Not your typical incest story…Mia loves her uncle Josh, but it’s not so easy to seduce an honest man
Professor Letterman was droning on and on in her I’m-important-voice, but like at least ninety percent of the students around me, I was not paying attention to more than two sentences at a time before my thoughts drifted away on their own little cloud of happiness. It was the last day before spring break and like most of my friends my bags were packed and loaded into the trunk of my car. It would be my last spring break at this college and I had opted not to go to one of the overcrowded beaches students frequented during these times. Instead, I would be visiting my uncle and his new wife. Too many people, this might sound like a boring way to spend a spring break, but those would be the people who’d never met my uncle. He’s my mom youngest brother, and with a fifteen year gap between them, they never got very close when they were younger. He’s only like seventeen years older than me and he hates when I call him uncle. I do it sometimes just to joke with him. We got pretty close a few years ago when he got married to his second wife, a natural redhead with a temper to match. I liked her from the beginning, but she’s pretty lofty sometimes. She spends most of her time at home working on her laptop, doing goodness’ knows what, as she works sixteen hours a day in the office. Also, she’s a health and fitness nut, always trying to lose weight. I’m lucky enough to have been blessed with a natural slim build, and the only exercise I get is dancing twice a week at a downtown studio. I’m not very good, but I love it. I would never be able to become a professional dancer anyway; my boobs are too big.
So when I visit them (which is fairly often) my uncle and I often sneak out for take-aways and ice cream sundaes while she munches on sticks and leaves in front of her laptop. My uncle is too cool for words. He has this amazing belly laugh that’s just completely irresistible. When he laughs, you can’t help but join in. Plus he’s really quite hot for a guy with greying hair. Tall, dark and handsome, the original. He’s a touchy-feely kind of guy – I can talk to him about anything, and I do. I’ve learnt a lot about sex from him – and not just the emotional stuff you can read in any what-every-girl-should know book. He gave me tips I practised on my boyfriend and, well, let’s just say it worked. He gives the best bear hugs that go on forever if you want it to, and he’s way into photography and science fiction and fantasy stuff like World of Warcraft and Star wars and Lord of the Rings. He’s crazy about fairies, or the idea of them in any case. How can I not be slightly in love with him?
And yeah, I really am. I know you always read about how uncles seduce their nieces, but it’s nothing like that with us. He’s never looked that way at me (and I should know; I’ve caught him looking like that at hundreds of girls before.) He appreciates beauty, but the secret crush I’ve been nursing for him has always been totally one-sided. Sadly. I know he thinks of me as nothing but his sister’s daughter and a good friend to hang out with when his wife is busy. We share the same interests, and we’ll chat for hours about just about anything. I adore him. He’s my idol, and if he has feet of clay, I’ve never discovered them.
Finally, everybody stands up almost simultaneously as the hour long lecture comes to an end, and I follow the throng of people waiting to go down the steps and out the door. The lecturer is still trying to give instructions, but she recognises a lost cause and gives up just as I reach the bottom step.
“Enjoy the break, Professor,” I say as I walk up to her. We know each other quite well, as I’m in another class she teaches, an advanced class with only seven students. I stop to greet her, as there’s a bottleneck situation at the door and it’s always good to make sure you remind your lecturers of your existence every now and them.
She smiles at me now. “Thank you, Mia. The same for you, of course.”
“I’m going to visit my uncle and his wife,” I said, wishing that the visit wouldn’t be as innocent as it sounds. I find myself sometimes just telling people about him, just mentioning him in random conversations, just to make him feel closer to me.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I’ll be marking test papers and assignments.”
“I e-mailed mine to you last night. I finished it over the weekend so I would be able to relax this week. Well, I’ll see you again soon,” I said as some bright spark got the idea to open the second of the double doors and the bottleneck cleared. She smiled at me and I headed out. My car was parked about a mile from campus – parking was always an issue – and I walked quickly, the sun baking down on me. I couldn’t wait to get to my uncle’s house, slip into a bikini, and dive headfirst into their big pool. They have a really awesome backyard, landscaped to look like a tropical jungle or something. The pool looks like it’s made from rocks, like a natural pond somewhere on a Caribbean island. It even has this big waterfall at one end. Did I mention my uncle is filthy rich?
It’s a two-hour drive, which is about six hours shorter than I’d need to drive if I wanted to go home and far better than the twelve-hour bus ride so many students are undertaking just to go to some beach with strangers, sleep in crappy little rooms with strangers and get drunk with strangers. Woo, fun! I’ll be lounging in a mansion that overlooks the city with a tropical island in the backyard, and spent time with the most wonderful person I know. My room over there is huge, with a walk-in closet the size of my dorm room. The bed is king-sized, with satin sheets and four posters with white hangings. It’s the best bed ever. It has its own bathroom and a sitting area under the window and a balcony. I always feel like a princess is that room.
I get free drinks from the bar in the entertainment room, and there’s a TV so big they almost had to break out a wall to get it in. They have more movies than a music store and couches you get lost in. Plus I get to spend time with the most wonderful person I know. So yeah, the beach sounds like fun, right?
I listen to my favourite mix, singing along as I go. My heart is feeling light and I can’t stop grinning. I can’t wait to see Josh (that’s my uncle’s name) and to feel his strong arms around me.
I fantasize a little as I drive, imagining how it would feel to be kissed by him. Those soft, strong lips teasing mine, coaxing my mouth open as his hands slide under my shirt to cup my breasts.
A fantasy, I knew, that would always remain an empty one.
I make the drive in good time – all the cars seem to be heading out of the city, and I was driving against the stream of cars. When I finally pull up outside the house and open the white electric gate with the opened Josh gave me, I feel like a little girl on the morning of her birthday party. I sent a text to both Josh and Catherine to let them know I arrived safely. Both of them work pretty late and they wouldn’t be here for another couple of hours. The housekeeper helps me to carry my bags upstairs to my usual room and offers to unpack for me while I go take a swim.
The house is seriously beautiful – white pillars, sweeping staircases, wide landings with lush carpets. The colour scheme of my room had changed since I’d last been here, from white and blue to a modern white and black with touches of red. It was so cool.
I got dressed in the bathroom, first washing all the make-up off my face so I don’t have mascara stripes down my face when Josh gets home. That happened once before and he teased me for looking like a clown. Ouch. My bikini is new, a pale gold one that went well with my skin tone and had good support. It made my already-great cleavage even better. I never wear a bikini without shorty shorts. I have great boobs, but my tummy is far from a washboard and I’m a little self-conscious about my inner thighs. I have a good butt, firm and round from the dancing, but I really don’t like my thighs. My middle is pretty cute, though, soft and curving nicely inwards. I’m quite curvy, but not at all fat. I tie a towel around my waist and head down to the pool. In the entertainment room I program a music list with everything from Muse to Taylor Swift and everything in between to play over the hidden speakers in the back. The mellow strains of the Everly Brothers’ ‘all I have to do is dream’ makes me nostalgic as I sit down at the side of the pool, laying my towel out and putting my sunglasses on a little table. I slide into the pool, dreaming my life away as I swim three lazy, floaty laps before settling down on the steps in the shade. I convince one of the servants to bring me a coke and hand me my glasses, and just enjoyed the peace for a while, soaking up the restfulness.
“This is the life,” I tell a little bird sitting on a branch overhead. It trilled a note as if agreeing before taking off. The next second the door to the house slid open and Josh came out. My heart did a familiar, slow flip in my chest, and lust curled low in my belly. I stood up, water cascading down my body as I got out. Josh holds his arms out for a hug.
“There’s my girl,” he says warmly. I grin and walk into his embrace, muttering my greeting as he enfolds me.
“You’re all wet,” he said, not letting me go even as I soak his suit. The irony is not lost on me. He has no idea how wet I am, all over.
“Sorry,” I say and turn my face into his chest, breathing in the subtle scent of his aftershave or cologne or whatever, and the essence that is Josh, which is my favourite smell in the world.
“You’re growing up on me, Mia,” he said, his hands rubbing my back and lingering on my waist as he pushed me away to look at my face. “No more clown masks, I see.”
I nudge him in the side and reach for a towel. “I’m eighteen, you know. All grown up and legal and everything. I’m even allowed to have sex with older men now.”
He laughs his big belly laugh and wraps the towel around me, tucking in the loose ends avuncularly.
“Come on,” he said. “I need a drink.”
“Everything all right?” I ask as we walk back to the house, loving the feeling of his arm around my shoulders.
“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “Not really. Catherine moved out her last stuff last night. Our divorce went through yesterday. I didn’t want to let you know over the phone.”
I stop, shocked. “What happened?” I asked, horrified for him. He must be hurting so much right now!
He shrugged. “It was very civil. We’ve been drifting apart for so long. She asked me for a divorce, and I agreed to one. It sucks, knowing I fucked up another marriage. I just can’t get it right.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say immediately. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you hear me? Catherine was married to her work before she got married to you. You’re a great guy.”
He smiles a little. “Thanks,” he said quietly and steered me inside. “I’m ok, though. I saw it coming; I just didn’t want to make the first move to end it. I guess I hoped the problem would fix itself.”
“Did you guys consider counselling?” I ask as he took two glasses from the cabinet and started mixing cocktails.
“We spoke about it, but Catherine wants to be alone. The company she works for is sending her to open a branch on the East Coast, so we would have been separated in any case.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say sincerely. “If having me here makes this any more difficult, you just need to tell me. I can easily make other plans.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. If I had to be alone I’d go out of my mind. I called in personal leave for this week so we can spend some time together. I missed you, Mia.”
“I missed you, too,” I said, giving him another hug. His hands stroke me, the touch lighting little flames in my nerve endings. Oh, Josh! Can’t you see how much I love you?
We drank our cocktails on the terrace, and called for Pizza. When it was dark, the mosquitoes chased us inside and we curled together next to each other on the sofa, watching a few movies and chatting till late. I fell asleep like that, with my head on his chest, his arm around my shoulder and a smile on my face.
I woke up about an hour later, and I stayed perfectly still, trying to find out what had woken me. It was Josh’s hand, stroking up and down my arm, moving slowly as if not to wake me. I kept my breathing even and my eyes closed as his fingers trailed over my shoulder and down the line of my body, grazing the outside of my bikini-covered breast. My nipples puckered up almost immediately and I felt the hesitation in his body before he lightly touched the hardened tip through the material of my bikini top. He was stroking it over and over, a light touch that teased and aroused at the same time. I wanted him to take the top off and touch my bare skin with his hand. I could hardly believe this was happening and yet it felt so right.
He sighed and pushed my shoulder. “Mia,” he said. “Wake up. It’s bedtime.”
I pretended to mumble sleepily. “What?”
“Come on, sleepy head, let’s get you to bed.”
Oh, yes. I like the sound of that.
He takes my hand and led me up the staircase to my bedroom. “Sweet dreams,” he said, planting a kiss on my forehead. I put my arms around him and held on. “I’m sorry about you and Catherine.”
“Thanks. It’s better this way. I couldn’t make her happy, any more than I could make the other two happy.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it, do you?” I ask. “It’s not you who can’t make them happy, Josh, its they who could never be the right one for you. They failed to make you happy. I know that if you were the right women, you’d be happy.”
“You’re a wise little soul,” he said as he put his arms around me and held me tight. I burrowed in, silently screaming at him to open his eyes and see me, really see me.
I could feel his hands traveling down my back, lingering on my ass and then he gave me a light slap. “Bed,” he said firmly and stepped away. I didn’t miss the bulge in his pants as he turned around.
“Josh,” I called, hating the fact that he was walking away with that defeated air. He turned around.
“Sweet dreams,” I say, wishing I had the courage to call him back and invite him into bed. But it didn’t do it, because his resistance was low and I didn’t want him to do something he would come to regret later on.
The next morning we slept in till almost noon, both of us getting up around lunch. I padded barefooted to his room, in my pyjamas after brushing my teeth and pulling a comb through my hair. He was drinking a cup of coffee and typing something on his laptop, which was balanced on his knees.
I sat across the bed from him, my legs crossed. I knew the purple sleep tank I was wearing showed my perky young breasts off to their bra-less perfection, and felt his eyes linger on my nipples, clearly visible through the thin fabric. The striped purple pants were long and although I wasn’t really dresses indecently, I could see that he was thinking about my body when he looked at me. Something changed yesterday when he told me about Catherine leaving him. It was as if he suddenly saw me for the grown-up I was turning into.
The thing about me is that I’m way older in spirit and body than I am in years. I was far more mature than any of the other students I knew. I didn’t like the things other people my age liked, and I generally preferred spending time with an older crowd. So when his eye heated up, lingering across my chest, I did what felt natural and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips.
“Morning,’ I said lazily, lying down next to him on the bed. He put the laptop on the floor and the coffee on the bedside table, and scooted back down so that we were lying next to each other. He slid an arm under my head and I shifted into his body.
Kiss me, I wanted to say. But I didn’t.
“What do you want to do today?” he asked. “I know half of it is gone, but we can still go out if you’d like.”
“No,” I said and snuggled closer. “I want to do this.”
“Ok, he said easily. “We can do this for a while.”
But, of course, we got tired of just lying there after about an hour and we got up for lunch. We wiled away the afternoon by the pool where I asked him – very originally – to put some sunscreen on my back. He lingered unnecessarily on my skin; writing words with his forefinger and having me guess them. Later on, as it grew dark, we traipsed inside for cocktails and wine and food. He prepared a fondue and we sat on the floor in front of the TV. I was still dressed in my bikini – a bright red one that did little to hide my assets, and he was wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. We chatted for hours about everything, but there was an underlying tension that we were both avoiding skilfully. I knew I was drinking too much, but I couldn’t be bothered to stop. I was young, and Josh was sort-of single, and he was looking at me the way men look at women they want to screw.
Later on he took me upstairs to the bedroom that had been converted into a photographer’s studio. Josh is an artist behind a camera, and he showed me his latest toy – an intimidatingly large Canon with the newest lenses and battery packs. I listened to the nuances of his voice as he spoke and I wanted him so badly I could scream with sexual frustration.
“Go stand over there,” he says, pushing me lightly in the direction of the lamps that were permanently set up. I follow his orders, well used to the routine. He would take pictures of me to show off his new camera and then spend hours analysing the depth of focus and light and what else. I smiled politely at him, my arms hanging loose next to my side.
“No,” he said with a laugh. “Come on Mia, you can do better than that!”
I’m still wearing my bikini and I turn my back on him, looking over my shoulder with a sultry expression I’d perfected in the mirror when I was sixteen.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “That’s it, baby. Give me something to work with.”
The many cocktails I’d drank were wreaking havoc in the Centre for Logical Thinking in my mind. I turn around, laughing as my hair whipped through the air and bent over to give him a close up of my cleavage. The flashes of the white strobes were making me hot, so hot. I got down on all fours and he followed me, bending on one knee as I lay down on my stomach, my chin propped up in my hands as I stare at him dreamily. He clicks away and I roll over onto my back, arching my body suggestively. There was no doubt that I would be ashamed at my sluttiness later, but right now I loved every second of showing off my body. The lights were really baking me and I sat on my knees, legs spread and my feet arched so that my crotch was prominently available. Looking straight at him, I started undoing the straps of my bikini, holding in cupped against my skin.
“Shit, Mia, what are you doing?” he asked, lowering his camera in shock.
“Posing,” I said. “It’s just photos, Josh. It’s just modelling.”
He lifted the camera hesitantly as I teased him with my eyes, a come-hither look on my face as I toyed with my bikini, letting the cups slide slowly down my breasts. I pretend not to see the stirring bulge in his pants as he snapped away, but my insides are tightening up in anticipation. The camera between us made this ok. We could both hide behind it, and I knew that for one night, I had the power to do something about my desires. It was probably the booze talking, but after a while I lowered my top completely, dropping it on the floor next to me. I hold my breast in my hands and thrust my chest out slightly. It was an offering, and I silently begged him to accept it.
“Fuck, Mia,” he said hoarsely, but he didn’t stop taking pictures.
Yes, please, I thought. Please fuck Mia.
I slip one finger into the waist of my denim shorts and just kept it there for a few seconds before slowly undoing the button and fly. I stand up slowly to remove it, and the atmosphere in the room thickened even further. I slide the pants down and wearing just my bikini bottom, walk over to Josh.
He lowered the camera and just looked at me.
“I want you,” I said simply. No more games, no more pretend. “I want you so much it hurts.”
“Mia…” he groans and scraped his hand down his face. “Mia, this is not happening.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Firstly because you’re too young.”
“I’m eighteen. That’s old enough to make my own decisions.”
“It’s not as if we’ll be making a baby.”
“So are you,” I whispered and leaned over, pressing my lips against his. He groaned again and let the priceless camera fall on the ground as he yanked me closer to him. His tongue was in my mouth, just like I’d dreamt, but I hadn’t had any idea how great, how right, it would feel. He started to feel me up almost desperately and I wonder when was the last time he’d had sex. His hands found my breasts, cupping and stroking, testing their weight in his palms.
“So perfect,” he murmurs and bent down, sucking one nipple into his mouth.
“Bed,” I gasped as I felt his tongue tugging against me. He pulled me up and I jumped into his arms, my legs astride his body as we continued to kiss each other hungrily. The sucking and nipping and licking was making my bikini wet. He moves to the door, but then pause to press me against the wall with his body as he sucked my tongue into his mouth. The sensation was amazing and I almost came right then and there, but he gasped for breath and carried me into the nearest bedroom, which happened to be mine. We tangled together on the bed with our limbs entwined intimately as he continued to kiss me senseless. I was heady, floating on the knowledge that my dreams were about to come true.
Josh rolled me onto my back and his hands raced over my body as his lips latched onto my nipple again.
“You’re wearing too much clothes”, I said, trying to tug his shirt over his head. He sat up and yanked it off, tossing it on the floor next to us. He returned to my body like a man possessed, licking and nipping at my skin.
I trail my fingers down the strong ridges of his back and he moaned when my fingernails scraped against his skin. He was careful to keep most of his weight on his arms as he devoured my breast. I felt his tongue trailing across my collarbone and then his teeth tugged on my earlobe. I combed my fingers through his thick dark hair, loving this.
“Mia,” he whispered against my neck as my fingers touched his chest, feeling the coarseness of the light smattering of hair that grew there against my palms. I could feel the stiffening of his body as reality set in and I wanted to weep. So close. So damn close.
I turned my head to find his lips and kissed him desperately.
“Mia, stop,” he said. I moaned.
“We have to stop,” he whispered. “We can’t… I can’t…”
He pushed himself off me. “I can’t do this,” he said. “And neither can you.”
I just looked at him. He got up and stood next to the bed, looking down at me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It’s not you. I really want to do this. I’ve wanted to fuck you since you turned fifteen. Remember that party? You were wearing a red dress tighter than sin and you’re breasts were so perfect. They’re even more perfect now. I want to do this,” he said again, looking straight at me. “But it would be wrong on so many levels.”
I felt tears stinging behind my eyelids.
“It wouldn’t be wrong,” I whispered. “Can’t you see? It would be exactly right.”
“It’s not normal,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, Mia, but I can’t throw away everything I believe in for a tumble with a teenager – one that I’m related to, no less. And you should want more for yourself than becoming an old man’s wet dream.”
“It’s not like that,” I said angrily. “You know it’s not like that for either of us, Josh. We love each other the way a man and a woman is supposed to love each other. It’s been that way for years and it will always be that way. That’s why you keep marrying women who are wrong for you, and that’s why I keep dating losers who end up breaking my heart. And that’s why none of your marriages work out.”
I stormed out of the room, ignoring the fact that I’m only wearing half a bikini. I take refuge outside, sliding into the pool to get away from the ever present mosquitoes. He didn’t come out for a long time. Almost an hour passed before I heard the door slide open and saw him, the light framing his figure in the doorway. He had a towel in his hand.
“Come inside,” he said gently. I got out of the pool wordlessly and wrapped myself in the towel. I was shivering, and my tears wouldn’t stop coming. I was a mess.
He said nothing as he followed me up the stairs, and I didn’t say anything as I pushed the door to my bedroom shut behind me.
I took a long hot shower and dried my hair with shaking hands, and when I got into bed, I was still crying.
I woke up the next morning with a hangover and a crying headache. Stupid idiot, I thought as I pulled the covers over my head. I wasn’t sure whom the thought were directed at – me or josh. Both of us were being fools, and I couldn’t let this thing of last night spoil our relationship. I knew it would be up to me to fix this – I was the one who’d broken it.
There was a glass of water on my beside table, and some aspirin tablets. I drank it gratefully, and wondered who’d put it there. The housekeeper? Surely not Josh. He probably thinks I’m a certifiable idiot after my proud little display last night. I groan as I push my feet over the edge of the bed gingerly.
And that’s when I saw josh. He was sitting on the couch under the window, wearing a pair of Levis and a wife-beater shirt. His expression was serious, and he’d clearly made up his mind about something.
Dammit. Why did he have to be so hot when I was at my worst?
“I need to shower,” I muttered and tried to convince my feet that the bathroom wasn’t that far away. Josh said nothing when I walked past him, and I assumed he would still be there when I got back.
I sank down on the toilet, my head in my hands while I did what everybody needs to do first thing in the morning. I opened the water in the shower, bravely keeping the hot water tap closed for the first few seconds. The icy cascade raining over me went a long way towards clearing my head. After a while I needed heat, or I would be at the risk of losing several important body parts. The warm water did the trick, and I breathed the steam in while I washed my hair, wishing it could heat me up from the inside out. But there was an icy white, painful spot inside me that would never be warm again. I forced myself out of the shower eventually, despite the fact that I wanted to sink down in a little heap on the tiles until the water ran cold.
Josh was still sitting where I’d left him, and he looked at me with weary eyes.
“Don’t worry,” I said as I walked towards the closet. “I promise not to start pulling my clothes off again.”
“Put on this he said, motioning to a bag that was lying next to him on the ground. I picked it up and peered inside. Black leather?
It was a bulky jacket, undeniably a biker’s jacket.
“The helmet’s downstairs,” he added, and left to let me get dressed.
I was still slightly hung-over when I came downstairs, dressed in a jean with my hair tied back in a tight braid and the jacket covering my black Guess shirt.
“I made you some breakfast,” Josh said, and I was grateful to see that it was nothing heavy. A few slices of toast with margarine and Marmite and a glass of orange juice. I sat down wordlessly to eat, and it settled my stomach wonderfully. I no longer wanted to worship the porcelain gods with the psychedelic yawn.
“Come with me,” he said and I followed him meekly. This was a Josh I didn’t know – a serious, down-to-business, no arguments kind of guy that I had never met before in my life. Though after my embarrassing little tantrum of last night, it was clear that he thought one of us needed to be the adult, and he obviously didn’t think it would be me.
His motorbike was parked outside the house – gleaming black and chrome machine designed to go faster than twice the legal speed limit. He slipped the helmet over my head and adjusted it carefully. Then he handed me a pair of gloves and got on the bike.
“Get on,” he said, and I followed his order, getting up and holding on for dear life when he started it. The bike was roaring to life underneath us and I tightened my hold around his waist, no matter how awkward it felt.
And then we were of, and before we’d gone two blocks, I had forgotten all about awkward. He took us out of the city and there was nothing but the joy, the freedom, the scary trust I placed in him with every turn. Soon we hit the open roads and he picked up our speed, though still holding back on the bike’s abilities to ensure our safety. We drove for miles and miles and I laughed as the wind ripped at us like clawed thing.
This must be what flying feels like, I thought as we went over the crest of a hill and I could see the patchwork quilt of vineyards spreading out far below. This mindless freefalling that was like the rush of an orgasm.
He slowed down and pulled over into a gravel road, driving for about two miles until we reached a gate. He shut the mighty machine down and helped me get off, and together we took our helmets off. He took my hands and boosted me over the gate, jumping over with ease to join me.
“Where are we going?” I asked in confusion as we started walking through the fields.
“Somewhere,” is all that he said and I walked next to him quietly. I was so confused – if he didn’t want to have sex with me, why was he lacing his fingers through mine like a lover?
Finally we reached a grove of trees, and beyond that was a river flowing calmly, the surface of the water partially covered by some plant with bright pink flowers.
He sat down on the grass and I sank down next to him. We sat for a long time without talking, just staring at the water. It was horribly awkward.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Josh, I’m so sorry about last night. I was so completely wasted. I was way out of line with the things I said and way I acted.”
He didn’t look at me. “Do you regret it?” he asked softly, and I had to be honest.
“Which is it?”
“Both. I regret it because it drove a wedge between us, and I hate that. And I don’t regret it because being in your arms, having you kiss me like that… I’ve never felt that way before, and I can’t regret something so amazing.” I started pulling little blades of grass out of the ground.
“I do want to apologise for one thing, though,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said what I said about your marriages. That’s not true. I was angry and upset and I wanted to lash out, wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting.”
“You think I wasn’t hurting?” he asked. “Mia, I wanted to make love to you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, including my first million. But shit, I don’t see how this can work out. I’ve been wracking my brains for months – for years, really – and I just can’t see it heading in any good direction. I’m too old for you, and I’m your uncle. That’s all there is to it. The rest is window dressing.”
“I will admit that the family-thing could be a problem,” I said cautiously. “But I want you to shake the age thing off. You’re not even forty yet. That’s not too old for me.”
He was quiet again for a long time.
“I have a possible solution,” he said slowly. “And you might not like it.”
When we got home I went straight upstairs to pack my bags. I was gripped in the depths of despair. Josh wanted me to leave, to spend a year without seeing him. A year of no Josh. No calls, no texts, no Facebook. Nothing. And then, if we still felt this way after a year, we would talk again – and he would make love to me. A year without Josh was like a lifetime in hell for me. But if that’s what it took to open his eyes, I would do it. Only I didn’t see how things would change in a year – I would still be in love with him, and he would still be my mother’s brother.
He helped me to carry my bags down to my car.
“I don’t want to go,” I said, standing by the open door.
“I don’t want you to,” he replied. But he made no move to hold me back as I got in and started the engine.
And then I drove off.
It was dark by the time I reached my parent’s house, and for a moment I just sat, looking at the lights in the windows. My mom would be cleaning the kitchen after dinner, and my dad would be watching a nature special about some African animal getting eaten by another African animal.
My parents were really cool about most things. They never told me to go change my outfit when I was younger, or to turn down my music. They still had sex regularly – I’ve walked in on them a few times in the most random places when I was still in school – the worst being my bed one Friday evening when I was supposed to be at a party. They used to be hippies, and I think they still believed in free love. They would probably ask to join me if they ever caught me smoking anything.
I pushed at the screen door and it creaked open under my hands. My mom was drying her hands on a towel, her blond hair so unlike my dark brown curls hanging straight and loose around her shoulders.
“You look tired, honey,” she said as she hugged me.
“I am. Is daddy in the sitting room?”
“He is. Take him a cup of coffee, while you’re at it. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done.”
I sat and talked to my parents for hours, about everything except what was on my heart. They laughed at my school stories, enquired after Josh’s welfare now that Catherine had left, and spoke about their planned trip to New England to go visit my grandparents. Their plane was scheduled for the next day, and I would have the house to myself. Whoopi.
This was turning into the worst spring break ever.
My mom came to wish me goodnight when I was already in bed, reading by my bedside lamp.
“Now why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart? I can see heartbreak in your eyes.”
“There’s somebody I love, ‘I whispered. “But we can’t be together. Circumstances are heavily against us.”
“It can’t be impossible, if you really love him.”
“This can’t be fixed, mom,” I said. “There’s no way to undo the string that’s knotting up this whole stupid situation.”
“Oh, honey,” my mom said sadly. “I wish I could carry this burden for you.”
No, you don’t, I thought as I crawled into her hug. You really don’t.
I wallowed in bed the most of the next day, drinking coke and eating the vanilla and chocolate chip muffins my mom had left in the fridge. Finally the lethargy became too much, even for me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to do something. Something that would keep me busy enough that my thoughts couldn’t chase me like one of the helpless little animals my father loves to see slaughtered.
So I armed myself with some cleaning supplies and tied my mom’s apron around my body.
“To the attic, and beyond,” I said in a sing-song voice as I ascended the stairs.
Our attic was mostly organised, unlike many people’s whose attics were jumbled messes, but it needed a good clean every now and again and after all, it was spring.
I dusted every surface, and washed everything I could reach or lift, including the floor and the windows and the bookshelf in the corner. It was when I lifted a box to clean up an old coffee table that I came across the most beautiful papers I’ve ever seen in my life. They fell to the floor when the box’s bottom dropped out.
I was about to thrust them back into the box without a second glance – they looked like old contracts – when my eyes caught the words ‘adoption’ and my mom’s names, Sarah Minene Tresslar. I scanned the papers, reading so fast I probably missed half of the important legal details. But I got the gist of it.
My mom had been adopted.
It was all there. Her birth certificate, a letter from her real mother, who had been a teenager when she fell pregnant, a photo of a woman who looked a lot like me. I almost fell as I rushed down the narrow stairway. I needed to phone my mom right away. Did she know about this? Probably, seeing as how she’s the one who cleans the attic. But I needed to be sure. My hands gripped the railing as I nearly stumbled on the last three steps.
And there, standing at the bottom of the stairwell, was Josh. I was making such a noise that I didn’t hear him come in.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I sobbed as I threw myself at him. His arms wrapped around me and held on as if he was never letting go again.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, miserably. “I can’t spend a year without you, Mia.”
“You don’t need to,” said. “I have to… where’s my phone? I need to speak with my mom!”
“Yes, yes, my mom. Dammit, where did I put my phone?”
I was frantic; scared that the information I’d discovered upstairs was going to disappear, taking all of my hope with it.
“Take mine,” Josh said, holding out his iPhone.
My mom picked up after three rings.
“Josh?” she said with a warm greeting in her voice.
“No, it’s me, mom.”
“Mia? Did you drive back to Josh’s place, honey?”
“No, no, he came here. Mom, I need to ask you something, but I have to tell you something else first.”
“All right,” my mom said slowly.
I took a deep breath. “I found some papers in the attic. Mom, were you adopted when you were a baby?”
My mom sounded surprised; this was clearly the last question she had expected.
“Yes, I was. My birth mother was fourteen when she got pregnant, and my parents – the ones who raised me – thought they couldn’t have children. They’d been trying for years with no results, and trust me, nobody expected Josh to happen.”
“So you and Josh aren’t blood relatives?”
My mom was quiet and I almost heard the click of connections in her mind over the many miles and time zones separating us.
“Mia, were you… were you talking about Josh that first night when I came to your room?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m in love with him, and he’s in love with me.”
I clutched the phone tightly in my fist, pressed it against my ear. There was a horrible silence, and then my mom said, “Ok,” in her do-you-want-to-go-grab-some-coffee voice. “Just be careful you don’t hurt each other, dear. We’ll talk about this again later.”
And then she put the phone down. I could almost see her, telling my dad that Josh was about to do me on the sofa in the living room, and didn’t he think Mom’s new curtains go well with the colour of the ceiling?
I held out Josh’s phone and just looked at him. ‘Did you get that?” I whispered. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, watching me wearily.
“My mom was adopted.”
“Yes, that’s the bit I got, funnily enough.”
“We… you and I… are not related.”
“I kind of got that part as well.”
“Then kiss me, you idiot!”
He laughed as I launched myself into his arms. There was such a joy in the way his lips seeked mine out, and we kept laughing while we kissed. His hands were yanking at my clothes and I helped him get rid of it all. He struggled with the apron’s tie while I tried to take my shirt of underneath it. Finally he got it loose and both of us were swearing by the time I was dressed only in my jeans and underwear.
“So perfect,” he said again, cupping both my breasts and tasting my skin with his mouth. He suckled on me and I begged him shamelessly for more. He picked me up and carried me to my bedroom, letting me down gently on the bed. He hovered over me, kissing my face with butterfly light kisses.
“Hurry,” I said. “Please, Josh, we have a whole lifetime to savour the moment, I just need you to hurry now.”
“Your wish is my command,” he said as he picked up the pace, his mouth kissing and licking in my neck while he undid my jeans. I lifted my hips to help him pull them off, an erotic gesture that had him shifting uncomfortable. He wedged his shoulders between my legs to hold them open, and dove right in. I felt his tongue swirling around my clit, licking, lapping, tasting.
“More,” I begged. “More, Josh!”
He teased me by pulling the folds back and flicking the nub that was exposed with his tongue, then by nibbling lightly on it with his teeth. I wanted more. He slipped a finger into my wet cunt, then two and then three, and started pumping into me, hard. I wanted more, Even as I came the first time, I wanted more. The orgasm rolled through me like a wave that had broken before it hit the sand, just a gentle swell that left me empty.
Please, no, I thought, horrified. This can’t be it.
“You taste so sweet,” he said and pressed his lips against mine, slipping his tongue inside my mouth so I could taste myself. I didn’t mind the taste of my own cum at all, especially not when it was mixed with the taste of him.
Josh stood up and pulled his shirt off with one movement.
“Let me,” I said when he started to undo his belt buckle. I slid the belt slowly through the loop. His designer jeans were straining against his hard cock, and I was careful not to hurt him when I pulled down the zipper. His cock sprang out, and I realised he wasn’t wearing any underpants.
I leaned forward to lick the drop of pre-cum from his cock. It was slightly salty, and I wanted more. I pressed him so that he was lying down on my bed, and started the assault on his really big dick. I have no idea how bog he was – somehow, measuring him in inches would feel stupid. He was big and thick and that was good enough for me. I licked around the head a few times before slipping my mouth over him and sucking him, I held him steady with my hand and started bobbing my head as I jerked him, my other hand cupping his balls and shaking them like a pair of dice. He moaned.
“Oh yeah, that’s it, suck my cock!”
I obliged, taking him deeper into my mouth. I felt his hands on my hips and then he shifted me so that I straddled his face. He brought my hips down and started eating me out again while I sucked him expertly. We stayed like that for a while, pleasuring each other. He pushed a stiff tongue inside my cunt, and I took him in for some deep throat action; he opened his mouth wide, held it over my opening and suck hard, and I let my throat muscles work him as I swallowed his cock.
Finally he said, ‘I’m getting really close, sweetheart. I want to cum in your pussy.”
I swung my leg over and turned around. I was still straddling him, but I was looking at his face. I held his cock steady with one hand and lowered myself onto him, impaling myself on that thick pole. We both moaned at the sensations. He held my hands as I started to move torturously slow, just shifting forward and back, getting used to the feel of him inside me. I picked up the pace a little, moving up and down his body, until I was bouncing on his cock. It slipped out of me a few times and he hurried to put it back in every time. I slowed down again, gripping him tight with my inner muscles and just moving my hips in a slightly circular way, grinding down on him hard. He moaned and pulled me down for a kiss, one hand sneaking down to play with my clit.
He held me close and flipped us over unexpectedly, landing me on my back.
“You’ve had your fun,” he said, “but I’m going to fuck you now.”
And fuck me he did, pumping in and out of me so fast I could barely keep up. With every thrust his balls slapped against me, and I soon got the rhythm, pushing up when he came down. He slowed the pace after a while to give us both time to catch our breath. Our bodies were slick with sweat, and my cum had dripped between my butt cheeks. He ground his hips on mine, just holding it there while we took a few deep breaths. And then he pulled out almost all the way, before pumping in again, going deep and sure and fast. He did this over and over, every thrust taking him deeper inside me. He quickened the pace again, and I could tell he was close to an orgasm.
“Oh yeah,” moaned, helping him with my hips as his movements became slightly erratic. “Take me there, Josh, please!”
“When I say now,” he said, “you cum, and you cum hard. Ok?”
“Ok,” I said, and waited for it. But he simply kept the pace fast and furious. He yanked my legs up over his shoulder, the new angle deepening the penetration. It was so good it was almost painful.
I felt his finger playing around my ass and before I had time to register my surprise, he said, “Now!” and plunged a finger into my cum-slick anal passage.
He gave a few last strokes and the he trembled and lunged deep inside me, crying out as pleasure induced its unique seizure. I felt his cum coating my walls warmly, and his finger in my ass, and his pelvis against my clit, but it was his horse, whispered, “I love you,” that finally had me cum. I could feel the walls of my pussy clenching him rhythmically, milking his cock with hot, liquid tugs as we came together. My muscles were quivering around him, and he was so deep, the tip of his cock just nudging my cervix, and I loved him so much.
And this time when the wave came, it didn’t crash early. It broke over me, dead centre, and spread out through my body to claim me, jerking me almost uncontrollably against Josh.
When it was over, he lowered me gently to the bed, and lay down next to me.
It wouldn’t be perfect, I knew. There would be times when our relationship would be difficult, and I wasn’t looking forward to that. But for now? Right now it was pretty damn great.