"Uncle Ted? Why was it that I couldn't make me feel that before, but it happened so fast and easy when you touched me that way?"
I told her that I'd seen what I though she was doing differently, and how I'd made sure before doing anything. She sat there silently for a little while; when she spoke again, I could hear how troubled she was as she asked "But why would I do something like that? I mean, if I started out making myself feel better and better, what would make me not keep doing it that way? I did it again after you left, and I didn't have any problems — it even felt better than the first time."
She waited patiently as I tried to figure out what to tell her. It seemed that the most obvious answer seemed to be that it was something psychological — but the last thing she needed was for me to dump something like that on her. That made it necessary for me to try to think of something that at least sounded good.
With Karen sitting on my lap like that, the best that I could come up with was to tell her "The only thing that I can figure is that you didn't even realize you were doing it, and you didn't know enough to realize that it made a difference."
She tilted her head to look up at me, and I explained "Think about it, honey. You were touching yourself, and it still felt good, so why would you notice that you weren't doing it quite the same way? You never had an orgasm before, either, so you couldn't know that it would make a difference. It's kind of like when you got your first pair of roller skates — remember how they kept slipping loose until you learned you had to tighten them that extra little bit?"
That was something she could relate to, and I felt her nod her head in understanding before I continued "Once you knew what you had to do, they never fell again after that, did they? So I think that what happened with you touching yourself was kind of the same thing." Knowing what I was getting at, she nodded her head again, and I added "Of course, learning to use those roller skates didn't feel the same…", teasing her a bit.
I heard her giggle, and knew that I'd managed to resolve her concerns, and cheer her up again.
"Falling on my butt when I was trying to learn to roller skate didn't feel anything like what that did!", she told me. She sat quietly cuddled against me for a couple of minutes before she asked
"Donna told me that you sometimes do things with her. You know, kissing and touching her and stuff. Would you do that with me, too? Not all the time, but sometimes?"
"Are you asking me that because you want me to, or because I'm doing it with Donna?", I had to ask.
"Because I want you to", she answered. "I… I liked it when I knew you were looking at me, you know, earlier. And a little bit of the reason that happened so fast after you touched me was because I knew that it WAS you."
Giving her a hug, I told her "If that's what you want, then I'll do stuff with you. Sometimes."
She looked up at me again, then smiled and said "Thanks, Uncle Ted." before lowering her head again.
After a bit, she wriggled around so that her back was against my chest with my arms still around her. After a minute or so, she took my hand and put it over her breast; I took it back off, then slid it under the loose blouse she was wearing so that I could touch the warm skin of her firm young breast directly. When I softly ran my thumb across her nipple, she gave a happy sigh and settled herself a little closer to me.
We stayed like that for nearly an hour before I extracted my hand again and told her "I like having you on my lap, sweetheart, but it's getting late enough that you need to make sure all your homework is done for when you go back to school tomorrow."
She didn't say a word; she just eased herself off my lap, and turned around to lean over and give me a kiss. As she did, I reached out and put my hand on her cute little butt, giving it a couple of soft caresses before she pulled her head back and stood up again. I could see that she was pleased at what I'd done before she turned and left me alone again.
When it got to be time for their birthdays (Karen first, turning 14, then ten days later, Wendy (13), with Donna's 15th being two weeks after that), I was ready. Karen was delighted with the high-end softball glove I gave her; she'd been bothering her mother to get it, without success. For her part, Wendy was nearly ecstatic about the subscriptions to a couple of teenage-girl magazines that I'd paid for, as well as the introductory cosmetics kit (after due consultation with Teresa) I presented her with. When Donna's birthday arrived, she was overjoyed with the new complete field hockey outfitting I'd gotten her — uniform, stick, pads, the works.
The other thing I did for each of them was to take them out for dinner — just the two of us, and to a different nice place for each of them. With the help of their mother, they got as gussied up as they could for it; all three were delighted and proud that I'd want to take them someplace nice, and show them off. And it was a case of showing them off; each of them was lovely as could be, and I saw no small number of male heads turning to watch as each of my companions moved through 'our' restaurant. I suspect they were aware of it, too, since all three were nearly giddy with joy by the time I got them back home.
My attentions weren't limited to just the girls, either. All along the way, I'd do what I could to try and make life a little easier and more pleasant for Teresa, too — springing for delivery food sometimes, doing whatever shopping I could for everyone, just sitting with her and listening when she felt the occasional need to bitch about the various shenanigans going on at her job, taking the girls out for an evening so Teresa could have some quiet time alone, and that sort of thing. Even so, Teresa wasn't anywhere near prepared for the surprise I had planned for when her birthday rolled around.
First, I enlisted the girls' help by giving them the money to take their mother in for a somewhat rare visit to a beauty salon to "get her hair done" — and once she was there, she'd also get a manicure, pedicure, facial, and additional pampering. The girls' role was to claim to have saved the money up from various odd jobs and the like, and the beauty salon visit was their gift to her.
While they were out, I went upstairs and added a nice dress that Teresa had admired to her closet; it cost more than she thought she could afford, but I saw how often she looked at it while we had been in the store. When I went back the next day, the salespeople in the store remembered her, and were (thankfully) able to help me get it in the right size.
After all of them got back from the salon, I complimented Teresa on how nice she looked; then told her that if she thought she had something she was willing to go out in, I'd take her out to dinner — just the two of us. Asking her to wait for just a couple of minutes, I made a quick dash downstairs to change into my best suit; I'd showered and shaved while the four of them were still out. When I got back upstairs, Teresa told me "I don't know if I've got anything that would be nice enough, if you're going out like THAT."
After she went back to her bedroom, all three girls looked at me with glee on their faces in anticipation of their mother's surprise when she discovered not only the dress I'd gotten her, but the new jewelry that they'd bought with the money they pooled together with their actual savings.
Several minutes went by with no sounds coming from the direction of their mother's bedroom, and all three girls were starting to look disappointed when Teresa silently walked into the living room, surprising them. When they saw the happiness and delight on her face, they all swarmed around her and wished her a happy birthday between complimenting her on how nice she looked in the dress. Teresa thanked all of them for the jewelry (which she was wearing), and asking them how they'd been able to afford it and the salon visit. That was when they broke the news to her that the salon visit had been from me. Looking at me, Teresa asked "Do I need to guess where the dress came from?", too happy to be wearing it to be upset with me for buying it.