From: xxxxxxxxxx@hotmail.com   
      
   TEACHING LITTLE Neice  PART 1/2   
   An Incest Fantasy   
   By: Day Dreamer   
      
   At thirteen, my little neice Melanie is a knock-out, a real true-   
   life beauty.  She started maturing early and is now five-two, with   
   34-22-32 measurements on a one-hundred pound body.  With her   
   flawless complexion, long auburn hair, and startlingly deep hazel   
   eyes, she could easily be mistaken for a youthful model, perfectly   
   exemplifying all the sweet and fresh characteristics of young   
   womanhood.   
      
   Melanie has a very a sweet nature and personality, and this   
   contributed to our complete lack of the uncle-neice friction   
   that sometimes develops in a family.  On the contrary, she has   
   always been one of my top supporters.  Being twenty years younger,   
   she bestowed on me a childlike hero worship.  I was always her big   
   uncle, her hero, her knight in shining armor.  As far as she was   
   concerned, there was nothing I could not do nor was there any   
   problem I could not solve.   
      
   The relationship was more than reciprocal.  As she was growing up,   
   I adored little Melanie and doted on her.  I was always interested   
   in and proud of all her achievements and encouraged her whenever it   
   was needed.  If anything, I gave Melanie more attention and love   
   than her parents.  They both worked in very stressful jobs, and at   
   the end of their workdays neither had much energy left to deal with   
   her "kid problems."   
      
   Because of this relationship, Melanie early on got into the habit   
   of bringing her problems to me.  I fixed many a broken doll, put   
   band-aids on her boo-boo's, and dried her tears and tickled away   
   her real and imagined hurts.  This relationship carried over into   
   her pre-teens and has resulted in my being far more protective of   
   her than is the case with most uncles and neices.   
      
   One area where this especially showed up was in her relationships   
   with men. In this regard, I have been almost tyrannical in the   
   way I have monitored and screened her dates.  It is a wonder our   
   relationship has not suffered because of this, but Melanie takes it   
   in her good-natured way and just thanks me for caring that much   
   about her welfare.  Despite her phenomenal beauty, Melanie is very   
   shy and vulnerable with boys, often coming home in tears from a   
   date.  To help her with such problems, I have tried to explain how   
   boys think and act so she will better be protected in her dealings   
   with them.   
      
   One problem Melanie has had to face head on is her developing   
   sexuality.  Many of the problems and teary eyes she has brought to   
   me have been related to this area, and I have tried to deal with   
   them in a completely honest, straightforward manner.  I have not   
   used any "birds and bees" stories, but have explained and described   
   sexual relation issues in the everyday common words she hears from   
   her girl friends.  From these conversations I knew that Melanie was   
   still a virgin, but based on the noticeable tension and the odor of   
   feminine sexual arousal that I detected from her when she returned   
   from some of her dates, I believed this to be a short-lived   
   condition.  Because of that, I arranged for her to secure and start   
   taking birth control pills.  She laughed at my being so protective,   
   assuring me that she still far from going all the way.   
   Nonetheless, to indulge me if for no other reason, she is taking   
   the Pill religiously.   
      
   I greeted these developments with very mixed feelings.  On one   
   side, my protective feeling about her wanted to shield her from the   
   bad early experiences she could have if she chose the wrong man.   
   On another hand, I could see that she has highly developed   
   sexuality, and I did not want to stand in the way of her being in   
   a position to develop and grow in this important aspect of   
   maturing.  On still another side, I found myself disturbingly   
   jealous.  As much as I told myself it was completely wrong to feel   
   that way about her, I was absolutely turned on whenever she came in   
   from a date with that musky odor of a woman in heat about her.  I   
   pictured in my mind how her little virginal pussy must look, smell   
   and feel, about how wet it must be, and even though I fought   
   against the feeling, I could not prevent my getting a hardon.  I   
   found myself with the thought that no pimple-faced boy deserved   
   such a treasure, and even worse, I harbored a secret, almost   
   irresistible longing to be the one to claim it.  That she   
   might have had similar thoughts was beyond my comprehension, beyond   
   any hopes that I had buried deep within me.   
      
   One Friday evening, Melanie came in from a date about nine in the   
   evening, much earlier than her usual eleven or eleven-thirty.  I   
   was alone in the house, her parents being away for the weekend, and   
   was watching television when she came in the door.  Usually, she   
   stops and says hello to me and relates how her date went.  This   
   evening, she did neither, but hurried upstairs to her room.  I   
   found this very strange because the man she had dated was one I   
   approved of as being almost good enough for her.  I was hoping that   
   if she did have to lose her virginity it would be to a boy like   
   him, one who probably would be gentle with her.  Apparently,   
   though, problems had developed on the date, because she was home   
   early, and based on her not having stopped to greet me, upset,   
   hurt, or angry.  I heard the shower start running and decided that   
   as soon as she had finished her shower I would go upstairs to check   
   on her and be the best big uncle I could be.   
      
   After I heard the shower stop and had given her enough time to get   
   dressed, I went upstairs.  The door to her room was closed, and the   
   sounds of light sobbing came from its other side.  I knocked   
   lightly and asked, "Melanie, is it okay if I come in?"   
      
   The sobbing stopped for a moment, and Melanie said, "If you want   
   to."  I opened the door and Melanie's room was darkened, with only   
   the light from her vanity shining.  She was already in bed, the   
   sheets pulled up to her neck.  Her face was tear-streaked, and her   
   eyes red from crying.   
      
   "Mel, Mel, what's wrong?," I asked softly, sitting on the bed next   
   to her.  I stroked the hair back from her forehead and kissed her   
   lightly on a wet cheek.  "Did you have trouble on your date   
   tonight?"   
      
   Melanie sniffled a little and answered in almost a whisper, "Yes."   
      
   "Boy-type problems?," I asked, knowing she would recognize that I   
   implied the whole range of sexual relation problems.   
      
   "No, Jimmy wasn't a problem.  You were right.  He's real nice, and   
   I liked him a lot."   
      
   Puzzled, I pressed on.  "Well, it's obvious something's bothering   
   you," I said, taking a tissue and drying her cheeks for her.   
      
   Melanie gave me a little half-smile, rueful more than happy, and   
   answered, "I just had some Melanie problems, that's all."   
      
   "That sure tells me a lot," I said.  "What do you mean, 'Melanie   
   problems.'"   
      
   Melanie's tears had about stopped, and she sat up in bed,   
   apparently ready to explain.  When she did, I had a hard time   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)