Honeyed Pears

"Uncle! Uncle Pete! Come show us how to do that tumbling thing".

I looked up from my book and smiled. My favourite niece, Georgie, was beckoning me from the back lawn. I waved through the french doors and got to my feet. The kids were all laughing and jumping around, while the adults looked on fondly. My wife, Claire, was out there drinking margaritas under the awning, Her younger sister, Margaret, and her husband Frank were with her and they all looked very... relaxed. Claire's mum Julie was in the kitchen, making snacks.

Claire and I had two children of our own, Sam and Peter jnr, but they had long flown the coop and were both living overseas. That's why we loved it when the family all got together at our place during the summer. We had a house big enough to accommodate everyone and we missed it being full of life, the sound of kids banging down the halls, screaming with laughter.

I'd always had a soft spot for Georgie. She was the oldest of Marge's 3 children and we'd had a special relationship since she was old enough to say my name. It was like we shared some secret that no one else knew, an unspoken bond that we never talked about. She was sharp as a tack, kind and gentle, and a fun kid to hang out with. I loved all of Marge's kids but I especially liked it when Georgie and I got to go on little excursions together, when the other kids didn't want to come. Walks in the forest or even just a trip to the shops to stock up on supplies. She made me smile with her innocent enthusiasm, a kind of naivety mingled with surprisingly astute observation, and often a wisdom beyond her years.

She'd recently turned 18 and was looking at going to university, weighing up her options. She was a smart kid, smart enough to have some choices, and she had asked my opinion about moving out of home to study somewhere else. We'd talked in the car about the pros and cons -- essentially the cost versus a chance to experience living in a new city -- but she hadn't come to a conclusion yet. I'd told her that she should go with her instincts and I was sure she'd make a good decision. She'd laughed and kissed me on the cheek, told me how much that meant to her, that her parents still treated her like a child, even though she was grown up now.

Involuntarily my eyes had dropped to her chest. I'd been aware, in a kind of abstract way, of her developing physically in the last few years, and now she was positively glowing with unexplored sexuality, like a ripe fruit ready to be plucked. Her breast had swelled into juicy pears with a deep cleavage and (from what I could guestimate) long brown sensitive nipples. I hoped that whoever got to eat of that fruit was a good person, who would treat her kindly and make her happy. I firmly pushed aside any hint of a thought about ME having my hands on her voluptuous bosom.

Had she seen my eyes flicker downwards? I looked at her face, still smiling at me, and I couldn't tell. It had been a quick glance, a reflex, and she might have thought I was just blinking. Her gaze was open and trusting, but I wondered if I did detect something, a thought, swimming there in her dark eyes? I didn't know.

That was yesterday and there had been no shadow between us since then. The last thing I wanted was to lose her trust as a result of a stupid male reflex. I vowed to keep better control of myself. It's not like I had any sort of sexual feelings toward my favourite niece.

Right?

The 'tumbling thing' is a two person forward roll, where each person grabs the others ankles and together you make a kind of wheel that rolls around It's a bit tricky to get the hang of, but it's a lot of fun for kids. I'd been teaching the youngsters how to do it a few days ago but at 12 nephew John was a bit too small to make it work and even Natalie, at 14, didn't quite have the strength or physical confidence. The two of them had been practising and had just collapsed in a heap on the grass when Georgie called out to me to help.

"You've got to hold the ankles real tight" I told them "and tuck your head in when you roll. Watch"

I lay on my back and told Georgie to put her feet either side of my head. I heard the other adults around the table arguing about interest rates projections or some such, and reminded myself to remember to call their attention when we were ready to start. Georgie came and stood over me, and I looked up at her toned legs, caramel coloured skin, strong and smooth thighs, and swallowed. I could see straight up the loose gauzy summer shorts she wore, right up to her white cotton panties, trimmed with a simple band of cotton lace. I could see a plumpness where her pubis pushed the fabric out, and the swell of her belly above, before the elastic of her shorts cut off my view. And was that wisps of pubic hair escaping out the sides?

Her laugh rang out like a silver bell.

"What are you doing down there Uncle Peter?"

I moved my gaze from the mesmerising view between her legs and looked up her body (ignoring the view up the loose crop top) into her eyes as she leaned forward to look down at me. Her eyes twinkled and she laughed again.

She knew.

I blushed, and she wiggled her legs.

"Come on. What now?"

I grasped her ankles, enjoying the touch of her sun-warmed skin, and bent my knees to bring my feet close to my body and to the sides. I told her to lean forward, grab my ankles, and roll, keeping her head tucked in. She bent forward and grabbed my ankles as she began to overbalance...

..and we were off.

As she went over, diving her head between my knees, I was pulled up by her momentum. As I went over my vision was seared with the image of her shorts pulled tight against her round arse cheeks, then fluttering open where they flared out, to reveal the crease where buttock meets back of thigh, offering a quick glance between her legs... Next thing I was diving between her knees, tucking my head in, rolling over, gathering pace... getting out of control... we went over one more time and then the whole thing collapsed, me sprawled on top of her, her legs splayed wide, and I was staring at the juncture of her thighs, shorts flapped to the side exposing taut muscles and pulsing tendons, cotton panties pulled tight against her pudenda and again seeing those black curls escaping out from the edges of the lacy trim, like an appetiser to what lay inside.

God I just wanted to pull her knickers aside and push my open mouth against her crotch.

What was I thinking?

I hurriedly got to my feet before anyone noticed me staring. Claire and the others were looking up, laughing at our untimely finish. I reached down to help Georgie to her feet and she was laughing too as she grasped my hand. I was surprised we weren't both cracked with static electricity as we touched and I found it hard to meet her eyes.

"Ok kids? Got it?"

I hurried back inside, deeply embarrassed at my loss of control. I was behaving like a teenage boy. I was ashamed of myself, and yet deeply aroused.

I couldn't stop myself watching her for the rest of the afternoon. I tried to read but I was in a constant state of distraction, looking up from my book repeatedly. Sometimes she'd glance over just as I was looking and I'd try to cover, giving a friendly wave, or sometimes pretending to be looking at something else. She always laughed when she caught my eyes, winking.

Did she know what I was thinking? I hardly knew myself.

Now and then when she was distracted I got to study her a while, appreciate how much she had grown physically into a woman, before looking away in case someone noticed me. Her hips had filled out, giving her a deep feminine curvaciousness, and her stomach was a gentle soft swell, her exposed belly button like a mysterious dark cave. Her skin was like dark honey, her hair black, long and thick, and her lips were red and full. Her dark smoky eyes were large, full of dormant sensual longing and her features were ridiculously pretty, young and guileless like her face belonged on a much less developed body. Overall the image was of an innocent young girl, a kitten, stuck in a voluptuous, ripe, sexy body that looked ready to burst into hot flame. And I was the moth.

I hated myself for seeing her like that. Sweet Georgie, my little buddy. God, what kind of fucking pervert was I?

The next day I thought I'd tidy up a bit before lunch. Picking up clothes in the lounge, I always give them a sniff to see if they need to go into the laundry. I recognised Georgie's hoody lying on the sofa and as I was picking it up I furtively glanced around to make sure I was alone before bringing it to my nose. I wasn't even doing anything wrong, but I knew even before I started that my intentions were less than honourable. In fact the hoody smelled like it could do with a freshen up, which is probably why I kept it to my nose for longer than necessary. It smelt like her, that floral scent she uses, with an undertone of perspiration. I pulled it open, searching for the sleeves so I could bury my nose into the armpit and smell her sweat, her pheromones making my heart thud in my chest and my penis start to engorge. There was something about her musky aroma that I found deeply alluring, like I was locked into some kind of preconscious olfactory connection with her. I had long known that I liked her smell, just as I liked everything about her, but this was something different, a revelation, adding a whole new dimension to our relationship. Reluctantly I brought myself back to reality and continued picking up clothes, then headed to the laundry room.

And there they were. Those same white cotton knickers, rolled off her legs and flung into the basket, lying in an oval with the gusset stretched across. I stopped, frozen, then looked around me. My mind rehearsed crazy thoughts of secret cameras set up to trap old perverts in the laundry, or equally crazy, that she left them as a gift for me to find. I reached out, touched the lacy trim gingerly, fingers stroking the leg elastic like it was Georgie's quivering skin. But it was my fingers that were quivering. I pressed the tips against the crotch, stupidly hoping to find it warm, or even sticky. It was neither, of course. I lifted the panties a little, fondling them, heart hammering, while I wrestled with myself. The urge to lift them to my nose was overwhelming, to fill my nostrils with the tangy scent of her young cunt, to lick the discoloured inner fabric, to taste her, to grip it around my penis and jack off until I spurted into the crotch. My cock was hard and I felt queasy with guilty lust. I imagined what I'd say if she caught me with her dirty knickers pressed to my face or squeezed around my erection, and I knew I couldn't continue. What the fuck was I thinking? I threw them to the floor and hurried out, mortified at myself for my increasingly deranged thoughts. What was I becoming?

Confused is what I was becoming. About myself and the dirty perv I had discovered myself to be, but also about what was going on for Georgie. Sometimes she'd catch me looking at her and it seemed as if she liked my increasingly wolfish attention. She were responding to it by becoming more coquettish. She'd smile, or wink, or laugh, with a knowing look, teasing me, daring me to see her as a young, sexually attractive woman rather than a naive girl, my niece. Other times she'd shrink away, as if terrified by the feelings being stirred up. When we went to the beach she'd spend the whole afternoon acting flirtatiously, teasing me with her words and movements.

She looking at me coyly while she ate a mango, the juices dripping down her chin, or lean over me to reach for the sunscreen, her cleavage and full breasts thrust into my face, close enough for me to lean forward and take them into my mouth if I had the courage. Sometimes when she was sunbathing she'd open her legs to tan her thighs, rub them sensually, and I could swear she was looking at me through half-lidded eyes to see if I was watching. When I rubbed lotion into her back she'd sigh and move languidly, and then suddenly go rigid and leap up to sprint into the sea. And if we played in the water she'd rub up close to me, her skin slippery like a porpoise and her hair stuck to her face and shoulders, laughing and writhing against me, until my penis swelled and my erection was trapped between us, and then after a few moments of this she would freeze, as if she had woken up to what she was doing, and run back to the towels and wrap herself up tightly. Until the next time.

I was losing any sense of propriety. I was constantly looking for excuses to spend time alone with her, or fantasising about how I could get to touch her, fondle her luscious breasts or stroke her creamy puss. At night, lying next to my wife, I dreamed about her sucking my cock, or of plunging it into her hot cunt. She was all I thought about. I was amazed my wife or any of my in-laws didn't sense something was off, because in my growing obsession I was barely able to operate with any semblance of normality.

Did Georgie sense my inner turmoil? I couldn't say. But I know that she felt the magnetic pull of my carnal longing, my fevered yearning, and seemed both enthralled and disconcerted by it.

A few days before Georgie and the family were due to return home, I woke early. Well, not early, exactly, it was mid morning, but everyone else was sleeping in, the kids from staying up late and watching movies and the adults from excessive drinking the night before. Looking for an excuse to see her (hopefully in a state of undress) I went into the room that Georgie was sharing with her sister. They looked at me sleepily from under the covers and I told them it was time to wake up. Natalie moaned and said she didn't want to, covering her head with a pillow. Georgie lifted her head on one elbow and suggested, with a throaty laugh, that I make her.

I smiled as I said "Oh I will" and grasped the covers, yanking them off the two girls in one pull. "The last one out of bed gets a spanking" I told them. Natalie squealed "no way" and leapt out of bed laughing and ran to the bathroom. Georgie looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"You wouldn't dare" she said.

She was lying on her front but her body was twisted to look at me and I could see her ample breasts filling her cotton pyjama top. They way they swayed when she moved, the nipples visible through the fabric, was a delight. I knelt on the mattress and put my hand on the small of her back, pushing her down. She seemed undecided whether to struggle or submit but in the end she just relaxed, curious what I would do I guess. I brought a hand down sharply on her buttock, not enough to hurt really, but enough to make a noise without telling the whole house that there was a pervert on the loose.

She gasped, probably more with surprise than anything, but didn't protest. I slapped her other buttock and then, seeing as she wasn't struggling, I took my hand from her back and grasped the waistband of her pyjamas, pulling it up, stretching the thin cotton tightly over her bum. Then I began to spank her rhythmically, alternating from cheek to cheek.

Gasps followed each spank, turning to soft little cries as I began to spank harder. Her buttocks danced and squirmed as I punished them lovingly, moving from side to side, sometimes with jerks, sometimes with a more wanton and lascivious rolling movement. My cock was rigid in my pants and it had completely taken control of my thought processes.

"Georgina, this is to teach you to respect your elders. You've been behaving very badly over the last few days, teasing your uncle, showing off your sexy young body, haven't you?" I asked in a low firm voice.

""Yes" she whispered. "Please... "

"Up on your knees" I commanded, and she lifted her rear, head down and pressed into her crossed arms. I pulled down her pyjama trousers, sliding the elastic tantalisingly slowly to uncover her bottom, clad in light pink undies with little cherries printed on them. I almost swooned from the way they moulded to her cheeks, smooth over their round curves, concave where they stretched across the parting between her buttocks, and then the covered little pouch that peeked out from below. I spent a few moments admiring the pink glow on her cheeks and gently stroking the warm flesh there. She shivered under my fingers and writhed.

I began spanking her again, the slaps stinging on cotton covered flesh, even more where it was bare at the tops of her thighs. And while she squirmed in a hazy delirium, I reached into the shadow where her top gaped open and took possessive hold of one of those full teats. My fingers squeezed and pinched her sensitive nipples, eliciting a delightful series of squeals and moans, and her nether region began to thrust and grind at the air. I continued to punish her bum with my other hand, as hard as I dared without waking the whole house, and now I could smell her sex emanating an enchanting aroma, intoxicating me. I let go of her nipple and grasped her panties, pulling them hard between her buttocks, wedging them firmly into her crotch and exposing her bum cheeks in their entirety.

I imagined her cunt leaking sticky goo into the cloth as I tugged it repeatedly into her cleft, just as my cock was leaking into my pants, threatening to end proceedings prematurely. I wanted to pull off my trousers and jam my penis into her hot slippery insides, churn it around, make some butter, but I knew that would be going too far. Instead I pulled her panties to the side, exposing her puckered rosebud and her swollen, seeping labia. As I leaned forward to thrust my tongue into that overheated maelstrom, to taste her virgin secretions and drink from her fountain of youth, I felt her clench and grind and spasm in an ecstatic loss of control. At the same time, perhaps as a result of it, I felt my own organ spasm and release, squirting hot semen into my pants.

The post orgasmic bliss lasted a very short time before I heard footsteps coming down the hall towards us. I threw the covers over Georgie, feeling my slimy cum turning cold in my undies, wondering desperately how I could cover the smell of hot pussy and sperm. There was no way I could bluff my way out of this. This was it, I was done for. Fucked. Over.

It was Natalie.

"Ewww, it smells in here. What have you guys been doing?"

Georgie rolled on her side, stared at me with a piercing look, and then turned to her sister.

"Nothing. It's just some funny incense Uncle Peter gave me." she said "I quite liked it but I'd like to try some of the other flavours he has. Go get some breakfast. We grown ups will be there in a bit".

Then she laughed, kissed me on the cheek and headed to the bathroom.