tagIncest/TabooMy Sister and My Niece - Reunited

My Sister and My Niece - Reunited

bySmallTitFan©

"Hi, Ron," said the voice on the telephone. It was Lizzie. After eight years, I still recognized her voice. She sounded older, of course, and more mature, as I would have expected . . . but it was unmistakably Lizzie.

"Holy cow, Lizzie, I wasn't sure if I'd ever from you or your Mom again! Damn it's good to finally hear your voice again." It was more than good; I was absolutely elated to hear from my niece.

"Well, for a long time, Mom told me that you didn't want to be bothered with us, but, when I got older, I started thinkin' 'bout it and I figured that just didn't sound right. So, please tell me I'm right," she pleaded.

"Honey, you ain't no bother and I've really missed you. I don't know why Sarah said that, but she had it wrong. The last I heard was that your parents was getting' a divorce and I thought maybe Sarah needed some time to lick her wounds, but then . . . well, I just never heard from her. I thought maybe she was mad at me about somethin' that happened the last time I saw her."

"Oh. . . . Uncle Ron, I wanna see you and I wanna see you soon. I've missed you and I need to talk to you about some stuff I can't talk to Mom about."

"Okay. I heard that you guys was livin' over in Ocala. That's only about an hour from here. Where do you wanna get together; where at?" I asked anxiously.

"How 'bout if I come to your house one weekend? Hey, are you married now? I don't wanna cause no problems."

"No, I'm not married and that would be fine, but, does your Mom want you to come see me?" Even though I hadn't spoken to Sarah in eight years, I did not want to get at cross purposes with her.

"Well, first off, I'm eighteen years old now, so I don't really need her permission to come see you, but . . . my life will probably be easier if she doesn't know about it. I have a friend that's got family up there and they go to visit pretty often; I'll just tell Mom I'm going with Rachel the next time she heads up there."

"Honey, I don't wanna do somethin' that's sneakin''round behind your Mom's back but, if you show up over here, I'll certainly give you a place to stay for the weekend. Just let me know when you're comin'," I said.

"Okay, Ron. I love you. See you later."

The phone conversation ended quickly but the buzz in my head continued for hours. I always thought that Sarah was too embarrassed about having sex with Dan and me in the pool that one time and I guess she could never face me. I kinda understood that, but . . . eight years was a damned long time! She should've gotten over it by now.

I also wondered about Sarah's divorce. Certainly they couldn't have gotten divorced over something that happened by consent between the three of us. At the time, I just thought that Dan was looking for something to spice things up or maybe he was just a bit drunk. They must have had bigger problems in their marriage. It wasn't like Sarah was cheating on Dan when he started fucking her in front of me in the pool and then asked her to let me fuck her ass. I know it sounds pretty stupid and I shouldn't have done it but . . . I was a bit drunk that night, too, and . . . I'd always had the hots for my sister, and . . . there she was naked in front of me, and . . . watching Dan fuck her had me mighty damn horny, and . . . I hadn't had a girlfriend for awhile back then, and . . . it was stupid, but I fucked my sister. I couldn't undo it.

I wondered if Lizzie knew anything about why her parents had gotten divorced and I also wondered if she knew anything about what happened that night in the pool. I thought I'd probably find out when she came to visit, whenever that might be.

I had hundreds of questions and no answers but, maybe, Lizzie would be able to fill me in a bit on what was going on with her Mom. I just had to wait for her to call and tell me when she was coming to visit.

* * *

I didn't have to wait long.

"Great news," Lizzie blurted into the phone. "Rachel's visitin' her gramma this weekend and I can get a ride with them."

"Lizzie, I'm really lookin' forward to seein' ya, but, just for the record, I am not encouragin' you to be dishonest with your Mom."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the drill. I'll be up there about 6 o'clock Friday afternoon."

"Okay. I'll take you out to dinner Friday night. If you bring something nice to wear, I'll take you out to a really nice restaurant over here called the Fiddler's Glen. They've got great seafood."

"It's a date, Ron."

* * *

It took at least three eternities for Friday to arrive but, at last, it was Friday afternoon. I took the afternoon off from work, got the house cleaned up so Lizzie wouldn't know what a slob I actually am, took a nice hot shower and got myself cleaned up.

The phone rang at about 5:45 and I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Hi, Ron. I'm here," Lizzie said in a cheery voice.

"I'll come get ya and we'll get started on the weekend," I replied. She gave me the address she was at and it was only about ten minutes away.

When I reached the address, Lizzie was waiting by the curb with her suitcase in hand. I had seen a few pictures of her when I visited my mom's house but the pictures didn't do her justice. She was so pretty and she looked so innocent. She had curly, shoulder-length light brown hair and dark brown eyes. She certainly wasn't a waif and wasn't necessarily a flatbody, but she had a very trim, petite frame. Her chest was not amply endowed; I would guess that she had 34B tits, which were small but fit her perfectly. If I was her age, I would have instantly had the hots for her.

"Hey, kiddo," I said as she opened the back door and tossed her suitcase on the back seat. When she got in the car, she leaned over and placed her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

"I've missed you so much, Uncle Ron," she said. "You just can't know how much . . .."

"I've missed you too, Lizzie. Here you are, all grown up into a beautiful woman and I missed part of that. But I hope we can catch up on things now. By the way, does your Mom know you're here?" I asked.

"Well, kind of. I told 'er I might call you while I was over here. She didn't say don't do it, and . . . I did call you while I was over here. And then you said come spend the weekend with me, so that's what happened. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!" she laughed.

We got caught up on all the details of her life while we rode back to my house. She had just graduated high school and wasn't sure that she was ready for the drudge and commitment of college. She had dated and had a few boyfriends but didn't have any relationship at the present. She never saw her Dad. She didn't like rap music (what a relief!) and she loved old comedy movies.

I stayed away from the heavy topics while we were riding back to my house. When we got there, she grabbed her suitcase and we went inside.

"I'll bet I know where my room is," she said as she immediately headed for the guest bedroom where she had stayed during her last visit so many years ago.

"Right you are, kiddo! Pretty good memory," I said, standing just inside the bedroom doorway.

"Yeah, I know," she said with a pretend smugness that developed into a little chuckle.

"If you're takin' me out to a fancy restaurant, I need to take a shower," she said. She put her suitcase on the bed, opened it, and brought out her toiletries. "You haven't moved the bathroom since the last time I was here, right?"

"No, I haven't moved it, Miss Smart Ass!" I retorted.

"Well, I'd rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass!" She was quick witted.

"Who's the dumb ass?" I asked.

"Neither one of us, I'd say!" She laughed and it was so cute, it made me feel real good inside.

She grabbed the bag with her shampoo, razor, etc. and took it into the bathroom. Returning to the bedroom, she sorted through a few items in her suitcase and pulled out a clean pair of panties and bra. Seeing her panties in her hand had an instant effect on me - just slightly south of the equator.

She dropped the underwear to her bed and looked up at me. "Well, I guess I'd better get movin'," she said. Without further warning, she pulled her tee-shirt off and then unzipped her shorts. In two seconds, they were down around her ankles and she was standing before me in just her bra and panties. Her bra was a red lacy, frilly thing which pushed her boobs up and left a fair amount of her petite, nubile cleavage exposed. Her string bikini panties matched the bra; they were made of a satin-like material – probably nylon, I'd guess – and must have been a little damp because they were adhering to her pubic mound, displaying a slight cameltoe.

Obviously I was standing there staring in amazement and slight shock. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. "We're not overly modest at home and, besides, you're family, and . . . you've seen me in my underwear before," she explained.

"I haven't had a lady strip down to her underwear here in awhile so I might be like a ticking time bomb!" I laughed. "I want ya to be comfortable but just remember: I'm a dirty old man and that means I'm a man, and . . .."

"You're quite a man, Uncle Ron, and I've never forgotten it." She headed towards the bathroom and brushed against me as she passed me in the doorway. She stopped in the bathroom doorway, turned to me, and said "I'll make it quick."

Thirty minutes later, I was in the kitchen putting away the clean dishes in the dishwasher. "I'm ready," said the female voice behind me.

I turned and saw a stunning vision of loveliness. Lizzie was wearing a little black dress and heels which weren't over the top but which certainly made her look more mature. The dress was not extremely short but it ended maybe four inches above her knees, revealing just enough leg to make any man want to see more. She had applied some minimal make-up but she really didn't need much to look like a youthful goddess. I thought that all the guys at the Fiddler's Glen would be super jealous of me, and then I realized that some of those guys might remember Sarah from when she had lived here.

"Lizzie, we might run into some people that I know and it's possible that they might know your Mom, too. If you don't want her to find out about this before you get back home, we might ought not to introduce you as my niece."

"Oh, yeah, good point. I guess I'll just have to be your date for the evening," she replied, apparently thinking quick on her feet.

In the car, riding to Fiddler's Glen, we made up a cover story about how she was the 21 year-old daughter of the owner of my company and he had sent her to Gainesville ostensibly to check out our office but she really knew that her dad was just trying to get her out of town for the weekend because he had a hot date.

As we walked in to the restaurant, Lizzie reached over and grabbed my hand. "Hey, you've gotta act like my date if that's the story."

"Of course, dear," I replied dryly. Lizzie was obviously having fun with this ruse.

When the hostess asked how many would be in our party, Lizzie jumped in ahead of me and said, "We'd like a romantic table for two, please." I just let her have fun with it.

Fortunately, our waiter was a guy I'd known for years and he didn't bother to ask for ID when Lizzie ordered a white wine.

After we ordered our meal, I finally asked Lizzie the big question.

"Lizzie, do you know why your Mom hasn't talked to me or come to visit in eight years?"

"Not exactly, but I have some thoughts . . .." She paused.

"And, what are those?" I asked anxiously.

"Well, I heard Mom and Dad arguing one night and Mom was talking about Dad having a girlfriend. Dad said it was Mom's fault because she had a secret boyfriend. I asked Mom about that after the divorce and she said that she never had any secret boyfriend and, I kinda believe her 'cause she hasn't dated at all since the divorce."

"Wow, that must be kinda difficult for Sarah . . . and for you."

"Yeah, and then, when they got divorced, the judge said Dad couldn't visit me except at Mom's house."

"Why was that" I asked. I knew that having an affair didn't automatically disqualify you from having visitation with your kids.

"I asked Mom about that a few times and she never really told me anything until a few months ago. She said that, one night before the divorce, she found Dad in my room while I was sleeping and he didn't have any clothes on. She said that they made a deal that he would give up his visitation rights if she never told anyone about that. So, they just told the judge that Dad was an alcoholic and that's why the judge said he could only see me at Mom's house, but the real reason is that Mom thought he was a perv. But she had to wait to tell me until I was almost eighteen 'cause she was afraid he'd take her back to court to try to get it changed."

"Wow, that's quite a story!" I said.

"Well, it's all true," she protested.

"No, no, no, honey. I believe you. It's just . . . I never thought Dan would . . . you know . . .. Honey, did Dan ever try anything funny with you?" I was obviously embarrassed about asking just had to ask anyway.

"You mean like a comedy routine?" she teased me. Pausing a moment, she became more serious. "No, not really. Sometimes, he wanted me to sit on his lap and, a couple of times, he walked into my bedroom . . . ya know, when the door was closed . . . without knockin', and one of those times I was naked, but he immediately turned around and walked out and . . . it just didn't seem like that big a deal, 'cause, like I said . . . we always walked around the house in our underwear, and sometimes, I'd lay by the pool topless or go skinny dippin' at night and, I saw Mom and Dad skinny dippin', too, so . . . naked wasn't never really that big a deal."

"Well, that's good that your Mom raised you to be uninhibited about your body, ya know, not ashamed of your body, especially 'cause you've got nothin' to be ashamed of," I said. I hadn't really intended to make that last statement, but I had already said it. "You're a very pretty young lady!"

"Thanks, Ron. That's very sweet of you to say that."

"You're welcome, Miss Lizzie. And I only said it 'cause it's true."

I realized that she really hadn't answered my question: why had Sarah not visited or called me for the past eight years? If Lizzie wasn't ready to tell me more about that, I wouldn't push the question any further right now. "Now . . . you said you had somethin' that you wanted to discuss with me. Do you wanna talk about it now?" I asked.

"No, not really, uh, not now, uh, maybe we could have another glass of wine first, okay?" Her nervousness was tangible and I certainly didn't want to add to her discomfort.

"Sure. One more white wine comin' right up." I summoned the waiter and ordered another wine for my niece.

We talked for another thirty minutes or more about insignificant things, like the malls nearby, movies we'd seen recently, etc. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was already 9 o'clock.

"Well, what would you like to do now?" I asked. I was thinking that maybe she would want to go to a movie, go to a club, or something else like kids her age do on Friday nights.

"Oh, I'm kinda tired from the ride over here and, I'd really like to go home and maybe get in the pool for a little while," she answered.

"Your wish is my command," I chimed my reply.

When we returned home, she asked if I had any wine.

"Sure, honey, but haven't you had enough? You're only eighteen," I said. I knew that last comment was a mistake as soon as it came out of my mouth.

"Ron, I'm eighteen but I'm not a little kid. I usually have one or two glasses of wine with dinner so three or four shouldn't be that big a deal," she pleaded her case. "Do I look like a little kid?" she asked.

"Well . . . I think I can't win whatever I say, so how 'bout if I just go pour you another glass of wine."

"Thanks, Ron. You're the best."

I poured two more glasses of wine and we sat on the sofa in the living room. I hadn't turned on any lights in the living room and the only light was filtering in from the kitchen. It was dim but not dark.

I sat down at one end of the sofa, giving her the choice to sit next to me or on the opposite end. She chose to sit at the end, but twisted around so that her back was against the arm of the sofa and her feet were up on the sofa instead of the floor. She was facing towards me with her feet pulled up towards her so that her legs were bent, knees up, and her legs were together so that all I saw was her legs.

I'll confess that, at this point, I wanted to see more. Yes, I knew that she was my niece and she trusted me, but . . . I am also a man. She was a sexy looking girl, we both had a little bit of alcohol flowing through our veins, and I wanted to see more of her body. I knew that it was "wrong" but I didn't care. I also knew that, in the dim light, I was unlikely to see much.

We made small talk for a few minutes and she steadily sipped on her wine until it was gone.

"Can I have one more?" she asked. "I promise it'll be the last one and, it's not like I'm goin' anywhere or doin' anything."

"Sure, sure, sure. You know how to play up to your dear old uncle, don't you?"

"Why, I have no idea what you're talkin' about, sir, and . . . you aren't old . . . and, oh Ron, you're more like a good friend than my uncle."

I flattered myself by thinking that perhaps she was trying to flirt with me and then I also realized that maybe she just wanted another glass of wine. Whatever. I got up and got two more glasses of wine.

"Honey, whatever it is that you wanna talk about, I'm not tryin' to push you but, whenever you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen." I wanted her to know that I was available but not trying to pressure her.

"I wish my Dad would have been more like you, Ron," she responded. My heart felt full of love for this girl but I had to admit that the love I felt was also mixed with a certain amount of lust.

I was afraid to move closer. I was afraid of what I might do if I could reach out and place my hands on her body. Despite her flirtatiousness, I was also afraid of how she would react, or not react . . . and I certainly didn't want to remind her of her father. 'Don't be a perv' I told myself. 'Consider yourself lucky if you just get to see her prancing around in her panties and bra.'

As I was lost in these thoughts, she had shifted her left leg so that it was laying over against the seat of the sofa while her right leg was still against the back of the sofa. This placed her legs apart at about ninety degrees and gave me a direct line of vision up her dress. She was wearing frilly black panties and I really couldn't see much but, still, it had my pulse racing a little.

"Hey, let's go get in the pool," she said suddenly, bringing me out of my lust-filled reverie.

"Sure, I'll go get my suit on," I replied.

Five minutes later, I was by the pool. It was dark now and I had turned on the light in the side of the pool. I got in the water and swam a lap while I was waiting for Lizzie.

"Ahem!" she uttered, breaking the quiet of the moment and obviously demanding my attention.

As soon as I looked up, my attention was riveted on her. She was wearing a white thong bikini that looked so sexy on her that I just wanted to rip it off of her and fuck her till she begged me to stop. The top perfectly accented her small boobs. They stood out from her chest like ripe fruit; there was no sagging and no flabbiness to these tits. The bikini top was tight enough that her small nipples were obvious and I immediately wanted to have my lips around one of them. Resisting my urges would be difficult. 'Don't be a perv' I told myself again.

Her thong was a plain white triangle that barely covered her pubic mound. A tiny white string ran from the bottom of the triangle and through the crack of her behind, emerging into view as it joined with the other two strings which were attached to the top of the triangle.

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