The Need for Seed Ch. 01

Author's note: this is a multipart story narrated by a 30ish uncle concerning his pretty tomboy niece and tattooed, hard-bodied sister. Parts One and Two focus primarily on the niece. Each chapter will be of an easy reading length (about 2 Literotica pages) and have at least some graphic erotic elements. My goal is to submit a new chapter every couple days. Votes and feedback are welcome. I hope you enjoy it.

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Every Friday around three o'clock for eight years, Niecey had let herself in my side door. It started when she was in elementary school, and my sister picked up an evening shift Fridays to help pay the bills. Her daughter, my niece Denise or Niecey, needed a place to go after school. I lived near her school and worked from home, so she walked to my place instead of heading home at least one day a week.

Sometimes she slept over, depending on how late Meghan's shift ran. I had a spare room and she was welcome. The girl was funny, studious and a pleasure to be around. As a writer, I did most of my creative work in the mornings. Afternoons were for busy work, phone calls, answering letters then and emails now. At some point I would wander into the kitchen and find her doing homework on the dinette table.

Niecey always wore glasses. She got very nervous if she couldn't immediately find them. Otherwise, her appearance was what I grew up calling a tomboy: boyish stance and set to her shoulders, no interest in makeup or dresses. As she got older, she wanted her hair very short, wore Wrangler's jeans with a wide leather belt, liked T-shirts under V-neck man-cut sweaters. Glasses with thick squarish frames. The black boots she wore were not Doc Martins but I only became aware of that when she corrected my error.

Doing at the dinette across from me, she made her voice a quivering teenaged version of an old woman.

"'You're so pretty, you should wear nice clothes. Such thick shiny hair, you could be beautiful. What a shame to cut such beautiful hair.' Jesus Christ, Uncle Mike. I still love Grandma, but she doesn't make it easy. You can never tell a kid too often that - if they only changed every single aspect of themselves - they could possibly win their grandparent's approval. And maybe even be beautiful."

I had rarely seen her cry in all the years she had been coming here. A few quivering lips and moist eyes, but never this: tears of hurt, anger and frustration openly streaming down her cheeks.

"Niecey, I don't know if you know this, but it's time you heard it. Your Dad was an asshole. A mean, drunk asshole even. But I have come to the conclusion, and I'm not the only one, that the main reason he was such a drunk at such a young age, and probably why he was such an ass, was his mother. Your Grandma Jenkins is a cunt."

I had never seen her so shocked in her life. I don't generally say anything critical about anyone and I usually watched my language around her, but Niecey was an adult now and deserved to know the downside to not being able to pick your family. "Uncle Michael!"

"Okay, sorry. That's not nice. I have nothing against cunts, and should not use them in such a derogatory way. They are actually rather pleasant, soft, moist..."

"Uncle Michael!" She was almost laughing. That's the beauty of strong emotions. It's easier to make an sad person laugh than a calm one.

"So I take back any reference to your grandmother being a cunt, and apologize to all the fine cunts out there. She is a horrible, inhuman bitch. With no disrespect to female dogs."

It felt liberating to talk to her as an adult, swearing outlandishly about injustices beyond our control.

"She's wrong, you know," I added.

"About what?"

"I don't know how you'd look in a dress, but I do know you don't need to change anything to be beautiful."

"Yeah right. That's me, glamour queen."

"Glamour has nothing to do with it. Not every guy is looking for..." I caught myself, but couldn't recover enough to finish the sentence. I had always assumed Denise was into girls. She never mentioned boys, the way she dressed and stood. We'd never talked about it, but it always made sense to me. I figured she'd bring it up someday.

"Looking for what?" She looked pissed. Strong emotions. "Not every guy is looking for an hourglass waist and up to here legs? Not every guy is looking for long beautiful hair?"

"I was going to say 'not every guy is looking for glamour,' but Niecey? If I can ask you a stupid question - and please feel entirely free to answer with 'that's an idiotic question, Uncle Mike, and I refuse to answer it on those grounds' - do you like guys?"

She made that face that every strong woman, from Kathryn Hepburn to Shirley Temple, makes when vexed to the point that nothing will do but to face their chauvinistic oppressor and sock them in the nose. He could see the massive effort it took to keep her small hand, balling into a fist of righteous fury, from reasonably replying.

She kept her voice even. "Not very many of them. The list keeps getting shorter."

She sighed. "It'd probably be easier if I was a lesbian. It seems when I like a guy, I mean really like a guy, it's like I'm not a girl to him. He can talk to me, make me laugh, make me feel important and interesting and smart, and one of the guys."

"So, he treats you like a person, rather than a sex object to conquer and impregnate?"

"Exactly. What an asshole. Do you know what I'd give to have the possibility of being a sex object and maybe even impregnated?"

"What do you mean the possibility..."

"What do you mean, 'do you like boys?'"

"I'm sorry, Niecey. I always kinda assumed, you'd end up...coming out."

She looked exasperated. "Seriously? What is it? I know my hair's short. I like it that way. Neat, tidy, low maintenance. Is it the jeans? Wrangler's fit me."

They did. She had worn them before she had hips, but now that her body was becoming a woman's body, she made a sexy cowgirl. A quirky emo nerd cowgirl, but sexy.

"It's the glasses, isn't it? They're unisex. I never should have listened to that saleschick. Unisex means lesbian. I knew it. Dammit!"

"It's not the glasses. These are really cute ones. I still can't picture you in a dress, but those glasses would sure go with a plaid skirt and matching tie."

"Perv!"

"It's not the jeans either."

"So it's the hair."

"Niecey, sweetheart, it's more you. You've always been a tomboy. You square your shoulders like a boy. Right now, the way you clench your jaw when I tell you things you don't want to hear. I don't know what makes it...boyish, but it is.

"You're very pretty. No, you're damn sexy, but it's my prejudice: you do fit my shallow, uninformed stereotype of a lesbian. Sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you made my day. And it's not an insult; being gay would be cool at least."

"So I made your day thinking you were a lesbian?"

She looked at me. "I will not answer that on the grounds that the asker is an idiot."

"Point well taken."

Silence.

"Can I try a less idiotic question?"

An exaggerated sigh. "If you must."

"In order to improve future service, how was I able to make your day?"

She leaned back, clasping her hands behind her head in mock cocky comfort. Both knees and boots were a generous shoulder width apart. "You said I was sexy. Damn sexy."

Undeniably a masculine pose, it still thrust her small, firm breasts against the v-neck sweater. Unintentionally, her hands behind her head framed her chiseled, striking face, high cheek bones and firm jaw, as though a model holding back long hair for dramatic effect. Moments like this, I saw my sister Meghan's striking beauty in her less flamboyant daughter.

This girl was sexy. And my niece. And apparently straight. I had no answer. I couldn't deny saying it, but it was a path we didn't need to explore further.

"Thank you, Uncle Mike."

"You're welcome." She sounded serious as she dropped her pose. I wasn't sure if she thanked me for the compliment, or speaking the truth about her grandmother.

"This had been a day of revelation. Dad was a asshole drunk, Grandma's a cunt, I'm damn sexy and my trusted Uncle is a perv."

Again, I had no answer. Eventually she continued. "Fuck Grandma. I get to pick: you're my family. You and Mom."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her face showed confident defiance for about a second, then she started to cry again.

"Ah, Niecey, it'll be okay."

She stood up, fresh tears streaming down her face. I felt helpless. She stepped to my side of the little table and slid it aside with her hip as I turned to face her, still seated.

"Uncle Mike?" She sounded so pitiful now. "Can I have a hug?"

All I had time to do was bring my arms up before she was straddling my lap, wrapping her arms around me. I pulled her close and held her, letting her cry it out, lightly stroking her back.

Denise was straight. I was shocked. I didn't tell her, but her mom assumed she was gay too. We had talked about it a couple of times.

One of the prettiest young tomboys I had ever seen, clueless to how nerd-hot she was, sat on my lap pressing her tender young tits against me. And she was my niece.

Eventually, her boohoos became snuffles near my ear. She still held my head close to her, closer than I was entirely comfortable being to her small firm chest. I tried to remember the losers of the last three World Series in a vain attempt to stop my cock from starting to swell, stuck as it was under her young denim-clad rear. The baseball thing never worked.

When she finally eased her tight hug and leaned back she pulled one arm from around me to wipe her eyes and nose. Looking up at her, I could see she was a mess. She draped the arm back over my shoulder, her hand on the back of my neck. Looking into her red, swollen but still incredibly blue eyes, I hoped she couldn't feel my erection starting to strain upwards.

"Uncle Michael?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" She smiled at the endearment. She was so beautiful when she smiled. Even her smaller smiles involved the entire face, a crinkling near the radiant eyes, flair of the pert nose, lips spread wide to show square white teeth.

"I love you."

"I love you t..." She cut me off with her lips pressed to mine. She held them too firm to be a truly intimate kiss, but it was decidedly not a family peck by the time she ended it.

She looked me in the eye again. I saw a twinkle, a brightness there beyond residual tears reflecting the light. "Can I trust you?"

"You can always trust me, Niecey." I hoped it was true. My cock whispered to me that I was a liar.

"Because I have a secret I can only tell you." Perhaps it was an accident, but just then I felt her hips move against my hard-on. I prayed it was an accident, and I hoped it wasn't. "I think you're sexy too. Damn sexy."

She kissed me again. Her lips were softer, almost parted. It took all my willpower to not slide my tongue between those soft lips while I held her tight on my lap, full young hips trapped on my hard cock.

"Mmmm." My lips felt hers vibrate with the sound of satisfied pleasure. Her hips rocked on me again. She knew.

"Are you attracted to me, Uncle Mike?" Her lips had pulled back no more than an inch, her eyes intensely studying me. Another rock of the hips.

"Denise, I'm your uncle. We shouldn't be..."

"Ssh. I know. Of course we shouldn't. This is just information." So persuasive and reasonable.

"If you weren't attractive, would I have this?" I looked down to where she was sitting. I was very sure she had felt the tent rising so I might as well break the ice.

"Maybe you're just a perv."

"Ouch."

Silence.

"Hey perv?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." She rocked again. "I've never had anyone show me they were attracted in quite that way before. You really do think I'm sexy."

"I know I shouldn't, but yes, I do." I leaned in and gave her a light peck.

"You are very pretty." Peck.

"Beautiful." Peck.

"And sexy." Her lips met mine, open. Her glasses banged into my brow, caught between us.

I really thought I was going to be able to resist after passing the first test, but my tongue betrayed me. It slipped between her soft lips, running over them as they opened wider. Her tongue, tasting fruity, met mine. She leaned her head down to me, fingers running through the hair over my neck. I strained my face up to hers, my arms around her, pinning her close. We kissed hard, and long, and not at all like a niece and her uncle ought to kiss.

We separated, both breathing hard.

"Niecey, we need to stop before this gets out of hand. What would your mother think. I'm your uncle; I need to show some restraint."

I could see her small chest lift her sweater with each deep breath. "This could get out of hand, couldn't it?"

I nodded, attempting a serious and wise look to my face.

"I like that idea."

"Denise! That doesn't help."

"Alright. I won't say anything." She didn't speak, but continued looking down at me, her shiny lips, looking slightly swollen and puffy now, parted. She began to move her ass on me in small grinding circles, silently, watching my reaction.

I wanted this girl so bad. And I could refuse my niece nothing, if she set her mind to it. I had to stop my descent down this rocky, no-trespassing path. It had been years since I had felt this powerful a lust, and that had ended miserably.

I stood, expecting her to slip off my lap and regain her feet. Instead she wrapped her arms around my neck more tightly and then swung her legs around my waist as I stood up. She clung to me, my hands unthinkingly straying dangerously close to her ample ass to help support her weight. The crotch of her jeans pressed directly onto my erection.

Then she laughed and her grip loosened. She allowed her body to slide along mine until her feet reached the ground. She leaned against me for a second longer, then pulled back.

"I know we shouldn't, it just felt so good. No one's ever kissed me like that. And it's not like I'm a virgin or anything." She traced her hand over my tented groin. "At least I know now I can turn on a handsome, sexy man, even if he is my pervy uncle."

Her grin was full of mischief, helping ease some of the sexual tension.

"God, I gotta pee." She brought her knees together to accentuate how urgent the need was.

"Go pee then." Anything for a break before I gave this innocent girl more then she bargained for. I watched her sweet full ass scurry out the door, her sexy nape exposed by the short tapered hair cut that showed off her long, sleek neck.

"Jesus, I'm a mess!" Her voice came from behind the bathroom door, before I heard it open again.

"Uncle Mike?" She called.

"Yeah?"

"I look like hell. I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

"Sure, take your time."

"I look that bad, huh?" The door slammed.

Welcoming my reprieve, I wandered back to my office and stared at an email, unable to concentrate. I could hear water running through the pipes in the ceiling to the shower. It made me think of Niecey, naked, under the warm flow of water. A single drop forming at the back of her neck, clinging to the uniform perfectly buzzed hairs where the taper started. Catching the drop on my tongue as I join her in the cascade, pulling her bare young body back against mine.

The Super Bowl. How many times did Elway lose before the Broncos won one? Did he win two then? Anything to take my mind off my sister's kid in my shower and in my arms. Seeing so much of my outrageously hot sister in my niece, and then making out with the young girl, her reaching out and stroking my cock, forced me to spend more effort shoving old demons down than I had in years.

I heard the water turn off after a longer than usual time. Soon, Niecey popped her head in my office door, smiling shyly. I grinned back, beckoning her in.

Her hair was still wet, slicked back on top, the only place she had enough hair to style. Her hair style alternated, spikey or slicked back. Otherwise she wore the same jeans and sweater she'd had on earlier. Her face glowed.

"Feel better?"

"I felt pretty good before." She glanced at my lap as she stood by the end of my desk. She must have seen the look on my face.

"Just kidding. Yes, I feel better. And look better too. Crying your eyes out is not a good fashion tip.

"Listen, Uncle Mike. I know things got out of hand, but I want you to know I trust you completely, and I appreciate you setting me straight on Grandma. I need to do a little shopping I forgot about. Would it be okay if I came back here later?"

"Of course, you know you're always welcome." Meghan had stopped the Friday late shift many years ago, and Denise was certainly responsible enough to look after herself, but she had chosen to still make my house her destination after school at the close of each week. "It would be an off Friday if you weren't hanging around, cramping my style."

"If you only had a style to cramp." This teasing was much more familiar ground, a much better place for an uncle and his nubile niece. She playfully kissed the top of my head before heading out.

--

I was watching ESPN from the sofa when I heard her voice. I never heard her actually open my door. "Hey, Uncle Mike, I brought Burritos. Carnitas, no cilantro, for you. I'll get plates in a sec."

"Thanks, Niecey. I'm the luckiest uncle ever." I heard a rustle of plastic bags as she headed down the hall toward her room.

"Yes, you are. Truer words were never spoken."

A few minutes passed before I heard plates on the tile counter. "Would you like a beer?"

"Sure," I called. "That'd be great."

I heard the bottle opened. "Can I have one too? Please? It's been a rough day."

"Okay, just one. And don't tell your mom."

"I know something else I won't be telling mom."

"Niecey!"

"What? You want me to tell her? If you say so. You know I always tell her everything."

"Brat."

I heard the second beer open.

"Here you go." Denise stepped around the couch and into my view, a bottle in each hand, one outstretched in offering. My jaw dropped open.

She still wore the same thick framed fashion-nerd glasses, but they were hanging lower on her nose. Everything else had changed. No Wranglers, no V-neck, even her stance was different. More femininely coltish than square-shouldered jockish.

She brought the long neck bottle to her lips. The phallic gesture reminded me that I had a beer in my hand that I couldn't remember accepting. Her appearance had booted the knowledge from my head. I look a long swig, my eyes exploring her over the bottle.

Apparently, she had taken my offhand pervy suggestion. A pleated skirt and matching tie, both in proper schoolgirl red plaid, were the first things I noticed. My eyes traveled down her legs from the bottom hem of the skirt, beginning far closer to the prominent ass lifting the pleats so tantalizingly than it did to her knees.

Her legs looked longer, curvier than usual. Other than swimming, and it had been years since I'd seen her swim, Denise always wore jeans, hiding these beautiful bare legs. Her thighs were a flawlessly smooth series of curves, parted slightly as she stood letting me drink her in.

Her calves flared out voluptuously below her knees, before tapering in to graceful ankles that disappeared into narrow bands of white frilly sock before being snugly bound into high top white sneakers. The kind of fashion sneakers that build up a high heel inside the shoe. Her legs were being lengthened and displayed by the equivalent of at least four inch heels.

I had to drag my eyes from her thighs. The way they swelled inward toward each other below the skirt, while still leaving a wide space between them mesmerized me. I wanted to run my hands up between them, over the silky smooth skin, lifting the short pleated skirt to reveal the treasures hidden there. Had she really dressed like this for me, because of my comment on her glasses?