Naughty Nubile Niece Ch. 01

"Hold that thought." Emily opened up the cooler again, emerging with a bottle of sunscreen. "We're going to need this if we don't want to fry. One more thing the old-timey explorers didn't have. You want it first?"

"Give me a second," he replied, as he tried, and failed, to knot a lure onto his second pole. He swore at it under his breath.

But then his attention was stolen away completely as Emily took off her hat, shook out her hair, and pulled her t-shirt completely off. The blue and gold of Marion High gave way to the tanned skin of his niece's chest. Her braless breasts bounced in the sunshine as she put the shirt aside and uncapped the bottle of sunscreen.

"Emily!" It was meant to be a scandalized shout, but what emerged from his mouth was little more than a croak.

"Hmmm?" She looked up at him as she squirted oil into the palm of her hand. "What's wrong, Uncle Jason? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You..." Unable to form a coherent sentence, he settled for waving a hand in the general direction of her chest.

Emily looked down. "Oh. My boobs. And I thought you would be sensible about things, Uncle Jason, since you live out east and all. Not like some old lady in church. I am going to work on my tan," his niece said, her voice firm. "And I'm not going to get tan lines because I'm wearing a bikini top or a bra." Her nose wrinkled. "I don't like bras. At least, not when I'm out here. It's like wearing stockings to the grocery store. You can, but why bother?"

"But...someone is going to notice."

"Who?" Emily challenged. She pointed at the empty lake. "It's Monday. No one's here. They're all back at work. And do you think I couldn't get my shirt back on if another boat came up?"

"Fine." Trying not to stare, he waved his hand. "Just remember this was your idea."

But it was so hard to focus on tying the lure to his line when just a few feet away, his gorgeous niece was slathering coconut-scented suntan oil all over her young, ripening body. When she began to rub the oil into her breasts, he gave an involuntary flinch, which succeeded in driving the fishhook into the ball of his thumb. He cursed to himself and tried to concentrate on tying the tiny bundle of metal and plastic to his line, and succeeded just as Emily finished her front. She gave her nipples a quick, almost absentminded tug as she completed the task, then turned around.

"Do my back, Uncle Jason? I can't reach."

"Yeah. Sure. One second." He flicked the second line out into the lake, surprised that he didn't end up casting it into the trees, as worked up as he was. He slotted the pole into the built-in holder, and took the bottle of oil from Emily like it was a live grenade.

"I'm glad I'm out here with you," she said quietly, as she turned around on her seat and presented her back.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. If I was out here with some boy from high school and decided to sunbathe topless, he would have his shorts off in five minutes, expecting me to give him a hand-job or a blow-job or watch him jerk it, or even try to screw in the canoe. Yeah. There. Now rub it in deep, Uncle Jason," she sighed, as he tentatively spread the first handful of oil on her skin, like warm silk under his shaking fingers. "I swear. Boys are just so, so dumb. Just because I'm showing a little skin doesn't mean I want to fuck."

Well, there's a warn-away if you ever heard one. Not that you should need one with your own niece, Jason thought. "You'll meet other boys at college," he offered. "I'm just glad you're giving yourself a chance. Marion's not a bad place to grow up. But there's a great big world out there, Emily." He closed the cap of the bottle with a snap. "All done."

"Good. Now you."

"Now me what?"

She took the bottle from him and waved it meaningfully. "Now you put some on, so you don't look like a fire truck tonight. And take off your shirt, Uncle Jason. What's the point of taking a vacation if you're not going to get a good tan?"

Jason acceded with what he thought was a minimum of grumbling. It was getting hot, after all. And even after a short time, the bounce of sunshine off the lake was painfully bright. If he didn't get some protection on, he was going to end up parboiled. Not even the floppy fishing hat that he had found at the back of a closet, so old that the royal blue had faded to a kind of dull pewter, would be any help. So he slathered the suntan oil all over himself and didn't even protest when Emily insisted on doing his back for him, and then fastidiously checked on his nose and ears as well.

"Ah." Emily leaned back and smiled as a cloud crossed in front of the sun, temporarily throwing them into shadow. "Isn't that the way it always works?" She dug a reader out of her pack and powered it on. "I love it out here," she commented absently. "It's so quiet. You can actually think."

"Mmmmm." Jason agreed, keeping an eye on one of his lines. The end was giving promising little jerks, and he reeled it in a little bit, hoping to bait the fish into striking at the lure. "What are you reading?"

"Maas."

He blinked. "Moss. Like the plant?"

Emily snickered. "No. Sarah Maas. She's a fantasy author."

"Oh?" His ears perked up in interest. "Is she any good?"

"Yeah." Emily's lips twitched. "But she's not like Tolkien or any of those other boring old men you tried to get me to read when I was a kid, Uncle Jason. She's more..." She fished around for the right word, and eventually settled for "...modern."

"I gave you two boxed sets one Christmas," he said mildly. "And when your mom told me I was wasting my time, I stopped."

"Yeah. C.S. Lewis and Tolkien," Emily snorted. "Who might as well pretend that women don't even exist. Maas is better. She's got heroines who are sexy and badass. And she doesn't pretend that they don't like to fuck, either." She grinned at his expression. "You should try reading her stuff. You might like it. Hell, in one of her books, the main character basically saves the day by screwing everyone until they all agree that they really shouldn't have a war because fucking is so much more fun."

Jason blinked. "What? Really?"

"No, not really," she laughed. "But her characters like to fuck. Which is one more place where Tolkien got it wrong."

"Wait." He stared at his niece. "Are you saying that Tolkien got his own book wrong?"

"Yeah. I don't care what it says. There is no way Aragorn and Arwen didn't screw before they got married. Are you trying to tell me that Arwen wouldn't make sure that the guy she was going to give up immortality for was worth it? Of course she was going to take old Strider out for a test drive. And there is no way on earth that Aragorn would turn her down." Emily grinned at him. "I bet he was dying to tap that fine elvish ass of hers."

Jason put his hands over his ears. "I am not hearing this. You have permanently traumatized my eleven-year-old self."

Emily laughed, the sound echoing out over the lake, and Jason put his hands down. "You are a very evil little girl."

"I know. Isn't it fun? But thinking about Arwen and Aragorn doing the nasty makes it a lot more interesting than most of the crap they gave to us at school. I swear, it's like they're trying to make us hate reading. All the teachers tell us that reading is good, reading is fun, and then what do they give you? To Kill a Mockingbrid. That's a cheerful one. Or Lord of the Flies. Or Romeo and Juliet. Could they just once give you a book that wasn't about how awful the world is, or how people will just turn into complete shits if you give them a chance?"

Jason raised his hands in surrender. "No argument here. I remember one time-"

But his reminiscing was cut off, as the fish which had been playing with his lure for the last fifteen minutes finally struck. The tip of his rod bent, and he picked it out of the holder and began to reel it in. A flashing, splashing shape broke the surface of the water, flailing wildly as it fought the hook, but the fight was a one-sided one. It took almost no effort at all for Jason to lift the fish out of the water and into the bottom of the boat.

"Bluegill," he said. "And not worth my time. You're too small," he told the fish as he removed the hook and dropped it back over the side. "Go find your big brothers. Or maybe a bass."

He wiped his hands clean on an old towel and turned to find Emily snickering at him. "You talk to fish?"

"Yeah, but they're lousy conversationalists." He tried another spot with his lure, sending it into the deeper water.

And so the morning slowly turned into a warm, lazy afternoon. The sun shone down, though clouds began to drift over its face more frequently, which kept the day from becoming unbearably hot. Luckily they had lots of drinks, and Emily had packed enough food in the cooler for them to make a decent lunch - fruit and vegetables and sandwiches they built from the cold cuts Jason had bought at the store the previous day.

And the fish did bite, eventually. By the time Jason started to think about heading in, the wire creel hanging over the side of the canoe had three fat bass inside.

Emily yawned and put her reader away, looking up at the sky. "Tired?" Jason asked. "We can go back if you're getting bored."

"I'm fine. I just wish we'd had more sun."

"More sun?" Jason wiped a forearm across his forehead, and not just for show. If Emily hadn't convinced him to take his shirt off, he'd be dripping. "Why? I think we've had enough."

"Well..." She looked down, her cheeks coloring prettily. "It's kind of embarrassing, Uncle Jason. But when I'm out in the sun, like this, and it's shining down on my, my...my hoo-ha. It feels really good. Not bare!" she added quickly, looking at his stunned face. "But through my...through my shorts. Hot and...and sexy, you know?"

Jason felt a burn crawling up the back of his neck, one that couldn't be blamed on the sun. Throughout the day, he had somehow been able to keep from staring at his niece's luscious body, though it had been difficult to keep his eyes where they belonged. The narrow confines of the boat had forced him to choose between turning his back on her, which he thought would be almost unforgivably rude, and facing her mostly-naked form. He had managed to not ogle her sleek figure, gleaming with a combination of oil and perspiration, but even so, his cock had been fat and heavy all day as it lay alongside his thigh. Not asleep. Just...waiting.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Encouraged, Emily tugged on the bottoms of her shorts, almost the same tan color as her skin. "I can just feel it soaking through, soaking into me. Like my crotch is actually eating the energy, like a solar panel or something, and it makes me horny."

"Oh," Jason repeated, like an idiot. He looked up to the sky, practically begging for some sort of divine intervention. But all that was up there were clouds and the sun.

Actually, quite a bit more clouds than sun, right now. Across the lake to the west, thunderheads were building in an ominous fashion, and the breeze, which had been increasing in fits and starts all afternoon, began to gust more heavily. The tops of the trees bent, creaking, and small waves began to slap against the canoe's sides.

"That's it," he decided, nodding towards the approaching storm. "We've got nasty weather coming. And I don't want to have to explain to your mother why you're sneezing your head off."

He pulled in his lines and packed up his gear. At the other end of the boat, Emily was doing the same thing, and by the time she had her shirt back on, Jason had his oar out and, with Emily's help, was vigorously paddling the boat back around the point and towards the dock. But the breeze which had been a relief all day was now working against them, and the clouds were now boiling up with startling speed, blue-black thunderheads that grew larger with every passing minute. Jason saw a thin streak of white stab down, and began to count in his head. Before he reached thirty, there was an ominous roll of thunder.

Less than six miles, he thought, and began to push his paddle harder through the water, shoving the canoe through the choppy waves. The sudden gust of cool wind would have been welcome, except that he knew what such a quick drop in temperature meant. The storm was coming, and it could be a bad one. Idiot. So distracted by your niece's tits that you didn't bother to keep an eye on the sky.

But they rounded the point at last, and the wind began to help, pushing against their backs. When they reached the dock, Emily scrambled up the ladder, and Jason began to hand things up to her, standing in the bottom of the rocking boat. Another rumble of thunder, closer, and now Jason could see the tops of the trees waving in the gusting wind. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees in the last fifteen minutes, and gooseflesh pebbled his arms.

"Here." He handed up the cooler. "Dump the ice out, and take it inside. Do you have everything?"

"Yes," Emily half-shouted over the moaning wind.

"Good." He knotted a rope around a post to keep the canoe from drifting away as ice and water plashed into the lake. "Go inside and make sure that everything is locked up tight. I'll put everything away and be up in a few minutes." As he spoke, the first fat drops of rain came pelting down, leaving dark spots the size of nickels on the wood of the dock. "Go on, hurry!"

Chapter 6: Thunder Struck

Emily dragged the cooler behind her, her backpack slung over one shoulder, as she dashed up the dock and up the slope towards the house. The bright afternoon had fallen into a rain-hazed murk, and the combination of thunder and the loud, moaning wind made it hard to think. By the time she reached the deck, the rain was falling harder, drumming on the roof and thrashing the surface of the lake into foam.

She left the cooler on the deck, dumped her backpack on the counter, and dashed through the house, closing all the windows and making sure that the front door was shut tight. Then she peeled off her wet clothes, toweled herself off, and put on a pair of flannel sleep pants and a clean t-shirt. Her hair was hopelessly snarled by the wind, so she pulled it into a pony-tail and slapped a hair-band around it.

But when she came out of her bedroom, Uncle Jason still wasn't there. Frowning, she walked across the family room and to the back door, where her mouth fell open.

The man is out of his damn mind.

In the pouring rain, with thunder booming every few seconds like some sort of cosmic punctuation, her uncle was actually cleaning the fish. He stood at the old pump, where a rudimentary chopping block had been set up years ago, a knife flashing in his hands. As she watched, he angled it into the belly of one of the fish, then began to cut.

And even so. Standing in the rain, his shorts a sodden mass around his thighs, his hands speckled with fish scales and other, less mentionable bits, Jason turned her on so much that her pussy was a wet, feverish swamp between her thighs. She had never, not once in her life, been as ready for a man as she was right now, not even on prom night last month with Kyle.

Emily bowed her head, rubbing her face. He wasn't hers, shouldn't be hers. What she was contemplating was wrong, and she knew it. But she couldn't help herself. All through the day, out on the lake, she had been throwing out hints, trying to make her uncle see how much she wanted him, how quickly she would accept him if he gave even the slightest hint he was interested in her. Why else had she taken off her top, talked about how much she liked to read about sex, even made that idiotic confession about her pervy relationship with the sun?

Her fingers were shaking so badly that she could barely turn on her phone. As it was, she ended up calling her mother's work number instead of her cell.

"Chapman Photography, weddings are our specialty," came her mother's brisk, cool tones through the speaker.

Emily cleared her throat. "Hi, Mom. It's me."

"Yes, sweetheart. But I have to keep it professional, you know. How are things? Is it raining out there, too?"

"In buckets. Uncle Jason and I were out on the lake, fishing. But we got back here just in time. Well, I did," she amended, as she looked out the back door. "But Uncle Jason is outside cleaning the fish."

Just then a huge crash of thunder rattled the house. Emily squeaked, but her uncle just cocked a sardonic eyebrow at the heavens and carried on.

"In the rain?" her mother asked.

"Yeah. All he has on are a pair of shorts and his shoes."

"I'm not surprised. On the day common sense was handed out," her mother said tartly, "your uncle was up on a mountaintop in a thunderstorm, waving a golf club around and shouting that God was a bastard, yeah, what are you going to do about it, big man, huh? Why don't you come down here and fight me just once?"

Emily laughed as her mother's voice deepened, imitating Jason when he started to go off on a rant. But then she looked out the door again, Even soaked to the skin, with water drizzling down his back and his hair plastered to his skull. her uncle was able to make her breath catch from pure physical desire.

"Mom? I need some advice. Like, right now."

Well. That was worse than useless.

Emily watched Jason as he made his way up the path towards the house, his wet skin gleaming in the muted light. Her heart was pounding from fear and excitement. Despite the pounding rain, Jason was grinning like a teenager. The expression transformed his face, wiping away lines of stress and worry.

"Well," she said as he stepped through the door. "That was one of the stupidest things I've ever seen in my life. You're lucky God didn't send a bolt of lightning to serve as a warning to every idiot in the county that thunderstorms are dangerous.

"I don't suppose," she said acidly, "that you couldn't have simply waited until the storm was over?

"And don't take another step," she warned, waving a finger in front of his nose. "Your feet are all over mud and I'll not have you tracking it inside. Well?" she went on, pleased that she, for once, had the upper hand. "You couldn't have waited?"

"It would have been dark by then," her uncle said, obviously thinking that was reason enough.

"The fish were safe in the creel. You could have waited until morning."

His mouth twisted. "Leave three fish in that tiny little cage? That's not right."

"So instead you chopped their heads off, pulled their guts out, and turned them into bass fillets. And also took away the greatest of all gifts, which is hope," she added piously. "Here," she said, handing him a thick, fluffy towel. "I'll trade you."

Taking the tiny cooler in exchange for the towel, Emily went back into the kitchen. "Honestly, Uncle Jason," she said as she drained off the excess rainwater and wrapped the fillets in foil. "Sometimes I think Mom is right about you. You might be good with numbers, but sometimes you do things that just make me shake my head." She put the foil packets in the empty freezer. "Are you dry now?"

Her uncle's head emerged, spiky-haired and smiling, from the towel. "Almost."

"Almost," she scoffed. "Take those shorts off, too. And the shoes. I'll get you some dry clothes. I don't want you dripping all over the place."

Jason paused in the motion of untying his shoes. "You built a fire?"

A gust of wind rattled the house. "I thought it might be a good idea. If the power went out or something."

"Better than having to turn the furnace on, if it turns chilly," he replied. His shorts hit the wooden floor with a sodden splat. "Can you please get me something dry?" he asked plaintively, as Emily hung them over a handy chair-back. "I'm freezing."