After resting for a bit, I went to the living room and found Frank answering a call with the television humming in the background. I walked up quietly and stood behind the couch.
"I will call you later. Let me attend to something important," he said, cutting the call short. He looked up at me, his expression softening. "Yes? Do you need something?"
"I'm hungry," I said. "Show me your kitchen so I can prepare something for us."
"I actually have food already." He stood up, motioning for me to follow.
We entered a pristine white room, and my eyes widened. It was huge—easily twice the size of my dad's kitchen—and spotless.
He pointed to a pot on the stove. "I made some noodles earlier. You can have some now, and if you want, you can make something else later."
"It looks delicious," I said, catching the way his eyes tracked the movement of my lips.
After showing me where everything was, he retreated to the living room, though I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back until he turned the corner.
I ate quickly and joined him on the sofa. We watched a movie together, but the real show was the tension crackling between us. Every few minutes, I’d catch him stealing glances at me, looks that made my skin tingle with anticipation.
By evening, I made a simple potato salad, and we ate together in comfortable silence. But that night, sleep eluded me. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, plotting my next move.
The next day, I woke up ready to put my plan into action. I slipped into a tiny crop top and a short skirt—an outfit I’d worn years ago that still fit, barely. I knew he wouldn't question it; to him, it was just something I wore "when I was small."
It gave me the perfect cover of innocence. I spent the day moving around the house with purpose. Whenever I was near him, I’d find a reason to bend over, letting the hem of the skirt ride up just enough to flash the lace of my sexy panties.
I caught him freezing a couple of times, his breath hitching as he struggled to maintain his composure. The more he resisted, the more I enjoyed the tease.
That night after dinner, we sat in the living room watching football. I didn't care for the sport, but it gave me an excuse to be close to him.
Every time I shifted, I felt his eyes on me. I was wearing a sheer, silk nightgown that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The fabric would slide higher with every movement until it barely covered my ass cheeks. He would look, then quickly look away the moment I turned my head.
Suddenly, an idea struck me. I picked up my phone and set it to record video, positioning it casually on the table so the camera was pointed directly at his seat.
Then, I pretended to be sleepy, letting my eyes flutter shut. After a couple of minutes, I let my legs fall open carelessly, giving him a clear view of my pink lace panties.
I was tempted to peek to see if he was staring, but I kept my eyes closed, committing to the act. Soon, I heard him stand up. My heart began to race. What is he going to do?
I heard his footsteps approach me. Would he touch me? Would he wake me up?
Suddenly, he stopped. He mumbled something low and unintelligible, then walked away.
Where is he going?
As his footsteps faded down the hall, I opened my eyes. He was heading to his bedroom.
I snatched up my phone, saved the video, and pressed play. A wicked smile spread across my face as I watched the footage.
He had stared at my open legs with raw, undisguised hunger. When he stood up, I saw a massive tent pitching in his pajamas. It was straining against the fabric, looking like it was trying to punch a hole through the cotton.
On the screen, I watched him step closer, sink his hand into his pants, and stroke his hardened cock while staring at my exposed thighs. Finally, he mumbled something and hurried off.
I paused the video, knowing exactly why he had fled to his room.
I stood up, adjusted my gown so my cleavage was on full display, and headed down the hall.
When I reached his door, I heard him talking. I pressed my ear against the wood, listening closely.
"Yes! Bella! You are so fucking hot!" he groaned. "Your ass... your breasts... your nipples! Fuck! I love you so much! I wish I could fuck you right now! Ohhh! I will make you scream my name and cum deep inside you!"
My breath hitched. I moved to the keyhole and peered through.
My eyes widened. There it was—his long, thick, veiny cock. It had a slight curve that made my mouth water. He was stroking it furiously while gazing at something on his phone screen.
"Yes! Bella! Fuck! You are driving me crazy!" he growled. "I'm going to spank your fucking ass, fuck your mouth, and cum down your fucking throat. Fuck! You are going to love the taste."
I couldn't wait another second.
I pushed the door open.
Frank jerked up immediately, scrambling to pull his pajama bottoms up.
"Bella! What are you doing?" he shouted, panic written all over his face.
"You called me. I'm here," I answered with a sweet smile.
"I didn't call you! You need to leave. Right now. You shouldn't be here," he stammered. But his body betrayed him; the massive bulge in his pants was throbbing visibly.
"But you did call me," I countered, my eyes darting from his panicked face to the hard-on he was failing to hide. "And why are you trying to hide what you clearly want to give me?"
"What? I... I don't understand."
"You can't pretend anymore, Uncle Frank," I said, walking slowly toward him. "I heard everything. You said I'm hot. You said you want to fuck me. You said you will make me scream your name."
I stopped right in front of him, looking up into his eyes.
"I'm here now."