Tutoring Caitlin

When my brother found that I was going to the IEEE convention in Boston to present a paper on my work with high-temperature superconductors, he invited me over for a beer and to ask for a favor.

"You know Caitlin's a sophomore at BU," he said. "Anna and I were wondering if, since you're going to Boston anyway, you could do something for us."

"Sure," I said. Secretly, I was glad for the excuse to see my niece. I was stressed over the paper I was going to present, and I knew I'd be even more stressed as the time for my presentation approached. Now I suppose I shouldn't say this about a niece, but I knew that Caitlin would take any man's mind off his problems, just seeing her. She was a knockout! She had somehow morphed from a knobby-kneed flat-chested pain in the butt to this gorgeous full-breasted curvy nineteen-year-old woman with long dark hair and eyes in which a man could drown. Yeah, I know: look but don't touch. But a guy could look, anyway, couldn't he?

"Great! Anna's got a 'care package' of stuff she's convinced Caitlin will need. Besides, when I talked to her a couple of days ago, she told me she was having some problems in P-Chem. That's right up your alley. Maybe you could help her. Jeez, Mark, I never could understand why she had to go across the country to go to school when we've got perfectly good ones here in California."

"Ed," I said, "You know why. Why does any kid put as much distance between them and their parents as soon as they can? She's growing up and wants her independence. I did it and so did you."

"Yeah, but we're guys."

I didn't bother to answer that one. I just looked at him until he smiled.

I texted Caitlin from the airport when I got into Boston, but she replied that she had a test the next day and needed to study. That was okay by me; I was jet-lagged anyway and still on California time. I needed a day off, and what could be more restful than wandering through a convention center looking at posters, half of which were incomprehensible to me, and sitting in dark rooms listening to droning voices and looking at poorly made PowerPoints cluttered with irrelevant data? Of course, there was always the vendors' section where one could ogle the young lovelies who were dressed to attract, pitching their companies' wares and who would be more than willing to sit and talk to you, but unfortunately not about what you really wanted to talk to them about.

Caitlin agreed to meet me that night at a rather fancy restaurant by the harbor. I got there a little early, and was sitting at our reserved table working through my Macallan and pleasurably imagining the looks I would be getting when my 'date' showed up, when a lovely contralto voice from behind me said "Mark?"

I turned and found myself looking at a beautiful young woman in a form-fitting black cocktail dress. Mind you, when I say 'form-fitting,' the emphasis should be on 'form', although the 'fitting' part was certainly important.

"Excuse me, miss," I said. "I was expecting my niece. She's a college sophomore at BU."

"Cute, Uncle Mark. You haven't lost your touch."

"Um, Caitlin, I, ah, what can I say. Wow!"

"You can say hi and take out a chair for me," she said, with a dimpled smile that appeared to be the only link between this vision and my gangly adolescent niece.

"Oh. Sorry." I was trying to re-engage my brain. The trouble was, my live-in and I had broken up a month or so ago, and I'd been celibate since. So, when confronted by this very female woman, my hormones pre-empted pretty much any other mental activity.

I pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit. As she sat, I got a full view from the rear while her short skirt rode up on her spectacular thighs, and I looked down on the sweet, sweet mounds of her breasts swelling over the scooped neckline of her dress. In her deep cleavage I discerned a tantalizing hint of translucent red bra. I could smell the fresh-washed scent of her long dark hair.

I stole a glance at the nearby tables and was amused to see the rapidly stifled stares from a number of women and the frankly jealous stares from their male counterparts. Even better than what I had been anticipating!

Finally I sat facing her. I looked directly at her for a moment. "Excuse me, but what did you do with Caitlin?" I asked.

She smiled. "Oh, her? I had to make a few alterations in her. I hope you like what I've done. After all, I don't often get to date older men in fancy restaurants. I have to say that I like it."

"Oh my," I said, "I like it too. Very much." I hope I didn't leer too obviously as I said that.

We had a very pleasant dinner. I suppose the food was good, too, but I don't really remember. I kept looking at Caitlin. I was right: you could drown in her eyes. Her red lips seemed to cry out to be kissed, and when she parted them and wet them briefly with her tongue, I couldn't help but think of the uses to which I'd love to put that lovely mouth. Every so often she'd turn her head to emphasize a point and her hair would cascade down over her swelling bosom. She'd flick it back, raising her arm to do it and simultaneously emphasizing the softly inviting curves of her firm young breasts over her dress's low neckline and the enticing mystery of her cleavage.

We started out talking about her parents, her courses and her friends, but imperceptibly the conversation turned more to adult issues. Soon she was asking me about my love life, and when I told her of the breakup with my live-in, she impulsively reached across the table and took my hand in hers. Her touch was warm, and her young flesh soft and silky. I didn't draw back, and neither did she. We sat, sipping our wine, holding hands like two lovers looking at each other over the candlelight.

One of the wonderful things about expensive restaurants is that they never bother you unless you ask. And we weren't asking.

Caitlin's lovely contralto voice was hypnotic. I was so concentrating on just the sound of it that I belatedly noticed how the conversation had drifted into her sex life. She told me about her boyfriends and how too wrapped up they were in their own courses and lives so that they never seemed to last with her.

"Too many one-night stands, Mark," she said. She had long-ago dropped the 'uncle'. "Don't get me wrong; a good one-nighter can be very satisfying, at least physically, don't you think?"

"Um, yes, I suppose. It would depend on the woman, for me."

Her hand stroked mine.

"Oh? What kind of woman, Mark? Young? My age, for example?"

Now she held both my hands in hers and looked directly into my eyes. Again she wet her lips with her pink tongue.

I backed off. "Caitlin, I don't think that's an appropriate question."

She just smiled a knowing smile and changed gears.

"Mark, I'm glad you asked me out tonight. It's kind of an adventure for me. I picture us in a little café in Vienna, two lost ex-pats on the night before the Nazi invasion. Just me and my handsome lover, clinging to each other before it all changes."

"Very romantic," I said. And then, in the spirit of playing along, "And tomorrow I must be off on a dangerous mission from which I may not return. But tonight, I dine with a beautiful and mysterious young woman."

She smiled, and her hand gripped mine a little tighter. Then, in the same conversational tone, she asked, "Mark, what hotel are you staying at?"

That caught me by surprise, so I answered without thinking.

"That's a lovely hotel," Caitlin said. "I've always wanted to see it. Would you take me there?"

Oh my God. The rational part of my brain and the part marinating in a stew of hormones each parsed that simple five-word request in radically ddifferent ways. I looked at my niece for a long moment.

"Yes," I finally said. "Yes, I think I'd like that very much." That response came from both parts.

As we waited for a cab in the fresh air, my conscience started bothering me. When the cab came and I helped Caitlin into it and got a strong dose of her legs and breasts in that short-skirted, low-cut dress, however, my conscience considerately shut up.

Once in my room, we wasted no time on preliminaries. We both knew why we were there.

Caitlin reached up, put her hands behind my head and drew me down to her face and kissed me, deeply and passionately. Her lips were as warm and soft as I had imagined. I fumbled with the zipper on the back of her dress. I finally managed it, and her dress peeled away and fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, glorious in bra, panties, stockings, and heels. I had been right about the bra: it was red and very filmy. Her panties matched. Her breasts were everything I'd imagined. Young, firm, and lush. Her sheer bra did nothing to conceal her pert nipples surrounded by her russet areolas. I could see the dark patch of her pussy through her translucent bikini panties.

Caitlin smiled as she watched me inspect her body.

"From the bulge in your pants, I infer that you like what you see," she said teasingly.

"Caitlin, you are incredibly beautiful. And all woman."

She reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra and let it fall. She walked over to the bed, a pure youthful symphony of swaying hips and long legs, and lay down on it.

"Then take me, Mark," she said in a soft voice. "I want you."

Any vestiges of conscience evaporated without a whimper. In seconds I was naked. I climbed on the bed, bridged over her and kissed her full red lips. She kissed me back. I cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples into hardness. I listened to her breathing as it picked up. I slowly moved down to her breasts, taking her nipple in my mouth, tonguing her areola and sucking her nipple. She gasped and then sighed. Her hands caressed my head, her fingers twined in my hair.

I moved further down her body, my lips tracing a path between her breasts, over her flat stomach and down between her legs. She spread her legs invitingly. I kissed the inner parts of her thighs above her stockings, lifting her legs under her knees and spreading them to where I wanted them. I kissed the silky vee of her panties. She moaned softly. She lifted her hips and we both worked her panties down and off. They fluttered to the floor.

I addressed myself to her dark pussy, kissing her labia, spreading them with my tongue and then probing her vagina. She was wet and tasted wonderful. I teased her clit with my tongue and then took it between my lips and sucked. She gasped and moaned. I covered her whole pussy with my mouth and sucked her while my tongue probed her soft opening and encircled her stiff clit. Her hips unconsciously rose and began to sway. Her hands tightened on my head.

She was ready.

I lifted my body up and hovered over her. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing hard. I lowered my pelvis, and my painfully inflated cock unerringly found the entrance to her female treasures. I slid into her so very easily, lubricated by her sweet juices and my own copious pre-cum. She moaned and grasped my hips, pulling me deeper into her until our pelvises met. Her youthful vaginal walls enveloped my swollen cock, squeezing it in a warm embrace.

I began to pump her, then, slowly and lasciviously. I could feel the suction on my withdrawals.

"Oh my God!" she moaned. "Do it, please! Take me now!"

I leaned down and kissed her, forcing her mouth open with my tongue, letting her taste her own passion. I pumped her a few more times and then went into her as deeply as I could, and let go.

I could feel my turgid cock swelling inside her, and then it was pulsating and twitching as I squirted my hot load deep into her. I felt like I was releasing all the sexual tension of the evening into her welcoming depths. She cried out and then made a little sound each time I came into her. I could have gone on forever, shooting my seed into this beautiful, sexy body, filling her until she overflowed, but eventually I ran out of resources.

We lay intwined for a long time, just breathing hard. Reluctantly I pulled out of her and rolled onto my back.

"That was incredible, Mark," she said.

With that she rested her head on my shoulder and went peacefully to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, Caitlin was already up. She was dressed only in one of my shirts. It was only partially buttoned, and barely extended below her waist. She looked spectacular in it.

"Uncle Mark," she said, "I have a confession to make."

So it was 'uncle' again.

I looked at her. "I'm listening."

"I hope you don't feel guilty about last night. Please don't. I want you to know that I'm not sorry, it was wonderful. But I must tell you that from the time Mom called to tell me you were coming I planned to seduce you. I thought it would be a real adventure."

"And was it?"

"Oh my God, yes! But I really hope I didn't make you do anything you'll regret."

I looked at her, taking in the long bare legs, the tousled hair, the shadowy depths between her luscious breasts. I smiled.

"Why don't you come back to bed, and we'll talk about it."