Amor esclavo de la pasión del jefe de la mafia

My name is Amias. I am a pretty average guy. I have an average job with an average salary. An average home, and an average social life. I'm pretty tall, but not much more than average. A full adult life of being a contractor has left me with a muscled upper body and arms, but I admit I have a beer gut and a small spare tire to match. Not good-looking but not a troll either. Really just your average middle-aged guy. Up until 4 years ago, I would have said I had an average sex life. A few serious relationships but never married. A few one-night hook-ups but definitely not a male whore. I don't have any strange fetishes, or out of the norm attractions. My past has been all 1 man, 1 woman encounters. My sexual experiences have all been well... Average. Then things changed.

I was adopted, but for the most part, I grew up in what anyone would call a perfectly normal family. I’m the middle child, with an older sister named Olivia and a younger sister named Sofia. Olivia has two boys of her own, and I couldn’t be prouder as their uncle. Football, baseball, Boy Scouts….. Her family fits the picture-perfect suburban mold.

Then there’s Sofia. By the time she was fifteen, she started going down a different path. She dyed her hair, wore wild clothes, snuck out at night, and spent her weekends drinking with friends. I was already eighteen and living on my own, so I wasn’t much of a presence in her life then. That all changed when she turned sixteen and showed up pregnant, by then I had turned nineteen. She swore her father was the only guy she had ever been with, and I believed her. But he denied everything. He said a girl like her couldn’t be trusted, called her names, and then, worst of all, beat her badly before disappearing out of town. (To this day, I’d give anything to know where he ended up.)

My parents were overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle her situation, so Sofia came to live with me. I gave her a choice: if she was going to keep this baby, she needed to straighten up and get serious about her future. To her credit, she did. She finished school, took cooking classes at night, and at seventeen gave birth to my beautiful niece, Dahlia.

For another year they lived with me and I admit the house seemed pretty empty when they left. We would have dinner at least once a week, and the occasional weekend outings. For all manner of things, I was the father figure in my niece's life. My sister had started working at a local restaurant, and "Uncle Amias" became a convenient babysitter. I would complain all the time, but I really enjoyed doing it. As my niece became older, we developed many of the same interests and past times. We both love reading, watching movies, horseback riding (I have a small ranch), target shooting, and many other activities. We could sit around and just talk for hours. So, to me, babysitting was more like hanging out with a friend. So when my niece was around 10 and my sister said she needed a big favor, I was willing to step up.

My sister was offered a promotion at work to become the assistant chef. It was better pay but would require long weekend hours. So, I started picking up Dahlia on Friday afternoons, and usually kept her till Sunday evenings. She had her own room and bathroom, and kept some clothes and essentials there. Some nights she would stay with friends, or I would get a sitter and go out, but for most weekends it was just us. We would hang out all day and at night usually watch a movie before bed and then would talk about our favorite parts or the parts we didn't like, then I would send her off to bed. I would wait for her to yell at me, then we had our bedtime tradition. I would come up and tuck the covers around her and kiss her 3 times. Right cheek, left cheek, forehead, and with each kiss she would say I, Love, You. Then the lights go off. She made me promise to always keep up the tradition, even if she got too old for it.

Time passed but little changed with us. Dahlia started High School, was an honor student who was taking Advanced Placement classes, joined the track team running medium distance races, and still found time to make a little money babysitting from time to time. She obeyed the rules, didn't curse, drink, or smoke. She would do her chores without too much complaining. She really was a good girl. Her mother said she could stay home alone if she wanted, but both of us loved our weekends together.

One afternoon when Dahlia was 18, and I was 37, we enjoyed a full Saturday of shopping, running errands and eating at our favorite lunch spot. She asked if we could watch a movie, and we decided on a silly animated new release that looked like it could be funny. We grabbed a pizza and headed home. After dinner, I made a cocktail and settled in for the show. Dahlia came down after a while in her usual oversized T-shirt and rainbow slippers carrying her pillow. I have always thought my niece was a cute girl, but tonight I realized that she wasn't really cute anymore, she was turning into a beautiful young lady! She had straight blond hair almost down to her waist that she almost always pulled into a ponytail. She looked nothing like my sister except they had the same bright green eyes and full pouty lips. A small upturned nose with just a light spattering of freckles. Very light skin with surprisingly few blemishes for a girl her age. She was only about 5'2 and with all the running she did she had no extra fat on her. Other than that, I really couldn't have told you. Dahlia always wore baggy and oversized clothes, and actually shopped in the boys' section most of the time. I knew she started wearing bras three or four years ago but couldn't guess what size she was. I realized that I should probably start looking out for young adult boys creeping around.

"Ready for the movie?" she asked as she walked into the room.

"Sure" I replied. "You play the movie, and I'm going to have another drink."

When I came back from the kitchen, she had curled up into her usual spot and we started the show. After a bit, I got up and had another drink, although I didn't often drink much during our movie time. When I got up for yet another a bit later, she said, "Yeah, this movie isn't very good, but we paid for it so we should at least finish it."

"Of course we will" I said, so she pushed to play. Like she sometimes does, she moved over, put her pillow in my lap and snuggled down. As I was setting my drink down, I happened to glance over at her. Her legs were curled up on the couch and her shirt was pulled up a little past mid-thigh. "Wow" I thought, now just a little buzzed, all that track practice has done wonders for her legs. Although Dahlia's legs were short, they were perfectly proportioned for her size. Her skin was pale. The calves were slim but muscular and her thighs were much more shapely than I would think an 18-year-old would be. Her legs looked firm and strong with great muscle tone. I found myself glancing back more and more. "I'm her uncle!" I kept thinking. "I shouldn't be checking out her legs". But then I would find myself looking back one more time. Damn! Am I too drunk or am I just some sort of pervert?