When we got back to the house the heat of the day was at its peak. We both entered the house, and I ran myself a glass of water; Renate disappeared down the hallway. I walked back out to the deck, removed my t-shirt, and resumed my work on the supports underneath. Shortly there rose inside the house the thump of rock music from my stereo system. It wasn't very loud, just enough to be noticeable. I heard the kitchen door close and the thudding of Renate's feet above as she crossed the wooden deck. I secured the last support board in place and climbed topside through the hole. Renate sat, now wearing her bikini, at the edge of the hole, her legs dangling inside it. I stepped around behind her to take a sip of water from my glass, and to wipe the sweat from my face with my shirt. I turned back to her and was reminded that she wore a thong by seeing her butt cheeks pressed against the wood planks of the deck. I took another long gulp of water and walked back over to the hole. "Ready for a workout?" I asked her. "For what?" she returned. "The tub's ready to go in the hole. I'm gonna need your help." Renate leapt to her feet. "All right!" She danced her excitement, resulting in a most delightful bouncing of her breasts within her bikini top. "What do I have to do?" "Well, first we have to take apart this crate and unwrap the plastic stuff, then we maneuver it over to the hole, then we stand it on its side and lower the bowl into the hole." "OK," she said. She stared blankly at me for a moment. "OK," I said. "I'll go get another hammer." When I returned from the "idea room," as Renate had dubbed it, she was again sitting at the edge of the hole, slathering sunscreen onto her shoulders and arms. I jumped down into the hole to get the hammer I had used to nail the supports into place. Before ducking below I glanced at Renate. She was squirting the lotion directly onto her breasts above the top seam of her bikini. I squinted my eyes shut to keep any more of that image from burning itself into my brain. I was successful. I grabbed the hammer and looked around at the supports I had just installed, checking for any errors or omissions, tapping the hammer on the planks and listening for any strange noises within the wood. Everything checked out, and having waited as long as I thought was necessary for Renate to finish smearing the oil onto her breasts, I popped my head back out of the hole. Only now she was sitting with her feet propped up and crossed at the ankles, oiling up her thighs. My eyes were mere inches above her crotch which was now aimed right at me underneath the straining fabric of her thong. The thin strip of cloth lay across the pouting lips of her vagina not quite covering the puffy flesh there, shy strands of red hair peeking out at me. I was vaguely aware of her hands slipping up and down along her thighs mere inches away from where I was gazing when her voice shattered my concentration. "Want some?" My head popped up as if it were a chicken's, looking from her barely covered mound of Venus up to her eyes. My brain was straining frantically to figure out just what she was talking about. Why did everything she said to me seem to work on two different levels? "Huh?" I practically drooled. Renate waved the bottle of sun oil in front of me. "Want some? It's pretty toasty out here." "Oh." I cleared my throat. "Sure." "You have to do me first!" she chirped, spinning on her rump and spreading her legs. My eyes darted to her crotch one last time as she spun, rolling to her side, and then to her stomach. "My back and my legs, please." I climbed out of the hole and took the bottle from her hands. I kneeled next to her. My hands trembled. I squirted the oil between her shoulder blades and she let out a throaty little giggle. I started rubbing the slippery liquid into her skin and she visibly relaxed, letting out a contented moan. She seemed to enjoy the contact, so I gently massaged the oil from the base of her neck to the thin string that passed itself off as clothing across the swell of her buttocks where they met her back. After a few minutes I said, "OK?" "Wait! You're not done, are you?" "I thought you did your legs." "No. Just the fronts." I looked at her tight little butt with the black thread shooting out from between her cheeks. The skin was dry. "What parts do you want me to get?" I asked, afraid what her answer might be...afraid that I might like the answer. "Wherever you see skin..." I groaned inside as my tortured penis writhed to life once again in my pants. Wanting to avoid what I most wanted to touch, I started at her ankles, squirting a little oil there and working my way up. I slid my hands over her calves and past her knees, massaging just a little. I re- applied some oil to her middle thighs and continued. As my hands neared her ass cheeks, I half-wished she would say, "OK. "Enough," but all I heard was "MMmmmmm...." Dreamy and far away. My slick hands slid slowly up the first rise from her thighs, my thumbs curved ever slightly into the cleft between. I spread my hands apart and rubbed the sides of her buttocks and drew my hands down toward her legs again, and then together. I paused for a little more oil and continued the massage. With each circle completed she let out a contented little moan. My cock beat out the rhythm of my heart into my pants, and a profuse sweat burst forth from my head to my feet. My eyes locked on her ass, focused on the point at which Renate's thighs met her cheeks, knowing that there was a perhaps untouched patch of heaven nestled in there, and that some day a very lucky guy was going to find it. Renate wiggled a little, a moan escaping her lungs, and she spread her thighs apart slightly, but just enough where I could see the thread of thong barely protecting the opening of her womanhood from my gaze, and then curve underneath her body to cover her patch of red hair up front. The will involved was almost beyond my reach, but I finally rocked back up on my knees and said, "All done." It came out as a pathetic croak. Renate placed her hands on the deck and raised herself to her hands and knees. She stretched and arched her back like a cat just waking up from a nap in the sun and said, "Mmmmm... That felt great Al. Your turn?" I said, "OK," and handed her the bottle. I simply turned my back to her, indicating that I would stand. Behind me I heard the squirt of the oil as she squeezed it into her hand. I felt her fingers trace lightly down my back, sending a flurry of goose-bumps throughout my body. My nipples hardened immediately. Then she spread the oil out with her palms, fanning them out across my shoulder blades and down either side of my back until they hit the waist band of my jeans. She repeated this pattern a few times and then her hands left me. I thought she was done, but then she stepped around in front of me, her eyes seemingly unfocused on my chest. She squirted more oil into her hand, rubbed her hands together, and then pressed them to my chest. Her gaze never drifted past my neck, looking only where her hands went. She followed the same fanning pattern on my chest as she had on my back, only this time when her palms rubbed over my nipples, my cock throbbed mercilessly against its restraints below. Her head rocked up to face me. Renate's eyes, clear blue and probing, looked deeply into mine. If she were not my niece I would have sworn that she wanted me to kiss her, so longing was the look in her eyes. I shook off a sudden spasm of vertigo and cleared my throat. "Well, let's get to that tub, huh?" A look of disappointment flashed briefly across Renate's face, but she quickly regained a smile and said, "OK!" I handed her a hammer and she looked at me with bewilderment. I spent the next few minutes showing her how to pry the wooden frame pieces apart from each other, and then I went at it myself. In about ten minutes the frame was a formless pile in the corner of the deck and the shrink-wrap was balled up in a heap on top. The next half-hour was spent trying to get the tub over to the hole without letting it fall over onto its top. We managed to maneuver it and position it so that the bowl would slide right into the hole, and I ran over to Renate's side to help her lower it in. I jumped below the deck to attach the hoses only to find that we had dropped it in about ten degrees off from where I needed it to be for the hoses to reach. I went back topside and we began the process of turning the tub. Renate bent and squatted and grunted, giving quite a show of her charms. Her breasts hung against her bikini top when she bent; when she squatted and lifted I had such a view of her crotch that I couldn't breathe. After we turned the tub I was exhausted, though, since I spent most of my time and energy ogling her, I think she really did most of the work. I had had about all I could take, between the work and the mind- numbing, day-long tease I had been subjected to, so I called it a day. I went inside and popped open a beer while Renate spread out her towel and again laid out in the sun. The thought passed my brain to go to the picture window and gaze upon her beauty, but I noticed my hand trembling around the beer can, so I put that thought out of my mind. After a second beer I decided to clean the sweat and suntan oil off of me, so I entered the bathroom, careful to lock the door to the hall, and I started a shower. The picnic lunch and skinny dip swam to my mind as I lathered up, and I soon had another erection. I looked down at the purple, swollen head, and it seemed to look up at me as if to say, "Now? Can we?" I ignored its plea for release. As I rinsed the last of the soap off of my body and enjoyed the hot spray of water, the door to the master bedroom flew open. I looked up at the motion, and through the fog of spray and water vapor clinging to the shower door I made out Renate's form by the toilet as she bent at the waist, dropped her thong, and sat to relieve her bladder. I shook my head in mild disgust with myself for having so cleverly remembered to lock the hall door, but just as ineptly forgotten lock the bedroom door. I marveled at how this girl had come to feel so comfortable and open with me after only two days. Though I couldn't see her in any detail, nor, for that matter, did I believe she could see me, there was always the danger that I could step out of the shower. She didn't announce her entry, so she couldn't know whether or not I knew she was there. She just didn't seem to care. Renate finished and left the bathroom through the hall door, which I had been so careful to lock. And she left it open. I stepped out of the shower and shouted, "Rennie! You left the door open on me!." There was no anger in my voice. She called back. "Sorry!" There was no remorse in hers. I closed the door and toweled off. Sometime while I was in the bedroom finishing up, Renate went into the guest room and shut the door. After I had showered and donned a pair of running shorts I padded into the living room and had another beer while I flipped through the dearth of afternoon talk shows that led to the afternoon news programs. I heard the shower start, run for several minutes, and then stop. With the TV droning on softly, I sat at the kitchen counter flipping through a week-old newspaper that I hadn't bothered to read when I got it. The hallway door to the bathroom opened behind me and Renate asked, "What are we doing for dinner, Al?" "Well..." I mused, my back still to her, "I was thinking of going out again. How do you feel about that?" I turned to look at her. "RENNIE!" She stood in the living room toweling her hair, wearing only a pair of French-cut panties. Red this time! "What?" She snapped her head to face me, her hair flying in an exaggerated circle around her head, her taut breasts jiggling slightly. Her face read confusion. "Jesus, Christ! Put some clothes on!" I was incredulous. "Why?" She seemed truly confused. "'Why?' Because you're naked, that's why!" "So? What's wrong with that?" Deep down I agreed with her assessment. "It's...it's just not right." I lost my place for a moment. "It wasn't wrong when we were swimming. Why is it wrong now?" "Well, we were swimming!" My reason didn't convince even me. "Yeah, and now we're watching TV. You're reading a newspaper. What's the big deal? You said it yourself, Al. 'What the heck? We're family.'" It was the first time in my life that my words had come back to haunt me -- on the same day I said them! I stammered a couple of syllables of fleeting comebacks, but I gave up. Her reasoning had defeated me. I let out a confused sigh. "OK. Never mind." I truly was in hell. "Can we go back to Betty Jean's for dinner? I liked that place! And the dancing out on the deck!" It was as if we had not just had an argument...sort of. * * * At Betty Jean's we both ate hearty steak dinners and talked mostly about the hot tub and the next day's agenda for it. We made our way into the honky tonk afterwards. It wasn't nearly as crowded as the night before, nor was it as stuffy inside. Not that it mattered: we simply walked through it to the deck outside overlooking the river. Renate spent several minutes gazing down at the water as it slowly flowed by, the currents and waves sparkling against the moonlight. The colored lights illuminating the deck complemented the silver back-light the moon gave to her hair and shoulders, bare except for the thin straps of her yellow top. Below her bare midriff she wore a long brown skirt that had half moons (or was it bananas?) printed all over it. "Mmmm," she sighed. "This town is heaven." She spoke to the river, her back turned to me. I chuckled at her comment. "What's with you?" she demanded. "Oh, nothing. I just never thought of Morden in such lofty measure." "Well, it certainly isn't hell!" She spoke dreamily at the moon. "No," I said, begging inside to differ, considering my last two days. "Definitely something in between. Though, in some language I think the name means 'death.'" "You lie!" she giggled. I wasn't lying. One of the locals had told me that shortly after I moved here. "What's wrong with it?" She turned halfway to face me. The moonlight accentuated the curve of her breasts against the tight yellow fabric of her blouse. "Oh, nothing," I sighed, feeling another stirring inside my pants. "I guess sometimes I miss the city. In case you haven't noticed, Morden isn't bursting with things to do." "Well, you and Betty Jean have done a good job so far." I could hear her smile. "I'm glad I could be of some assistance." I returned the smile without trying. At that moment a slow song began, and Renate immediately slid up against me. "Dance with me, Al." She slid her arms around my neck. I slid my arms around her lower back, not because that's where they were supposed to go, but because I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. We danced to every slow song the DJ played, much in the same way, much without moving from one spot. Renate either rested her head on my shoulder or gazed up at me, smiling. During the faster songs we simply sat and talked about strange things like how moonlight and water seem connected, and how the energy of two people moving together seemed to equal more than the sum of their individual energies. I simply nodded my head, but wondered to myself if somebody hadn't slipped something into the Coke she had at dinner! After eleven o'clock the crowd began to thin and the DJ tried to entice people out to the dance floor by playing the most frenetic songs on his list, and by that time Renate and I were both pretty tired. We drove home in quiet. Once inside the house, Renate simply kissed me goodnight and went to the guest room and shut the door. I opened the refrigerator, looked at a beer, and then shook my head and went to bed. * * * At nine the alarm went off, jarring me out of my slumber. I rolled out of the bed and walked across the room (that's my real wake-up mechanism!) and shut it off. I bent my neck down and scratched the back of my head. I reached down and plucked some linen fuzz off of my flaccid penis and then I scratched my balls. I climbed back in bed with the intent of sleeping in the rest of the morning. In what seemed like moments later I heard the creak of the hinges on the hallway door. I whirled around to a sitting position only to see Renate poking her head in the doorway. "I heard your alarm go off. I figured you were up." I simply flopped back down on my pillow. "Here we go again!" she purred mischievously. I looked up to see her creeping toward me, shoulders hunched, her fingers hooked menacingly and ready to tickle at the first opportunity. I also couldn't help but notice her sleep attire. This morning she wore black French-cut panties and a t-shirt cut off at mid belly. I groaned as yet another torturous day of blue-balls commenced with the rush of blood into my penis. I pulled the sheet up over my head and rolled to my side, facing away from her, but she pounced on me anyway, tickling at my sides viciously. I resisted as long as I could before her strong fingers finally got through to me. With a yelp I twisted violently to my back, sweeping her onto her side with my arm. Without thinking I swatted her bottom with my other hand. The pop was still reverberating throughout the room when she let out a yell. "You're dead now, buster!" She turned on me with the devil in her eyes, an evil smile on her lips. She twisted and then stood on the bed looking down at me. Looking up at her I could just see the upsweep of her breasts under her shirt, and her pubic mound tightly concealed by the silky fabric of her panties. She executed a perfect WWF regulation knee-drop, pulling it at the last second so as not to cause any real harm, just like the "pro" wrestlers do. And immediately she was tickling me, straddling my body again. She scooted back down my belly and over my turgid cock, still concealed by the sheet, and to my horror I suddenly realized that it was concealed by nothing more! When I went to bed the night before I hadn't bothered with shorts. I just stripped and climbed into bed like I normally do! At that same moment Renate stopped wrestling with me and said, "Jeezus!" She scooted off of my penis and straddled my thighs. She looked down between her legs just in front of her own body, reached down to the sheet and pulled it toward herself, revealing my throbbing dick to the daylight. "Doesn't that thing ever rest?" I stared at my erect penis, the head slowly trading crimson for what I can only describe as light "bruise," the whole package twitching with every beat of my heart. My focus shifted past my crotch to hers, only inches beyond, the panties straining to conceal her private region between her spread thighs. My eyes darted up to Renate's face, but back down again. I felt the blood rise in my face as I remained speechless. After a few moments of embarrassed silence Renate said something. It sounded to me at first to have come from outer space. "Huh?" I looked up at her face and held it. "Why do you shave it? It looks...weird!" I looked back down at myself. Somehow she had chased the embarrassment out of the room, and I answered her with ease. "Well, it started when I was in college..." I highlighted the story of how I came to prefer my genitalia hairless. When I finished the story she stared into my eyes for a moment, then looked down at my still-erect penis. "Do you mind if I..." And without finishing her question or waiting for an answer, she touched my scrotum at the juncture where the shaft of my penis rises out of it. I jumped at the electric shock of her gentle touch. She looked at me to see if I was in pain, but she understood that I merely didn't expect her move. I lay speechless as she gently ran her fingers over the wrinkled skin that contained my testicles. The sac constricted suddenly and my cock gave a wild spasm in response. Renate gave an amused, quiet chuckle. She cocked her head to the side as she ran her fingertips lightly upward along the shaft. "Hmm. It's so smooth and warm..." I was paralyzed. I knew I shouldn't allow my niece to pet me like this -- even more, I knew I shouldn't enjoy it as much as I was. It was wrong to let her do it, but I was powerless to stop her. And yet, despite the thrill I was experiencing from the touch of her fingers on my erect penis, her expression was simply that of curiosity and not anything outwardly sexual. Her fingers slid over the sensitive ridge beneath the head, and my penis spasmed wildly again, and I let out a stifled grunt. Renate looked in my eyes and smiled, a rush of air escaped through her nose as she chuckled in amusement. Experimenting, she ran her fingers over the same spot again and received the same reaction from me. She raised an eyebrow and silently murmured, "Hmmmm." She gently grasped me by the shaft and stood my cock up into the air, her eyes spelling out her amazement at her discovery. Another spasm vibrated through it and a bubble of pre-seminal fluid oozed out of the opening. Renate's eyes flashed inquisitively to mine, but didn't wait for an answer. I felt her fingers wrap gently around me, and she said, "It doesn't seem that big." I blinked for a moment. It really isn't. I don't know how "big" it is. It's not like I've ever measured it or anything. All I know from 20 some odd years of functioning in the man's world of gyms, executive locker rooms, and communal showers is that I'm bigger than some, and smaller than others. I guess I'm about average. "Well, I've never had any complaints. I always come away satisfied!" It was a sad attempt at humor, but I laughed nervously anyway. Renate slowly slid her soft hand up and down the length of my cock, feeling the soft hardness of a man's erection. Even though she seemed to simply be experimenting, I was going out of my mind! "It's so strange how it can be so hard and stiff," she said as she gently squeezed it, unwittingly coaxing more clear fluid to well up at the tip, "and yet feel so soft and smooth," she finished as she gently pinched the flesh of the underside. This caused the skin to stretch tautly along the entire shaft from the juncture of the head, along the sensitive ridge to the base. And this, her last action, was finally too much. Before I even knew it, two weeks of neglect, two weeks of torture, two weeks of absolute abstinence from any activity came to a final, inexorable boiling point. An involuntary yell burst forth from my lungs as the whole lower half of my body seemed to coil up and then explode. A bright, white- hot stream of semen shot forth from the head of my cock, high into the air. It was more than just a mere spurt. It extended into a massive, continuous stream of ejaculate, lasting almost as long as the scream took to empty my lungs. Then my cock seemed to hesitate, the second spasm delayed for no apparent reason, only to burst forth almost as powerfully as the first, racking my brain from the sheer force and the pleasure of release. Then a torrent of semen shot forth, arcing repeatedly into the air as Renate simply held on in shocked disbelief. When it was over, almost as quickly as it had started, I was drained in every imaginable sense of the word. I was coated in my own cum from my head to my stomach. Renate simply sat on my thighs staring at the mess she had caused, her hand still wrapped gently around my weakly pumping cock, semen dripping from her fingers to the smooth, hairless skin of my pelvis. She blinked twice. "Holy SHIT!" was all she said once she pulled her chin from her chest. I finally came around and saw the mess. I was mortified. If my sister found out about this, I was dead. DEAD! What have I just done with her DAUGHTER?! "Oh, my GOD, Rennie!" I'm so sorry!" I literally pushed her off of me and ran to the bathroom, making certain to lock both doors this time. "I should have stopped her!" my mind kept yelling at me. But how can anyone stop something that feels that good? Once I got my rampaging guilt under control I took a long shower. After I was dressed I went out to find the living room empty. The door to the guest bedroom was closed, so I figured Renate was packing her things to get the hell out of here. I started a pot of coffee and went out on the deck to meditate. I began tinkering with the hoses and their connections with the thought passing that I was more relaxed now than I had been in over a month. Gratification mixed with guilt. Guiltification. What a mix. I had gotten so immersed with the hoses that I had completely forgotten about the coffee until Renate came out to the deck with two cups. Her hair was wet, leaving water spots on her light blue t-shirt, beneath which I only saw her bare legs. I thanked her for the coffee and we both sipped silently, watching the river slip past, oblivious to us. We stayed quiet for a long time, and then she turned abruptly to me and said, "Al..." "Rennie, " I interrupted, "I just can't express how sorry I am for what happened this morning. I..." "No, Al! It was my fault. I should never have let my curiosity take me that far. I'm the one who should be sorry." "No, I should have stopped it long before that, Rennie. I'm sorry." "I'm really sorry, too, Al. I just hope you're not mad at me." The look on her face was pure terror. I melted. "God, no, Rennie! I could never be mad at you!" I wrapped my arms around her, and she reciprocated, squeezing me tightly. "I was just so afraid that YOU were mad at ME!" Telling her how good it had felt to release all that stored up sexual frustration, especially at the touch of the soft hands of such a sexy, beautiful woman definitely was not the right thing to say at this point, so I kept my mouth shut. We released the hug and Renate stared at the deck, blushing bright red. "Al...?" "What?" "Is it always that much?" She cocked her head and looked up at me from beneath the red strands of hair. "What's that?" "You know...your...um... um...your...your come." Her face was now almost as red as her hair. I felt the blood rising in my own face at the prospect of answering her question. "Um...well, no. Not...usually." My answer only seemed to fuel her curiosity. "Oh? Why not? I mean, what...I mean... Why not?" How does one put it? "Let's just say that it's been a while for me, and a little attention...um, as unexpected as it was...a little attention went a long way." I cleared my throat nervously. Renate jerked her head up to me, her face about to erupt in laughter. "I'll say! A LONG way!" The blazing image of a long rope of semen arcing from my swollen cock and impossibly high into the air and splatting onto my own face flashed through my mind, and I burst out with laughter at her joke. And again I found myself amazed at how this woman, this child, could turn any embarrassing situation into a positive experience. ***Be sure to read the rest of "Unexpected Company," parts 1-8, by Eric Shon, as well as other Eric Shon stories here, and at Mr. Double's website: http://www.mrdouble.com.