Fucking my Niece, the Bikini Waitress, Part 2/3: The Hot Co-Worker

This is part 2 of the ongoing story of me trying to fuck my bikini waitress niece Miranda in a way that respects our uncle-niece relationship. She’s hot, but I also love her as a niece, I don’t want to lose our relationship just for some pussy. This part is more about her co-worker, but I’ll get back to Miranda in part 3.

Part 1

I stood outside the breastaurant, feeling nervous. This was the first time I felt that way entering, usually I felt at home there. I was showing up so that my hot niece (at least I think she’s hot), who was a bikini waitress, could try to set me up with her new co-worker. Supposedly she was nice, hot and good boobs. I took a deep breath and entered. The hostess recognized me and gave me a warm smile, I wasn’t a regular regular, but I was a sometimes regular. She paused for a second until I made eye contact (guess where I was looking) and asked if I wanted to be served by Miranda again. That’s my niece, but I call her Meer. Old nickname. I asked if I could have Cindy. The hostess leaned forward and beckoned for me to do the same. She whispered in my ear that Cindy went by Mindy, some girls used fake names to protect themselves. Cindy to Mindy, that will definitely throw creeps off the trail.

The hostess led me into the restaurant to seat me. I wasn’t yet done checking out her skinny ass (she had lost some weight, it made her legs better but wrecked her formerly curvy ass) when suddenly I heard a familiar voice yell “Uncle Tyler! What are you doing here? Did you come to see your favourite niece at work?” I looked over and saw Meer walking over doing an exaggerated model runway walk. She did this almost every time I came, she loved yelling the word “uncle” so people would look over and wonder what perv came to see his niece work in a quasi-strip club. She was wearing her red bikini top that cradled her Cs, giving them enough support to wave gently while she walked and swing out a bit when she leaned over.

They sat me down at a table, and the hostess said she’d see if Mindy was here. Meer said she wasn’t, she called and said she’d be late. Not a good look for your first day. Before Meer left me to wait she leaned in to my ear and whispered “I’m wearing a butt plug.” Then she turned and walked away, and I noticed that she was walking in a more upright stance, taking small steps that didn’t require her to spread her legs too much. How the hell did she keep it in when doing her runway walk two minutes ago? She must have felt like she was about to shit.

While I waited I watched the other waitresses. I saw they were also walking weird. I didn’t like that. According to Meer place tried to fly under the radar by pretending it didn’t sell sex and instead the waitresses just happened to choose bikini tops. If they started wearing sex toys that felt like crossing a line. I don’t know the law about sex establishments, but that felt too far. I also saw there was a new waitress I didn’t recognize. She was short, fake blonde, A cups, and just enough curve on her ass to look feminine. She looked young, but she could have been one of those 30-year olds who intentionally did their makeup to look 18-20 to capitalize on her physique. She was struggling to walk, I doubt she had much experience keeping a plug in while serving.

Then I saw a drop-dead beautiful bombshell walk out of the kitchen. Well, that was my impression when I saw her tits, that was where I looked first. She had amazing D-cups (probably, I’m not good at guessing size) that were nestled in a black lace bra that didn’t really cover them very well, it just held them up while concealing the legal minimum. Hot damn. She had some serious curve to her waist, and when I checked out the rest of her body I realized she was fit. Her calves and obliques showed serious tone and a hint of muscle, and her shoulders were tone but not overly muscular. It made me feel odd to see such feminine assets on a strong body, I thought what she could do to me in bed. Then I checked out her face, and was impressed. She was probably in the top ten faces I had seen in real life.

She came over to my table, and immediately slid in beside me, that was part of the experience. She introduced herself as Mindy, and asked me if I wanted her to go over the menu. I said yes, I wanted to keep her here as long as efficient. She started explaining it and I could tell she was nervous, she was clearly new. Most girls did this big fake smile, hair-flicking introduction doing a hips-stuck-out-to-the-side pose while leaning forward slightly, Mindy skipped that. Shame. I ordered the most expensive steak and an imported beer to look cultured. When she went to stand up she put her hands on the table and used them to push herself up. Like she was trying to avoid using the muscles around her waist. As if she had something up her butt.

“You wearing a butt plug too?” as soon as those words came out my mouth I knew it was a mistake. She froze, turned around and looked at me with a controlled look on her face, like she was masking her emotions. “excuse me? Did you ask if I’m wearing a butt plug?” I sat there feeling like an idiot, and before I could think of what to do she tensed her jaw, narrowed her eyes, and turned around and walked away. I think she was restraining feelings of violence. It would have been hot in a difference context. As she walked away I stared at her ass, I couldn’t see past her skirt but from how she walked she seemed to have nothing in her butthole.

For twenty minutes I sat there, feeling like an idiot but enjoying watching the waitresses walk around like penguins. Then Mindy came out with my steak. As she walked towards me she did a glamour-model smile, lowering her head a bit so her hair fell forward. She held the plate just below her chest so if I stared at the steak I’d see her tits behind it. After she put it down she leaned over to whisper something in my ear, which meant I was face-to-face with stripper-quality tits. She whispered “I’m sorry for getting annoyed with you. I didn’t know the other waitresses were all wearing plugs tonight. I didn’t know I worked with a bunch of sluts. They’re trying to find ways to increase tips, they thought this would work.” She leaned back and gave me a warm smile. I told her she should wear a plug. She said she would next plug night (is that a regular thing now?), but she didn’t have one tonight. One of the girls offered her the backup plug, but that seemed unhygienic.

As she walked off I checked out her calves and deltoids while wondering what type of nymphomaniac slut carries a backup butt plug. I didn’t want to know what type of situation called for one.

At the end of my meal she came back and gave me the bill. When I opened it I saw she’d written on it. She’d put two checkboxes with the words “Real?” and “Fake?”. She gave me the glamour model smile and did the hands-on-hip pose while I blatantly looked at her boobs. I checked “Real” and put $120 in the fold and gave it back. She opened it up, saw what I checked, and grinned. She told me I’d earned the right to her regular. Then she saw the tip, it was double the bill. She asked if I was serious. I said yes, she clearly needed the money to buy a butt plug. She smiled gently, and leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead and walked off. I tucked my semi-erection into my belt and left. I’d never gotten a boner at a breastaurant before, I was usually sufficiently experienced that I could check out hot girls in bikinis without getting a boner. She was good.

Later that night when I was about to go to bed Meer texted me and told me to never again let a waitress there kiss me or directly talk about her breasts. The manager saw the kiss and gave her a semi-formal warning, whatever that is. When he saw the fake or real questionnaire he was even angrier. The owner was convinced that if the restaurant overplayed the sexuality of the waitresses they’d be shut down. So no touch, no talking about boobs even if you do stare. That’s weird, but that is how our laws about sex work currently are. I asked Meer what I should have done, she said pull back and quickly ask the waitress to keep her distance. Don’t push her away because it never looks good when a man pushes a scantily clad woman, and don’t push her away by “accidentally” grabbing her boob. I’m not that dumb. And she told me that Mindy wore a bra, the girls were supposed to only wear bikini tops because apparently those are less sexual. Meer said if I wanted to keep seeing Mindy I had to stop getting her in trouble. I was tempted to point out I didn’t do any of those things, but I got the general point: Mindy was fucking hot but about to get fired. Don’t push limits.

For the next two months I went there every week. I got Mindy’s schedule (they’re not allowed to give out the full schedule, but they can say yes and no if I ask about a specific time) and became her regular. I kind of missed being served by my niece, but I saw her almost every weekend. Gonna the breastaurant became my time to see Mindy and her tits. Over time we got to be friendly. It might have been because that was her job, but she seemed to genuinely like me. The fourth time I went there she came out of the kitchen with small steps, and instead of doing the sexy slight lean forward she remained upright. Not bad, it meant her boobs were on full display. She looked at me and blushed, like she was embarrassed. When she sat down beside me I heard a metallic clunk on the wooden chair, and she went redder. I wonder what that was.

After I got home I texted Meer and asked how the hell they got away with butt plug night when they couldn’t even talk about tits. She said the trick was to never admit to it, just hint at it, overdo the weird walk, and get flirtily coy when asked. It wasn’t a restaurant idea, when a steakhouse opened up a few blocks away they lost some company and the girls were trying to discover methods to make up lost tips. Apparently some guys want a real steak instead of a decent, kitchen-cooked steak served with boobs. The girls had eventually settled on Thursday night because that was when the old manager worked. He was slowly descended into alcoholism after his divorce, he spent most of his time in the office drinking a clear liquid from a water bottle and didn’t give a shit as long as nobody died or got raped.

After two months I decided I had to make my move. After having a great meal (ok, the food is decent, but that night she wore a purple top, it’s my favourite colour on a woman) she handed me the receipt. I took out a pen and wrote “coffee on Saturday? Yes? No?” and handed it back with the usual 50% tip. She looked at it, gave me a nervous look and excused herself. She walked quickly back to the kitchen, she was so preoccupied she forgot to do the fake “I have a butt plug so far up my ass I can’t walk anymore” gait. Five minutes later she came out, walking like a penguin, and handed the receipt back with “yes” circled, and her number written under. I didn’t have a boner, but I got a little bit more blood in my penile arteries from that.

Later, when Meer got off, she texted me “lol, you freaked Mindy out. She convened a conference of pussies to find out if she can date customers. We told her we fuck customers for money, a date is fine. Now she thinks we’re complete sluts. We might have to find her a customer to fuck some sense into her. Oh, and don’t call her Mindy on the date, she’s Cindy outside of work.” I looked at that text, and didn’t like it. I didn’t care if my niece fucked customers for money, but I suddenly felt a surge of possessiveness over Mindy, I mean Cindy, even though I barely knew her. I didn’t want her fucking customers for money, I wanted to fuck her to make her happy. For free.

The date went well. She wore relaxed jeans and a plaid shirt that buttoned up to her neck. She looked like a hot cowgirl, and I figured I’d seen her tits enough that I could go a few hours without seeing them. We had such a good time having afternoon coffee that we went to the mall and quietly mocked, to each other, weird people as they walked by. Cindy was a judgemental bitch, I loved it. We got to the point where we realized it was close to supper, so we went to the steakhouse that was taking tips away from the bikini girls. The food was fucking awesome, and I think I embarrassed myself with how much I ate while Cindy took a few bites of steak and had half a salad. I knew she must eat to maintain that form, but for some reason woman don’t like eating on dates, as if the guy will think they’re fat slobs.

She drove me back to my place. We used her car because it was nicer, somehow a waitress owned a nice car than me. When she stopped in my driveway I invited her in. She looked at me with a wary look in her eyes, and quietly said “umm, no.” I was about to ask why, but I realized that was pushy, so I thanked her for the date. But I think I sounded disappointed, she reacted to what I said by looking like she was about to cry. I went to take her hand to comfort her, but she pulled it back. She then asked me if we could try being exclusive friends for a bit. I didn’t know what that meant, but I figured it probably meant no sex with each other, but holding off on sex with others in case things got serious. I said of course, I really liked spending time with her, I didn’t need the relationship to get physical to enjoy being with her. She visibly relaxed when I said that, and took my hand and thanked me.

Then my dumb sense of humour kicked in and I blurted “besides, if I want to see your tits I can just go to your work and pay for them.” Her smile went away, and then after about four seconds she laughed and said “way to wreck a sweet moment. Get out. Next Saturday same time?” I almost missed the last sentence I was so busy wishing I kept my mouth shut. I said yes, of course.

We dated non-physically for three months. She dressed conservatively. At first I wondered that she was hiding her body from me, then I realized that maybe the loose pants, high neckline look was just her thing. I mean, she worked at a breastaurant, but didn’t have to dress like it outside of work. She was still gorgeous. And her shirts weren’t loose enough to hide her Ds completely.

Then I decided to escalate things, so I bought her a butt plug. She wore it the next time I went to the restaurant. Then I bought her clip-on nipple rings. She wore them, I could see them through her bikini top clearly. That night Meer texted me and told me that Mindy made the record for tips on a non-game night Thursday with that look. The next time I went all the girls had clip-on nipple rings. Or real piercings, I couldn’t tell. Over time they made Tuesday into nipple ring night to complement butt plug Thursday. Until the manager caught on and stopped it, but they made some good tips while it lasted. To show her gratefulness Cindy bought me a butt plug. We wore them on our next date, I sat in an ice-cream shop surrounded by families and seniors with a piece of metal up my ass. I had never before exchanged sex toys with someone I wasn’t fucking, but I was loving this weird relationship.

Spring came, and I was thinking I should finalize my summer vacations. My jerk boss was pressuring me to confirm my dates. I wondered it was time to escalate things, so I asked Cindy if she wanted to go on vacation with me. She said yes right away, then paused and asked where I wanted to go so she could decide if she wanted to go. Nice backtrack. We talked a bunch, and eventually settled on renting a cottage. Sort of cheesy and more of a family thing, but we’d both gotten tired of trips where you spend most of the time travelling, seeing crowded cities that smell, or other touristy things. And I didn’t say it, but I figured a cottage is the type of place that a woman would wear a bikini. For hours and hours. Maybe tan topless. Maybe try sex in a boat. Or even just sex anywhere, I didn’t care where we did it. Bed, floor, couch, butt, deck, mouth, sandy beach, behind the altar of an unlocked rural church that we snuck into, it’s all good.

So I told my boss when I wanted time off, and he made me take my two weeks back to back instead of one week at a time because everyone else had finalized their schedules and that was all that was available. Great. Then I set about finding a cottage, and realized I fucked up. Most cottages get booked in the previous winter or even the fall, not a few weeks before summer. 99% of cottages were booked, and the few that weren’t were stupidly expensive. A six-bedroom chalet with two boats, a lawn that can accommodate a helicopter, hot-tub, sauna, outdoor kitchen and wedding ceremony patio (yup, that’s a feature) would impress Cindy but bankrupt me.

Then I found a weird website through Craigslist for a small cottage business. It looked like a poorly made WordPress website. It advertised a two-bedroom cottage with private beach, several kayaks, dock, air conditioning, heating, and within walking distance of a convenience store. Perfect. And the calendar showed the only week available was one of the weeks I had booked off. I called the number and spoke to an old woman, and within minutes had rented it. I texted the website to Cindy and she was excited, she said it looked so quaint and rustic. Which is on trend.

Two weeks later the old woman phoned me, and told me that there was a cancellation, coincidentally on the other week I had off. She asked if I wanted it at discount. Of course I took it. When I told Cindy she was disappointed, she didn’t have that booked off work. I figured it could be worse. I’d have one week with a hot woman and then one week of uninterrupted fishing.

That night Meer texted me and told me she was coming on vacation with me. Not ask, told. Mindy had told her about the extra week and Meer had no inhibitions about calling in sick to take a vacation. There went my fishing time. I was happy to get some time with my niece, but I do like fishing too.

Another two weeks passed, and then Cindy and I made the almost three-hour trip to the cottage. When we finally made it down the potholed road past all the small cottages I felt something looked wrong, it didn’t match the pictures. The driveway led to two cottages, one on each side, and I could see past the cottages two sets of stairs leading down the water. Then an old lady came out of the smaller cottage, and when she greeted me I recognized the voice. She took us in to the cottage and showed us around. It was a small, one-bedroom cottage where you couldn’t really tell where the small dining room ended and the smaller living room began. She pointed out that there was no air conditioning or heating, so we’d have to be innovative.

I asked her why she rented us this cottage instead of the one on the website. She laughed and said “oh, my grandson used the pictures from the main cottage across the lake for the website he made me. I’ve been meaning to have him finish it with all four cottages we rent, but he’s just so busy with school.” Then she walked out and took us down to the beach. Each of the two cottages had it’s own side, with a big dock in the middle, with several very nice Adirondack chairs on it. The beach was more rocky than sand, the one in the pictures was a broad sand beach. Before I had a chance to ask her if I got a discount for getting the wrong cottage she went up the stairs, still talking about her and her husband bought their first cottage on the lake back in 1926 after he returned from the war in the colonies. And then she was gone, she presumably drove off. Happy and clueless that I was pissed with the bait and switch.

Cindy and I went back into the cottage. We looked around. It had what we needed, but it was basic. I walked into the only bedroom and tossed my bag on the bed. When I came out I saw Cindy looking at me nervously. I asked her what was wrong, she motioned for us to sit on the couch. She nervously told me the reason she agreed to go with me was because the cottage had two bedrooms, one for each of us. She figured if we got a hotel she’d ask for two beds. She told me she didn’t’ feel comfortable sleeping with me yet. So I immediately told her that I’d sleep on the couch. The ugly, 1970s fuzzy couch. Or I’d sleep outside, there was a hammock. Or I’d drive her back home and not be mad. She laughed, and told me the couch would be fine, we could take turns. I said bullshit, she got the bed and I refused to compromise.

The first three days were amazing. Cindy loved cooking, and I loved helping her cook. We went for walks. We kayaked. We made smores like little kids. We suntanned, on the dock, grass, beach and deck. We talked. It was romantic. And she brought two bikinis. The first day she wore a fairly normal red polka-dot bikini that neither hid nor enhanced her body, but she was so fucking sexy it was impossible to not see she was hot. The third day she broke out her black thong bikini (why do chicks all the time go for the black thong?) and I was fighting a hard-on the whole day. Even when not in her bikini she was wearing short jean shorts and a tank top, or something like that. It seemed she lost all her inhibitions around me. Or she just all the time dressed like this on vacation and I was thinking her clothing choices were all about me. During the day the cottage was blazing hot so we never really got fully dressed, during the night it was humid and damp but kind of cold.

We met the family renting the cottage next-door (it had A/C, the lucky bastards) and hit it off with them immediately. It was a normal family with an 18-year old daughter taking a trip to celebrate her graduating. They were nice, and the mom and daughter were hot in their own way. The daughter definitely looked 18, and her casual clothing made it clear she wasn’t shy about her body. I guess crop tops were in style. Her bikinis weren’t too revealing, but she must have done sports or something. The mom was the definition of MILF. Large breasts that obviously used to nurse a child (even after 18 years you can tell, they never go back), and a body that was clearly maintained with intent. Her bikinis were actually more revealing, and she’d act completely ordinary around us or her daughter but act almost slutty around her husband, even if others were watching. Good to know a sex life can survive twenty year of marriage. Usually I would struggle to not be checking out ladies like that, but Cindy was keeping my eyes busy, and I basically treated all three of them, father, mother, and daughter, like friends.

On the fourth day something amazing happened. Just after I’d gone to bed, on the couch, Cindy poked her head out the bedroom door and invited me to come sleep with her. If I wanted to. Yeah, as if I might say no. I headed in there, ready for a good night’s sleep. But when I stepped through the door two strong arms grabbed me and threw me on the bed. I looked up and saw Cindy drop her bathrobe, revealing her amazing body in a leather body harness that framed her bare breasts and hairy pussy. I was not expecting that, I actually got a bit scared even though I’d been fantasizing about this moment. It was the first time a muscular woman dressed like something out of Mad Max had thrown me on a bed. Usually I’m the one throwing people around.

Then she roughly pulled my pants off, and to help out I pulled off my shirt. She threw herself on me and started aggressively making out, it was like she was trying to get her tongue to slide through my digestive tract and out my butthole. Soon enough she slid down a bit, and took my erect cock in her hand. She raised herself up a bit, and positioned my dickhead right below her juicy lips. I like big labia, I don’t get the stereotype. She looked me in the eye and said “Yes? No?” I responded “yes.”

She fucked me so hard I wondered I might never have another erection. Her hips were thrusting back and forth, causing her breasts to sway. I didn’t want to cause an earthquake, so I stabilized them with my hands. And then my mouth. She came two times before I came. Once I came she flipped around and sunk her pussy onto my mouth so I could eat her out while trying to not drown in the mixture of her pussy juice and my cum. Then she came in my face, and finally she slid down beside me, and we gently made out for a bit, adding saliva to the mixture of bodily fluids. I lay there panting, wondering what happened. It was great, but it was not how I imagined our first time going. I had assumed I would fuck her, not her consensually rape me.

The next night was similar. The third night I asked if we could slow things down, and we had a genuinely sensual fuck. I like some rough sex, but it felt more romantic and in line with the purpose of the vacation to have a touchy-feely eye contact fuck. That was the first time I really got to play with her tits. Even after the first time I was hesitant to do so during the day or while cuddling, I didn’t want to seem weird. She asked me if she went too far with the rough sex. She said when guys saw her muscular physique they usually expected to be dominated, that was what she was used to doing. But she also liked being treated like a woman. I told her both were great.

On our last day Cindy told me we needed to talk. Great, that’s usually how breakups happen. We sat on the couch, she held my hand, and told me why she’d been nervous to have sex with me. Before she worked as a bikini waitress she had been a stripper for years. I could easily believe that. During that time she tried to have six relationships. Every one of them failed miserably, she realized guys just wanted to bang a stripper, they didn’t care about her as a person. Two guys cut her off as soon as they had sex, they just wanted the experience of banging her but wouldn’t date her long-term. Two of them were originally good boyfriends, until they got jealous and tried to save her. One of them was with a co-worker because she wondered dating a fellow stripper would eliminate the stigma effect, but they eventually realized that neither of them were lesbians and they couldn’t make it work.

The sixth guy was the worst. They both liked drinking, and one day when some guys were over the BF recommended ecstasy. She had never tried it, but she was up for it. After it kicked in they went to bed and got naked. Before they were finished, one of her BFs friends walked in and asked to join. She was feeling good, so she said yes. After he finished another one came in, same thing. Soon enough five guys had cum in her. She fell asleep, and when she woke up she realized what she had done. She went to the shower and removed the shower head from the hose and shoved the hose end into her pussy. She turned on the hot water to flush out the semen and instantly regretted it, it hurt like hell. So she calmed down, and realized that she was making dumb decisions because she was scared. She dried off, got dressed, went to a store and bought ten disposable douches, and cleaned herself up. She figured that was overkill, but she was disgusted with what happened.

For three days her BF didn’t contact her, then he asked if he could come over to smash. She said yes. After they fucked and he went to bathroom she checked his phone. She found a group chat were all his friends had thanked him for letting them bang his stripper. Not his GF, his stripper. So she put the phone back, waited until he was gone, then texted him and broke up. She told me that she didn’t consider it rape, just highly unethical bullshit. She was awake and aware during the whole thing, even if she was feeling more sociable because of the ecstasy. She might have agreed to a threesome with condoms while sober, so it wasn’t like she was totally against group sex. I told her that didn’t matter, he drugged her specifically to get her do to all of friends in a row, she was tricked into their gangbang fantasy. She told me to stop being noble. I wasn’t happy with that attitude, but I didn’t argue it at that time. I didn’t think the first time we talked about it was the right time to tell her I fundamentally disagreed with her interpretation.

So she stopped dating and hooking up altogether, both men and women. For three years she was celibate. Except for her right hand. Then she got tired of stripping. She had disliked it for years and regretted not getting more transferrable skills, and when she saw a job as a bikini waitress she figured she could still get good tips with her body. At least for another five years, mid-30s is usually the end of sex work for women.

But guess what happened? On her first day she was late because of traffic, and when she finally got to work the first customer creeped on her by asking her about her asshole. But it turned out he was a decent guy and she wanted to be nice to him, but that nearly got her fired. She felt nearly fully dressed wearing a skirt and bra and she liked that, but she forgot she wasn’t in a strip club anymore where physical contact was overlooked if she was the one who initiated it. And then before she knew it that customer kept coming back and being so kind to her it made her feel things. But deep down she was used to guys being nice until they fucked her. And she could tell I liked her body, I wasn’t shy about checking out her tits. When I asked her out she went to the kitchen, both to ask the girls and in case she had a panic attack. She was half-convinced I’d fuck her on the first date then never see her again. I hadn’t realized that. Our relationship now made sense.

I thanked her for telling me, it meant a lot that she trusted me now, and it made me feel like I could be a better boyfriend to her. She hadn’t yet called me that, but I was working in that direction. So we fucked one final time, and she packed up and she drove off. I didn’t have a car then, but Meer was coming the next day. I figured a nap on the dock would give me enough energy for some evening fishing, so I went down there. Turns out the 18-year old girl was there, tanning in her bikini. I was about to go back up when she heard me, turned around, smiled and said “oh hey, come on over. Don’t be shy.” So I went over and sat down in the chair closest to her. We talked for almost two hours, I forgot to nap or get supper started. I barely remember what we talked about. She told me about finishing high college, about how she was excited to go to university, about how her parents made her come on this stupid trip instead of going somewhere with her friends, that kind of stuff. My main focus was on maintaining eye contact. I like breasts with some substance and hers were definitely on the small side (I suspect the bikini top was just to cover them, not to provide support) but it’s hard for someone her age to not look stunning in a bikini.

Eventually I had enough, so I told her I had to go eat, and stood up. When I went to walk down the dock I saw her father standing on the deck of the cottage, listening to what we were talking about. I waved to him, he waved back. I was quite happy I hadn’t made a move on her.

Later that night Meer texted me and asked if she should bring anything in addition to the food list I already gave her. Does she ever text during the day? I texted back “thong bikini, condoms, heroine, guns, fake passports, pepperspray, and a get-away car.” She didn’t respond. I guess it wasn’t funny. So I texted again and said “a two-four, something stronger, more chips, anything but sour cream and onion, and something sweet. She texted back “got it. Booze, sour cream and onion chips, and your beloved niece.” She is so funny.

As I lay in bed I realized that we still only had one bed. That couch sucked, I could not in good conscience make my niece sleep on it, and my back was sore for hours every morning if I used it. I thought if Meer would agree to sleep in the same bed as me. And I thought if I could use that to get some sexy time with her. I didn’t want to her to think I planned this trip just to fuck her, so if I found an opportunity I’d have to make it seem organic. It would be really nice to just have a fun week with her, but fucking her would make it better.

The last wondered on my mind as I drifted off to sleep was wondering what bathing suits she’d bring. Of course, the only thing hotter than Meer in a bikini was Meer not in a bikini.

NSFW: yes


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