I worked hard and I think I deserve a treat. It's bath time, Uncle Bob," she said brightly. His niece was naked. I have cheerleader tryouts tomorrow and I have to get up early so I can get there, warm up and practice my cheers. He untied his robe and dropped it to the floor, leaving him just as naked as his niece. He heard the water start. An outsider would never have understood their relationship. If you were to ask Bob about it, he'd say it was just an accident of fate.
His brother and sister-in-law had joined the Peace Corps just three years after having Jill, and when they found out they'd be stationed in central Africa, they'd decided not to take Jill with them. Bob had agreed to take care of his niece for the year they were supposed to be gone. He'd wished them well and watched the plane take off.
He knew they got to Africa. But then the letters stopped. They disappeared off the face of the earth and had not been seen or heard from for 12 years. They were presumed dead, and the courts had granted an adoption decree to Bob, since he was Jill's closest living relative. Now, Bob had never married. He'd had a few abortive short term relationships with some women after high school. He'd even gotten his dick wet a couple of times, but he was too afraid of rejection to actually form a meaningful bond with a woman.
As such, he really didn't have a clue how to raise a little girl. And, in one sense, his own emotional self grew up with hers. There were three things he did for Jill that he was proud of and thought he was pretty good at. One was clothing her. Another was making sure she had good nutrition and got lots of exercise. And the third was her personal hygiene. And because he was proud of what he was doing, the fact that he gave his niece baths didn't seem strange at all. Not even when she turned ten, then twelve, then entered her teens.
It was just something they did together by then, and they'd developed a routine. Touching her in an intimate fasion had started when she was little.
He knew she could get infections in her vagina, so he made sure to clean that very well. There was nothing sexual about it. He wasn't a pervert. He just washed her. The first time it crossed the line was when she was almost eleven. He was washing her cute hairless pussy and his finger flitted between her tight young labia.
She cooed and said that felt good, so he did it for quite a while. He got hard, but made sure she didn't see that. Then, a year later, she'd come screaming to him, babbling that she was dying, bleeding to death.
She dragged him to the bathroom and he saw the stool full of bright red water and knew she'd started her periods. In a sense, the casual familiarity with each other's bodies had made it much easier to deal with that situation. He had prepared for this, reading up on the process, the products available, their pros and cons and so forth.
So he calmed her down and taught her how to use tampons, and what to expect as her body transformed into that of a woman. He'd had to break her hymen to insert the first one, and he'd done it with his finger. That didn't seem strange to either of them. He'd been partially inserting his fingers in her for over a year, as he washed her in the bathtub. By then their routine was like this: First she sat up in the tub and he washed her hair. Then while the conditioner sank in, he washed her upper body and between her legs, paying special attention to her vulva.
Then she got on her hands and knees and he rinsed her hair and the rest of her body, running his fingers between her legs to get her pussy and her tight little rectum clean. Once she was out of the tub and dry, he rubbed her whole body with lotion, especially her pussy. So, after the initial pain died down, when he showed her how to change the tampon, he made sure there was a warm wet washcloth handy to rub all over her crotch. There was a lot of pussy rubbing going on in their family, but it was pretty harmless.
It felt good, so he did it for her. Afterwards, alone in his room, he beat off, shooting streams of his spunk skyward as he remembered the feel of her soft skin.
When she was 13 she'd come home one night from being out with her friends. She was downcast and he saw this immediately.
When he asked her what was wrong, she said she'd been talking to her friends. She'd mentioned something she'd said to her Uncle during bath time and he'd said thus and such. The girl's eyes had gotten all big and she'd asked if Jill's Uncle was in the bathroom at the same time that Jill was in the bathtub.
Jill, thinking that was normal had said "Sure". Her friends had whooped and hollered and made fun of her, saying that was dirty. Most people don't do it the way we do, I suppose.
But what we do is between us, and I don't think it's anybody else's business. If you don't like it anymore, then we'll stop. She liked what they did. And they agreed then that no one would be told anything about it in the future, and it would be just between them.
After that, however, sometimes Jill took a bath by herself. Still, at least once a week she'd announce it was bath time and pull her Uncle into the bathroom. Of course Jill learned about sex. She learned the majority of it like most of us do, from friends, magazines, and other sometimes ignorant and unreliable sources. But she understood the birds and the bees and her friends described what they claimed they were doing in back seats.
Jill, however, had no urge to do any of those things. Boys were fine, interesting, even, but the thought of them touching her like Uncle Bob touched her seemed Her needs were being met at home.
When she was 14 she had her first orgasm. It was in the bathtub, and her Uncle's finger was about halfway in her pussy when it happened. He'd been strumming her young clitty with his soapy finger while she sighed and said how good that felt. She was on her knees at the time, her head dripping blobs of shampoo down her developing body. She was washing her own breasts, something Uncle Bob had awakened her to during baths in the last couple of years.
She felt the urge to stop and squeeze her nipples. When she did, the combination of that and her Uncle's finger in her pussy sent her over the edge. He was using his middle finger for that, and brought his index finger into play rubbing her inflamed clitty. She gripped the sides of the tub and bent over, one hand coming to cover her Uncle's hand between her legs, and she grabbed that hand, jerking it back and forth.
That, of course, made his finger slide all around in her quaking pussy as her orgasm slowly faded away. She looked up at her Uncle, who was smiling broadly. That was when Bob started in on her formal sexual education, and explained what had just happened. From then on, bath time included Uncle Bob almost every time, and she insisted that he wash her pussy really really well, inside and out.
She got good at having orgasms, and Bob got good at giving them to her. It was shortly before her fifteenth birthday when, after a particularly nice cum, she was lying back in the tub while her uncle gazed fondly at her naked body. She looked at him and said "Uncle Bob, you always wash me during bath time, but I never wash you.
Bob, who thought he had gotten pretty good at hiding his boners during bath time, was afflicted with one at the moment. It caused him to miss the look in her eye and clouded his judgement. He said the first thing that came to mind. We've just made a habit of giving you baths. It's been that way since you were a toddler. He couldn't get in the shower with her because she'd see his hardons.
I mean my clothes would get all wet. In truth, she got pretty wild sometimes and he did, in fact, get pretty wet sometimes. He stuttered and blushed and said "We just can't take showers together. She wasn't stupid at all.