The late afternoon sun bled through the kitchen window, catching dust motes dancing in the air. Lily, all of twenty-two and radiating a chaotic, goofy energy, was trying to explain the intricate rules of a video game to her uncle, Mark. Her hands flew everywhere, nearly knocking over a glass of water.
"So then, the little goblin guy, see, he's not bad bad, he just really likes shiny things, and so you have to give him, like, three buttons and a spool of thread, and then he'll open the gate, but only if you've already fed the invisible dog!" she exclaimed, her words tumbling out in a breathless, enthusiastic rush.
Mark, a decade older, leaned against the counter, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips. His eyes weren't on her face, but followed the animated sway of her body, the way her simple cotton t-shirt stretched across her chest when she gestured wildly. "Sounds complicated," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
"It's not! It's just… you have to pay attention to the details," she said, finally pausing to take a sip of her juice. A single drop escaped the corner of her mouth, tracing a slow path down her chin.
His hand moved before he even consciously decided. He reached out, his thumb brushing against her skin, catching the stray droplet. The contact was electric. Lily's eyes widened, her goofy narration halting instantly. A soft, surprised little sound escaped her, something like a gasp mixed with a hum. Mmmph!
"You had a little something," he said, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. He didn't pull his thumb away. Instead, he slowly drew it back, his calloused skin rough against the softness of her lip.
"O-oh," she stammered, a faint pink blush warming her cheeks. Her gaze was locked on his, confused, entirely naive to the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere. "Thanks, Uncle Mark."
"Just Mark is fine," he corrected softly. His other hand came up, cradling the side of her face. His thumb, now resting on her lower lip, applied the gentlest pressure. "You're such a mess, Lily. A beautiful, clueless mess."
Her breathing shallowed. She didn't pull away. The instinct to was there, a faint flutter behind her ribs, but it was smothered by a wave of warm, unfamiliar curiosity. His touch felt… nice. Different.
"Your brother called today," Mark continued, his eyes darkening, the playful uncle veneer thinning to reveal something far more intense beneath. "My dear, dull brother. Your father. He said something interesting about you."
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. Lily's own breath caught in her throat, a tiny, trapped thing.
"He said you weren't a good niece," Mark whispered, the words laden with a dark promise. "And you weren't a bad daughter. You were just… nothing special. Forgettable."
A small, wounded sound, a whimper, escaped her. The blunt, cruel assessment from her father, delivered through Mark's intimate whisper, felt like a physical blow.
"But he's wrong," Mark purred, his lips now brushing the shell of her ear, making her shudder from head to toe. "So very wrong. I think you're extraordinary. And I think it's time someone paid the proper… attention… to you."
His hand left her face and slid down her arm, his fingers lacing tightly with hers, pinning her hand gently to the countertop. The contrast was dizzying—the tender intertwining of their fingers against the cold granite, and the possessive, inescapable weight of his grip.
"W-what kind of attention?" Lily breathed out, her voice trembling. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs.
"The kind you deserve," he said, finally closing the last inch of distance between them. His mouth found hers.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. His lips moved over hers with a hungry urgency, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she, with a soft, helpless gasp, yielded to him. The taste of her juice was sweet on his tongue. Her free hand came up, not to push him away, but to clutch weakly at the fabric of his shirt, her knuckles turning white. The world narrowed to the slick, heated sound of their mouths moving together, the faint smack as he adjusted the angle, diving deeper.
He broke the kiss, both of them breathless. A thin strand of saliva connected their lips for a second before breaking. Lily's eyes were glazed, her lips swollen and wet.
"See?" he murmured, his own breathing ragged. "Not so forgettable."
Before she could form a thought, his hands were on her waist, hoisting her up onto the kitchen counter with a grunt of effort. The cold surface shocked through her thin shorts. He stepped between her knees, spreading her legs and pressing himself against the core of her, making her jerk against him. A sharp, involuntary cry tore from her throat. Nnngah!
"Such a loud little thing," he grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. "Let's see what else makes you sing."
One hand slid from her waist, over the curve of her hip, and down the outside of her thigh. He hooked his fingers into the frayed hem of her shorts and began to tug, slowly, down her legs. The denim scraped against her skin, a rough friction that made her squirm. He got them to her ankles and let them fall to the floor. His eyes drank her in—her long, toned legs, the simple white cotton panties now darkening with a tell-tale patch of moisture at the center.
"So eager already," he noted, his voice thick with lust. He dragged a single finger up her inner thigh, so slowly she thought she might scream from the anticipation. The touch was feather-light, a ghost of a sensation that made every nerve ending beneath her skin stand at attention. She whimpered, a high-pitched, needy sound.
His finger reached the damp cotton. He didn't press inward. He just laid his whole palm over her, the heat of his hand searing through the fabric, and held it there. Lily's hips gave an involuntary little roll, seeking pressure, a silent plea she didn't know how to voice.
"Shhh," he soothed, a twisted kind of comfort. "I'll take care of it. I'll take care of you. Since no one else seems to know how."
He applied the slightest pressure, a slow circular grind of his palm against her clit. Her head fell back, a broken moan echoing in the quiet kitchen. Haaah…! Her fingers, still laced with his, squeezed his hand desperately, her one anchor in a suddenly spinning world.
"Such a sweet, responsive little pussy," he whispered, his mouth back at her ear, nipping at the lobe. "Wrapped up in these innocent little panties. Doesn't know what it's for, does it? Just knows it aches. It should be worshipped. And I'm going to. I'm going to worship every last inch of this…" His hand slipped under the waistband of her panties, his fingertips encountering the wet, soft curls beneath. "…perfect cunt."
He curled a finger, sliding through her slick folds with a soft, wet sound. Squish. Lily cried out, her body bowing off the counter. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and overwhelming sensation, locked with his. The last thing she saw was the frightening, absolute devotion in his gaze before his head dipped between her legs.
His palm pressed down firmly, continuing its slow circular grind against the cotton-covered heat between her legs. Lily's breath stuttered out in a ragged gasp, her hips giving another helpless little jerk against his hand. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against her bare inner thighs, a stark, thrilling contrast to the soft, damp fabric he was tormenting her through.
"Shhh, just feel it," he murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic rumble against her ear. His free hand, the one not pinning hers to the counter, came up to cradle her jaw, forcing her glazed eyes to meet his. "You like that, don't you? That little ache? That need?"
She could only manage a shaky nod, her lower lip trembling. Words were beyond her. Her entire world had narrowed to the point where his hand met her body, a universe of confusing, overwhelming sensation blossoming from that single point of contact.
"Use your words, Lily. Tell me," he insisted, his thumb stroking her cheek with a deceptive tenderness that made her want to cry.
"I… I like it," she whispered, the confession feeling both terrifying and liberating.
"Good girl," he praised, and the words sent a fresh, dizzying wave of warmth through her. His palm pressed harder, the heel of his hand finding her clit with unerring accuracy and applying a perfect, steady pressure that made her vision waver. A high, thin whine escaped her, her head lolling back. Heeee…!
"Such pretty noises. All for me," he growled, his possessiveness a dark, thrilling undercurrent. He shifted his stance, pressing himself more firmly against the edge of the counter. The hard ridge of his erection, confined within his jeans, pressed insistently against her outer thigh.
Lily's eyes fluttered open, her gaze dropping down. The prominent bulge strained against the dark fabric, a blatant, physical manifestation of his desire. Her breath caught. She'd seen him in swim trunks before, had never thought anything of it. This was different. This was for her. Because of her.
He saw the direction of her look, the naive curiosity warring with a dawning awareness. A slow, dark smile spread across his face. "See what you do to me?" He released her jaw and took her free hand—the one that had been clutching at his shirt—and brought it down. Her fingers were limp, pliant in his grasp. He placed her palm flat against the hard length of him.
The jolt that went through her was entirely new. She could feel the heat of him, even through the denim. The unyielding firmness. Her fingers twitched.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He kept his own hand over hers, applying gentle pressure, guiding her to stroke him. Up, then down. A slow, tentative glide. The rough texture of the jeans scraped against her palm. "Just like that. Get a feel for it."
Her touch was clumsy, uncertain. She was mimicking his motion from moments before, the circular grind of his palm, but on him. The act felt immensely intimate, far more so than his own hand between her legs. This was her, touching him. Arousing him. A fresh gush of warmth soaked her panties at the thought.
"You're such a natural," he breathed, his own breath starting to come faster. His hips gave a slight, involuntary rock into her touch, and she felt him twitch under her hand. The sensation was startling, powerful. "Born to please. Your clever little hands…"
He increased the pace of his own fingers against her clit, the circles becoming tighter, more focused. The dual sensations were overwhelming—the rhythmic pressure building deep inside her core, and the solid, throbbing heat under her palm.
"Oh god…" she moaned, her fingers curling slightly, gripping him through the fabric.
"Not god. Just Mark," he corrected, his voice ragged with lust. "The one who sees you. The one who's going to ruin this sweet, innocent little pussy for anyone else." His words were crude, degrading, but the tone was one of utter, devout worship. "My good girl. My perfect, eager niece."
His praise, laced with possession and something darker, coiled tight in her belly. Her strokes on his cock became less tentative, more eager, spurred on by his moans and the filthy, beautiful words falling from his lips.
"That's it, Lily. Show me how much you want to make me feel good." He shifted his hand from over hers, trusting her to continue. Her fingers kept moving, stroking, exploring the rigid length as he brought his now-free hand back to her panties. This time, he didn't stop at the fabric. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and, in one smooth motion, tugged them down her legs, adding them to the pile with her shorts.
The cool kitchen air hit her wetness, making her gasp. She was completely exposed, spread open on his kitchen counter. Her hand faltered on his cock.
"Don't stop," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. His eyes were locked on the glistening pink folds now revealed to him. "Keep touching me. I want to feel your hand on me while I taste you."
The promise in those words sent a violent shudder through her. Her hand resumed its motion, now slightly desperate, as he dropped to his knees before her.
He didn't dive in. He worshipped. He leaned forward, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh, and she whimpered, her back arching. He placed a single, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. Then another, an inch higher. His stubble scratched delicately against her soft skin. Another kiss, higher still. He was tracing a path of fire up her leg, each kiss a brand of ownership.
Her strokes on his cock became erratic, her focus splintering. She was mesmerized by the sight of him, her powerful uncle, on his knees, his head between her legs, bestowing such deliberate, intense attention on a part of her she'd never given much thought to.
He reached the apex of her thigh, his face now inches from her core. He nuzzled the soft, damp curls, inhaling deeply. "Fuck, you smell incredible," he groaned, the sound vibrating against her. "Sweet and musky. All for me."
He finally dragged the flat of his tongue through her soaked folds in one long, slow, languid stroke. Slllurp.
Lily cried out, a sharp, broken sound. Her hand clenched around his cock, her hips bucking off the counter. The sensation was electric, blinding, so much more intense than his fingers through fabric.
"Yesss," he hissed against her, his hands coming up to grip her hips, holding her firmly in place. "That's the sound I wanted. Now keep your hand moving. Show me you know what this cock is for."
He didn't give her a chance to recover. His mouth descended on her again, and this time there was no slow worship. He ate her with a frantic, desperate hunger, his tongue lashing her clit, delving into her entrance, tasting every drop of her essence. The wet, obscene sounds filled the kitchen. Slurp. Schlick. Glllk.
Lily's world dissolved into sensation. Her hand moved on his length in a frantic, clumsy rhythm, spurred on by his groans of pleasure against her pussy and the sharp, building tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her. She was babbling, half-formed pleas and cries falling from her lips.
"Uncle Mark… I… oh!… it's too… nnngh!… I can't…"
"You can," he growled, lifting his head for a second, his lips and chin glistening with her arousal. "You're doing so well. My perfect girl. Now make me come while I make you scream."
He buried his face between her legs again, his tongue focusing on her clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth as his fingers plunged deep inside her, curling upwards. Squelsh.
The dual assault was too much. Her vision whited out. A scream was torn from her throat, raw and