“Mom, I just got off the phone with Uncle Jack, he says hi and I should give you this”, and she pecked her mother on the cheek. “He’s such a good guy, he said no problem about me staying with him when I go to Christine’s wedding. Does he have a girlfriend or anything? I mean, he’s like, what, 45? I just mean he’s a good-looking guy and he’s so talented and so funny, I’m surprised he’s not married. Anyway, I’m all set and now I’m going up to take a shower. Bye, Mom!”
That was Melissa, mile-a-minute-Melissa as Uncle Jack called her. Melissa’s mother was used to her daughter’s rapid delivery and quick changes of thought. She had worried about Melissa after her Dad passed away. The teenager had gone into a very understandable funk for two years, but now she seemed to be much like her old, bubbly self. Uncle Jack, Melissa’s father’s brother, had been very supportive and very helpful after the family tragedy. He had always had a special place in his heart for Melissa that had been obvious for many years. As a child she would play hide-and-go-seek with him, they would share lollipops, Melissa had to sit next to Uncle Jack when he came to dinner, and on and on. People always remarked that Jack dropped back into childhood whenever Melissa wanted him to. As she matured her relationship with her favorite uncle matured as well, and when the family got together the pair of them would find each other right away and begin discussing books, movies, politics, poetry, or anything else they found interesting. He became her confidant and trusted male role model, even more so after her father’s death.
Melissa was 24, a graduate of Ohio State University with a major in Communications. She was going to be a TV anchorwoman; at least that’s what she always said when asked. She might very well do it, too, with her confidence, poise, brains, and good looks. Good looks ran in the family and Melissa was da bomb. 5’8”, 122 lbs., luxurious red hair falling below her shoulders, an hourglass figure and long legs. Uncle Jack had remarked at her graduation that the mere sight of her could make a heathen pray. A purist might have noticed that her breasts were not very large, 34B, but that was the only thing a man might find faulty with Melissa’s body. Her face was luminous, big green eyes, high cheekbones, and a wide mouth that was made to smile. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous. She had many admirers in school, not too many boyfriends. Boys found her intelligence intimidating and they tended to think that she felt she was better than most people. Not true, but this was how they consoled their wounded egos.
She was working as an intern at a local TV studio, putting in her time as she watched for her break to get in front of the camera. She worked hard, she dressed well, and she tried to go the extra mile for her job. If she had accepted the studio manager’s offer to sleep with him she would be the Weathergirl right now, but she had made it very clear to him what he could do with his offer. Feisty, independent, principled Melissa would earn her place and never sell out to get anything.
Her friend Christine was getting married in June (of course!) and Melissa was determined to be there. Chris lived in New Jersey, too far away for Melissa to drive there in a day. However, good old Uncle Jack lived a few miles away from Christine’s church and when Melissa explained the situation he had offered to let her stay with him. “In fact,” he had said, “Since the wedding is on Friday night, why don’t you plan on staying with me until Sunday? That’ll give us all day Saturday to hang out, catch up, maybe take a horseback ride? I’d like to have you here for a couple of nights.” She agreed enthusiastically, it sounded so wonderful. He mumbled something about “have to finish that work in the barn before she gets here” but she didn’t think anything of it. Jack had twenty acres in Sussex County with an old Colonial era house, a pond, and an old barn that he always meant to turn into his “Private playground”. She planned to take a vacation day on Friday, leave her house in the early morning, and drive to Jack’s arriving by 2 in the afternoon. That would give her enough time to change and get to the wedding at 5. Jack had told her that he would come get her when the reception ended so she didn’t have to worry about driving if she had a few drinks. Everything worked out perfectly and Melissa couldn’t wait for her special weekend.
Neither could Jack. He had look at his calendar after Melissa called him. “June”, he mused. “Not much time to finish everything. But I’ll never get a better chance than this.” He sat down at his desk and opened a binder full of drawings. Selecting one he studied it for a moment, turned to his PC and logged on to a very special website…
She drove up to his house on a bright, sunny day. She wore blue jeans and an Ohio State t-shirt. Sandals on her feet, hair in a ponytail – hell, even dressed down she could stop a landslide. Jack watched her bend over to haul a suitcase out of the trunk of her car and stared at the perfect shape of her ass. “Yes, I know she’s my niece,” he thought, “and shame on this old lecher. But, damn, that’s a fine ass!”
He helped her bring her bags in the house, showed her to the guest room even though she’d been there many times before. Bonaparte, Jack’s huge black Newfoundland gamboled about her, demanding attention, damned near knocking her over in his enthusiasm. “Boney, sit!” Jack commanded, and the great hound relaxed as Melissa patted his shaggy head. They chatted for about fifteen minutes, just casual stuff, how’s your mother? Nice trip? Stuff like that. Then he excused himself so that she could shower and get ready for the wedding. As he left the room he turned and said, “Oh, by the way, you remember that old barn of mine? I believe I’ve finally got it fixed up the way I always wanted it to be and I’d like to show it to you. Not now, no time now you need to gussy up. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Or how about tonight after you pick me up?” she suggested. “I’ll probably be all wound up after the reception and I won’t be able to sleep. So maybe you can show me your big project tonight?”
His eyes widened and he had to swallow before he answered. “Yeah, sure, sweetheart, I’ll show you tonight. It’s really special to me, and I kind of fixed it up with you in mind. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will.”
She grinned at him. “With me in mind? What is it, what did you do out there?”
He shook his head, saying “Nope, no hints for you. It’s a surprise. I know it sounds kinda corny, but let me have this little bit of fun, won’t you? Trust me, it’s really something special”.
“Okay, Uncle Jack, Mister Big Secret Man! Go on now, let me get dressed.” She watched him grin and walk down the hall and down stairs. He was tall, almost six feet, broad shoulders, curly brown hair, square jaw, crystal blue eyes. He had strong arms and a butt that wouldn’t quit. She’d always thought he was handsome, and for some reason today she thought of him as a sex object! “Oh, no you don’t girl!” she told herself. “Get your mind out of the gutter! That man is way too off limits! But I know a couple girls from school who would jump his bones in a heartbeat…”
She showered and dressed with time to spare. As she admired herself in the mirror she wondered how Uncle Jack would like her dress. It was a perfect fit, clinging to her figure like a sheath. Emerald green to go with her eyes, thin straps over the shoulders, most of her back exposed, hemline a little too high above the knee for her mother’s approval (but Mom isn’t here, is she?). She wore nude stockings with very sexy lace tops, and if she moved just right an observant person might glimpse that bit of lace. Green lace thong panties covered almost nothing of value and made her feel very sexy. Black stiletto heels, exactly the right shape and height to show off her butt. Some makeup, not too much, a bit of lip-gloss, some eyeliner. Subtle perfume she saved for special occasions. No doubt about it, she was hot.
She walked downstairs into the front room. Jack was sitting in an easy chair reading a book that he put down the instant she came into view. She came down the last few stairs moving as smoothly as she could, letting her heels clack-clack on the wooden steps, making sure Jack got a chance to see the lace on her thighs. Any question she may have had, like “Does Uncle Jack think I look good?” was answered by the look in his eye. The man was dumbstruck, rooted to the spot. She stepped up to his chair and did a slow turn. He never blinked. The only movement was Bonaparte sitting up and offering Melissa his paw.
“Well?” she asked. “How do I look?”
