textfiles/sex/EROTICA/F/famafair.txt

The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.






Subject: REPOST Mike07 Family Affair 

FAMILY AFFAIR: May I Have this Dance?

By Uncle Mike

    Cissy pirouetted in front of everyone, showing off her shiny 
red satin gown. "Isn't it lovely, Uncle Bill?" She still couldn't 
get over how she looked; she'd never had a dress like this 
before. It was almost strapless -- just two thin strands 
across her smooth-skinned shoulders. They weren't even 
holding it up; that was taken care of by the stiff corset that 
actually produced something like a bosom. It had taken some 
convincing to get away with not wearing a shawl to cover up. 
But at least all the discussion over her decolletage -- not 
that anyone came right out and said that's what they were 
discussing, of course -- anyway, all that talk had kept them 
from saying anything about the slit that went from her ankles 
clear up to her hip. She twirled again, careful not to swing the 
slit open too wide. She felt too happy to have an argument 
now.

    Her uncle and guardian, Bill Davis, looked up from the 
evening paper. He was still a little new at this parent 
business, having taken in his nephew and two nieces only a 
little while ago. Still, he knew something about pleasing 
women, and Cissy was right on the border between a sweet 
childhood and what promised to be a beautiful womanhood. He 
figured he could manage. "Yes," he said, folding the paper into 
his lap. "The dress is lovely. Almost as lovely as what's inside 
it!" He hoped he'd done the right thing, giving in on that dress. 
He had to admit she was stunning; in that dress she looked a 
lot closer to womanhood than he'd noticed before.

    Cissy blushed, just a little. Her feelings about Uncle Bill 
were still a bit confused; she'd gotten used to her last foster 
family and now she had to start all over again, but her uncle 
was clearly so awkward at being a dad that she sometimes 
thought of him more as a friend.

    Well, she didn't have time to think about that now. Her 
little sister and brother, Buffy and Jody, came up and kissed 
her good night before going off to bed, and told her she looked 
"awful pretty." And then there was a buzz at the door; her date 
was downstairs. Mr. French, their butler, gallantly took her 
arm and offered to escort her down on his way to enjoy a 
weekend with his brother, Nigel. Uncle Bill wondered if he 
shouldn't insist on seeing Cissy's date? But he trusted Mr. 
French, so he let the teenager teeter off on her high heels to 
her first formal dance.

    He had to call out once or twice to get the little ones to 
settle down while washing up, but after he tucked them in 
they went straight to sleep and he walked back to his easy 
chair and settled in with a good book. Being a father was all 
right, but it was nice to have some time to himself, too.

    He was still in the chair reading when he heard the front 
door open. It had only been an hour or so since they left; could 
French have forgotten something? He went to look.

    Cissy had left the house looking like a million bucks, but 
she came in now looking like spare change. Her dress must 
have been the same; there wasn't a mark or a tear on it. But it 
seemed to have lost its sheen and its shape; it hung down on 
the young girl's frame like a sack. The only thing that looked 
worse than the dress was Cissy's face. The bloom was off her 
cheeks; her short blonde hair hung down like a tattered rag. 
The mascara she'd so carefully applied was streaked by tears.

    Bill stared, unable to decide whether to comfort her or let 
her work it out herself. It would be easier on him, he thought 
for the thousandth time, if he'd had a little parenting 
experience under his belt before he had to tackle the teen 
years.

    When Cissy lifted her head and he saw the glimmer of tears 
still rimming her eyes, he made up his mind. Taking her by the 
shoulder, he led her toward the den, away from the bedrooms 
so they wouldn't wake the kids.

    It didn't take much prompting for the whole story to come 
out. Pete, her date, had met her downstairs. Mr. French gave 
his approval, and everything seemed fine. But when they got 
into the car, it turned out Pete's dad wasn't chaperoning, like 
Pete had promised. Instead, they were doubling with a friend 
of his, who was doing the driving even though he'd had a bit to 
drink already. Pete and his buddy drank some more beers on 
the way to the dance. He hardly stopped to drop her at the 
table before he ran off to the dance floor by himself, picking 
up girls left and right. Within minutes someone else's 
boyfriend got into a fight with Pete and they were both 
thrown out. Cissy had been so humiliated she'd gotten one of 
her teachers to drive her home.

    For the thousand-and-first time, Bill rued his inexperience. 
If Cissy was an adult woman, he'd figure she could handle it 
herself; all he'd have to do is agree with her about what a 
louse Pete was. But this girl in front of him, crying her eyes 
out, looked more like a little girl playing dress-up in heels 
and her mommy's gown.

    So he decided to do what he figured you do for little kids 
when something keeps them from getting their dream: you try 
to give them the next best thing and figure they'll soon forget 
their troubles. 

    Excusing himself for a second, he slipped into the kitchen 
and came back with a couple of glasses of pop, a white towel 
carefully placed over his arm. "Is this table all right for 
madame?" he asked with his really poor excuse for a French 
accent. There was just the hint of a smile through her tears 
as she sat down and took the pop from him. He put the other 
one on the table and went over to the stereo, flipping through 
his records. No, jazz wasn't right; no, not the classical. He 
knew he wouldn't have the kinds of rock 'n' roll they were 
probably playing at the dance -- or would they, at a formal? 
Anyway, he must have something appropriate. Hmmm, maybe 
this would do: Sinatra's always a good choice, right? He put 
the record on and turned to face his niece.

    "May I have this dance?" He bowed deeply and looked up at 
her from under his eyebrows. She blinked away her tears and 
gave him a tentative smile.

    Uncle Bill swept Cissy into his arms as Sinatra's mellow 
voice played quietly in the room. "I'm not too much for the 
fancy stuff, but I can manage a fair dance step," he told her.

    "Oh, no, you're great," she answered, her chin tucked under 
his shoulder as she clung to him. "Pete couldn't..." She broke 
into tears.

    "You just forget about him," Bill said sternly. "This is your 
first formal dance, and you're going to have a good time, and 
that's that." He softened it with a grin as he looked down into 
her eyes.

    They danced across the floor and back, and by the time the 
first side of the album was done, Cissy looked like the girl 
who'd left so full of hope. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks 
were rosy, and her dress was looking like seven figures again. 
In fact, her figure itself looked better. When she stood up 
straight her chest swelled out of the low-cut gown, and as 
she got accustomed to the high heels the curve of her ankle 
became more confident. When Uncle Bill stopped after the last 
song, she begged him to flip the record over.

    It was somewhere in the middle of "Strangers in the Night," 
with Cissy's supple body pressed close to his, that Uncle Bill 
bent down and kissed her. At first he just brushed her lips, 
almost a fatherly kiss. But she closed her eyes and kissed him 
back, and he held her closer, and their mouths opened and 
passion took over.

    Uncle Bill broke the embrace first, stumbling back and 
looking away. He was confused by his own feelings. Cissy was 
his niece, just a kid, someone he was looking after like a 
father. But he couldn't deny other feelings as well. She was 
beautiful, and, well, sexy, and the love he felt was more than 
paternal.

    Cissy was confused, too, but not in the same way. She knew 
now, very clearly, that she loved Uncle Bill in a very special 
way. But she was just a kid. How could she ever hope that he'd 
return her feelings?

    Looking everywhere but at her, Bill groped behind him and 
found the back of his easy chair. He slumped into it, 
massaging his forehead with one strong hand. 

    Cissy turned to leave, embarrassed and forlorn. He stopped 
her at the door with his voice.

    "Cissy ... wait. I think we should talk. I have to explain."

    She returned to his side; he still found it difficult to look 
her in the eyes. Bill tried to tell her that he was sorry and 
would never do anything like that again. Cissy, her mind on her 
own feelings, misinterpreted his words and was now more 
sure than ever that her love was completely one-sided.

    But as her uncle talked, she looked at him and saw 
something that made her feel, without being completely sure 
why, that he returned her love.

    "Uncle Bill," she said softly, interrupting his rambling, "if 
you really feel that way, why do you look like that?" She 
pointed to his lap. Bill looked down and quickly put both hands 
over his lap, trying to cover up a very obvious and very large 
bulge in his pants.

    Cissy was not very experienced. Indeed, her kiss with Uncle 
Bill was the most passionate she'd ever had; no boy had ever 
put his tongue in her mouth like that.

    But all that time apart from any real family had taught her 
to do things for herself, and she'd read several marriage 
manuals and had several whispered discussions with older 
girls. She knew what was happening to Uncle Bill, and the 
realization that she was the cause made her feel warm all 
over, particularly Down There.

    She was nervous, and a little ashamed, but for the first 
time in her young life she felt true love and she was 
determined not to let it slip away. Uncle Bill was a grown 
man and he wouldn't settle for kiddie behavior; if she wanted 
him, she knew, she'd have to grow up in a hurry.

    She put a trembling hand on top of his and gently pressed 
down. Uncle Bill looked up in shock. Moving to him, she 
pressed her lips to his. This time she took the lead, opening 
her mouth to his and pressing her hot tongue inside. He sunk 
back into the cushions of the chair but she pursued, sitting 
down on his knees and slipping her hand underneath his, to 
rest right on top of his straining rod. She felt it press up 
against her hand. Yes! Yes, Uncle Bill did feel that way about 
her.

    With her left hand she caressed his brow and neck. Growing 
more sure of herself, she broke their kiss and slipped down to 
nuzzle his chest, pulling aside the top buttons of his shirt. 
Uncle Bill began to protest, weakly, but she silenced him by 
putting one finger to his lips.

    "Sssshhh. Don't say anything. We're not doing anything 
wrong. You love me -- I know you do, I think I've always known 
it -- and I love you. Let me show you how much."

    Her right hand unzipped his slacks and she freed his 
stiffening rod, taking the hot penis into her warm hand. There 
were already a few drops of moisture at the tip -- she 
remembered one of the older girls saying something about 
that. Her fingers massaged the bulbous head, then moved down 
to the rod itself. She felt for the line running down the 
underside -- there it was. She rubbed up and down and, like a 
scientist getting a favorable result from an experiment, was 
pleased to feel his penis harden and grow larger.

    Uncle Bill's head was all the way back, and he was staring 
blankly at the ceiling. 

    "Poor Bill," she whispered into his ear, "it's all right. This 
is how things ought to be. Don't be afraid. How can we do 
anything wrong if we love each other?"

    The touch of Cissy's hand on his penis had almost made Bill 
pass out. His mind was screaming at him to stop, right now, 
but his body seemed unable or unwilling to act. It had been so 
long since he'd had a woman, and Cissy was right, he did love 
her -- but could he? Should he?

    Then he gasped as he felt a warm breath on the head of his 
penis. He looked down, his eyes wide, as Cissy opened her 
mouth and took him inside. Her lips closed around it, and she 
began to move up and down.

    "No," his mind said, "no, stop, we can't!" But out of his 
mouth came, "Yes, Cissy. Suck on it. Suck on it hard!"

    She did. Her cheeks hollowed and he felt the pressure on his 
rod increase. She couldn't take all of him inside, but she kept 
rubbing the rest with her hand and soon he felt a boiling 
inside him.

    "Oh, Cissy, watch out, I'm going to cum," he gasped. She 
pulled up and watched with fascination as gooey white spunk 
shot out of the tip of his penis and landed on her outstretched 
hands.

    Her eyes locked on his, Cissy raised her hands and licked 
the cum off with a smile. Bill's mouth dropped open. None of 
his girlfriends had ever done that. Love and lust tumbled 
together inside him.

    Cissy slowly rose and turned away, calling over her 
shoulder in a sexy whisper. "Undo me?"

    He reached up and fumbled at her zipper, finally drawing it 
down to the small of her back. The sides of the red satin dress 
pulled away slightly, exposing the gentle curve of her spine. 
Cissy slipped the two straps off her shoulders and turned 
around to face him.

    Ever so slowly she peeled the stiff corset of the dress 
away and lowered it. Her small breasts emerged, gentle rises 
on her smooth young body. Her nipples were already stiff and 
stood out from her breasts. She slid her hands over herself as 
the dress dropped to the floor.

    Uncle Bill moved forward on his chair and pulled her hips to 
him. He tenderly peeled off her white cotton panties, undoing 
the snaps of her garters and and then closing them again to 
hold up her dark stockings. Cissy stepped out of the panties as 
Bill put both hands on her behind and leaned forward.

    As Uncle Bill suckled her labia, Cissy began to sway above 
him. His tongue penetrated her and she grasped his shoulders 
for support. This was so much better than any of the girls had 
ever said! Already, her vaginal secretions were flowing 
strongly and she felt shudders of pleasure. She looked down at 
her uncle, his face buried in her, and closed her eyes in 
delight. His tongue touched her clitoris and she wobbled on 
her heels; he pulled her closer to him, his broad hands 
kneading her firm buttocks. 

    At last she felt a stirring begin deep inside her and all her 
muscles contracted at once. Her moans increased in volume as 
violent spasms wracked her body; she held tightly onto Uncle 
Bill as she went weak in the knees and fell onto him. "Oh, 
yesss, oh, yess, oh, that's so GOOOOOOD! Unnnnnnnhhhh!"

    Gently Bill lifted Cissy off him and lowered her to the rug, 
placing the towel from the kitchen beneath her. He looked 
down at her naked body. No longer did he think of her as a 
child at all. This was a woman before him, a tantalizing 
woman in full flower who wanted him as much as he wanted 
her. His penis had once again stiffened, and he quickly took his 
clothes off and joined her on the floor.

    Again they kissed, equally hungry for each other's lips and 
mouths and tongues. He caressed her firm breasts, her taut 
stomach, her silken legs. She was still recovering from her 
orgasm, but she kissed him back and opened herself to his 
exploration.

    And then he felt she was ready and Bill moved between her 
legs. She spread herself wide to him, her labia stretching and 
exposing her opening, shielded not at all by a sparse patch of 
pale pubic hair.

    Bill brought the head of his penis to her entrance, holding 
his rod in his hands and rubbing it up and down. "This will hurt 
some at first," he said.

    "I know," she said with the ghost of a smile.

    "We can stop now," he said, but she knew he didn't mean it.

    "No," she said, "I want to. Please! But ... be gentle?"

    "Always," he said, and pressed into her. She sighed as the 
tip of his penis spread aside her tight lips and forced itself 
into her hot, wet tunnel, already slick with her juices. He 
moved slowly, agonizingly slowly, and she felt every motion 
as he filled her wall to wall. Tears gathered at the corners of 
her eyes but she pressed her hands into his back, urging him 
on.

    And then he felt the pressure as he touched her maidenhead, 
yielding slightly before him.

    "Are you sure?" he asked her, and Cissy nodded in reply. He 
pulled back and moved forward with steady pressure, and 
again, and again, and all at once she felt herself give way and 
he was through.

    It did hurt, just a little, but he held himself inside her and 
soon the pain went away, to be replaced by a deep, hollow 
longing. She moved her hips under him, pressing against his 
waist, and he answered with a long thrust that forced a moan 
from deep within her.

    They moved together, uncle and niece, man and woman, 
adjusting their pace as Cissy began to learn about her body 
and the joys it could deliver. She closed her legs around her 
uncle, her high heels sliding along his brawny legs. He bent 
down and kissed her long and hard, no hesitation or regret, 
just raw desire.

    And still they moved together, his penis plunging within 
her, stretching her young opening. She fit him like a glove, and 
Bill found sensations he had never known with all the women 
in his past. The love he knew he had found intensified his 
physical delight as he buried himself to the hilt in her, 
feeling his sac rub against her. Cissy's hands dug into his back 
as she pressed herself onto him, trying to take more and 
more, thrilling at every thrust, every move, her every nerve 
tingling.

    Once, and then again, she felt an orgasm spread through her 
body, and she shrieked in ecstasy. Still Uncle Bill remained 
inside her, pressing, withdrawing, pushing forward again. 
Instinctively she moved under him, rubbing his stiff rod 
against every sensitive point.

    Bill was amazed at his own stamina and at Cissy's ability 
to draw him so close to the edge with her movements, only to 
sense his closeness and withdraw again. They shouted their 
love to each other, they whispered, they sobbed, they moaned 
in delight as the passionate rhythm continued. Uncle Bill's 
muscles ached and Cissy's slim body was bathed in sweat as 
their motion grew faster and faster, straining every fiber 
within them, faster and faster until at last Bill felt himself 
slip over the edge. "Oh, God, I'm cumming. Cissy, Cissy, I'm 
gonna do it, Oh, God, Cissy, t-h-i-s i-s i-tttttttt!" The 
seminal fluid jetted out of him in a wild torrent, filling his 
niece's once-virginal body and gushing out to soak into the 
towel beneath them. Cissy bucked wildly beneath him, yet 
another orgasm sending her into a shrieking fit of joy.

    When at last it was over and Cissy had gone to her bedroom, 
Bill slipped under the covers of his own bed and stared at the 
ceiling. The last lingering doubts about what he'd done 
evaporated as he thought again of the feel of her tight vagina 
squeezing his penis dry, of the look in her eyes as she rose 
and fell in passion calling out "I love you! I love you, Uncle 
Bill!"

    He knew things would be very different from now on. 
Somehow he and Cissy would find the time to be together 
when they could. Should he tell French? Would the old butler 
understand how something like this could happen? No, Bill 
thought, French was a good friend and a loyal employee, but 
this was not something to share with him. This was a family 
affair.

--