"Are you ready to go?" The demand in my sister's voice was grating and annoying as hell.
"Go where?"
"To the beach. Why do you think we came here?"
"I thought it was to visit everyone. You guys go without me, I'm tired from the drive and want to lie down for a bit. I'll come down later."
"Whatever, Mister Boring. Cathy and I and the guys are going down with Sarah and the kids. We'll see you later." The group filed out the door, leaving me alone.
I can finally get some rest. Dang, that drive was a pain in the ass.
Kicking off my shoes, I laid across the couch and almost immediately fell asleep.
...only to be startled awake by a sudden clattering in the kitchen and a loud "Fuck!"
Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I quickly got up from the couch and rushed around the corner to see what was happening.
"God, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?" My niece Sarah was bent over in front of one of the cabinets, holding a pan, her panty-clad ass on full display. "I was trying to get this out and the stuff around it fell and made a racket. Sorry again."
"No big deal," I told her. I noticed that her hair was wet, as if she was fresh out of a shower, and that she was wearing a short terry robe that just reached the top of her thighs.
Oh, goddam.
I should make a few things clear here. Sarah is a looker, and despite our familial relationship I can certainly appreciate the model of feminine pulchritude she represents. About 5'5" with long brown hair framing a roundish face, she works hard to take care of herself and it shows in her just perfect shape. More about that in a moment.
Sarah's most prominent feature is her face; she is endlessly smiling, and that smile reaches her sparkling brown eyes, making it a genuine expression of mirth. Between that and her unfailingly positive and even joyful attitude, I like to kid her about farting rainbows everywhere she goes.
And that shape! Proportioned exactly right for her height, her slim hips flare out just enough from a trim waist and promise a suitably petite ass. Upstairs she is blessed with what are possibly the most perfect tits in creation, two perfect half cantaloupes standing firm and proud on her chest, normally filling to perfection the t-shirts she usually wore.
But back to the situation at hand.
"I thought you were at the beach," I said. They had left less than an hour ago.
"I was, but everyone else wanted to go up to the boardwalk. I didn't feel like it and came back here to wash off the sunscreen and sand."
So I was right about the shower...
When she straightened up and turned to face me, my breathing skipped a couple of cycles. Her robe was just hanging on, the belt unfastened and the front hanging open. It stood out from her body as it draped over those perfect melons, the inner half of each exposed to reveal their firmness and strength. I saw bare skin from her neck to the skimpy white lace panties she wore and couldn't tear my eyes away.
Her voice interrupted my reverie. "Excuse me. EXCUSE ME." She put one hand on her hip and tried to look indignant but made no attempt to close the robe or cover herself any further. I sheepishly looked up to her face and flushed.
"Sorry. I was, um, distracted."
"I can see that. Did I pass your inspection?"
I tried to recover quickly; the ice was very, very thin here. "With flying colors, and you know it. I'm standing here confronted with a beautiful woman who happens to be my favorite niece and who is openly displaying pretty much every one of her quite substantial assets." I held her gaze.
Her indignant stance was an act and she softened immediately. She glanced down at her robe. "Sorry," she murmured as she pulled the robe slightly more closed. "When the boys are at school I usually spend my mornings at home dressed pretty much like this. I spend so much time alone that I tend to forget that I can't do that when others are around."
"It's okay," I answered. "It just caught me by surprise." I started to turn back to the living room.
"Tom, hey, sorry again," she said, pulling the halves of the robe together and holding the edges. "I grew up around you guess I always knew you would take care of me, no matter what I did."
I stopped and turned back toward her. "Sarah, you might as well be my own daughter. I sure love you as if you were. But you're not the toddler I rocked to sleep or the six-year-old I chased around the yard. You're a strikingly gorgeous thirty-year-old with kids of your own." I turned away again, stopping when her hand touched my shoulder.
"Do you mean that?" she asked softly as I turned yet again toward her. "You're not just saying that?"
"Saying what?"
"Do you really think I'm pretty?" I turned fully toward her and put my hands on her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes.
"No, I don't think you're pretty. I think you are drop-dead gorgeous, the kind of gorgeous that makes people take a second look. Most men would say you're smoking hot. Hell, so would most women."
Two-three-four...
Sarah threw her arms around my neck and moved up against me, embracing me in a hug. "Oh, Tom, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you thank you thank you. I love you." She sounded like she was going to cry. I embraced her in return.
I meant every single word of it and wanted her to know it.
But let's look at the situation: When she reached up to hug me the robe parted again, so here I am in my board shorts and a T-shirt, holding this stunningly beautiful, mostly naked creature against me, feeling those firm, ripe breasts crushed against my chest and knowing that the only thing separating her silky tanned skin from mine was the thin fabric of my shirt. The blood was rushing unbidden to a very noticeable part of my anatomy, so I tried to keep my hips far enough away from her so she wouldn't feel my unwelcome growth.
She may be my niece, but goddam, she feels awfully damn good.
Then she made things infinitely worse. Lifting her head from my shoulder but keeping her arms around my neck, Sarah brought her face in front of mine and planted the sweetest, gentlest of kisses right on my mouth. Nothing more than that, none of the open-mouth-searching-tongues passion of a romance novel, just a nice, soft pressing of lips lasting a couple of seconds.
Oh fuck me. I am lost.
Finally backing away, she said, "You are just the sweetest man. Come talk to me while I finish getting dressed." She turned and walked down the hall to the bathroom, not bothering to hold her robe shut. I obediently followed her, wondering where this was going and what the actual fuck I was doing. She turned into the bathroom and I plopped my sorry ass down in the hall, opposite the open door.
Sure, as if staying outside the room somehow makes it okay to think what you're thinking.
Sarah stood in front of the sink and mirror, brushing and drying her hair and doing whatever it is that women do to make themselves presentable. She made no effort to close her robe, so my vision was filled with this gorgeous creature with her full breasts half exposed, the robe barely covering her lace-clad ass.
"This is wrong," I said as I started to rise from the floor. "I gotta go."
"Please. Stay."
"Sarah, I can't. This is..."
"Wrong. You said it's wrong."
"You know it is. I'm your uncle, we're blood, you have a family..."
"I have kids. I'm alone most of the time."
"Still..."
"Shut up."
