Frank was my older brother by four years. Frank wasn't the brightest guy in the world nor the most polished. Despite his loutish way he had managed to woo his high school sweetheart into marrying him and together they had produced a daughter who they named Staci. Staci was the best thing Frank and his wife Gloria ever produced. She was an angel. She had fine silken hair the color of wheat that hung shoulder length and was cut in a bang across the front. The blue of her eyes reminded one of the color of the ocean in some tropical cove - clear, sparkling and exotic. She had a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks and nose and a smile that was all summer and sunshine. Staci's teeth were a little crooked and unevenly spaced, but that brought out the kid in her and besides, the multi-colored braces she wore would take care of that. Staci and I were pals and always got along great when I would visit my brother and his family, usually on the holidays.

I never married or even had relationships that lasted very long. I guess it was my fear of intimacy and my rather crude approach to sex. I wasn't much of a romantic. I would get a girl to go on a date with me, we would have a romantic dinner, catch a show and then if things went well I would have her sucking my cock before the night was over. I guess the unromantic part is where I would grab her by both ears and force fuck her face and then pull out at the end and spray her face with my spunk and then rub it around with the head of my cock until her face looked like a glazed donut. I guess it was rough on the make-up. The hooting and hollering and my choice of words probably didn't help either. I would say things like "Yeah, suck it you little cum-guzzling gutter slut!" or if a date wasn't in the mood to suck dick, I would I would grab a rather large handful of her hair and twist it until she would get on her knees and beg to suck my dick. Probably explains my lack of second dates.

I was in San Francisco when I received the call. My brother Frank had been killed in a fire that had consumed his house. It was on a Saturday and Gloria and Staci had left to go shopping and had supposedly left Frank to sleep in late. There were a lot of questions at first about how a guy who had slept all night could continue to sleep while his house and bed burned around him and then burn up without waking? The police began an investigation into the extremely suspicious circumstances but after interviewing his wife Gloria suddenly dropped it. Cased closed. I was outraged. I loved my brother inspite of himself. I couldn't believe that Gloria wasn't outraged as well and when I would question her about the lack of an investigation she would clam up or quickly change the subject. She said she just wanted to put it all behind her.

Gloria, Staci and I attended Frank's funeral together. Staci was nine years old at the time and was inconsolable at the loss of her father. Even with her red puffy eyes and tear stained face I was moved by her exquisite beauty. She was dressed like a little woman. She wore a black dress, sheer black stockings and black lace gloves. For a nine year old Staci was developing a rather shapely body, though her chest was completely flat with no sign yet of developing breasts, her legs were long and slender and the black patent pumps she wore highlighted the shapeliness of her calves and thighs. Even through the black dress the firm roundness of her little ass was very apparent and begged for squeezing. I guess those years of soccer were paying off.

Staci was cold and distant towards her mother at the funeral and reached to me for comfort. I slipped my fingers into her soft hair and stroked her cheek and pulled her close against me with my other hand. I breathed deeply of her little girl fragrance and felt the warmth and softness of her young body tight against me. I think it was at this moment that I fell deeply and irrevocably in love with my neice. I don't know if it was the emotional vulernability of two people drawn together by loss or the eroticism of her little girl innocence covered in black nylon and lace. Whatever it was, I not only fell in love with her at that instant, I also developed a bone hard erection. As close as I was holding her there was no way she couldn't have noticed. I felt it pressing against her tummy, but she only snuggled closer seeming to take comfort in it.

On the way home from the from the funeral, Staci rode with me because she didn't want to be near her mother. The driver of the limo held the door open as Staci and I entered. We rode alone in the back of the limo. There was a glass between us and the driver to afford privacy for the greiving and we drew the curtains. I continued to console Staci. Without a word she placed a delicate black laced hand on my the top of my thigh. My body responded instantly and I had to reach down and rearrange myself to accomodate the strain in my crotch. I tried to do this as inconspicuously as possible, but I noticed Staci watching from the corner of her eye and thought I detected a trace of a smile from the corner of her coral colored mouth. Even after straightening myself, my engorged eight inch member had nowhere to hide and formed a very prominent tent in my trousers only and inch or so from Staci's hand. I tried to take my mind off of her hand on my leg but my attention only drifted to her lap where her dress had ridden up and exposed her nylon clad thighs. Her legs weren't spindley like a lot of girls her age and while still slender, her thighs had tone and shape and looked magnificent in the black stockings. From my vantage I could almost see up her dress to her crotch and my eyes strained to do so.

Staci looked up at me, eyes puffy and red, her face a storm, her lips in a petulant pout. A tear began to fall and I wiped it away. I slipped the fingers of my left hand into the downy hair along the back of her neck and allowed my right hand to caress the nylon covered top of her right leg. I leaned over and looked deeply into my angel's troubled face and as the tenderness of the moment drew us together my lips met the sweet delicate petals of her lips. I drank deeply from this nine year old well, savoring the sweetness of her young mouth. As I kissed her, she kissed back and I felt the slip of her togue between my lips as it probed my adult mouth. My tongue returned the attention and searched her young mouth and our tongues engaged in a dance. My hand stroked her outer thigh and I let it slide up under her dress to the curve of her slender hips and then around to appreciate the firm roundness of her little derierre.......(cont)