Second Chances Chapter 15 What I Did Over The Weekend
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Amanda’s turn:
The alarm went off, Uncle Ben got us up, fed us toaster waffles, and then bundled us off to school.
Bink’s got something on her mind but she’s talking about school things so I know she’s holding it in.
When we get out of the car and Uncle Ben drives off, I pounce.
“Okay. What’s going on? Something happened.”
“Promise me you won’t lose it.”
“I won’t lose it. What?”
“I played with Ben’s thing last night.”
“What?!?” This is interesting, but not melt-down material.
“I touched it. Felt it.”
“How? How long?”
“Not very long. He woke up and made me stop.”
“Seriously?!? You touched it?”
Vigorous nod. “First time I ever touched one.”
“That’s MY Ben,” I said.
“Yeah, but you’re his niece. I’m not.”
“You almost are. And you’re too young...”
“I know, but ... Mmmm ... He gets me goin’...”
“What do you know about getting going?”
“Just what I got last night snuggled next to HIM.”
“Oh.”
“C’mon, girl! Don’t you get curious?”
“No, I do not,” I affirmed. Okay, I know what ‘mental reservation’ means. “I do NOT want to think about his private parts...”
“It felt sooo interesting...”
“Stoppit!”
“Okay.”
“You act like if he asked you, you’d be naked in bed...”
“He’s ... just ... I dunno...”
“Wonderful vocabulary, Binkster.”
Now we were in the hall. Change the subject. People are still staring at me after the fight.
Mark Twain did a poor job of holding my interest today.
I made it through my day. Bink’s mom picked us up after school.
“What’re you doing this weekend?” she asked.
“Uncle Ben and I are getting used to the bigger boat. I think we’re doing an overnighter at the south end of the lake.”
“Sounds fun, Mom,” Bink said. “I know we’re going to see Sara’s family this weekend, but if there’s a way I could go out one time...”
“Bigger boat?” Aunt Barb asked.
“Forty footer. Steel. Ocean-going, if you’re up to it.”
“Wow!”
“I’ve shown you pictures,” I said. “And we brought ‘er home from Clear Lake.”
“That’s why your car was there. I know,” Barb said. “But it’s got more room than his old boat?”
“Positively palatial,” I answered.
Bink faked a pout. “And I’ve never been on it.”
“NEXT weekend,” I told her. “If it’s okay,” I added for her mom’s input.
“You’re safe with Ben,” she replied.
And I’m thinking a bunch of stuff, like ‘is Uncle Ben safe with Bink?’
I get dropped off right before he gets home. For an overnight stay, it doesn’t take us long to get packed – couple of changes of clothes, a bathing suit. Box of foods. We’ll load up some perishables in the morning. Ada Z. has a fridge.
Dinner here tonight, then showers, TV for a while. In bed. Him on his iPad, me on mine, then sleep.
Or not. The look on Bink’s face. “I touched it.” And he didn’t come unglued, jump up screaming, toss her out of bed, all of which I would think are options.
But he’s MY Ben, ever so gentle with people around him, including my oddball friend. And oddball me.
And I’m thinking of something ... sometimes when we’re asleep together, he spoons up behind me. I feel ever so safe, but sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel his thing. Sometimes it presses hard against me. He’s like that right now. Spooned, I mean. Not hard. I gently roll away from him. He rearranges himself on his back.
The room’s lit by the dim glow from the clock and from the nightlight in his bathroom, so it’s not totally dark. I can see pretty good, actually, and his pajamas are just part open.
I’m thinking ‘okay, Amanda, you KNOW you’re gonna try this. You can’t help yourself. And you KNOW that it could mean some turmoil in your happy little relationship.’ And I very carefully slip my fingers into that opening.
It IS there! Fingertips, gentle, trace the size. Oh, it’s changing, getting bigger. Harder.
I read about that. It’s interesting to experience for the first time. Bink’s right. It certainly is interesting. I wrap my fingers around it. It’s very conveniently sized for that. Gentle squeeze. He draws in a breath and I freeze. When he releases it, I explore some more. I wish the lights were on and he was encouraging this. They say it’s a ‘sack’. It feels magical. Another thing made for my hand.
But back up to that other handful. Fingers tracing ... a ridge, skin so soft, hot. My fingers just keep going, gently, he gets harder, then I can feel his heartbeat right HERE and it starts throbbing, pulsing and GLOOSH! And again and again and again and I think I know what that means, but it frightens me.
And he hasn’t woke up.
Ben’s turn:
It’s been a while since that happened, wet dream, I mean. I learned a long time ago that if I regularly relieved pressure – euphemism for jerking off – I wouldn’t surprise myself by waking up sticky.
I woke up sticky this morning, hit the bathroom, quick jump in the shower, then when I got out, Mandy was already dressed and sitting at the breakfast table with an odd look on her face, then it dawned on me. Nothing ever happened to Bink that Mandy didn’t find out immediately, and Bink had gotten caught the previous night sweetly fondling me.
Being inordinately fond of Bink, I gently made her stop, then pretended nothing had happened when we woke up the next morning. Chances are pretty good that Bink told Mandy and...
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, punkin?” I asked her.
“No.”
“Even if it was an uncomfortable question?”
“No. Might not answer, but won’t lie...”
“Last night after we went to sleep, did you wake up and play with me?”
I can’t imagine a more guilty expression, complete with downward cast eyes.
“I kinda did...”
“You didn’t have my permission, baby. And I’m your uncle, so that’s incest, and you’re fourteen, so you can’t legally...”
“I know all that. Wanted to, anyway...”
“We can’t be doing that, Mandy. Seriously.”
“I know. But it’s US.” She looked at me, big blue eyes moist. “It’s us forever...”
“Baby, you say that now. You’re fourteen.”
“And a day.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I’ll be good. Don’t send me away.”
“Honey, if other people found out, I’d be the one who went away. Twenty years in jail.”
“For playin’ with your pee-pee?” That was the term her parents had raised her using.
“It quit being a pee-pee when it matured, baby. You know better.”
“I know. I was curious. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Maybe...”
Like she can read my mind. “Don’t make me sleep by myself. Please, Uncle Ben?”
Ben, you lost that one. “I won’t. But...”
“I’ll be good.” Smirk. “Bink says she touched it.”
“I made Bink stop.”
“Bink says you’re hot.”
“Bink needs to get a life.” And I’m thinking Bink’s a clear danger now.
“Are we still going out on the boat?”
“If you don’t wish to sit in your darkened room, overcome by remorse.”
“Don’t be silly. This is just a little bump in our relationship.” That’s my Amanda – curious spin on that whole relationship thing. She has my qualities of social skill.
On the way to the marina, she talked with Bink on the phone and judging from her side of the conversation, it was pretty conventional stuff, ending with “If there’s not a hurricane, you come with us next weekend.”
When she hung up, she looked at me. “That okay?”
“Yes.”
Five hours later we were anchored at the spot we chose for the night. It was hot. September’s just late summer in Louisiana. And we were sweaty. I cranked up the generator, let it power the air conditioning to cool the cabins, and we changed into swimsuits, mine a pair of baggy board shorts, hers a rather modest two-piece, leaving her midriff exposed.
The water was warm and brackish but still pleasant enough to enjoy the swim.
“You know that if you stay immersed for twenty minutes, the dead outer layer of your skin rehydrates and sloughs off easier,” she said.
“As a matter of fact, I do know that.”
We swam, dove off the stern of the boat, played in the water, soaked. Finally, she hauled herself out. “I’m going to get towels.”
“When you pass the power panel, flip on the freshwater pump,” I said. A little electric pump pressurized a system connected to our hundred and fifty gallons of fresh water. A convenient point on the stern near the swim step allowed one to do a clean freshwater rinse after swimming. In brackish or salt water like this; the freshwater rinse kept you from having an uncomfortable coating of salt.
I heard the thump as the hose pressured up, so I quickly dropped my trunks, wrung them out, then starting sluicing myself down. And...
“Oh.”
“Mandy!”
“Didn’t know THAT’S how you do this.”
“I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
She was over the stern, stripping off her top. “If it’s okay for you...”
I guess I sort of froze. Her gaze scanned me from head to toe. Maybe she didn’t spend much time looking at my toes.
I, on the other hand...
She slid the suit bottoms off her legs. Nice legs. Perhaps a bit on the thin side, but nice. And a tuft of light brown hair on her pubic mound, and visible cleft beginning. And titties halfway between A & B, maybe. I don’t know. Guessing here. I’ve not handled ... Barb’s are bigger.
She turned her back to me like this was an everyday occurrence. “You hose my back down and I’ll do yours.”
Elouise
- 14.11.2020
- 16
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