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Short Stories by Kristen

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She refused to answer. The subject was closed. Or so I thought. Much later in bed she cuddled to my side shoving icy cold feet under my legs. I shivered briefly.

Michelle described sneaking into their bed every morning starting when she was four or five years old. She told me about seeing her parents play around, kissing and touching and laughing. She told me how she watched them make love and how normal it seemed. Dracula, much to Michelle's delight, joined the Christmas frenzy with two presents I'd wrapped; a box of Milk-Bone biscuits and a chew bone. With eyes closed, fondling her sexy bum gently, moist warmth descended. It felt so damned good. A small hand stroked. A tongue caressed. Her mouth slipped lower, her lips now on my shaft. In our treatment of Michelle it became evident she's suffered from sexual interference," he'd said quietly. "We cannot be sure, but an examination indicated it was not a one-time occurrence. There were no signs of bruising or tearing we'd normally associate with sexual abuse." She spotted Kevin leaving the stables. She liked him. He had to be a hundred years old, his face full of wrinkles, sharp brown eyes twinkling with alertness and mischief. He was the source of everything she knew about Uncle Mitch and she was heading down to interrogate him again.

I stared and throbbed, aroused, a fog of need settling over me. She looked surprised when I wrapped a big, fluffy towel around her and another around my waist, the towel tented by a determined erection. The greatest pleasure came when I reached out and guided Michelle, so young and lovable, to lie on me. I wrapped her in my arms, warm cum spreading between us ignored. She murmured and wiggled against me like a kitten. Drawing the quilt up, I kissed her damp hair and closed my eyes. I was a changed man; I'd discovered unconditional love. Mentally shaking myself, I withdrew my hand from her tummy and gently extricated myself. "I need dessert. Want some?" I asked, rising. I had hundreds of questions. I had hours of thoughts collected inside that needed to be discussed. I had a desperate need to know. The truth taunted me in her pale green eyes; the truth about my brother's real self, about her mother, about Michelle, about sexual interference. Not asking was pure torture.

Trees burned with yellows, reds and oranges; a spectacular quilted patchwork of fire. Fields of wild grass were rich green, flourishing from autumn's rains.Pausing at the thermostat on the way to the bedroom, I turned it down. It would be nice to have Michelle snuggle close again. Despite the cold, Michelle spent the afternoon in the stable brushing Kismet and sitting on the edge of her stall talking to her. I didn't mind being ignored. Her delight was beautiful to see. The memory of sleeping in Mitch's arms was strong. She wondered why it felt so good, as if it was the right place for her to be. During the day she studied her uncle as he worked. Lean and muscular, he concentrated on whatever he was doing, giving it his entire attention. He moved with ease and economy, no fluster or fumbling, simply doing things with competence. Dark hair fell over his brow and into his eyes and every so often he'd pause and brush the hair up and away. It was long at the collar, too. I cuddled her for the next half an hour, replaying every sensation and every sound. I'd never experienced such a sweet orgasm as Michelle's and I was absolutely convinced I was going to do everything in my power to experience it again and again and again.

It's just a bleeder, Miss Lange," Kevin assured her. "Can you bring the first aid box to the kitchen?" Arms swept her up. She felt Mitch's naked body against her. Wrestling, suddenly not cold anymore, she tugged the pesky sweater off, panting from all the exertion. She didn't move while I dressed. She hadn't even peeked out by the time I left to make breakfast. But the magical scent of frying bacon drew her out.Showered and refreshed I headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal. It was close to dinnertime and my stomach was grumbling. Strangely, Dracula wasn't hovering at my feet. When a giggle echoed through the house I smiled. Paws scrabbled on the hardwood floor. Michelle came charging down the hall, Dracula close on her heels. The fading purple and yellow bruising on her face couldn't detract from the attractive shine of pure childish delight that radiated from her. It was good to see her happy. Thank you," she said. No fuss, no loudness, just calmly. It was the most intense thank you I'd received. MOVEMENT SHOOK THE BED waking me. Dracula flopped down heavily on my feet. Opening my eyes I saw Michelle standing in the doorway shivering. I glanced down at her sharply. She looked up at me all innocent, giving my crotch a soft grope and suddenly grinning when my erection pulsed. Nooooo. Can't say that I have," Kevin answered then added a grin revealing tobacco-stained teeth. "I'm not sure there's ever been a need for him to hug me."

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