Uncle Carl:
Three things that happened while my niece was staying with us.
Carrie was wanting to start working out and asked me about the rowing machine in the garage. The machine has a seat that moves back and forth on a track as you row with a knob on the front of the seat to set the resistance.
One Saturday morning while Doris and I were having coffee, Carrie came down the stairs dressed in that incredible undershirt. She sometimes wears the undershirt when Doris is also here, but not often, nor does she stay long and she always seems to wear panties when Doris is around. I sometimes wonder about that, why her attire is more revealing when it's only me, but try to chalk it up to coincidence.
Anyway, out of habit, I glanced at the little slits at the bottom of the shirt and came to the conclusion that this time, even with Doris here, she wasn't wearing panties and she never seems to wear a bra around the house regardless of how she's dressed. As a matter of fact, I don't recall ever being aware that she was wearing a bra even when she went to class. If Doris was aware she had nothing on under the skimpy shirt, she didn't acknowledge it.
Anyway, she asked if she could use the rowing machine. She followed me out to the garage where we pulled the machine out from under the workbench and dusted it off. Even with the garage light on it was pretty dark in there. At her suggestion, we opened the garage door. Seeing Carrie dressed only in the skimpy shirt was always exciting but something about seeing her in the garage with the door open dressed that way only a few feet from the sidewalk added to the guilty thrill.
She sat down on the seat, her legs slightly spread and her bare feet on the foot rest. I could tell from the way the back of the shirt bunched up that her bare bottom was resting directly on the metal seat. She began to row, sliding the seat back and forth, her legs bending up to meet her chest every time she moved forward. Her legs were spread just enough so that with each slide forward, there was an amazingly unobstructed view between her thighs. It was hypnotic watching her go back and forth.
After a few minutes she stopped and asked if I could reduce the tension a little so it would be easier to row. I told her the adjustment knob was on the front of the seat. What I didn't mention but what was obvious was that the knob was right there between her thighs, less than an inch from her bare pussy. I cautiously reached down to adjust the knob, trying not to touch her. There was no way to keep from laying my arm on her upper thigh, almost but not quite touching her light brown pubic triangle. I pulled my hand away after making an adjustment. She still didn't like the results so we repeated the process. Each time I'd carefully reach down between her bare thighs to turn the knob.
After a while she asked if I could turn the knob while she rowed till we achieved the proper resistance.
She started rowing while I tried to carefully slide my hand between her legs. Before I succeeded in grasping the knob, I accidentally brushed her bare pussy two or three times. Once I had successfully grasped the knob my arm moved back and forth with her rowing and the back of my hand was almost constantly touching her pussy. The warm, slightly moist touch was incredible. I found it hard to concentrate on the task at hand and felt a growing erection in my jeans.
When finally the tension was right I watched her row for about twenty minutes. It was some of the nicest twenty minutes I can remember experiencing.
Doris and I were often talking with Carrie about family photos and keepsakes, more of which were stored in the attic. She kept bugging us to explore the attic but the time was never right especially considering it would require bringing a stepladder in from the garage. . Finally, after much begging, I gave up and promised her that the next morning we would go into the attic.
The next morning Doris was at work when Carrie came down dressed in the skimpy undershirt, that she was apparently so comfortable in and which I found it disturbingly revealing, proclaiming she was ready to explore the attic. Access to the attic is through a trap door in the upstairs hallway. Carrie helped me drag a stepladder in from the garage.