A New Life with my Niece Pt. 01

If you have read my incest/taboo stories on here, you will know that I am extremely attracted to my niece, who is a mere decade younger than myself. The feeling is mutual by the way, but she could never bring herself to actually go all the way with me, as I am in her own words, her biological or "blood uncle."

It didn't stop us from pushing the boundaries anyway; like taking sensual showers together, or a full body massage that resulted in audible sounds of pleasure from her as I delicately massaged her vaginal muscles and stimulated her clitoris, but I was never allowed to ejaculate in her presence. That was the line that she would not cross. So no jerking off in front of her; let alone sexual intercourse. Talk about a bummer, Dude!

I love her dearly, and nothing would be more special than to feel my cock inside of my niece's cunt and to cum inside of her, but it was becoming abundantly obvious that it was never going to happen. We were so close too! I just couldn't understand it! I had written her a beautiful poem in the shape of a heart for Christmas (this part is real, BTW. If you want me to post it in poetry, please let me know), and she loved it, but she would still not commit to being my real girlfriend. To say it was frustrating, was an understatement. It is aggravating as all get-out, to be in love with someone, have them love you too, but not able to openly love one another as love is meant to be experienced.

Reba did a lot of volunteer work in her spare time, and after a few years of interacting with her community, some anonymous money-backers suggested she run for office. Not just any office either mind you, but to run for mayor in the small city where she lived.

After years of law non-enforcement, a blind eye to homelessness, rising taxes and a mass exodus from the area, her efforts had been noticed from the sidelines. This was when she was approached to run for office, and to not worry about campaign financing, as it was all taken care of. All she had to was be the figurehead and follow through on her campaign platform. Sounds familiar, right?!

Even though she had never run for public office before, she was an amazing orator! I'm a retired actor, and she sure gets it from me! She was as smooth on camera as a melting hot fudge sundae, and as beautiful as Helen of Troy was rumored to have been. Imagine Italy's Giorgia Meloni holding a political rally in Smalltown, USA, and you get the picture. Oddly enough, she resembles her as well. Nothing to do with the story, but anyway...

The problem was, that there was also an equal amount of money coming in from the other side; all of it dirty. The attacks against her were relentless, yet she never backed down. That's my Babygirl! It was reminiscent of what I had gone through myself, some twenty years earlier, when I ran for the first time. Despite all of the negativity that was being thrown her way, however, she continued to surge in the polls. She was still fairly young, she was smart, and she was beautiful. It was a combination that the public was looking for. Everything was looking all roses and chocolate for her campaign, but then, someone crossed the line.

Reba was leaving the supermarket one evening, when a faded, older model pickup suddenly streaked across the parking lot in her direction. She dove between a parked car and the cart return, and the truck sped on by, exiting the complex and careening away into the darkness, and thick evening traffic.

Reba was shaken, but not stirred (she's a James Bond fan). Well, not intil thirteen days later, when someone took a shot at her, as she was exiting her car and headed for the house. It wasn't a message either; she sneezed at the same moment the sniper squeezed the trigger, and bullet lodged itself into a post less than three inches away from her pretty little head. It was an assassination attempt, plain and simple. That was when she decided to contact the FBI.

You see, both she and I had worked with that agency for several years as confidential human sources (CHS; they abbreviate everything), sometimes mistakenly referred to as "informants." A source is an individual who has knowledge and/or talents, that allow him or her to infiltrate various groups or even strike up friendships with a person of interest, but not a four year degree to become an actual agent. An informant is a narc, and there is a huge difference. We love our country, and we gladly used our expertise to route out domestic terrorists and drug dealers.

We were recruited by different case agents in two different departments, who - despite all of their skills - somehow overlooked the fact that we were related, and even post-911, STILL didn't share their memos. It finally came to a head when her guys asked her about me! They didn't know that we were related or sharing our involvement with the Game! That's your tax dollars at waste, Folks.

Both she and I relayed our respective code names to our case agents, and we were subsequently paired up from that point out, when one of us got a lead that required a couple to interact well. Our ages were both close enough and yet just different enough at the same time, to be uncle and niece, dad and daughter, boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, or even a random hookup looking for drugs. We played the part well, but neither one of us could ever tell the other what we really felt. That is, until my brother killed himself. He would have gone berserk, had we had a relationship while he was still alive, so no, we could never say what we really felt, until after he had died.

As I've told you before in other stories regarding her, it just slipped out one night. She didn't freak out, and after an extensive phone call, we decided to acknowledge our feelings and take it up a notch, with dinner and movie dates, and the aforementioned showers et al. I loved her and I wanted it all, but she just couldn't cross that mental hurdle of incest. Then, I got a call that changed both of our lives forever.

"Hey Babe." I answered casually, recognizing the number.

"Jack!" she whispered fiercely, "This is a burner phone and I only have thirty seconds before they are able to track it, so listen!

"They want to put me on the witness relocation program because of the assassination attempts on me. I have to decide in fifteen minutes, Jack!" she burst out. "What the fuck am I going to do?!"

"You tell them that it's a package deal." I replied. "I go with you. No ifs, ands, or buts. I will NOT live without you, Reba. I love you."

"I love you too." she replied. "That's why I called you."

"We were both sources," I responded, "so you tell them that if you go, I go.

"Look, we've pussyfooted around this before, Reba. I love you and you love me. The only thing that has been keeping us apart is our fucking genetics. Let's just sell off of our stuff. Everything. Your house and mine, and all of our things, except for what we really need. We really won't be us anymore. We can start over. Just you and me. In Anywhere, USA."

I paused for a second, before continuing.

"I love you, Reba," I said softly.

"I love you too." she replied.

"You know what I mean." I said emotionally.

"Yes." she agreed in a soft voice.

"Do you feel the same way?!" I inquired in a fierce whisper.

She paused this time, before replying.

"Yes!"

That was it! The cat was out of the bag, but what about her call?

"Then don't leave me behind! I want to go with you." I said quietly. "Will you ask them? I know there are options for families."

"Yes, Love." she replied. "I don't want to go without you, either. I'm glad I called you first."

"I love you!" I stated emphatically, for the third time. "I love you more than life itself. I would take a bullet for you, Reba."

"I love you too." she answered. "All I can do is call my case agent. I'll let you know, okay?"

"Just let me know!" I implored. "I can't live without you in my life."

We ended the call, and within five minutes, my phone rang from a restricted number. I knew full well who it was.

"What the fuck are you two doing talking about this shit?!" he demanded. "You know better than that! What the hell is wrong with you, Jack?!"

"I love her." I answered truthfully. "And she loves me. What do you care, anyway? We're both just pawns in your game of political chess. Why don't you just leave us alone?"

"Because we were just going to kill her off!" he exploded. "Now, you're like adding her husband to all of this. You weren't supposed to know about this, Jack."

"I trusted her when I started," I said carefully, "and she trusted me. You guys sent her in knowing nothing. She reached out to me for help, and now it's all or nothing."

"Let me see what I can do." he responded, and ended the call.

Exactly seventeen minutes later, he called me back.

"Meet me at the old spot at three o'clock." he stated. "I'll let Reba know where to go. We'll meet up there and go for a little ride."

"Will I be returning from said little ride?" I inquired. "I saw Donnie Brasco. I want to know if I should leave my watch at home."

"Fuck you." he replied nonchalantly, and hung up.

That afternoon, I parked in the outskirts of a large parking lot behind a restaurant that was only open for lunch and dinner, backing in so passing cars or security cameras could not randomly see my tag. A few minutes later, Reba arrived and did the same thing. We exited our vehicles and embraced tightly. About that time, a black SUV with tinted windows pulled up, and the passenger's window rolled down slightly, revealing a face I did not recognize.

"Get in the back." was all he said.

We climbed into the back seat, and were greeted a little less than enthusiastically by our relative case agents, although we all shook hands professionally. My agent, Tim, was the senior agent, and was behind the wheel. Hers, introduced to me as Dave, was riding shotgun as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed aimlessly up the road to cruise around and discus the matters at hand.

"The Director is a little upset." Dave explained. "He's concerned about your being able to stay low if we spend a lot of taxpayer dollars to set you up with new names and identities."

"You know how well we work together." I replied. "We weren't acting. You guys HAD to have figured that out by now."

"We had our suspicions," Tim admitted, "but I can neither conform nor deny that."

"Of course you can't." I responded. "You can let the Director know we will handle this the way you expect us to though, but there are never any secrets between me and her. Ever again. If anything comes up, we are to both be in the loop. Agreed?"

"He left it up to me to make that judgment. I've known you for a long time, Jack, and I consider you my friend, even though I'm not supposed to." Tim responded. "You've both been a tremendous asset to this agency and I hate to lose you, but I surely do understand. After you've been part of the game for a while and you both got that interview from the psychologist to see how you think, you were considered valuable enough to warrant alternate identities, should you ever have to testify against some big players and needed to disappear.

"I mean, they weren't made specifically for you, but it allowed you to qualify for the program. All we need to do is change some computer entries, and all of your old information becomes attached to your new identity; fingerprints, facial recognition and even your voice. It will all be recognized under your new names and address. By the time you go under, you will have new driver's licenses, social security cards and numbers, established credit, and new jobs and a house.

"It costs a lot of money to do this, so it's usually only reserved for really big cases, but you have been reliable sources, and we feel that it would be appropriate to put you into retirement while you still have enough time ahead of yourselves to enjoy it. What is your back story?"

"Do you have a husband and wife ready to go?" I inquired.

"Yes." Dave replied. "Is that what you really want?"

Reba and I looked at one another for a moment. She nodded in confirmation.

"Yes." I said emphatically. "The only thing that has really kept us from being a real couple, is our family relation. If we both die, then there really isn't anything tying us together anymore, is there? Uncle Jack and sweet little Reba cease to exist. Whoever you turn us into gets a clean slate without any sideways looks or suspicions."

Dave opened a folder and thumbed through it.

"Thomas Paine Coulter, and Taylor Brooke Coulter." he said, as he perused the file. "Jack, you go by Tom or Tommy. Reba, you go by the nicknames of Tay or Taybrooke. You been married for fourteen years. Congratulations, by the way. I only made two and a half. You currently reside in Tucson, Arizona."

"Can we move?" I inquired.

"You can do whatever you want." Dave replied. "It's your life now."

"No, I mean as of right now." I explained. "Sell the house and use the proceeds to buy a place in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt. She's got a house and so do I. I also have a lot of land. Sell it all as well as all of our things, except for what we really need to start over. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Tim answered. "We have a team that specializes in this sort of a thing. They'll go through whatever you leave behind. And sell everything off. We will take care of your insurance policies and anything else that needs to be willed, to a third party that will appear to have been in the picture for all of this time.

"Your items will be boxed up and sent to you via a legitimate moving company. Once all of the checks are cut, we will deposit everything into existing accounts. At that point, you may transfer all of those funds into whatever small town bank you decide; all of it clean and green."

"How long do we have?" I inquired.

"One week." Tim replied. "Then, you'll just vanish like magic."

"No." I disagreed. "Magic isn't real. Her threats are. You kill us BOTH off."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Dave inquired. "A BS car crash or something? That kind of a stunt takes a lot of planning, Jack."

An idea hit me.

"Tim, you remember when you asked me about the Boston Bomber, and I told you it was a black powder explosion, because of the orange flame and white smoke?"

"Yeah."

"You asked me about ANFO, and I told you I would use smokeless powder and why. We die in a car bomb. I can make the device myself, and it won't look like a pro did it. It will look like someone did some research on the Internet.

"Everyone who's been trying to take her out will think someone else did it. They won't question this, and since this isn't a huge Mob case, nobody is going to care. As long as she is out of the way, it's all copacetic, right? I mean, I'm fairly certain that you guys will work with the ATF on this, and wrap it all up nice and neatly; complete with a nice little bow on top."

"Don't worry about that." came the curt reply. "But if you want to blow your own car up, that would work. You have a new one coming anyway.

"There will be questions as to why you two were both in the same car when it exploded, so I'd suggest spending some public time together to establish cause. We'll have someone all around your house, Reba, to make certain no one takes another potshot at you. Jack, you should be safe at your place, as no one knows who you are."

"Since this my own death, do I have free rein to fake it?" I inquired. "I mean, I was an actor and a writer, Tim. Surely I can make this look spectacular. It'll really grab the public's eye."

He paused for a moment, because he knew that my approach would be unique and different from a typical false flag operation. It would once again, give credence to this as a hit by an amateur, and take a lot of scrutiny from their end. Nonetheless, he had no idea what I was cooking up in my mind, and that concerned him a bit.

"What did you have in mind?" he queried.

He knew I used to write episodes for the cop show I was on, so some sort of TV cliffhanger to this case was beginning to intrigue him.

"I can make a device that will be triggered by a burner phone." I explained. "My wallet and her purse will need to be in there, along with our own phones, but what about us?"

"We'll get a pair of unclaimed bodies from the morgue." Dave answered. "Male and female. We'll dress them up like you, and put them in the car before it blows up."

"Seriously?!" I sputtered.

"As serious as a heart attack." he answered. "On the night this all goes down, you two wear something snazzy, and a have public dinner or something. That will get you on CCTV wearing some easily identifiable clothes. It will give a nice, smooth appearance to the details we release."

I thought about this for a few moments, and nodded.

"Okay, we can both get rid of a portion of our wardrobe then." I agreed. "I'm sure we'll both have something that should really be destroyed anyway, but the car bomb; that'll all be on me, correct?"

"You got it." was the final word. "Just keep it within reason and common sense."

That is a good example of the difference between one man's reason, and another's common sense.

We were subsequently dropped back off in the parking lot, with clear instructions as to how to proceed. We watched the black SUV round the corner and disappear. I reached out, and Reba moved in to share an embrace with me.

"I love you so much!" I sighed, as I held her tightly. "You mean more to me, than anything else in this world. I love you more than life itself, Reba."

It was the umpteenth time I had told her this, but I still meant it with all of my heart and soul, each and every time.

"I love you too." she responded, with just as many umpteenths of emotion. "And I'm ready to take it to the next step, Jack."

"You mean-?" I gasped. "For real, Reba?"

"Yes." she replied. "If I am to be your wife, then I think it's time I started acting like one. I'm ready to go all the way with you, Jack. No bullshit this time. I mean it, and I want you NOW."

I held her tightly, and leaned in for a kiss. Our mouths met, and our tongues intertwined. It was pure, unadulterated sexuality at its simplest. It was like we were a couple of teenagers trying this out for the first time. Our hands wound around one another like a pair of undulating, mating octopi, and I knew I had to stop, before we ended up tearing each others' clothes off right there in the parking lot.

"We're closer to my house!" I finally managed to mumble. "Just follow me home, Babygirl!"

"Oh my god, Love!" she gasped, "I want it! I want you so bad, Jack!"

"I want to fuck you and cum in your cunt, Babygirl!" I exclaimed in a raspy voice. "We have to leave now!"

We somehow managed to make it back to my house, and approximately fifteen minutes later we pulled into my driveway.

"Oh, hurry up!" Reba exclaimed breathlessly - as I fumbled with the key - trying my best to get it into the lock; much the same way as I was about to slide my six and a half inches into her own velvety keyhole in the next few minutes.

I finally got the door open, and we somehow managed to tumble into bed. I had seen her nude before - in our showers - so I knew what to expect, but this time was going to be totally different! The first thing I went for was her top. I wanted it out of the way, because my real reward was her tiny, saggy tits.

I was never allowed to touch them before, but this time, we were in for a penny; in for a dollar. I groped them lovingly; squeezing them vigorously in my hands and sucking her pink, pudgy nipples, before Reba took control of the situation.

"For fuck's sake Jack," she implored, "just fuck me already!"