Be Our Uncle E-Book

Kethandra Wilde

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Taboo role-play leads two very different girls and handsome 'uncle' toward the night of their dreams and beyond.

He adopted the role of intimate teacher to a rebellious, tattooed teen.

Will he now adopt a more taboo role to fulfill the forbidden fantasies of her good-girl friend?

All 'incest' depicted is role-play only.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

"Look at you! Damn, Uncle Jack, you are seriously fit." Fingers grazed over my t-shirt, tracing a pectoral muscle. "Too bad you never had any kids."

"Kids? Why?"

"Genetics. Breeding. They'd likely be models. Or athletes. I might even want one for myself. Turn around." She hooked a finger into a belt loop, encouraging me to turn. I was having trouble keeping up with her, went along with her request.

"Yeah." She sounded like she was speaking to herself. "Good genes."

I felt hands stroke down the sides of my back, tracing the V shape from the wider lat' muscles to my narrowed waist. I was proud of how my renewed swimming workouts had sculpted my 50-year old body. "Very good genes. Some men really do look good in a simple pair of Levi's."

Again, she smacked one cheek of my butt.

"Hey!" I spun to face her. "Good genes or good jeans? I thought you were talking about genetics."

"Do I have to pick just one? A hot guy in the right jeans can make me think about breeding." Her eyes were bright, darting, studying my face. I thought I might be blushing.

"Tracy. Don't tease an old man. I'm twice your age."

"Uh...more than twice, Uncle Jack. I'm 21. You just turned 50 if I'm not mistaken."

"Ouch. That doesn't help."

"I'm sorry." Another quick pout, then she wrapped me in her arms. "It is good to see you."

She sniffed at me again, lower, near my collar bone. "And it's good to smell you. Damn."

"Tracy..." I tried to sound stern.

She leaned back to look up at me, leaving her arms cinched around my middle. It pressed her lower body closer to mine and gave me a clear view into the shadowy valley dividing the small rises of her chest. A bead of moisture there glistened, reminding me of the two glinting piercings, blue and gold, now hidden. Something stirred low in my groin.

"Like I said, some guys look good. And good looks can be enough to get me thinking about...genetics and stuff."

She didn't say the word this time, but my brain whispered breeding.'

"But that's just looks." She leaned her face in, stealing another quick sniff. She shook her head, as though trying to clear sudden cobwebs.

"Now a guy that smells good? The right kind of good? Thinking goes right out the window. Something buried deep in a girl's programming goes straight to mating. Breeding."

Her eyes were full of twinkling mischief now. And something else. More intense. I tried to ignore that part. "And men. Men smell different than boys. Better."

The way she said 'boys' seemed dismissive, almost disdained.

Her eyes dropped, suddenly shy. "Maybe I should shut up about now."

Leseprobe

Be Our Uncle

by Kethandra Wilde

Cover Art by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2019 by Kethandra Wilde

All characters are over the age of 18

"Uncle Jack? Uncle Jack! Wait. Please!"

I heard the patter of wet, bare feet on the tile floor behind me as I retreated from the bathroom. My hands shook. An image of what I had just seen was seared into my consciousness: Tracy, my former neighbor’s only daughter, naked and drenched, hands between her legs as she leaned back against the tile wall of the shower, eyes closed and mouth open in self-induced ecstasy.

———

The house was supposed to have been empty.

It had been a long flight followed by a rental car drive through heavy rain. My first time back to Akron, or even Ohio, since I’d moved almost two years ago. I still knew the way at least, having lived next door for almost 20 years.

Tim and Darlene had offered me their bedroom to stay in, without hesitation, as soon as I called to let them know I would be in the area, having qualified for my first Regional Master’s (meaning 50-year olds and older) swim meet. They would be out of town, so we wouldn’t be able to meet up, but the house was empty now that Tracy was living on her own, and the key was still hidden under the same rock.

Tracy was their only child, and had always called me “Uncle Jack,” even if there was no true family connection. She was a good girl, pretty and popular, always getting straight A’s and avoiding trouble. She was now in her third year of college, at nearby Kent State, and apparently due to graduate early.

The only hint of a blemish in her do-the-right-thing life was her best friend, Kris.

Kris had always been a rebel child, trying on and discarding Goth, Emo, and Punk personas before she left high school without a diploma. Not because she wasn’t smart enough. More likely because the teachers weren’t smart enough to keep her interested. Tim told me she now had her own successful tattoo and piercing parlor in the hip, re-gentrifying district of Akron that the manufacturing industry had abandoned.

Tattoos. And piercing. They had always fascinated, compelled, attracted me. I had to pull a blanket over my lap twice during the flight to hide my obvious arousal, when unbidden memories of Kris flooded back, when she was 19 and I still lived next door to her best friend. A best friend who wasn’t home when Kris needed her most. Memories of giving in to forbidden temptation, of thick black eyeliner smeared around tear-filled eyes, of a newly pierced tongue, and an artistically inked, proud, vulnerable young girl who didn’t know as much as she pretended. But wanted to learn.

I’d only seen a couple lights on in the house, for security I assumed, and the key was right where it should have been. When I’d heard water running I thought a faucet had been left on or the old plumbing had sprung a leak. Investigating, I had found something very, very different.

Tracy.

———

My pounding pulse, my short, sharp breaths, were not only because the sound of running water had turned out to be the shower, steam swirling around sweet, naked, obviously masturbating Tracy. My mind’s eye could only truly focus on one tiny detail: the twinned glittering jewelry that pierced both of the almost pink little nipples that capped each round, high breast. Breasts that shook with each motion of the hands buried between her thighs, sending wet light glinting off metallic gold and the bright, sapphire blue of small gems.

"Uncle Jack!" The voice was anxious, closer.

A wet hand grabbed my arm and I turned, relieved that her other small hand clasped a towel closed, high on her chest.

"Tracy. I didn’t...I had no idea you were here. Your parents said..."

The hand on my arm rose, palm out, stopping my blathering. She looked as distressed as I felt.

"I know. Mom said you were coming to visit. I thought it was tomorrow. For swimming or something?"

"Yeah. Swimming. The old Rubber Capitol may not have the auto industry money coming in anymore. But Firestone tire money paid for a world class natatorium back in the day. It’s still one of the best swim facilities in the Midwest." Too much information, but it gave my shocked nervousness an outlet.

"Cool. It’s good to see you, Uncle Jack." Her small, deep curved, Cupid’s bow lips pulled into a pout. "Don’t I get a hug?"

Her arms came out toward me, causing my eyes to dart to the abandoned knot of towel at her chest. Looking back, I might have wondered at her calmness, considering the circumstance. She giggled. "Don’t worry. It won’t come loose until I tell it to."

Still, she tucked the towel in better, inadvertently pushing it down, exposing an inch more of the damp skin of her upper chest. Had it been an accident? "Just to be safe."

Her arms came up again and she stepped close, slipping her hands under my arms to snug me tight against her. I caught a whiff of damp hair. I might have imagined it, but I thought I could detect a musky hint, a result of what I had interrupted in the shower.

"Mmm. I missed you, Uncle Jack." I felt her face nuzzle in against my neck.

My arms wrapped her small form up without thought. "I missed you too, Tracy.”

She inhaled, deep and slow, under my jaw. I suppressed a shiver.

"God I remember this smell."

I tensed. "Do I stink? It was a long flight."

"Stink?" I felt her rising against me, onto her toes. She sniffed again, burying her nose under my ear. Her lips brushed my neck when she spoke. "Not at all. You smell like a man ought to smell, but usually doesn’t. Maybe it’s genes.”

Tracy’s arms released me, pushing back, after a quick slap on my butt. "Speaking of jeans, let me take a look at you."

She moved a single step back, still close. My thoughts spun between my body’s reaction to the nearly naked girl sniffing at me and adjusting my impression of Tracy from the almost prim but definitely pretty innocent I remembered to the pierced, masturbating flirt in front of me.

"Look at you! Damn, Uncle Jack, you are seriously fit." Fingers grazed over my t-shirt, tracing a pectoral muscle. "Too bad you never had any kids."

"Kids? Why?"

"Genetics. Breeding. They’d likely be models. Or athletes. I might even want one for myself. Turn around." She hooked a finger into a belt loop, encouraging me to turn. I was having trouble keeping up with her, went along with her request.

"Yeah." She sounded like she was speaking to herself. "Good genes."

I felt hands stroke down the sides of my back, tracing the V shape from the wider ‘lat’ muscles to my narrowed waist. I was proud of how my renewed swimming workouts had sculpted my 50-year old body. "Very good genes. Some men really do look good in a simple pair of Levi’s."

Again, she smacked one cheek of my butt.

"Hey!" I spun to face her. "Good genes or good jeans? I thought you were talking about genetics."