From: OneSickPuppy@HotMail.com   
      
   Story: Wildfire   
      
      
      
      
      
   This story is simply a work of imagination...fantasy fiction that does   
   not portray anyone or anything that really happened, or should happen.   
   If you are under the age of 18, live in a jurisdiction where reading   
   erotic stories would be considered illegal, or are just plain offended   
   by material of a sexual nature, then stop now and don’t read this.   If   
   you like this story, then give me some feedback at stevesaint@juno.com   
      
   Every author craves to know people read and appreciate his or her work!   
      
   ©2006 STEVESAINT   
      
            (MF, Mg)   
      
      
      
   I’m driving down I-15, on my way to Henderson, Nevada, heading to my   
   brother’s house, singing along to the oldies playing on a weakening FM   
   station on a hot August day.   
      
   “…And the pony she named Wildfire…”   
      
   A momentary flash of memory and the singer’s name pops into my head:   
   something like Michael Murphey—was he a country guy, or a rock   
   guy?—can’t remember, but I sure did like that song!   
      
   I chuckle a little thinking about the song’s title and the reason for my   
   trip.  My 9-year-old niece Erica can sure be a little wildfire   
   sometimes, and I’m going to have to put up with her for a couple of   
   weeks while my older brother “sorts things out.”  You see, my bro has   
   been sorting things out for quite a while since his wife was killed in a   
   car wreck when Erica was four.  The oldest of five brothers (I’m the   
   youngest), John has not recovered; still devastated, still grieving,   
   still wasting away.  Motherless though she is, Erica has turned into   
   quite a young lady.  I’ve always heard people use the word ‘precocious’   
   in referring to children, but it wasn’t until I’ve seen her grow up that   
   I knew just what it meant.  What a ball of fire; always asking   
   questions, never satisfied with the answers, and forever looking for   
   more.  We brothers have tried to take care of John and Erica, helping   
   out whenever we could though the four of us live quite a ways away.   
   It’s usually my brother Ted (second oldest) who answers the call to   
   watch Erica and house-sit when John has a “crisis.”  Sometimes it’s a   
   drinking binge; sometimes it’s another vice, such as gambling away his   
   money, but whatever it is it’s simply running away from reality.  It’s   
   my turn, not Ted’s to hold the fort this time.   
      
   When I drive into the big curved driveway I can’t help but marvel at how   
   beautiful the old house is, although I see subtle signs of neglect when   
   I look closer.  John meets me at the door, looking haggard.   
      
   “Thanks for coming, Billy.”   
      
   “You know I can’t pass up a week explaining the world to your daughter,”   
   I answer with a laugh.   
      
   He’s going off to Los Angeles, some self-help seminars that I’m sure   
   cost hundreds to attend and will give him nothing but lost weeks from   
   his life.  “C’mon in…Erica’s around here somewhere…”  He says almost   
   absentmindedly, not offering to help with my bags.  That’s okay, they’re   
   not heavy.   
      
   “Hi, Uncle Bill!”  She runs and jumps up into my arms.  “I’m so glad you   
   could come and stay with me,” she says before planting a big kiss on my   
   cheek.   
      
   I lower her to the floor.  “You mean ‘baby-sit’ don’t you?”  I know what   
   response THAT will get.   
      
   “I’m not a baby anymore,” she defiantly answers, hands on hips.  “I’m   
   almost ten.”   
      
   “Almost doesn’t cut it in my book.”   
      
   She acts as the woman scorned for a few seconds, before her face breaks   
   out in a broad smile and hugs me again.  She has grown a bit since the   
   last time I saw her; she’ll be quite a catch when she’s in her teens, I   
   imagine—that’s if any boy can live up to her standards!  I don’t think   
   I’ve ever met anyone as inquisitive—some would use words like “nagging”   
   and “picky”—as this girl.   
      
   “Daddy, I’m going to escort Uncle Bill to his room,” she says with a   
   theatrical flourish and takes me by the arm, leading me to the stairwell.   
      
   “My, my, for what do I deserve this honor, Milady?”   
      
   “Because you’re my favorite uncle,” she replies, her face beaming.   
      
   Later, after we ate a quickly thrown together dinner, John left for his   
   seminar.  He’s driving the five hours or so to LA, which isn’t too bad   
   considering the distance I just drove to get here.  Erica and I watched   
   some television before it was time for both of us to hit the sack.   In   
   the guest bedroom that would be mine for the week, I slowly stripped off   
   shoes, socks and shirt.  As I began to unbuckle my belt, I realize that   
   Erica is standing in the doorway, dressed in a cute little cotton nightgown.   
      
   “Ah, Uncle Bill…I just want to say goodnight.”   
      
   “Well, goodnight sweetheart…why don’t you give Uncle Bill a big hug, okay?”   
      
   She leapt into my arms as she did before and hugged me tight.   
      
   “Goodnight,” she practically whispers to me.  Feeling the heat of her   
   radiating through the thin cotton cloth, I can’t help but realize how   
   long it’s been since I’ve been with a woman.  Shit, get that thought out   
   of your mind, old Billy-boy, I think to myself as I lower her once again   
   to the floor.   
      
   “We’re going to have the greatest time…I’m so glad it’s you that came to   
   babysit me,” she laughs at her use of the word.   
      
   I give her a quick swat on her little butt.  “Okay, now, go to bed, you   
   little scamp.”  I finish undressing and get ready for bed.  I usually   
   sleep in the buff, and though away from home, tonight is no exception.   
   The cool sheets feel good against my bare skin as I fall asleep, soon to   
   be dreaming of naked women in strange places—such are the dreams of   
   horny men.   
      
   I awoke the next morning with a raging hard-on.  Just as I decide to   
   masturbate, I hear a giggle from the doorway and look up to see Erica   
   standing there in her nightie, her hand to her mouth and staring   
   intently at my erection.   
      
   Before I can say anything, Erica pipes in, “Your Willy is soooooo much   
   bigger than Uncle Ted’s.”  She giggles again.  “Why is it so stiff?”   
      
   I grab the sheets and cover myself, a voice in my head wondering how she   
   knows the size of my brother’s cock.  “Never mind my ‘Willy’—Get out of   
   here and go get dressed.  As soon as I shower and get dressed myself,   
   I’ll be down to fix us up some breakfast.”   
      
   She giggles again and scampers off, a blur of white cotton fabric.   
   While showering, I mull over what she said—does she spy on us men to see   
   what we’ve got, or is there something more to it?  Later, sitting on   
   stools at the kitchen nook eating our bacon and scrambled eggs breakfast   
   I threw together, I asked her.   
      
   “Uncle Teddy is always trying to get me to touch his Willy, but I   
   won’t…and that makes him soooooo mad.”   
      
   “Come on, Erica…you know it’s called a penis, don’t you?  It’s okay to   
   use that word ‘cause it’s the scientific name.  Now…does Uncle Ted try   
   to get you to do anything else beside look at and touch his penis?”   
      
   “N-n-n-n-no…”  She looks away embarrassingly.  “He tells me these weird   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)