A Renaissance
mc; Mf; oral; inc
My niece, Deanna, came to live with me a year after my wife had died and a month after her parents had been killed and we started sleeping together 8 hours after she walked through my front door; an event that was cataclysmically platonic. While I will admit to the odd fantasy of entertaining a nubile young girl in my bed, having a slightly pudgy 15 year old in bunny slippers and flannel pajamas enter your bedroom screaming in terror in the aftermath of a nightmare has a damping effect on one’s ardor and what licentious thoughts her lying down next to you may revive are quickly exterminated as the remainder of your night is punctuated by her random thrashings as she deals with the shock and trauma of having survived the accident that took her parents.
It took about a year of therapy before she was able to sleep in her own bed and still I was far more likely to awake to a now-nubile 16 year old in footsie PJ’s weighing down the sheets covering me. However delightful that concept may be, the actual result was that my sex life had dwindled to the point where I was practically celibate; finding what relief I could by resorting to that teenage male standard of masturbating in the shower. It was her therapist who suggested that we mark her progress with some type of celebration and a week later Deanna and I found ourselves winging our way to the Agape Water Park Resort for a hopefully restful stay in the park’s on-site hotel in a two bedroom VIP suite.
The Agape Water Park was arranged as a park within a park with the general admission rides and attractions built on the shores of a large man-made lake. In the middle of the lake was an island that was reserved for those willing to pay for VIP treatment and undertake their rejuvenation experience. While I thought it something of a scam, the fees were no more dear than your average cruise and, besides, Deanna wanted the bragging rights that went with being (as the brochure put it) one of the select few who would experience the rejuvenating Agape spa experience.
We were met at the airport by the park’s shuttle bus and were driven to the park in a rather perfunctory manner. When we arrived at the park’s shuttle lot, we were met by (or more accurately sought out by) a uniformed 20-something who should have been parading down a catwalk rather than running across a piece of dirty blacktop to welcome a pair of road-weary travelers.
“Welcome to Agape Water Park” were the first words out of her mouth and these were quickly followed by “here are your VIP passes, these will provide you exclusive access to the park’s island monorail and will act as the keys to your suite. Your suite number is printed on each pass and your bags have been sent on to your suite. The itinerary for your stay will be displayed on the computer monitors in your bedrooms. Remember you will need to click on the OK button to activate the park access feature of your VIP badges. Please follow me to the resort’s monorail and thank you for vacationing with Agape.”
As she strode ahead of us, I was struck by the sensuousness of her walk; I don’t know how she did it, but she transformed the few 100 feet from the bus stop to the monorail’s entrance into a work of seduction and I thought to myself - if this vacation did nothing else, at least my sex drive was feeling a bit rejuvenated. The monorail treated us to a bird’s eye view of the park. We passed most of the outer ring (a set of wide brick avenues meandering around assorted rides, food stands, stages, and carnival games) and crossed over the lake before arriving at the hotel. From what I could see, the crowd in the main park was mainly young adults clad in an assortment of t-shirts, tank tops, and shorts. Interspersed among the crowd were the parks uniformed employees - easily identified by their black slacks and blaze orange polo shirts. Yet the ride offered no advanced preview of the island outside of the gaping maw of a tunnel that began at the water’s edge and a short stretch of sandy beach that ran up from the water into a thicket of simulated jungle.
We got off the monorail and stepped into one bog-standard, high-end, designed-to-impress hotel lobby complete with parquet floor, a vaulted ceiling some two stories up, and the obligatory potted-palms screening small intimate gathering places populated with high-back, overstuffed leather chairs and couches. We made our way across the lobby and took the elevators up to our floor; a quick swipe of my VIP card across the door’s lock gave us entry into out suite.
The suite’s layout was rather uninspired even if the furnishings and decor were luxurious. The entry opened up on a large sitting/living/dining room with a large window looking out over the island’s jungle forest - off in the distance one could make out the shimmer of water and the larger of the outer ring’s rides. To the right and left were the bedrooms each with an attached bath. The bedrooms were mirror images of each other and were dominated by a larger than king size bed. Mounted on the wall opposite the foot of the bed was an enormous computer monitor, a keyboard and mouse sat on a desk placed below the monitor. A dressing area lead from the bedroom to a bathroom complete with a whirlpool tube and free-standing, glass walled shower - both of which looked to be large enough to hold a small orgy in.
Any problems I might have had in choosing a bedroom were quickly resolved as Deanna grabbed her bags from the center of the main room and headed off to the bedroom on the right; as she disappeared into the room, she gleefully shouted something about hitting the park just as soon as she had unpacked and not to forget to hit the OK button. I lugged my case into my bedroom and walked over to the desk, slide the cursor onto the green OK button and clicked it. The screen seemed to flicker for a moment - did I really sleep until morning?
The first few days of our stay seemed to follow the same pattern, Deanna and I would hit the hotel spa for a couple of hours spent undergoing their renaissance therapy which, as far as I could tell, was marketing-speak for a good massage, a restful sauna, and a nice soak in a hot tub all accompanied by an odd new age soundtrack. Following this, we would dress and cross over the the outer ring and hit the various amusements. I even managed to sleep the night through without gaining a companion in the wee hours of the morning; Deanna even commented on how peaceful her sleep was. I’d really have to have one of the hotel staff do something about the flicker in those monitors.
Midway through our stay, I began to notice that I was feeling about 20 years old and if the bathroom mirror and the fit of my clothes were telling the truth, I had dropped about 30 pounds and was starting to develop a six-pack. I was also noticing how graceful and beautiful Deanna was. Had she really shed the last of her baby fat these last few days or had I been so wrapped up in making sure she was cared for that I didn’t notice that she had developed into a woman? In either case, she was taking a starring role in my nightly wet dreams and morning showers. While we still went to the renaissance sessions, we had given up on the amusements of the outer ring, preferring to spend our days walking along the island’s sandy shores, having long lunches on the hotel’s terrace, or lingering over dessert.
It was about this time that we started sleeping together. Where and when she got those negligees, I never knew, but she was a vision to my eyes: demurely clad in wisps of silk that revealed but did not expose, that promised future delights yet still protecting the vestal virgin from unworthy eyes. The nightmares had gone, we both slept soundly, awaking in each other’s arms with my erect cock nestled between her legs or clasped in her hand. We hardly noticed those flickering monitors any more.
For the remainder of our stay, we spent our time exploring each other in joyous abandon, pausing only briefly to order room service. With the exception of a few crystal clear memories, I simply recall those days as a blur of sex, sleep, therapy, and meals.
I recall the moment when we crossed that boundary between uncle and niece and became lovers: awaking to find Deanne gently stroking me erect before moving down to take my cock into her mouth, her bright, sparkling green eyes carefully watch my face for any signs of disapproval. In retrospect, it was an awkward, amateurish attempt at a blowjob, but at the time it was the most erotic thing I had felt in ages and her velvet soft lips and warm tongue soon had me shooting my cum into her mouth - an event that caught both of us unawares. I was taken aback by how quickly and suddenly she brought me to orgasm, and she by the volume of cum now filling her mouth. Deanna resolved her problem by the simple expedient of swallowing and I covered my surprise by reciprocating the favor. That first taste of the juices flowing from her hairless vagina was exquisite; she squirmed a bit as my tongue found her clit. I slowly teased her, working her towards her climax and then backing off for a bit. Her breathing came ragged as she became wetter and sweeter. When her climax finally hit her, she made the most delightful mewing noises.
During our first day as lovers, Deanna took to the experience with joyful abandon and, more often than not, was the initiator of those initial forays. She even took the lead when it became apparent that I was the one she would give her virginity to. We had spent a long lingering dinner in the hotel restaurant though Deanna spent far more time paying attention to my cock than she did to the food on her plate. By the time the waiter stopped by to ask us if we wished dessert, I was hard enough to drive nails and had resigned myself to a somewhat awkward walk back to our suite. However, Deanna had other plans and as we exited the restaurant, she dragged me to one of those palm-screened discrete alcoves off the lobby and pushed me down into one of the high backed leather chairs sitting in the shadows. She quickly undid my pants and brought my hard cock out into the cool lobby air, then lifting her skirt and pulling her thong (thong??? where did the girl find these clothes - I could have sworn there was nothing like this in her wardrobe at home) to one side, she straddled me and proceeded to impale herself on me.
The loss of her maidenhead was noted by a mere squeak and a sharp nip as she used my shoulder to muffle the sounds she was making. I was a passive participant as Deanna drove us towards climax. I reveled in the sensations that tight, hot cunt created and, as my orgasm approached, I grabbed her hips and began to move her body in a more urgent rhythm, slamming myself deep into her, filling her with my cum. Deanna appeared to cum with me, her entire body shuddering as her cunt milked my cock. When we managed to catch our breath, she stood, pulling herself off my now semi-rigid cock, her skirt settling back down over her taut rounded ass. I raised myself to my feet, closed my trousers back up and we walked back to our suite. The only noticeable remaining trace of our fucking was a trail of my cum slowly oozing down Deanna’s left inner thigh.
By the time morning of the last day rolled around, we had fucked in, on, or over just about every square foot of the suite. While Deanna found that fucking in the large whirlpool tubs to be less than satisfactory, she did find fucking in the shower to be exhilarating, there was something about having hot water cascade from her pert breasts while I fucked her from behind that triggered an almost continuous orgasm for her. Needless to say, I found her symphonic chorus of moans and the rhythmic clenching of her cunt on my hard cock to be quite stimulating. It would quickly get me off regardless of how many times I had already cum that day.
Our trip back was uneventful. Deanna did scope out the airplane’s bathroom with an eye on joining the mile-high club, but she decided that in light of the cleanliness of those spaces, the novelty of that experience could wait. We arrived home feeling rejuvenated. Outside of a few erotic additions to Deanna’s wardrobe, we brought back little in the way of souvenirs; only a small slip of paper confirming our reservations for next year marked our remarkable rebirth.
