“Uncle Charles!” she said, glancing over her shoulder at me.

“Sorry.”

I tried to create distance. It wasn’t easy. We were in a crowd watching her sister play college softball.

She ground her hip against my groin, on purpose this time, and glanced up at me.

“Are you getting aroused watching these teenage girls running around?”

Her voice was playful now, not angry as I had feared.

“No. I mean, Siobhan is pretty. And that redhead with the braids in centerfield is stunning. But no, Puds, that’s not it.”

My arm was around her waist, warding off the chill in the night air.

“So what’s got you worked up?” she asked, glancing around. “Did some hot cougar catch your eye?”

“Puddles, that’s not even funny. Cougars are looking for younger men.”

I squeezed her briefly.

“If you must know,” I leaned in and spoke as low as I could. “It’s been a while. And…I’ve always had a thing for pregnant women.”

She was still for a moment, then turned in my arm, her full breasts pushing into my chest and her swollen abdomen butting against me.

An eyebrow arched with glacial slowness.

“Me?”

“Yeah, Puds. You. Sorry.”

She glanced down at my jeans, leaning in and putting pressure on my now fully erect cock.

“Yeah…sorry.”

She slid her hand up between us, pressing the palm against my rod.

“Jesus, Puddles, what are you doing?”

Puddles was a nickname I gave her when she was eight years old. Her father and I had been friends since childhood. We had a tee time scheduled, but by the time I got to his house, it was raining and Brigid was playing in the puddles. The name stuck.

“I’m just thinking,” she said, glancing up at me, still stroking. “Danny is a great guy, a good husband.”

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth, trying not to look at her.

She pressed harder, forcing me to meet her gaze.

“He’s a great husband, but he’s not turned on by my condition. He refuses to touch me.”

“God, then he’s an idiot.”

The stimulation caused me to speak true rather than smart.

The hand that wasn’t already around her waist reached around her abdomen, pulling her to me. She dropped her head onto my chest, continuing to massage me with her hand and rolling her breast against my chest sideways.

“You’ve never seemed attracted to me before,” she said. “You were never the creepy uncle.”

“I’m your dad’s age, for crying out loud. Practically family.”

“How come you and Aunt Carol never had kids?” she murmured, glancing up.

Despite her hand’s motion and her closeness, I began to lose rigidity.

“She had some pretty serious health problems when she was a kid. It just never happened for us. It’s also why she passed so young.”

My voice held steady. I could talk about her now without crying. Tears would come later, though.

“Sorry, Uncle Charles.”

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She smelled good. And her warm breast was still nestling against my chest, my arms around her waist, such as it was. 

I moaned as her devilish hand found its rhythm again.

She gazed into my eyes.

“I can’t cheat on Danny.”

“No! God no. I didn’t mean…” I stammered, trying to disengage from her.

“No! Uncle Charles, no. I mean, I can’t. It’s not possible. We don’t have an open marriage, but things happen, you know?”

I didn’t know. Her closeness and the motion of her hand weren’t helping me to think, either.

“You’re really turned on by…this?” she asked as she bumped her belly into me.

I closed my eyes and composed my thoughts.

“The whole thing, Puddles. The belly, yeah, but the breasts, the face, the… the aura of vitality and femininity.”

I opened my eyes to see tears in hers. Some kind of connection happened then. I’d known her since before she was born, but that moment was like seeing her for the first time. I noticed the blue-gray of her eyes, the laugh lines forming at the corners, the splash of freckles across her nose. I glanced down, noticing her chest and the tops of her breasts were freckled as well. God, how I wanted to taste those freckles. I glanced up at her lips, thinking of doing it here.

She grasped my cock hard enough to get my attention.

“Hold me closer. Don’t kiss me. Just look at me.”

I did. From her hair to the tips of her breasts, hard now with excitement, farther down to her belly, round and pushing against me. She continued massaging my cock and pulled me closer, whispering to me.

“Have you ever held a pregnant woman like this, Uncle Charles? Do you like it? What would you like to do to me, Uncle Charles? What would you like to do with your Puddles? Your little Brigid? Would you make love to me, Uncle Charles? Would you like me to take this lovely cock in my mouth? Could I do that for you, Uncle Charles?”

It was too much. I was going to come here, in my pants, in front of the entire crowd.

“Maybe the redhead with the braids could join us. I was watching her, too. She made me hot.”

The scene in my mind shifted. I saw Puddles on her back, belly rising, my cock in her mouth, the redhead between her legs, braids stretched out behind. And I came, moaning and shuddering. I pulled the woman to me, pressing into her hand and her belly, burying my face in her hair.

“That’s it! Come for me, Uncle Charles. Come for Brigid. Oh, that’s it. That’s my boy.”

Minutes ticked by. Eventually, I shuddered and pulled back from her.

“That…” I began, but stopped. I didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah.” She smiled up at me.

I tried to see my crotch, but she was in the way.

“We’re both a mess. You a little more obviously than me,” she said.

She grabbed our blanket from the bleachers, and I held it in front of me as we walked to my car.

“Are you okay?” I asked as we arrived and began stowing things.

“Not as good as I’ll be soon,” she said, glancing at me with a grin.

“Ah. When Danny gets home?”

“We’re not going to my house,” she said. “We’re going to yours.”