A Naughty Niece

Bob had just seen his wife off and entered the lounge to be met by a sight that took his breath away. Ali his niece by marriage had been upstairs and changed her clothes; she was wearing a large red t-shirt. It was one that she quite often used as a nightdress.

She was positioned in an extremely provocative manner, lying on the rug in the middle of the lounge floor, her legs spread apart. Her t-shirt was pulled up around her hips, and there was a tiny, red silk thong struggling to cover the most intimate parts of her genitalia. The arrangement of her clothing seemed to emphasize how curvaceous her hips were.

Forgetting all emotional attachment, this scene appeared foremost as an erotic and lusty spectacle to Bob. Ali smiled, placed her middle finger in her mouth, and began to suck gently. A moment or two later she took it back out, reached down, and started stroking the narrow strip of thong that ran between her legs. She was portraying the image of someone with complete sexual awareness quite convincingly, especially given that she had little or no experience herself. "Sit on the settee please, Bob," she requested quietly, but firmly. Ali got up off the floor as Bob sat down.


She could see by the obvious bulge in his tracksuit bottoms that she had achieved her objective. Walking over and standing in front of him, she stooped forward and drew his lips to hers. As they kissed, their mouths opened wider and locked in a firm grip of passion. Ali's forearms were resting on Bob's shoulders.

Bob reached out and placed his hands on the outside of her thighs. Sliding them upwards beneath her t-shirt, he felt the smooth flesh of her hips. The rate of his arousal increased severely as the shapeliness of her naked flesh against his palms started to register. He drew her hips towards him, his aching stiffness now throbbing. Their lips parted and Ali asked him to slide a little further down the seat. "Could you hold my t-shirt up for me, please Bob?" she asked him in whispered tones.

Gently taking hold of his erection through his tracksuit bottoms, she adjusted it as she thought necessary. Bob was intrigued and watched her intently. Ali guided herself down on him like a precision engineer. Placing one knee either side of him, she carefully aligned her inner labia with the tip of his stiffness. She remained deep in concentration and didn't take her eyes off the point of contact for a second.

Slowly moving her hips backward and forward, she brushed her labia gently against the top half of his clothed shaft. Gradually the contact became firmer, the movement increased, and their breathing became heavier. Ali started to lose control of her movement. She was becoming erratic, which was quickly edging Bob toward the point of no return.

Hearing a car pull up on the drive, he panicked, and attempted to push Ali off. She was having none of it though; her body already beginning to twitch violently. Clinging desperately to Bob, she dug her fingers in and hung on for dear life. A car door slammed shut, and Bob became extremely worried. His fear wasn't strong enough to overcome the sensation of Ali's violently jerking crotch sliding against his electrified manhood though.

His stiffness began to pulsate---, there was no way of stopping it now! With a little concerted effort, Bob managed to slide his tracksuit bottoms down slightly, just enough to prevent making a mess inside them. Their genitals touched! Ali went rigid and held her breath. She bit her lip so hard that she drew blood. Watching her, Bob saw the intensity of her pleasure distort her face. This, in turn, initiated an eruption in him that made the whole of his body begin to shake. He started to cream all over her genital flesh and the silk of her thong.

The pressure between his sex organ and her inflamed femininity amplified his orgasm. Each wave of sperm seemed to take an age to travel the length of his shaft, before being squeezed out between her flesh and his. Ali's head was spinning and her crotch was on fire. Shit, she loved this man. The doorbell rang.

Ali grabbed Bob's face and kissed him passionately, as hard as was physically possible. Both of them were trembling now. Their sexual organs remained locked in firm contact; the intensity of their combined pleasure only just beginning to recede. Finally, Ali lifted her self slightly.
Pulling her thong to one side, she set about feverishly massaging Bob's deposit into her swollen flesh, studying the look on his face as she did so. Smearing most of it between her legs, she occasionally dipped her finger into her vagina. It was as if she were attempting to push as much of his sperm inside herself as she could.

Bob wiped himself on some tissue and pulled up his tracksuit bottoms, which somehow had a small semen stain on them. This was definitely the most intense sexual encounter that he'd ever experienced. Every encounter with Ali was more intense than the last. They both heard the sound of a key turning in the front door.  Ali dived across the settee, grabbed the remote, and turned the television on in one swift movement. She sat with her knees huddled against her chest. Her t-shirt was pulled down over her knees, and covered her legs completely.

The only things visible were her head, arms, and feet. Bob grabbed a newspaper from the coffee table and dropped it into his lap. In addition to the stain, he was attempting to hide his erection, which didn't seem to want to subside! "Why didn't anyone answer the door?" Jenny shouted from the hall. "We didn't hear it," Ali shouted back.

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