“What are you doing?” I rasp hoarsely, barely even recognizing my own voice. Fuck, Hadley looks even curvier than before, and my mouth goes dry with need. Her waist nips inward as her hips sway. Her thighs are thick and they jiggle with every movement, making me long to bite into that heavy flesh. But Hadley merely giggles and does a three sixty, her blonde hair flying out in an arc. Oh fuck. Now I can see how her ass jiggles too, the red thong buried dirtily between her enormous ass cheeks.
“It’s a bikini, Uncle Frank,” she murmurs. “Do you like it?” Her voice is quiet and sweet, and I can tell that she’s trying to sound innocent, but she isn’t fooling me. The devilish little giggle she lets out as I make some kind of strange choking noise tells me that she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Oh shit. I’m not sure what to say. I don’t have anything PG in mind so I think it’d be best if I didn’t voice my thoughts aloud. Instead, I swallow thickly and clear my throat as I try (and fail) to drag my eyes away from her curves.
“Um, it’s nice, but there’s no ugh—” The air completely evaporates from my lungs again as Hadley bounces on the heels of her feet, doing a little shimmy with her hips. In fact, the movement is so vigorous that one big breast bounces right out the cup, revealing a turgid pink nipple, and Hadley’s mouth forms a round “O” as she quickly covers herself.
“Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen!” is her breathy apology. “Goodness, this bikini’s a little flimsy, isn’t it?”
I swallow again, but it doesn’t help. My mouth is completely dry and I simply have no words. In fact, it takes a few moments before I’m able to remember my name as the ache in my groin becomes a rigid shaft of iron.
“What are you doing?” I finally manage to stammer like a dying man.
Hadley merely surveys herself in the mirror again with a smile.
“This is a bikini, silly! I’m trying it on.”
I shake my head desperately.
“Yes, but where would you wear a bikini? I don’t have a pool at the farm, and there’s no beach nearby.”
Hadley winks at me coyly over one shoulder.
“That’s no problem,” she shrugs. “I can just work on my tan out in the front yard, and when I want to go for a swim…well, I can take a dip in the horse trough because that’s water, isn’t it?”
Then with one more sassy giggle, Hadley disappears into the dressing room. I can see her bending over to pick her pants up off the floor before the door fully closes, and I have to remind myself to breathe as I sit there like a statue, the sight of that huge, heart-shaped ass making me go rock hard. What the fuck is going on? Is Hadley going to wear that red bikini in my front yard? Am I going to be tortured within an inch of my life while I work in the hot sun, those sumptuous curves on display for my eyes only?
Even worse, what am I going to do with my current erection? Furiously, I picture the desert, the mountains, hell, even a pile of stinking garbage, but to no avail. The damned thing is throbbing painfully in my jeans and I adjust myself uncomfortably before taking off my jacket and draping it over my lap.
At that moment, Hadley reappears.
“Okay, I’m ready, Uncle Frank,” she coos. “I’m definitely going to get the bikini.”
I simply nod.
“Sure honey. Just put it on my card. I’m going to run to the men’s room real quick, but I’ll join you up front in a few.”
Never mind that there probably isn’t even a men’s room in Angelique’s. All that matters is that Hadley strolls up front while I get a few moments of blessed peace to calm my body down. Then, with another groan, I get up stiffly before making my way to the register.
“Oh there you are,” my niece coos as the cashier hands her her purchase. “Thank you so much, Uncle Frank. You’ve made my day with this bikini.”
I merely nod, still walking a little stiffly as we exit the store.
“No problem, Hads. I’m happy to.”
She smiles happily again as we stroll down the sidewalk. It’s a gorgeous day, and her blonde hair gleams in the sunlight as a comfortable breeze wafts around our shoulders.
“You know, back when I was living in New York, I wore things like this all the time, and there aren’t very many pools in NYC either. It’s an island, but no one goes swimming in the rivers there,” she says while making a face of mock-horror. “It’s so polluted.”
I nod.
“So where were you wearing your bikinis?” I ask.
She pauses delicately for a moment.