then, as most women I’ve ever been with seem to do when faced with a new cock, she pulled it upright, no doubt to examine it more closely, or perhaps just because Sam was unaware of the range of motion of the average cock.

Then it was a whispered, “Let me have a turn,” and the replacement of one hand with another that really got me. I lay there, still trying to breath deeply while my heart beat crazily in my chest and my cock throbbed wildly in my eleven-year-old niece’s hand and I imagined her sitting there with my painfully stiff dick in her tiny fist and I very nearly lost it. With hardly any manipulation at all, I was nearly ready to come.

“It’s so hard and warm,” Hannah said softly, and I could hear the wonder in her voice. I felt her squeezing me and she said, “I can feel his heartbeat.”

“My turn again,” Sam said. “You got to do it last night.” Then I was handed over yet again.

Desperate, I grumbled. The noise was enough to shock the girls into stillness. However, Sam’s hand was still wrapped around my cock. So I faked a moan and moved my head back and forth a bit, as if I were waking. That did the trick. I could feel Samantha very gently releasing my prick so that it settled rather than slapped against my stomach, and then I felt the sheet as it was replaced.

I thought about leaving it at that, but I was worried that either, A – they’d just resume their illicit fun, or B – that they’d think they could just come back and repeat the experiment. As interesting, and admittedly, exciting, as it had been, I couldn’t go through this again. Deciding that a bit of fear would do the trick, I quickly ‘woke’.

I think I did a pretty good job of feigning shock and surprise at their presence in my bed. Especially when I made a show of noticing how hard I was while simultaneously seeming to be both highly embarrassed as well as highly suspicious. It probably helped that Hannah was still dressed only in a pair of panties, leaving her swollen little mounds uncovered. Her nipples were clearly stiff. The girls beat a hasty retreat. They were even subdued at breakfast later on, wearing the most un-revealing clothes I’d seen them in in days.

Of course, if they learned any sort of lesson from that experience, it was quickly forgotten. For that matter, any lesson I should have drawn from it seemed to be forgotten as well, as I still didn’t confront the girls about their behavior, which basically seemed to say that they could do as they wished.

If you’re wondering, that was sort of the final point at which I might have put a stop to the madness. I missed it, and I’d pay for it that evening.

---

The ‘lesson’ if that’s what it had been, didn’t take. After dinner, the girls appeared dressed to impress. Hannah arrived first, eager I think to get the seat next to me. I’d attempted stacking up couch cushions on my right side to create a sort of barrier, but the girls simply moved them and I was too much the coward to complain and explain why I wanted them there.

Hannah once again had her hair loose down her back. It ended just below her shoulders. She was wearing a silky little top, much like the one I’d seen Sam in that time she’d burst into the bathroom on me. It was a champagne color and thin and her little nipples were visible as indentations in the cloth. Below she was wearing matching, silky boyshorts. The top ended at her ribs and the panties were low-cut, leaving a lot of skin in between. Weren’t silky nightclothes a bit risque for such young girls? I couldn’t imagine where they were getting these things.

Hannah snuggled up against me as if nothing had happened during the night or that morning. As if she hadn’t held my erect cock in her fist just hours earlier, hadn’t jacked it, hadn’t rubbed her naked little pussy against my leg. In fact, if you ignored the outfit, she just seemed like her usual, chatty self.

It was Sam who was going for broke. She showed up downstairs a few minutes later just wearing panties and another of the same breast exposing little numbers she’d worn the other day. This time it was a tiny t-shirt which had undergone some alterations. It was sleeveless and cut even higher, if that’s possible, than the last. If the last one had exposed the bottom quarter of Sam’s young tits, then this one showed at least a third, if not more. The material wasn’t tight across her chest, at least not along the bottom, so the hem moved freely as she walked, and each step seemed to reveal just a hint of areola. It was frankly an obscene garment, but I was too much in shock to even say anything.

I was even more shocked when she passed in front of me. What I’d taken to be tiny, lacy panties, turned out to be a thong, which I discovered when she turned to face away from me without a word. With a sly smile, she settled down on her stomach in front of the tv, her body carefully arranged so that I’d have a perfect view up between her legs at her barely-covered pussy and her fully exposed ass. As I’d assumed, there wasn’t a single tan-line, and even the space between her legs showed the kiss of the sun. If there was any doubt that she knew the effect she was going for, it was ruined when she spread her legs wide enough to assure a full and easy view.

I’d taken to wearing long t-shirts, to better hide my crotch. I was very thankful for that at that moment. Hannah didn’t say a word, as if this kind of thing were perfectly normal. I don’t even know what was on the tv. I was aware of only two things: Sam’s body, and Hannah’s warmth at my side. In fact, I was in such a daze that I didn’t even realize when Hannah took my right hand and placed it lightly on her knee.

Sam’s ass was perfection. There was no disputing that. Firm and tanned, toned and perfectly sculpted. The thong between her legs stretched down just barely far enough to cover her asshole. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.

Then she started moving.

The movements were subtle at first. My initial thought was that she was about to stand, only because I sensed the tensing of her body. Then I realized that the tensing represented a much smaller movement. She was pressing herself into the carpet. And by pressing herself, I mean she was slowly grinding her crotch against the floor. My cock, already hard, throbbed even more powerfully between my legs. I casually adjusted my shirt to make sure I was covered. My right hand, unconsciously, had began to caress Hannah’s knee.

The grinding continued. Eventually I saw Sam’s head dip as she began to pay more attention to what she was doing than to what was on the television. Her legs bent at the knee as her feet rose into the air, eventually coming together to rest, forming a V-shape which did nothing to obscure the view. Then the little humping motion became more circular. She was twisting her hips. The tensing of the muscles in her ass were clearly visible, and then her slim hips began to rise and fall a bit as she writhed. I didn’t notice the hand on my thigh. I didn’t notice that my own hand had risen higher on Hannah’s leg, that they had spread wider, and that I was now caressing her inner thigh.

I didn’t know if I was imagining it, but at that moment I could have sworn I smelled the distinctive scent of pussy in the air. My cock was aching and I longed to just pull it out and drop to the floor, plunging it to the hilt into the tight, hot, little cunt in front of me. I was shocked by the thought. It was the first time the thought had hit me so directly. Up until now this whole thing had been about teasing and exploration to me. The image of myself ramming my cock into Sam’s pussy was visceral and lurid.

That probably would have been enough to shock me out of this whole thing. Then I was suddenly aware of Hannah’s small hand on my thigh, already touching my shorts and dangerously close to my balls. My own hand froze when I realized that I was less than an inch from her tiny, cloth-covered pussy. I could actually feel the heat against my fingers and was shocked. This was going too far, I realized. Something was about to happen and I had to stop it. Right then.

Then three things happened almost simultaneously. The first was a glance at Sam which showed me that she’d shifted a bit so that she was no longer propped on her elbows. Now she was flat on her chest and her right hand had snaked underneath her body. I saw it appear suddenly between her legs, rubbing against her pussy through the soaked material of her thong. The second thing was that Hannah chose that moment to close her legs. Warned by the fact that my hand had stopped moving, she probably worried that I would move it and so she trapped it between her satiny smooth thighs. This also had the effect of pressing my fingers directly against the moist heat from her swollen pussy. The little girl gasped and then she was grabbing my cock through my shorts.

I was frozen, literally unable to move at all. I knew I should be doing something, but it was as if I needed to do so many things at once that I couldn’t do any of them. The dampness of Hannah’s tiny pussy against my fingers brought so many tactile memories that it was almost impossible to fight the instinct to plunge my fingers into that sweet little hole. Her little hand on my cock was inexperienced, but how experienced does a hand have to be to simply rub up and down? And really, how much more do guys want than a hand to rub us up and down?

Then, to make matters infinitely worse, I watched as Samantha used her thumb to hook the side of her panties and pull them aside, exposing the hairless bottom half of her swollen vulva before she quickly inserted two fingers into her gripping hole. I watched the girl’s back hunch as she began to plunge those fingers in and out, saw her ass tensing, her hips twitching. Her head began to bob in time to her thrusting fingers and the first of her moans emerged, high-pitched and filled with need. I could actually hear her fingers sliding in and out of her preteen twat.

I might have still been able to do something about it. At least that’s what I tell myself. Then Sam whipped her head back and locked eyes with me, her blue orbs drilling into me with naked lust as her tiny body shook. That look pinned me there, so that when Hannah shifted around and pulled my shirt up and took hold of the front of my shorts, I was unable to react.

I saw Sam’s eyes widen in excitement at the same moment I felt a blast of coolness against the burning rod that was my cock. I somehow managed to look away from the girl long enough to see that Hannah had pulled down the front of my shorts. My cock was glistening with precum, and the front of my underwear showed a huge wet spot where it had soaked through. Then Hannah’s little hand was wrapping around my cock. The eleven-year-old showed no hesitation this time, gripping me firmly and stroking my whole length, seemingly not caring about all the slimy precum, even using it to ease the motion of her fist up and down on my prick.

“Girls…” I gasped, wanting to protest something… anything… everything.

They ignored me. Sam continued to plunge her fingers into her pussy, now biting her lower lip while she stared at my cock, her body hunching and shuddering in obvious pleasure. Hannah continued to jack my cock, gaining confidence, and then I sensed her moving. I glanced down only long enough to see a cascade of golden hair obscuring my view of my cock.

It took me a moment to figure out what that meant and I stuttered out an ineffectual, “N-no…” but then I felt the tip of the girl’s tongue against my cockhead and I shuddered. “Hannah…” I said in a desperate croak, but there was no strength in my arms to push her away and no strength in my voice to dissuade her. Then I felt her little mouth closing around my swollen glans.

That was it for me. I tensed and grunted and felt my balls exploding in the most intense orgasm I’d experienced since I first started jacking off when I was a kid. The first blast must have taken Hannah completely by surprise because she backed off, choking, and the next few blasts of hot cum erupted in ropy streams to splash against my chest and stomach and across Hannah’s arm and hand, which remained wrapped around my spasming cock.

A gasp from Sam showed that she’d seen the display and the shaking of her body showed that it had affected her. She was twisting, falling to her side, her fingers buried in her snatch, shaking as she continued to stare, a growling moan announcing her own orgasm.

I’m not sure how long we held ourselves in that tableaux. Long enough at least that when Hannah gave my cock an experimental squeeze some time later, it was small and squishy between her fingers, a slippery little nub covered in cooling jizz.

At about that time, Sam rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows again, but this time on her ass rather than her stomach. Her panties were still a bit askew, displaying a swath of hairless pussy. The t-shirt was also out of place, leaving one of her perfect little breasts fully exposed. My cock began to stiffen again and I felt Hannah squeeze it.

“Uncle Jason – “ Sam began, but that was too much for me.

“No,” I muttered, shaking myself. “No,” I managed more forcefully, and I shook off Hannah’s hand and stood, swaying there for a moment while my cock rose and rose, finally standing out steely hard and glistening with the earlier mess. I awkwardly stuffed it into my shorts and yanked my shirt back down into place. I took a last look at the girls, Sam with her legs spread and her bared breast, Hannah with a shocking hand down the front of her panties, fingers moving inside unabashedly, and I fled.

End of part 4

Copyright 2018 – Rwxxx13
All rights reserved

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A Niece in Nice is Nice Twice – Part 3
by
Rwxxx13 (rwxxx13@yahoo.com)

Things went on like this for the next week or so. Having missed my opportunity to put a stop to the behavior early on, I felt more and more awkward about the thought of bringing it up later. I’m basically a non-confrontational type of guy, and the thought of discussing what was happening frankly filled me with something close to terror. Consequently, things continued to escalate.

The seduction was awkward but effective. Theirs; not mine. I was doing my best to avoid being seduced, but in their youthful determination, the girls continued to throw themselves at me.

Again, their main weapon seemed to be clothing. You’d be surprised just how skimpy a twelve-year-old’s wardrobe can get if they are really working at it. One morning Sam showed up in the kitchen with a shirt, if you can call it that, which she must have operated on herself. It apparently started life as yet another of those spaghetti-strapped shirts, but this one had been cut and then hemmed. It ended so high up on her chest that the bottom quarter of her firm little breasts were clearly visible. I nearly choked. This was coupled with another pair of boyshorts which were actually sheer except for some embroidery across the front and a tiny strip of white between her legs. At least half of her little bush was visible, even if obscured by the sheer material.

That time I actually got a bit upset and told her to go and put some damned clothes on. She just smirked and ignored me.

Samantha wasn’t the only one wearing skimpier clothes. Only weeks from twelve, eleven-year-old Hannah was showing off her assets as well. Her most shocking moment was when she came through the patio door just as I was passing, making me think she must have been waiting for me. She was wearing her own white boyshorts and a small white t-shirt. Sounds mostly innocent until I explain that she was dripping wet, fresh out of the pool, and they were clinging to her like a second skin, her budding breasts plainly visible through the wet shirt and her vulva showing pink through her soaked panties.

“I couldn’t find a towel,” she explained with a smile, then raced up the stairs.

The girls were also much more physical with me, touching me on the arm, on the shoulder, leaning over me when I sat, leaning against me when they sat. They toyed with my hair, drew lazy circles on my arms and legs, and brushed up against me whenever they had the opportunity. I even noticed another attempt to bust in on me in the shower, catching the light shift on the turning knob out of the corner of my eye as I soaped myself in the shower. Luckily, the locked door dissuaded them.

Then came the storm.

I heard the light knock on my door and woke to darkness just as a peal of thunder echoed through the room. I hadn’t been aware of the storm until that moment and wondered if I’d imagined the knock until the door cracked open. I could just barely make out the silhouette of one of the girls in the doorway.

“Uncle Jason?” the voice called softly. It was Hannah.

“What is it, Hannah?” I asked, my voice croaking with sleep.

“It’s thundering,” she said, stepping into the room. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Hannah,” I said, a bit of warning in my voice.

“Please?” she said. “Mom lets me.”

I sighed. She was still a little girl after all. I remembered when I was scared of thunderstorms, although I don’t think that was still the case when I was eleven. The fact that I was still mostly asleep and not thinking clearly didn’t help. “Okay,” I relented.

The bedroom door clicked shut as my eyes drifted closed. Lightning flashed, but I only saw the glow against my eyelids as I felt Hannah’s slight weight settle onto the mattress and the shifting of the sheet as she slid underneath it. A few seconds later, thunder cracked loudly outside and Hannah pressed herself to my side.

“I hate storms,” Hannah said softly.

“You’re okay,” I mumbled. “It’s just angels bowling,” I said, remembering what my mom used to tell me when I was a kid.

“You’re silly,” Hanna said, and she snuggled up against me, her head on my shoulder, her left arm curling up on my chest, and her left leg sliding up over my left thigh.

That’s when I remembered I was naked. Suddenly, all sense of being tired fled. I was questioning my sanity. I’d invited my eleven-year-old niece to my bed and I was naked. I considered sending her back to her room, but that seemed mean and a bit crazy. I thought about getting up and pulling on some shorts or at least some briefs, but was worried that would only draw attention to the whole sexual dynamic of being in bed together. Maybe she’d just fall asleep.

So I lay there quietly, far from sleep, as I felt her breathing smooth out and her body relax. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be falling asleep. So I began to lightly stroke her back, thinking to relax her. That’s when I discovered she was topless. It took a couple of minutes for me to realize it, as I’d started lower on her back and even after I’d reached her shoulder blades it didn’t register right away that she should be wearing something. I began to think I could feel her little buds against my side, but it was probably my imagination.

Now I really wanted to her to leave, but I was scared to say anything to her and make more of this than perhaps it was. In response to my stroking hand, Hannah was now trailing her fingers lightly over my chest. I then realized that the heat against my hip was her crotch pressed against me. Well shit. Wait… she wasn’t naked, was she?

As nonchalantly as I could imagine, I let my fingers slide downward and breathed a mental sigh when my fingertips encountered the waistband of her panties. Still, I wasn’t imagining the heat of her little pussy against my hip, nor the fact that she was topless, with her tiny breasts pressed against me. Then to ratchet up the anxiety, I began to get hard.

I don’t know if Hannah somehow intuitively knew what was going on down underneath the sheets, or if she was already heading in that direction either purposefully or idly, but her hand began to drift lazily downward, fingertips dancing over my skin, swirling little patterns.

Hannah’s breathing seemed deeper. My heart was beating wildly. I stopped stroking the girl’s back, not wanting to encourage her. I felt her press her crotch against my hip. Was that deliberate? Was she just getting comfortable? Her hand was on my stomach now and slowly drifting downward. She pressed against me again, her pussy like a heating pad against my hip, and her leg slid higher along my thigh. Her breath was hot against my neck.

I kept telling myself this couldn’t be happening. My cock was straining desperately between my legs. Hannah moved again, her body shifting downward. Now her head was on my chest and she was practically straddling my thigh. The heat and moistness of her pussy against my leg was unmistakable and I felt my body stiffen when her knee brushed up against my balls.

I knew I should kick the girl out of my bed and out of the room. I knew I should say something. Something harsh and authoritative. I should put a stop to this nonsense right there and then. Instead, I took the coward’s way out and did my best to pretend I was asleep.

The next couple of minutes were among the most difficult I’d ever experienced. By now, there was no doubt that Hannah was humping herself against my leg. I could feel actual wetness against my thigh now, and the little girl’s breathing was becoming faster. That’s when I realized the storm had ended. There was a last peal of thunder, but it was far off and barely discernible. What was very discernible was Hanna’s knee, which was brushing back and forth against my balls, making sure that my cock remained quiveringly stiff. The one slight consolation was that something was holding her back from just reaching down and grabbing my junk. Of course, that just meant that the teasing went on and on. I was desperately afraid that she was going to grab my dick, and almost equally afraid that she never would.

Of course, she eventually did. Her hand continued to skitter downward, but it was flowing back and forth from one side of my stomach to the other, likely to slow her own downward progress until she’d worked up the nerve. First contact, if you will, occurred while she was lightly exploring the right side of my lower stomach. I could feel her forearm inching it’s way down past my navel and then it happened. I could only imagine what the fiery kiss of my cockhead must have felt like against the skin of her arm, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks. Even her slight humping motion ceased.

“Uncle Jason?” Hannah asked in a voice that a mouse would have been hard-pressed to hear. “Are you awake?”

I did my best to maintain my pretense of sleep, keeping my breathing slow and steady. After a moment, Hannah’s arm moved a bit back towards her, the tip of my cock continuing to brush against her. Her hand flattened against my groin and then she moved it downward, so that her forearm slid further down along the shaft of my cock. My cock jerked and she stiffened into stillness.

After a few more long moments, Hannah drew her hand even closer to her, until her wrist was pressed against my cock, then the heel of her hand, and finally, her sweaty palm. She didn’t make any attempt to explore me, seeming content for the moment to just lie there with her palm resting lightly upon my erection.

That didn’t last of course, and I’d had no illusions that it would. I just wasn’t quite sure what she’d do next, and I was mentally kicking myself for wondering what it would be instead of preventing it. The heat of her hand suddenly left me, and I had to struggle to keep my breathing steady as a sigh of disappointment threatened to escape me. Then I felt the bed shift, and then the sheet moving against me.

Until then, all of the action, as it were, had taken place underneath the sheet, but Hanna was either growing bolder or had another reason for sliding the bed covering downward. I risked a tiny peek through the slits of my eyelids and again had to struggle to keep my breathing steady. The storm, it seemed, had blown off quickly, and the combination of street lights and a nearly full moon was shining through the windows illuminating it to my dark sensitized eyes almost as brightly as if the lights were on.

What I saw was Hannah sitting cross-legged at my side, almost in profile to me. As the sheet slid the last little bit downward, fully exposing me, my niece stopped and stared at me, as I stared at her. Her golden hair was thrown back over her right shoulder, and her tiny breasts were fully on display. I’d had indications of what they would look like, especially in that wet t-shirt, but seeing her bare-chested was another matter.

As I may have mentioned, I’d always been intrigued by breasts. Big or small, round or pointy, real or fake, tits just sort of fascinated me. I’d always been partial to smaller ones, I must admit, but not as small as Hannah’s. Still, there had always been, to my mind, something about tiny, newly budding breasts which infatuated me. Hannah’s were just about the nicest I’d ever seen, although I’d seen very few nude preteen breasts, except for a couple of visits to European beaches in years past.

Hannah’s chest showed just the slightest of swelling. There was just enough there to let you know that the girl’s breasts were definitely growing, and not the result of a poor diet. Of course, given the slim femininity of Hannah’s body, that wouldn’t ever be a mistake someone would make. The areolas were a soft brown that was nearly pink, and they formed a conical little cap to the burgeoning mound beneath. They were about as big around as a quarter and stuck out perhaps an inch or so; maybe the size of half a large egg. The nipples themselves, stiff at the moment with excitement, were tiny, although not as small as a boy’s. Maybe the size of a pea. A small pea.

A downward glance showed me what I already knew I’d see, my smallish cock hovering stiffly over the small bush of pale blond hair between my legs. My flared glans was a bright pink, and glowing. I could see a shiny drop of precum just inside the slit there.

Hannah had apparently tired of waiting. As I continued to watch through barely slit eyelids, she reached forward and touched a finger to my hovering shaft. She pushed down on it, then watched my prick bounce back upward. Push, bounce, push, bounce. Seemingly satisfied, she slowly traced the thick central vein in my cock downward, and then back upward, pausing a moment in that delicious little circle of nerves just under the crown. Then she took the head gently between two fingers, squeezing carefully. I saw my pee-slit gaping open. She apparently did as well, as she lifted me upward to see better in the dim light.

With my cock being held upright, Hannah suddenly bent over, making her tiny breasts more pronounced. For a moment I thought she’d take me in her mouth, and I nearly gasped, but she just sniffed me a few times and then leaned back again.

Now her fingers slid down along my shaft again, and slowly curled around me, until I was wrapped in her small fist. I admit I was pleased by how large it looked in her tiny hand. She squeezed me lightly, then relaxed her grip as her fingers began to gently explore the length and width of me, first circling lightly back up around my spongy cockhead, squeezing and rubbing, and then down to gently explore my nuts. Her breath was practically stuttering with her excitement, and that was making it even more difficult for me to pretend I was still sleeping.

That’s when I noticed that her left elbow, which I could just see, was moving, which a moment later made me realize that her hand must be working in between her legs. Just as I had the thought, Hannah released my cock, which slapped against my belly before going back to it’s hovering position. She carefully rose to her knees, and I let my eyes drift even more closed as she glanced at my face. Then she was looking down as her hands went to her hips and she began to peel her panties downward.

Hannah was in almost perfect profile as her tiny panties slid down over her coltish thighs. Her ass was small and pert, but what drew my eye was the glimpse of her eleven-year-old vulva, which looked hairless and swollen. Going to her back, she carefully kicked off her panties and then spread her legs. My eyes opened wider, wanting the best view. She’d be unable to see my face from her angle, but it was difficult for me to see as well as I’d like without raising my head. Still, I did my best.

As I watched, Hannah slid her feet back, while her legs spread. I couldn’t see a single hair on her little mound, but the light wasn’t great and I wasn’t close enough to swear to it. Hannah’s hands went to her nascent breasts, lightly squeezing and then softly pinching and twisting her tiny nipples. A shudder went through her, which I felt through the bed. Then I watched as her hands slid down along her body, over her flat stomach, over her hairless mound, and in between her legs.

The area between my niece’s legs was shadowy, but I could see her fingers moving, sliding back and forth. I’m not sure if she penetrated herself or not. I knew a bit about young girls and masturbation from my own childhood with Carly. There’s a four year difference between us, but that didn’t stop my big sister from teasing me incessantly or from being openly sexual around me. Carly was a very sensual young girl and had no problems masturbating in front of me, often inviting me to look. She was the one who taught me how to masturbate when I was eleven, even though it would be years before I could ejaculate or even sprout a pubic hair. She even gave me my first blowjob when I was fourteen on a drunken dare from another model friend of her’s when they came to visit after a photo shoot in Milan. The friend thought I was adorable and she took my virginity while my cock was still wet with my sister’s saliva.

My sister wasn’t here now, but the sight of Hannah, who looked so much like her mother at that age, eagerly pleasuring herself had me quivering with lust. I was to the point where I felt I had to either attack the girl, or kick her out, when she reached out with her right hand and wrapped her fist around my stiff cock.

The eleven-year-old girl’s fingers continued to work between her legs as she awkwardly jacked my cock. It was fairly apparent she had never done it, but she seemed to know something at least, making me think she’d probably seen some porn, or at the very least heard some things from her friends. Girls tend to talk after all.

The girl’s small hand on my cock was exactly what I wanted, and the last thing I needed. Her skin was warm and electric and I could feel my balls tightening already as she clumsily stroked my erection. Now I really didn’t know what to do. Could I come? Well, I mean, of course I could come. In fact, if this went on much longer the question would be could I stop myself from coming. What I was trying to think about was the consequences of allowing myself to come. Surely I couldn’t fake sleeping while my cock fountained hot spunk. So how did that conversation go? Not good, I imagined.

In the meantime, my churning balls and Hannah’s little girl gasps and moans were driving me to distraction. I wanted desperately to shoot my load, and then to maybe get my cock inside that hairless little pussy. I lay there imagining it, my cock sliding between her virgin pussylips, the look of lust on her young face, and I shuddered. It was too much, and my thoughts scared the hell out of me.

Desperate for an out, I snorted and coughed. Hannah immediately went still beside me and she snatched her hand back from my cock. I groaned again, as if I were waking, and then I gave a tired sigh and slid my legs off the side of the bed while rising to sit. My cock was dripping precum, and my groin was wet with it. Achingly stiff, it preceded me as I walked ‘sleepily’ to the master bathroom.

Luckily, the toilet was out of sight of the door. Ten seconds of furious jacking and I was spraying a ball-aching load into the toilet. It was another thirty or forty seconds of concentration before I could make myself pee loudly into the bowl. I flushed and washed my hands and went back to the bedroom with my penis sticking straight out, half hard, still glowing with the feeling of release.

In the bed, Hannah lay on her left side, head on the pillow, sheet up around her neck. I felt bad that I’d interrupted the girl before she could come herself, but I felt I’d had to save myself. As I got into the bed, Hannah pretended to wake herself.

“I’m gonna go pee,” she said softly, and then she slid out of the bed. She walked across the room, either forgetting or uncaring of her exposed young breasts. Her panties were back in place, though. She was longer coming back than I’d been, and there was no mistaking her soft gasps and groans in the quiet of the house while she’d been in the bathroom. I was pretending to be asleep again when she finally returned to the bed.

End of part 3

Copyright 2018 – Rwxxx13
All rights reserved

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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
All rights reserved

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A Niece in Nice is Nice Twice – Part 1
by
Rwxxx13 (rwxxx13@yahoo.com)

I couldn’t stop looking at them, that was the biggest problem. No, I take that back. The biggest problem was that I was pretty sure they knew I couldn’t stop looking at them. As circumspect and sly as I tried to be, I always seemed to catch a hint of sparkling eyes and knowing smiles. I wasn’t sure how much longer this situation could last before some irreparable step was taken. I still possessed enough of a grip on sanity to admit that my control was quickly slipping. I just didn’t see any way out of it.

I guess I should explain.

About two months ago I got a call from my sister in France. She had one of those huge, life-altering types of favors to ask. I was living in Seattle at the time. Well, subsisting in Seattle. Not that I was destitute or anything. I still had a bit of money socked away. I just wasn’t doing much with it but getting through each day. I guess I’ve always been a bit prone to depression. I also don’t handle stress well, so the more stress, the more depressed I get.

It’s like this. A couple of years ago, when I was twenty-five, I was trying to make it as a writer. Psychological thrillers. I’d written three novels and couldn’t get a single one published. I’d had a little bit better luck with short stories, but not enough to live on or even consider myself a professional writer. In the meantime, I was keeping myself afloat financially by gigging with my band, I play keyboards, or doing odd jobs.

One night after playing in some dive bar I was stoned and while the rest of the band and some backstage Betties giggled in a large booth around me, I was doodling on a napkin and ignoring the girl who’d attached herself to my side.

Finally, said girl managed to catch my attention when she said, “Hey, that’s really good. You should be an artist.”

I’d always been a doodler I guess. Just something I did. So when I looked down at the napkin and saw I’d drawn a cute little frog, I wasn’t too surprised, although I couldn’t have said where I came up with the idea for it. Anyway, over the next couple of days I found myself glancing again and again at that frog. I’d stuck the napkin on the fridge with a magnet. Finally, I sat down and began writing and drawing. A few days later I had a rough draft of Peter Pondjumper Saves the World. So after all the serial killers and psychos, I ended up getting published with a children’s book.

You’d think that would make me happy, right? Well, it did I guess. For about a week. Then, after the high, reality set in. My publisher was already hounding me for a followup. I was suddenly faced with adult things like money management and stocks. My friends were no longer content to let me couch-surf between them, as I’d been doing for years. If anything, my life seemed worse than it had before.

I managed to get out another book. It did even better than the first, but instead of boosting my confidence, it just increased the pressure for the quality of the third. Not only that, but my dreams of being a ‘serious’ writer were quickly going up in smoke. I’d already broached the possibility with my publisher of getting one of my novels published, and they were basically horror-stricken. Not only no, but hell no. I suggested maybe publishing them under a pen name, but got the same response. People would know, they assured me, and it would kill sales of the kid’s books. Stick to what worked, I was told.

In the meantime, I was spiraling down into darkness.

So that was me.

My sister had another story. She’d married early, but well. By twenty, she’d squirted out her first kid. Nine months later, to the day, she had her second. They moved to Nice, in France. He was an investment banker. Six years later, her husband, then forty-nine, died in a skiing accident. In the meantime, my sister Carly (now with an I instead of a Y for some reason) had been working in the fashion industry. She wasn’t a designer or a model, although she’d started as one. That was how she’d met her husband, Richard. She was just too short to go the supermodel route though, so she’d gone behind the scenes.

At the time she’d called, it was to announce that she’d just gotten a new job as a buyer. Apparently a buyer was someone who traveled all around the world searching for fabrics and textiles to be used by their designer. It was evidently a pretty big deal, and although Carly (I refused to even think of her name being spelled with an I) had been left fairly well-off by Richard, this new position would be a great help to her and the kids. The only problem was the ‘around the world’ part.

I think my big sis saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. She’d get me out of Seattle, which she thought lent to my depression, and get a full-time nanny, or manny as she jokingly called it, for her kids. She pointed out that I could write anywhere. I didn’t bother pointing out that I couldn’t seem to write at all. Still, it was a change of pace, and my sister needed me, so I figured it was at least worth a try.

That was two months ago. It was amazing how much could change in two months.

*​

I flew into Cote d’Azur airport in Nice on a Saturday in late May, after an exhausting flight from Seattle, to Denver and then on to Munich. I trundled up the jetway nearly gasping for breath, desperate to get out of the stale air of the plane, surrounded by tired businessmen and old people and hordes of tourists with their screaming kids.

A quick glance around once I reached the gate showed me the smiling face of my sister and the bouncing blonde heads of my nieces, hand-lettered sign reading ‘Jason’ (that’s me) held proudly overhead.

I hadn’t seen my sister or her kids in a couple of years. Well, maybe closer to three for the kids, as my sister had flown in for the release party for my first book. The girls were just little clones of my sister. Carly had always been beautiful. At thirty-one she was transitioning from the haunting ingenue to something more mature, but no less beautiful. She was wearing her hair short these days, making her seem more care-free and yet more professional at the same time. She’d never been big-busted, but if she was indeed braless, as she seemed to be, then what she had was holding up very well.

The girls, as I said, were just carbon copies of their mother. They reminded me so much of Carly at that age. A quick calculation told me that the oldest, Samantha, would be twelve. That put… another quick calculation, her little sister, Hannah, at eleven. Barely. By some weird quirk, the girls were born nine months apart. To the day. They could practically pass as identical twins, except for the very slight height difference between them. That, and I noticed with vague interest, the fact that Samantha seemed to be sporting a pair of newly budding breasts inside her sundress.

Now, let me explain something from the start, because I think it’s important. I don’t get off on little girls. I mean, I don’t not get off on little girls. I just mean, I’ve never really thought about little girls. What I really mean is that I’m a guy. I think I’m a pretty typical guy, and I think that most guys, if they are being honest, no matter how much alcohol that takes, will admit that boobs are boobs. Boobs on a fifty-year-old, if they are nice, are just as interesting as boobs on an eleven-year-old. Doesn’t mean you want to go around sleeping with eleven-year-olds, or fifty-year-olds for that matter, it’s just that guys like boobs. Even most of the gay guys I’ve met are a bit intrigued about boobs. Also, just maybe, there’s something sorta fascinating and a tiny bit magical about newly budding boobs. Just sayin’.

The point is, I didn’t go all googly-eyed seeing my nieces at the airport. They were my sister’s kids. Family. I’d noticed my sister’s boobs as well. Didn’t mean I wanted to sleep with her. Men just notice boobs. Okay, I think I’ve made myself clear.

So. France. It was warm. It was sunny. Nice is on the southeast coast of France, on the Mediterranean, part of the French Riviera. I wasn’t particularly enamored if I’m being honest. Sure, it was beautiful, if you like exotic architecture and things like sun and perfect weather. It was mostly lost on me. Still, my sister’s house was really nice. Big. Big in a house is good. The guest room I’d be using was nearly as large as the master, which was huge, so it’s not like I’d be suffering. Hell, I guess anything was an upgrade from couch-surfing.

Not going to go into detail about getting settling in. It’s pretty boring, easily imagined, and I don’t think you care one way or the other. Suffice it to say that I got moved in and the girls and I started getting to know each other.

Carly wasn’t slated to leave for a week, so we all had a chance to get acquainted and up to speed. I was really impressed by how sweet and well-behaved the girls were. Not just that, but they were funny and smart, but then I wouldn’t expect any less from my sister’s kids. The girls of course spoke fluent French, but their accent in English was a strange amalgam of the two, with Hannah sounding a bit more French than Samantha.

In that time I’d also noticed that Sam wasn’t the only one being hit with the puberty stick. Little Hannah had some definite swelling in that area, her little buds looking like bee-stung mounds, sticking out maybe an inch or two. Again, I just noticed. Purely in passing. Really.

Carly leaving coincided with the girls’ last day of school before summer break. We had a big dinner for her and there was lots of hugging and crying. The girls cried, too. The next morning she got into a cab and then it was just me and the girls.

Things ran smoothly for about a week. We’d fallen into a routine, the girls and I. We all got up about ten. We made breakfast together, which usually consisted of bread and jam and coffee. Sometimes we added a bit of fruit and I even tried to introduce them to eggs and bacon, but they felt it was a bit much. After breakfast, showers all around, then I went to work while the girls went and did whatever girls did. Sometimes that meant going to other girls’ homes, and sometimes the other girls came to the house. I only ever figured out which was happening based on the presence or absence of giggling.

Work for me, let’s be honest, usually consisted of watching tv or playing video games. Luckily, Carly had the tv wired to the internet which allowed for American tv programs. As the girls spoke French fluently they didn’t care. I wasn’t doing a whole lot of writing or drawing, despite the pressure from my publisher and the new locale. This left me feeling a marginal amount of guilt, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t deal with, sadly.

Anyway, I was going to talk about when this whole thing began to flip on me. It was a weekday. I don’t remember which. Hannah’s birthday was coming up soon. That morning I’d gotten up a bit earlier than usual, and instead of going back to bed, I thought maybe I’d just go ahead and see if I couldn’t accomplish something that day. So I got up and headed into the bathroom for a shower.

Are you prepared for the cinematic physical reveal? This is where I look into the mirror and describe what I look like in a clever way which fits neatly into the story without drawing you out of the moment. Anyway, since I sleep in the buff, I’d gone out and bought a nice terrycloth robe which I wore back and forth to the bathroom in the mornings. The girls were always really good about knocking, so I’d never gotten into the habit of locking the door.

Anyway, I hung up my robe and glanced at myself in the mirror while the water in the shower warmed. At twenty-seven I was still in pretty good shape, but I can admit that I’ve never been very confident about my physical appearance. I was a late bloomer, so when I was young it was always a matter of wanting to appear older and tougher. That never happened. By the time I was sixteen I still looked like I was twelve, and a delicate and waifish twelve at that. I had very girlish features and pale blond hair. I didn’t even get pubic hair until I was nearly seventeen. My parents actually had me seen by specialists.

Now, at twenty-seven, I was still only five foot four and my hair had darkened only slightly, so that it was more gold than platinum. The little body hair that I had, in my armpits and crotch, was also blond and sparse. I had no hair at all on my chest or stomach. Not even that little line of hair from the navel downward that we called a treasure trail when I was in high school.

I’ve mostly come to accept that I’m just a smaller guy and always will be. It helps a lot that I share my sister’s model looks, although they look much better on a female than a male, but there are plenty of women, and no small number of men, who are attracted to that sort of thing, so I’ve always done well for myself in the romance department.

The only thing that I’ve never been able to come to terms with is the size of my dick. This isn’t the sort of thing that I would admit to just anyone, but I feel like we’ve become friends. You see, fully erect, I’m not even five inches. Oh, I tell myself I’m five inches, and the few times someone has asked, that’s what I’ve told them as well, but the truth is that it’s much closer to four and a half. Okay, four. And a quarter. Maybe. Not that it makes a huge amount of difference of course. In fact, it’s fairly ridiculous that we guys are so obsessed with a half inch one way or the other, but when you’re as small as I am, every little bit helps.

Also, it’s a bit on thin side, which doesn’t help. I’ve never been sure if you’re supposed to measure around it, or across it, but across, it’s about one and a quarter inches. That’s the shaft. The head is a bit wider, but I don’t think that counts. That’s also hard. Soft, I’m barely an inch thick. And the worst part? I’m a grower. So when I’m not hard, the whole thing just basically gets lost in my small amount of pubic hair, just a little pink head among the curls.

I count myself lucky that I’ve actually only had one complaint. Maybe the others were more polite, or dick size didn’t mean as much to them, or maybe, I tell myself on occasion, they actually like them small. In any case, only one girlfriend ever said anything mean, and she was angry and drunk at the time. Still, that hurt. On the plus side, I’ve had several lovers, men and women, who really seemed to like my size. Especially the men.

Anyway, I hopped into the shower, which was basically a glass-enclosed box, except for the two walls. I had my head tilted back, rubbing water across my face when I thought I heard a noise. I turned in surprise to see Sam scuttling across the bathroom.

The girl saw that I’d spotted her and she cried, “Sorry! Hannah is in mom’s and I have to go so bad!” She was referring to her mother’s master bathroom, which the girls most often used now.

Then Samantha was slipping down her panties, revealing a small, golden bush of pubic hairs, and she planted herself on the toilet, visibly slumping with relief as she emptied her bladder. Next, she focused on me and I saw her eyes widen with interest.

It took me a moment to react. In fact, it wasn’t until I felt an increased flow of blood downstairs that I realized what was happening. I quickly turned away, giving the girl my back. “Geez, Sam,” I complained. “You could have knocked at least.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I really had to go.”

What happened next seemed inevitable. A few seconds passed, and I heard the toilet flush. The sound and the consequence didn’t connect for me for a split second, then the water flashed ice cold and I yelped, jumping backward. That put me with my back against one glass wall, but by then Sam had moved to stand just outside the shower, so I was perpendicular to her. This left her with a clear view of me from the side.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot!” she exclaimed, hands to her mouth. However, I could see that she was staring for all that she was worth.

I’ll admit that I was staring as well. I was used to the girls wearing these cute little shorty pjs to bed. Or sometimes it was the pj shorts with a t-shirt. Now I wondered if they dressed like that for me and changed for more comfort later, or if this outfit was just for me, because there were no cute little shorty pajamas to be seen here. Sam was wearing a tight little spaghetti strap top in a lilac-colored, silky fabric that stretched across her cupcake sized breasts, clearly showing her little nipples. It left her midriff bare, providing a shocking amount of skin below, because she had also chucked her pj bottoms and was wearing just a pair of thin, white, bikini panties, which clearly hugged her little mound and left her mostly naked on either side. Despite the blast of frigid water, my cock was on the upswing rather than the opposite.

I’ve got to admit that I wasn’t completely upset about that. For obvious reasons, I’ve never been particularly happy about being seen in the nude. The size of my penis is something that’s always caused me a bit of shame, so I’ve never been comfortable in public showers, or at urinals, or during physical exams. Even with lovers, I mostly make sure to wear at least some underwear around the house. I don’t mind being seen naked during sex of course, but afterwards, or at other times, I like to cover up. I’ve had lovers tell me I’m being silly and they like my dick no matter what it looks like soft, or even especially when it’s soft, but it’s hard to argue with your own personal hangups.

When Sam burst in on me, I was in a warm shower, but not at all aroused, so I was sitting right at barely more than an inch. Looking at her in her admittedly sexy little outfit, I’d hit about the three inch mark before I hurriedly covered myself. “It’s cool,” I said, trying to collect myself. “Just… let me finish up in here, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Jason,” she smiled. Then, with a last look across my naked body, she turned and flounced out. I admit my eyes followed her barely-covered ass and the thoughts I was having weren’t purely uncle..y. Uncley. Uncleish? Nope, going with Uncley. Sue me.

End of part 1

Copyright 2018 – Rwxxx13
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