When I lifted my head to look into her face again, I quietly told her "When you were sitting in my lap, I told you that you're pretty more than pretty enough. Seeing you now, like this, I want to say it again. Honey, you are way more than pretty enough — you're beautiful. When you let me look at you like this, you make me glad that I'm a guy."
My words delighted her, and she leaned over to give me another kiss before standing up again — and turning around so that I could look at the back of her.
I'll admit that the first thing I looked at was her cute little ass. Simply put, it was a work of art, sculpted out of the finest marble by a singularly talented craftsman. Each of her cheeks was visibly tight and firm, nicely rounded, and as smooth and flawless as the rest of her. Difficult as it was, I finally managed to drag my eyes away from it to look at the rest of her. Her legs made her look a bit coltish, but in a good way; slender, they were composed of a series of graceful, gentle curves that made them simply flow from her ankles to the ass that they merged with. After another bout of admiring her butt, I got my eyes moving upwards so that I could examine the source of my most recent pleasure with her. Clear and smooth, her back was a blank canvas that I wanted to paint on with my tongue; her delicate shoulders supported her slender and graceful neck. Without the interesting terrain features that the front of her boasted, though, there wasn't anything behind her to get all that engrossed with — except for her ass, which I found myself marvelling at yet again.
She seemed to realize that it wouldn't take me as long to look her over from that direction as it had the front; I was still trying to decide what I wanted to do with her ass first when she took the decision away from me by turning around again. I didn't have any problem telling her, as sincerely as I could, "You have the nicest looking butt I have seen in a long, long time." -
making her giggle, and smile. Still looking into her face, I raised my hands and slowly reached out to put them on her hips before telling her "Sweetheart, I'm honored that you would let me look at you like this. But I want you to know that I love you — not because of how you look, pretty as you are — but for what's inside you. You're smart, but you still study so that you can get the best grades you can; you're as kind and gentle and loving as anyone could want. I know you don't always get along with your sisters, but I have never heard you argue with them — which tells me that you're patient and generous, too. I know that you don't like some of the things that you have to do, but you don't complain or make a fuss; and that helps make things easier for your mom, because she had to worry about you and your sisters. I love you, Donna, for who you are, not what you look like — and I always will, no matter what else happens. If you wanted to stop doing stuff like this with me, it would be okay, because I'd still love you. If you didn't want me to see you without clothes on, it would be okay, because I'd still love you. For me, you and your sisters are the kids that your Aunt Judy and I couldn't have; I don't think I could love you and them any more if I was your dad. So if maybe sometimes I'm a stinker, that's why — because I do love you so much, and the last thing in the world I'd want to do would be hurt you in any way."
I saw tears start to form in her eyes before she managed to blink them away and tell me "I know how much you love me, Uncle Ted. And Karen and Wendy know it, too. That's why we always liked you better than Aunt Judy, because we could tell that she didn't love us the way you did.
When Daddy was still with us, we knew that he loved us — but it didn't seem like it was anywhere near as much as you did, because he hardly ever wanted to do anything with us, like come to the stuff we did at school, or help us with our homework, and stuff like that. He'd hug us and tell us he loved us, but it never sounded like the way you just said it, and we didn't think he meant it the way you do. I'm sorry he's gone, but I'm even happier that you're here now."
There wasn't anything that I could say to that, and I didn't even try. Instead, I leaned forward again and gave her a soft, gentle kiss about halfway between her navel and breasts before pulling back and looking into her face to say "Thank you, dear."
We looked into each others eyes for several seconds before she took my hands in hers and gently tugged me into standing up. Releasing one of my hands, she used the other to lead the way to my bed, and then onto it. When both of us were laying down (her on her back; me on my side, propped up on my elbow), I put my hand on her just above her navel. She looked up at me and said "Yes, sometimes you are a stinker — but it's only when I want you to do something with me, and you're not sure about it. I know it's because you love me and don't want to do anything to hurt me, either inside, in my heart, or outside, on my body; and it's okay when you're a stinker like that, because I know why you're doing it. Now I'm ready for you to start touching me, even between my legs; and I'm telling you that so you know you DON'T have to be worried about me.
I know what I'm asking, and what you're going to do; and I'm SURE about what I want, and that I want YOU to do it. So you don't have to worry about me now, okay? I know I can trust you not to do anything I don't want you to — that if you start to do something I don't like, you'll stop if I tell you. I told you I know how much you love me, and I want you to know that I love you and trust you with all my heart; that's why I want to learn and do these things with YOU. Karen and Wendy and me, we've talked about it, and they feel the same way about you that I do."
What she said touched me so deeply that the only response I could make was to lower my head and give her a soft kiss on the lips — chaste, but as loving as I could make it. And somehow, despite her youth, her lips told me that the depth of her love equalled my own.
When our lips separated, I looked into her face and saw that she was every bit as sure as she'd said she was — that she wanted to be there, that she wanted us to do the things we would, and that she was ready. I also saw that she was supremely confident that I would make her happy, and that she could trust me. That removed the last qualms I had about doing what I'd wanted to since the first time I saw her naked: get my hands and lips on as much of her delectable body as I could. I did love her the way I'd said I did — for all the good things I saw in her. But I wasn't so committed to her intelligence and character that I'd fail to appreciate the package that held them.
Lowering my head, I touched my lips to hers again, and she willingly — even eagerly -
returned my kiss. It was still loving and affectionate, but it also served to mark the beginning of the time we'd have together while I helped her learn just how much pleasure was available from her own body.
That first kiss lasted but a few seconds; the one that quickly followed it went on longer. The next lasted longer still. With the start of the next, Donna took my hand in hers and moved it to her breast, letting me know she was ready for me to begin.
When I'd touched her before, it was both to let her learn what it felt like to have someone elses hands on her, and to satisfy my own desire to simply become more familiar with however much of her anatomy she was willing to grant me access to. With the change in her reason for being there, I didn't have to restrain myself from touching her in ways that I knew would arouse her — quite the opposite, in fact. But since I knew I wasn't going to be doing anything more than touching her, I didn't have any reason to hurry — not that I would have, anyway. So as our kisses got longer and more involved and intimate, I was perfectly fine with starting out much as I