Close knit family

her young mammary, with a couple of my fingers softly pressing the sides of her nipple. Even as I was taking note of the change, I felt her shift her hands slightly — slowly dragging the backs of my fingers across her nipple. When she did it again several seconds later, I thought that her nipple felt a little firmer, somehow. After she'd repeated her actions several more times, I was sure that it was not only harder, but getting a little longer, too.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Teresa look over toward us and see what Donna did. She continued to watch, and saw it happen again. I couldn't see any change in her expression, and after witnessing it happen a third time, she just turned her head to watch the movie again.

Teresa had said she was okay with it if one (or more!) of the girls tried to get me to touch one of their tits, and when she didn't visibly react to what I had to figure she knew Donna was doing, I could only think that she'd meant it. But that didn't mean that I was going to start groping any of the girls, either. I wasn't happy about what Donna was doing (yes, it felt good… but that's something else, entirely); but between the assurances I'd gotten from Teresa, and the fact that it was Donna that put my hand where it was, I wasn't unhappy, either. I figured to just wait and see what happened, thinking that if Teresa didn't like it, she'd tell Donna to knock it off; if she was okay with it, I'd know that, too.

When the final credits for the movie started to roll, Donna casually moved to get my arm behind her so she could stand up and stretch. I couldn't help but notice that both of her nipples were plainly visible before she leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek and wish me a good night. I wished her one, too, before she turned and headed toward her bedroom. Following that, I got kisses and good-nights from Wendy, then Karen, before they went off to bed, too. I waited with Teresa while the movie rewound to see if there was anything she wanted to say to me. Other than to comment on the movies, there wasn't. I got up and got both movies back in their boxes, and after we'd wished each other pleasant dreams, went downstairs and went to bed.

Several nights later, we were all watching TV when Donna contrived to get my hand between both of hers again. The difference was that even as she was holding my hand in her lap, she was slowly twisting her body slightly so that her hardening nipple brushed against the back of my arm. Again, I saw Teresa look over at us and witness what was happening before silently turning her attention back to the TV.

Donna didn't do that kind of thing every time she sat next to me — but it certainly happened often enough, and her efforts gradually grew longer and more explicit. With Teresa's tacit permission, I neither hindered nor helped Donna's efforts — even when we were having another movie night, and she finally worked up the courage to actually put my hand ON her breast. I could feel the hard pebble of her erect nipple pressing into my palm and the warmth of her tit under my fingers, but I remained as impassive as a statue. It certainly felt like a part of me that none of them could see had turned to stone! But rather than start playing with the warm mound under my hand (as I so very much wanted to), I just kept my hand still, slightly cupping the bosom underneath it. With the end of the movie, I casually removed my hand so that I could stick my arms out and stretch; when I was done, my arms naturally came to rest on the back of the couch while the girls got up. A brief exchange of pleasantries and kisses, and they were off to bed. As I'd gotten into the habit of doing, I stayed with Teresa while the movie rewound. I didn't doubt that she knew what had happened, but she made no comment on it.

It was Saturday afternoon just over a week later, and I was downstairs in the recliner going over some technical specifications when I heard Donna softly call down 'Uncle Ted? Have you got a minute?'

I told her I did, and set the paperwork aside. When she came in to where I was sitting, I could see that she had on a pair of loose shorts, and equally loose top. She came over to where I was sitting, and I asked her what she needed. She hesitated for a few moments before answering

'There's something I don't understand, and I need to ask you about.'

Seeing the troubled look on her face, I quickly told her I'd be glad to do what I could to help, and asked what was bothering her. Again, she hesitated for a moment before asking 'Would it be okay if I sat on your lap while we talk?'

The last time she'd been on my lap had been shortly before they'd had to move, and I was trying to convince her that it was okay for them to go. I'd been glad that she hadn't wanted to do it again since I got there — I didn't figure I needed any of the potential problems that could result from having a nubile fifteen-year-old female on my lap, thank you very much. But she looked so distraught that it never occurred to me to say anything BUT 'Of course you can, honey.'

Once she'd gotten her cute fanny on my lap, she curled up and leaned against me, her head resting against my chest. It hurt me terribly to see her like that, and I put my arms around her to try and comfort her as best I could while she told me whatever was bothering her. The two of us sat there for perhaps a minute before she quietly asked 'Uncle Ted? Don't you love me any more?'

Stunned by the question, it took a few seconds for me to get my wits back enough to answer 'Of course I still love you, honey! Why would you even think you had to ask?'

'Well, I just had to wonder if something happened, or was wrong, or something. I mean, the way you act, it seems that you don't like me or want to do anything with me.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I started letting you look at me — you know, with no clothes on, so you can see my boobs and everything, but all you ever did was just look. Then, the other night, when I actually put your hand on me, you didn't do anything. I wanted you to touch me, and play with my boob a little bit, but you DIDN'T, even after I put your hand on it. Don't you think I'm pretty enough, or that my tits are big enough yet?'

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement of monumental proportions. It seemed that every thought I had would go crashing into another one, wrecking both, while my jaw just moved up and down with no noise coming out. That lasted until I felt wetness on my chest, and realized that she was quietly crying — which was all it took for me to focus my thoughts again.

Hugging her gently, I told her 'Honey, I promise you — I think you're MORE than pretty enough, and that your tits are just fine.'

I could hear the quiver in her voice when she asked 'Then why won't you touch me like I want?'

'Sweetheart, you know what happened with me and your Aunt Judy. I hope you didn't hear about ALL the things that happened between us, but I'll bet you still know that it wasn't easy for us to get our divorce.' She quietly nodded her head, and I went on 'That's a little bit of the reason that I haven't wanted to do anything like you want; I guess you could say that I'm still a little bit nervous about doing anything with girls. Another part of it is the fact that you're only fourteen'

— 'Almost fifteen!', she optimistically corrected me (her birthday was still four months away)

— 'and that's still young; particularly to me. The other thing is that I am your Uncle Ted… with the emphasis on the 'Uncle' part. It just doesn't feel right to me to touch you that way; I've known you since you were little, and because I'm your Uncle and I do love you, I don't want to do anything that would hurt you — either physically, or inside, in your heart. And touching you that way makes me feel like I would be hurting you.'

She sat there in silence for several seconds before telling me 'But if you love me, why would you think you have to be nervous about doing anything with girls with ME? I can understand that you wouldn't want to hurt me, and that I'm still young — but after I've let you see me without clothes on so many times, and after I put your hand on my boob, why aren't you willing to let me grow up? Or even help me? It's not like you're trying to take advantage of me because I'm so young, and don't know any better. Mom has already talked to me about sex and all that, and I'm not asking you to do anything like that; I just want you to touch me, so I feel good. I love you, Uncle Ted, and there isn't any other guy that I would trust the way I do you. I want you to touch my boobs, and maybe even between my legs, later, so that I can learn how to grow up — but with somebody that I know loves me, and I know I can trust. Like I said, I'm not asking you to have sex with me, just help me find out what it's like when a guy touches me. I don't want to wait until I'm older to find out, and maybe get into some kind of trouble because I didn't know what to expect!'

I did love her, and the last thing in the world that I wanted to do was hurt her, just as I'd said. So after hearing what she had to say, I was left sitting there feeling as though I was stuck between two equally unpleasant choices, regardless of how much I knew I'd enjoy getting my hands on her delectable body. Thinking that I probably already knew the answer, I still asked her 'Have you talked about this with your mom?'

'Of course I have. Not just how I was feeling, but wanting YOU to look at me and