This series is a detailed account of my relationship with the greatest love of my life so far, my niece. This is an honest, factual, first-hand recounting of events from my perspective, though names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.
I had done it. I had told Summer how I felt, and there was no going back. Emotions overwhelmed me as I waited to hear from her. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Paranoia. Panic and worry that I had upset her or ruined the connection that we had. Terror at the thought that I had hurt her somehow with my confession.
It was only a couple hours later than usual, but I finally heard from her. I can’t recall if I emailed her first or if it was the other way around, but when we did talk it seemed as if it was just another day, although conversation seemed to be a bit forced at first. I wondered if she had got my email from the night before, or if it was somehow lost or that I had dreamed that I sent it. The night before, I had told her that I would tell her in person when they came to visit, but I really wanted her to know before that in case she decided to hate me or change her mind about coming out to see me.
Finally we talked about it. I said I was sorry if it made her uncomfortable and I understood if she didn’t want to talk anymore. She said it was kind of weird, but she also kind of already knew (that it was her I meant when I said I liked someone I couldn’t tell). I told her that I just thought she should know how I felt, and we pretty much dropped the conversation after that point and slowly went back to our usual fun, somewhat flirty conversation. By this point I had pretty much stopped caring about what I was supposed to do for work, and responded to her almost right away whenever we sent messages back and forth. We talked about everything – How I was a bit anxious for the events I was planning to go to over the weekend, her schoolwork, my job, and so on. Today was no different, though now we both knew I liked her.
That evening after work I went to a munch for one of the local-ish BDSM groups. It was pretty fun. I met some interesting new people and really felt like I was starting to belong in the community. A couple hours into the munch, I started getting emails from Summer, who I was already thinking about the whole time despite being out and social. At first I said I would message her when I left, but then her and I slowly kept messaging back and forth over the next hour or two. When I finally left, I was able to focus my attention on her and I loved it. The new people I had just met no longer really mattered. They were a fun short-term distraction, but now I was talking to the person I really wanted to. We talked for a while through the night, and I’m sure the topics of relationships and BDSM and kink in general came up, but I can’t remember any of the specifics now that it’s years later.
I talked to her through the next day some, but her and her family were going somewhere, so I told her I would probably talk to her the Sunday or whenever I could. I had two events Saturday and I wasn’t sure I would be very responsive. I went to another munch in the afternoon, which was fun but not as good as the previous night’s, and I was distracted and preoccupied with checking my phone. I know I had been messaging someone but I can’t recall who it was. All I remember is wishing I could talk to Summer more and thoughts of her pretty much drowning out everyone at the munch. After I was home again, I briefly exchanged some messages with Summer, but when I left I told her I would talk to her Sunday sometime because I didn’t know what to expect from the play party, and her and her family were out and about again.
That evening, while at the party, she started emailing me again because she was “bored.” I had a feeling there was more to it than that. Her and I talked more than I did with most of the people at the play party. I honestly wasn’t interested in playing with anyone there because I need to get to know people before I become intimate with them. I was there to socialize, but I did help “protect” one lady there from some of the guys who kept attempting to hit on her, but I had no plans to actually play with anyone that evening.
After a while of not really doing much other than talking to Summer, I told her I was leaving so I could talk to her easier. My phone wasn’t getting very good service, and I was much more interested in the (then) 13 year old I had fallen in love with than I was all of the sex and debauchery that was happening around me. She said something along the lines of “Oh you don’t have to do that, I can talk to you later” and I flat out told her the truth: that I wasn’t really having fun there, and that I wanted to talk to her more.
After getting home, I probably talked to her back and forth through emails for a good 3 or 4 hours, partially about what happened at the play party, partially about our sexual and relationship interests, and partially about “normal” stuff. I couldn’t help it. I was hooked. I loved her. I loved talking to her, spending time with her, helping her with schoolwork, teaching her about life, being there for her when she needed someone to protect her or a shoulder to cry on… I was doomed. I knew it, and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if she was underage, my (step) niece, or anything else. I loved her.
At some point over the previous week, we had already planned another visit, although her parents would not allow her to come out by herself. They were paranoid about letting her visit any “single” guy by herself, regardless of who it was, yet they were fine with her being alone with me while I was still with Melanie. Also, they were being “hippo-critical” (a silly thing I came up with while they both visited last time) in that they would let Little Scott visit alone but not Summer. (Allie blamed it on Scott, but I got the distinct impression that was a lie. She was known to do that.) Regardless, we made the plans for them both to come visit.
After my confession and my weekend of kink, Summer was even more pumped to see her “second favorite” uncle… though now the line that many people would never consider crossing began to blur and I don’t think either of us had thought of each other in an uncle/niece way for quite some time. We talked quite a bit more about what we wanted in relationships, and got pretty deep into sexual talk (though I tried my best not to be TOO overly sexual when talking with her).
We talked a lot about our wants and needs, and about our feelings. A few days after I did, she confessed to me that she had felt similar feelings way back when she came to visit Melanie and I by herself. Particularly when her and I had our bonding day together, but at the time she thought that it was wrong because of what she had been taught and how people talked about “incest” even though we weren’t blood related. My heart LEPT for joy when I read those words! I was so unbelievably happy knowing that I WASN’T crazy! Well… at least not about that! I knew we had a special connection there, and she had confirmed my suspicions!
At some point (I can’t recall if it was before or after my confession) she also confided in me something that made me immensely furious – that she had been molested when she was younger by her biological grandmother’s boyfriend. I won’t go into detail about it, but she thought it may have played a part in making her a very sexual person. I told her that I was very sexual when I was younger, though I don’t believe I had ever been abused sexually, and that it’s okay to be that way, that everyone is different and develops at different times. I still have mixed feelings about her telling me. Part of me feels and felt awful and like I was a monster just like her abuser (even though she later said it was completely different because she knew what she was doing and what she wanted). Part of me feels like I should have reported it, but by the time I found out (and HOW I found out) it was too late, I was in far too deep, and she begged me not to say anything because she knew her father would kill the man who did it to her. (Hell, I wanted to too, but I was more concerned for her well-being than getting revenge.) Part of me was also happy that she trusted me enough with that information. She had only told one other person before, and it was someone she had known for years and trusted a lot.
Summer said she felt like I was different, that she could trust me and felt safe with me. She told me how she was afraid of how other guys often looked at her because her body had developed so early, but she didn’t feel like I looked at her like that. We also talked about what it would mean if we did get together – how we couldn’t tell anyone because it was illegal, and how her crazy parents would literally kill me because they had guns and Scott was ex-military. We would have to keep it secret until she was old enough that it wouldn’t matter – whether that was 16 or 18, we weren’t entirely sure. We knew we had something there, though what our feelings meant, and how and if it would work, we didn’t know.
Only a week after my confession, I got to see my love (and her brother) again. I would NEVER have guessed how it turned out though… (to be continued…)