Hearing that seemed to give Karen considerable comfort — at least, at first. But after she had time to think about it for several seconds, I saw how troubled she was as she asked "Then what's wrong? It works when I do it to Donna, but not when I do it to me!"
"Like I said before, it might that because you're younger than she is, your body just hasn't reached the point where that can happen for you, is all. I'm an engineer, not a doctor, but I'd still bet that there are all kinds of reasons that it isn't happening for you that are perfectly natural and normal — and not one of them would mean that there was anything 'wrong' with you."
With Donna and I watching her, she considered that for a bit before looking at me again and wanting to know "Uncle Ted? Would… would you watch? To see if maybe I should be doing something different? I mean, since Donna's older, and she's started having orgasms and everything, maybe what I'm doing is just easier for her, so she doesn't know that I could do it better for me. And if I get, um, stuck, maybe you could kind of try to help me, even?", the tone of her voice letting me know that she wasn't nervous about what she was asking, but that nothing would work.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Donna looking at me as she nodded her head, letting me know that SHE thought I should do as her sister was asking. But it was the anxiety and disappointment that I could see on Karen's face that really settled the matter for me — I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving Karen to worry and wonder unnecessarily. I managed to keep my voice even as I told her "I'm not sure I'm qualified to know how a girl could touch herself better, but yes, I'll do it. And if I think there's anything I can do that will help, I'll do that, too."
There was no mistaking the hope on her face when she told me "Thank you, Uncle Ted. I knew you'd help if I asked…"
After that, all there was for me to do was to get myself positioned in front of her again. As I did, she pulled her knees up again (though not as far) and moved her feet and legs apart — not only to make it easier for her to masturbate, but for me to see what she was doing, and how. Next to her, Donna sat quietly, neither moving nor making any noise; her attention seemed to be entirely on her sister. I saw that both of Donna's breasts were coming to some rather pronounced points, telling me that SHE enjoyed watching what Karen was starting to do, too.
When I looked at Karen, I saw that she'd closed her eyes and had her left hand was cupping (and being slightly overflowed by) her breast. Both of her areolas and nipples were starting to perk up again, and when I lowered my eyes to where her other hand was, I saw that she had started by drawing her finger up between the soft folds of her womanhood. It took only a couple of minutes for the scent of her increasing arousal to waft into my nose; it had a certain amount of similarity to the aroma I'd noticed with Donna, but was still uniquely her own. Shortly after that, I began to see traces of her essence on her finger; and it wasn't long before the end of her digit was faintly glistening. She had also increased and expanded her efforts to include the pearl of flesh at the top of her mound, drawing it farther and farther out from under its protective hood.
I have to confess that I felt considerable admiration for her that she was obviously so at ease with her own desires and sexuality that she was not only willing, but able, to perform such an intimate act with her sister and me looking on. Once more, my mind went off on a tangent as I considered the likely results if I'd even had the nerve in the first place to ask someone to watch me masturbate when I was younger, to make sure I was getting it right…
Dragging my thoughts back to the matter at hand (so to speak), I continued to watch as Karen pleasured herself — squeezing and caressing her breasts, gently pinching and pulling on her nipples, and softly pressing against the entrance to her vagina while gathering the oils she needed to continue to circle her clitoris, and rhythmically press on it with the end of her finger. It was an incredibly arousing sight, and felt my erection get even longer and harder as I watched her, despite the seriousness of why I was even there.
So, because of my desire to comfort and help her as best I could, and the sheer eroticism of what she was doing, I was paying close attention to her just as she'd asked. I watched as her arousal slowly progressed to higher and higher levels, and how the way she touched herself changed as her excitement increased; and I could tell that as she got closer and closer to what should have been her release, that same arousal and excitement gradually stabilized — she was getting so close to having an orgasm, only to hit a certain point that she couldn't get past. As I continued to watch her, I saw as she reached that plateau on her climb to release; and could tell that she was slowly getting frustrated at being denied the pleasure she could obviously feel so close.
For a happy change, my engineering "mindset" worked to my advantage in my personal life; as I watched her teasing her clitoris again, I thought that it looked like she might not be doing it quite the same way as she had been. When she'd wetted her finger a couple more times as she continued to manipulate it, I was fairly sure that she had slowed her actions slightly, and wasn't pressing against her clitoris quite as much. Seeing how very close she was to her climax, it never occurred to me to say anything to her — I just licked the pad of my thumb to lubricate it, and the next time she moved her hand down to wet her finger again, I reached out and started circling my thumb on her exposed clitoris, a trifle more firmly and a bit faster than she had been. Her first reaction was to arch her pelvis forward to maintain the contact, and remove her hand from between her legs; less than a minute later, her thighs snapped together as she released a loud cry of pleasure. With my hand cupped along her mons, I could slightly feel it as her vaginal entrance spasmed in time with the contractions I figured were happening farther inside her.
It was an incredible sight, and a true privilege, to watch as her thirteen-year-old body practically convulsed in time with the cycles of intense pleasure she was experiencing. In my peripheral vision, I saw Donna look at me, surprised at the power of her sister's first orgasm — not knowing that she'd had an even stronger reaction.
Even Karen's youthful energy and vitality had its limits, and the strength of her climax eventually waned and died out — leaving her sitting there, gasping. When Karen started to tip over, Donna quickly got her sister to lean back and over, so that she could support the younger girl as she recovered. Karen's thighs fell apart, and I was able to rescue my hand from their clutches; without even thinking about it, I brought it to my face and used my tongue to clean the little bit of Karen's secretions that were on my fingers. It wasn't until I lowered my hand afterwards that I saw that Donna had witnessed what I'd done.
Sitting up again, I looked on in a mixture of pleasure (that she'd found the pleasure she was after) and amusement (at the look of awe on her face) as Karen began to get her senses and breath back. After a couple of minutes, I listened as she said "That… I never…wow!", making Donna and I both laugh briefly.
Donna responded by telling her sister "See? Now you know why I couldn't tell you what it's like!", with a hug.
Karen's voice was still a bit shaky when she said "Boy, do I!"
Another minute or so had gone by when Karen suddenly launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing herself against me as she told me "Oh, thank you, Uncle Ted!
I was so close, just like the other times, and I was so afraid that it wasn't going to happen again…
then I felt you touch me, and it felt so good… and then that happened… and it was wonderful!"
A moment later, I could feel the front of my shirt getting wet — but it was okay, because I knew that Karen was crying because she was happy. I put my arms around her, and after I gave her a soft hug, simply held her. Donna looked on, obviously glad that her sister knew the same kind of joy that she did.
To my relief, it took Karen only a few minutes to cry herself out; when she did, she started sniffling with the need to blow her runny nose. I gently eased her away from me, and took off my shirt before handing it to her with the command "Blow."
Embarrassed, but smiling that I was talking to her as if she were a child again, she did as instructed. Then after she'd wiped her eyes and face, she seemed unsure what to do with my shirt.
Taking it from her, I made a production out of folding it so that the assorted fluids she'd left on it were on the inside before setting it aside with exaggerated movements. She blushed before realizing that I was just teasing her; her smile lit up her face as she told me "Thank you, Uncle Ted."
I gently pulled her into my arms again, and caressed her back as I told her "You're welcome, dear."
She let me hold her like that for another minute or so before I felt her start to pull away again. I readily let her go, and after she turned to look at Donna and I saw the two of them share a Look, stood up and told them "Okay, now that we've got all the drama and excitement out of the way for today, I actually wanted to find out what you two wanted for lunch. So do you want to suggest anything, or is it going to be Chef's Surprise?"
I'd jokingly told them once that it wasn't a good idea to go into any dining establishment that had
"Chef's Surprise" on the menu… that whatever it was, it would be composed of the things the chef was surprised were still in the fridge — something that had greatly amused them.
It took them only a few seconds of discussion to decide that reheating the pork chops that had been left over a couple nights before would be fine. After telling them "Miss Piggy it is!", I made my way out of Karen's room, closing the door behind me.
Both of them seemed inordinately happy at lunch, though neither one said anything about what had happened earlier. I was shooed out of helping clean up after we'd finished eating.
Mid-afternoon, I was downstairs in my recliner and contemplating a nap when Karen came downstairs. Before I could say anything, she wanted to know if she could sit on my lap. I certainly didn't mind letting her, but had to wonder why she'd want to — but simply told her I'd like that. She was resting against my chest much like she had as a little girl when I heard her ask
"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.