BurningMonkey
TheMan In TheMirror
- Joined
- Jan 21, 2014
- Posts
- 4,861
Peter had been watching his niece Merissa all weekend. Not overtly, but still...
She had grown into a sexy beauty, the type with a fully-rounded figure and a bright, winning smile, a vivacity that one didn't encounter everyday. It had been several years since he had seen her last; he had moved out-of-state for a while, and remembered her as a lanky, gawky teen, all elbows and knees and braces, thinking she should be acting more like a grown-up but unsure exactly how grown-ups should act.
Boy, what a difference a few years had made...
He had always had an affection for her; she was sweet, and sunny, and enthusiastic about life. But now he had to admit that there were...other thoughts mingled in, thoughts of tits, and ass, and wondering what her pussy would feel like gripping his cock. He wasn't particularly proud of such thoughts, but reality was reality, and he had always been honest with himself, at least. He sometimes struggled with which set of feelings was uppermost in his mind at any given moment.
He glanced around again, reflexively, and noticed that she wasn't where she had been a moment ago with her "boyfriend" Thad. What a loser. Brash, crude, obviously disinterested in her family or this reunion or engaging with anyone who wasn't Merissa. He didn't know where she'd picked him up, but he hoped for her sake she would put him back down again soon.
Looking around, he saw Thad leading Merissa down towards the boathouse. Partly out of concern for Merissa, and partly--he admitted to himself--out of prurient interest, he followed at a distance. The rest of the family was engaged in some contest or other mainly aimed at the younger children, something he'd made no secret about his not being interested in participation years ago. No one expected him to attend, and he wouldn't be missed.
As he approached the boathouse, he heard sounds coming from inside, sounds he thought he recognized from his years in the Navy stationed in the Mediterranean, sounds he'd heard often in the alleys and doorways of Barcelona and Naples late at night--the sounds of men and women making whoopee where there wasn't a convenient room to be had.
He crept nearer and cautiously peeked in the window...
She had grown into a sexy beauty, the type with a fully-rounded figure and a bright, winning smile, a vivacity that one didn't encounter everyday. It had been several years since he had seen her last; he had moved out-of-state for a while, and remembered her as a lanky, gawky teen, all elbows and knees and braces, thinking she should be acting more like a grown-up but unsure exactly how grown-ups should act.
Boy, what a difference a few years had made...
He had always had an affection for her; she was sweet, and sunny, and enthusiastic about life. But now he had to admit that there were...other thoughts mingled in, thoughts of tits, and ass, and wondering what her pussy would feel like gripping his cock. He wasn't particularly proud of such thoughts, but reality was reality, and he had always been honest with himself, at least. He sometimes struggled with which set of feelings was uppermost in his mind at any given moment.
He glanced around again, reflexively, and noticed that she wasn't where she had been a moment ago with her "boyfriend" Thad. What a loser. Brash, crude, obviously disinterested in her family or this reunion or engaging with anyone who wasn't Merissa. He didn't know where she'd picked him up, but he hoped for her sake she would put him back down again soon.
Looking around, he saw Thad leading Merissa down towards the boathouse. Partly out of concern for Merissa, and partly--he admitted to himself--out of prurient interest, he followed at a distance. The rest of the family was engaged in some contest or other mainly aimed at the younger children, something he'd made no secret about his not being interested in participation years ago. No one expected him to attend, and he wouldn't be missed.
As he approached the boathouse, he heard sounds coming from inside, sounds he thought he recognized from his years in the Navy stationed in the Mediterranean, sounds he'd heard often in the alleys and doorways of Barcelona and Naples late at night--the sounds of men and women making whoopee where there wasn't a convenient room to be had.
He crept nearer and cautiously peeked in the window...