The Little Red Bike
Author's Note: I got some feedback from another author named Pleasureboy, and, in the spirit of creativity he issued me a friendly challenge. It was:
Put together a story with the following random story codes: mf 1st teen reluc oral voy inc cous aunt. And just to make it interesting, include a red bicycle somewhere, related to the sex, an encounter in a closet that does not relate to the voyeurism, and have one very tense scene where there's a extreme risk of getting caught having sex.
Here's the clincher: include an ultimate goal in the story that does not relate to the sex at all, and give the two main characters opposing motivations about this goal. Have fun! :> I'm sure you'll do a great job with this. Send me a challenge, with 10 random codes and a few specific details typical of my style. I'll see what I can come up with too.
So here is the story that resulted. I'm sure Pleasureboy will weigh in on how he thinks I did. I thought it might be nice to let you all weigh in too.
Hi. My name's Bobby, and I'm s'posed to tell you all about what happened to us. I mean how we ended up like we are in my family. I remember a lot of it pretty good, but sometimes I can't quite put it into words, you know? So I'm just going to tell you what I know about and Mr. B.O.B. here is going to fill in the rest, cause he's talked to everybody else and all, and I guess everybody else is too embarrassed about things to say it themselves. So he's going to write down their part, cause he's a writer and all. But he says I'm what they call a "pivotal character", whatever the heck that is, so I have to tell my part myself.
Anyway, I'll start with the dreams. Because I think that's what set it all off in a way.
Have you ever had one of those weird recurring dreams? You know ... the one you have over and over again, and you aren't sure what it means ... or you know what it means but you can't stop having it? Well, mine went like this. I kept having this dream that the skin of my face was all thick, and it didn't move very easy, like it was stiff, and all I could see was the sky. I could tell it was the sky because there were clouds against a cobalt blue background. It was beautiful. Then something dark would descend and cover my stiff face, and then it was dark and humid and hot except that for some reason it was good too. And I'd wake up and my dick would be so hard I'd have to beat off to get back to sleep.
Pretty strange, huh?
And the way I figured out what it meant was strange too. But more on that later. First I need to tell you a little about us. I'm Bobby Wilson, like I said, and I'm an orphan. My parents were flying in a light plane piloted by my Uncle Ralph when it went down in bad weather.
I know, all you psychologists out there are already analyzing the dream to be all about how the sky represents them flying, and then the plane crashes, which is the dark thing coming down on top of my face, which represents the inflexible ground, or death, or the face of someone who's buried in the ground or something. And the darkness and humidity and heat are the grave, or something like that. But you can't figure out why I always had the erection, right? That's because you're all on the wrong track.
The dream didn't have anything to do with how I got to be an orphan. It has to do with what happened AFTER I was an orphan. See I went to live with my Aunt Paula, and her daughter Beth, who was my age, because they were orphans too, kind of. I mean the pilot was Aunt Paula's husband and Beth's father. And we all shared that loss, and depended on each other to get through it. Beth and I were really little when it happened, seven or eight I think, and we knew what happened, but we didn't really understand it. I know that for years and years I thought my parents would miraculously walk through the door of that old farm house one night, and everything would be fine.
Of course that didn't happen. Instead, Beth and I grew up together, brother and sister for all intents and purposes, though we knew we were technically cousins. And we spent almost all of our time together. There had been a big insurance payoff, which my Aunt knew all about, but didn't really talk about with us. She didn't want to work the farm, because it had been Uncle Ralph's ... well she called it his mistress ... so she rented it out for shares of the crop.
The heavy work around the house was done by Dub, who was this kind of old guy who wasn't quite right in the head. I don't know what was wrong with him, but he lived in the tool shed some of the time. He'd set up a bed in there, but he had these little nests on several places around, and he sort of drifted from one to the other. Everybody fed him while he was living on their property and he sharpened tools, and moved hay bales, and fixed broken things and the like. He was kind of a traveling handyman, which on most farms isn't really needed, but folks mostly felt sorry for him, so they found stuff for him to do. Course at our place we didn't have a man, so we really did have a lot of stuff that Dub took care of. Beth and me were kind of scared of him. He smiled a lot, and he talked funny, and when you're little that's scary. But he could do some work. Yes he could.
That meant Beth and I didn't have many chores, and could go pretty much wherever we wanted, for as long as we wanted to.
Now, about the time my crazy dreams started up we were 14, and we rode bicycles everywhere we went. Mine was a Schwinn with 26 inch wheels, and it was tough and would take a beating. Beth's was a dull red Roadmaster Supreme that had to be 30 years old, with a leather seat, and it was a boy's bike, meaning it had a bar on it that us boys called the "ball buster bar". The one on her Roadmaster had sheet metal formed around it that was hollow and it looked a little like a gas tank on a motorcycle or something. Back then I had no idea where that bike came from, or why her mother got her a boy's bike. Now that I'm older I know that Dub got her that bike from an old barn and fixed it up so it would work. But the point is but she had it and she rode it as good as any boy.
Which is why, when we were powering down the dirt road that led to the blacktop that led to town, and she was standing up on the pedals, when her left foot went down her right hip had to lift, so her ... crotch ... wouldn't hit the ball buster bar. And then her right foot would go down and her left hip would rise.
Now imagine her doing sixty revolutions per minute. Up down, up down, up down, up down, up down ... those 14 year old hips rising and falling, her crotch hovering over the bar, swaying back and forth. And then, when we'd hit a level spot, or maybe a downhill, she'd sit on that leather seat to rest while we coasted a little.
And I figured out my dream one day while I was behind her, which is where I usually rode, so I could protect her from traffic coming up from behind us. And out of the blue I understood the dream. Mr. B.O.B, who's writing all this down, says I had what's called an "epiphany."
See, I was in love with my cousin. And my face was that seat.
Knowing that didn't make any difference though. I mean we were buddies and all. And we spent all our time together, but that didn't mean she felt the same way about me that I felt about her. We often felt completely opposite about things.
Like for instance, when we were exploring up in the attic one day and we found this really cool old Grandfather clock. It was tall and ornate, but it had been up there where the humidity changed all the time, and it got cold in the winter and blazing hot in the summer. So all the glue joints had popped and the thing was falling apart.
We asked Aunt Paula about it and she said that her father had made it when he was a boy - his father was a carpenter - and she remembered it chiming loudly in the hall when she was growing up. But he died, and then it stopped chiming one day, and her mother didn't want it taking up space if it didn't work, so she had it put up in the attic.
Well, that clock became our dream project. We decided we were going to figure out what was wrong with it, and fix it up. But that's where things stopped being the same for us. Beth had this dream that it would be an heirloom that she could pass down to her own children some day, and it would be a hundred years old and still working and all that kind of stuff.
But for me, it was an antique that would be worth a LOT of money if it was restored, and that money would be enough to buy a car with, or an air conditioner for the house, or something else Aunt Paula said we couldn't afford.
We got in big arguments about it as we carefully took the clock apart, piece by piece, making notes and drawings of how it was put together. So I had no reason to think that Beth was hot for me, even though I had dreams of sticking my face in her ... well, you know where I wanted to stick my face.
I know things are different now, but back then, in the sixties, you just didn't say the word "pussy" unless you were a hundred percent sure no adults would hear you. I guess that's why I have a hard time using "dirty" language now, even though you can hear it in lots of movies these days.
The thing is ... I was wrong. Well not wrong, exactly. Clueless is probably the better word for what I was back then. I didn't recognize how she felt about me because I was too stupid to be able to interpret the signals.
Like one day when we were working on that clock. We had the case all apart, and had been refinishing it piece by piece, getting it ready to be glued back together. She was working with the stain and a rag, and both her hands were all brown and oily with the stain. She had on a dress that day, an old thin thing that it didn't matter if it got all dirty.
She said "Bobby, I've got an itch in the middle of my back. Can you scratch it for me?"
So I put my fingers in her back and started scratching and she's ooing and ahing and moving around like a hula dancer or something while she says "higher" or "more to the right". I realized she didn't have on a bra, because her back was all smooth.
"Ohh Bobby, your fingers feel so nice. Don't stop," she moaned.
So I didn't, and was rubbing up and down, all along her back, when she turned around to give me a hug and says thank you, and in the process she raised her arms and my hand touched her breast as she turned.
Man! It was so soft. "Sorry" I said, automatically, hoping she wouldn't see what was going on down in my pants.
"It's OK" she said, and kissed me on the cheek.
And suddenly my arms were around her, and hers were around me, and her brown stained hands were on my back, getting my shirt dirty and we were kissing. I could feel her unfettered breasts against my chest and they felt so warm and soft and big. I got another hardon.
We broke apart and it was suddenly strange, like we didn't know each other.
"Sorry." I said, reflexively.
She stepped back. "Why? Was it so bad to kiss me?"
"No ..." I was at a loss for words. "I just meant ..." Hmmm. What DID I mean?
But the mood was broken, and we went back to work on the clock. We didn't talk too much the rest of that day, but she kept giving me these looks, like she was studying some kind of bug or something.
That night I had to jerk off to get my dick to go soft. I closed my eyes, and felt her breasts through that thin dress, against my chest ... and her lips on mine ... and BAM! I was done.
And then there was THE day. I call it THE day because it was THE day that everything in our lives changed forever. And it's why you're reading this, so it even effected YOU, way back then. How about that?
Anyway we were riding bikes, and she was in front of me, like usual, except we were on the dirt road that led to the back 40, and it ran by the pond. We were racing, without admitting we were racing, which meant I'd catch up to her and almost get by her and she'd put on a burst of speed to stay ahead and then I'd make another run and it was just exhilarating.
She was wearing Jeans that day and the fashion then was tight jeans, and her butt bobbed in front of me like .. I don't know, but I watched it so much I missed the big rock in the middle of the road. My balloon tire hit it and I went flying. I was probably doing 20 miles an hour and I hit the ground HARD.
It knocked the breath out of me ... you know, like you can't breathe out and you can't breathe in, for a few seconds anyway, and I was blacking out, just lying there, looking up at the deep blue sky.
Suddenly Beth's face, and her hanging hair, appeared over my face like magic, cutting out the light. She was screaming right in my face. Then my chest muscles unlocked and I dragged in this HUGE shuddering breath, that felt SO good.
And she was crying ... her tears falling on my face, as her hands went all over my face and head and she demanded that I say something.
So I said "Ow".
And then she was kissing me like fifty times, on my cheeks and my nose and my mouth and laughing, but still crying.
I cried too, when I saw the front wheel of my Schwinn. It was bent bad, and I didn't think even Dub could fix it. And, it was a long way back home.
But I have to tell you, that wreck was the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life, because she offered to let me ride double on her Roadmaster to get back home so I could get the pickup and come back for my bike. And the way she wanted to do it was for me to sit on that old leather seat, while she stood on the pedals and pumped.
So I held her waist, and she bobbed in front of me, that smooth butt of hers rising and falling right in front of my dick, brushing it sometimes. And my hands sort of slid around on her waist too, and my fingers touched her breasts, or at least the sides and bottoms of them.
When we rolled up into the yard we sort of fell to the side, because neither of us could get off the bike like we normally would. So we ended up tangled up on the ground beside the bike. Her face was right in front of mine and my hand was right on her side, beside her left breast.
She said "I was SO scared you were dead or hurt bad."
And then she kissed me. And this time it was an honest to goodness kiss and we both knew it and before I could even think about what I was doing my hand slid around and covered her left breast.
And she kept kissing me. And she didn't make me move my hand.
Well, that went on for ... a while. Finally we had to breathe and she said "Let's go up to my room."
I'd been to her room lots of times and, being stupid, I figured I'd gotten all the sex I was going to get that day. I was hard as a freaking rock. I mean it was almost painful, but I sort of moved it over to one side and up high in my pants and followed her as she took my hand and pulled me into the house.
Paula Reed pulled down the clothes that had dried on the clothes line and carried the basket into the house. She loved the smell of sun-dried clothes and was in a good mood. She was thankful for that, because all too often she thought of how unfair life was, mostly to her daughter, who'd lost her father, and poor Bobby, who'd lost BOTH his parents. And both of those kids were so strong and were doing so well. Then she'd burst into tears because she wasn't doing all that well.
It was the guilt she hated the most. She'd loved Ralph, no doubt about that, and he'd been a good provider and a good man. But he'd been a lousy lover and she knew that, even though he'd been her only lover. That's because she'd found a couple of Playboys in Dub's nest area in the shed and she'd read some of the articles. She also looked at the pictures, at the fancy lingerie the models wore and how they posed. She'd read those articles BEFORE her husband died, and she knew from them that he was not an imaginative lover ... or even a good one.
Paula could have posed for those pictures in that magazine. She was what they call statuesque, tall and straight, with a thin waist and firm jutting breasts high on her chest. Her stomach was flat as a board, even after having Beth, and her narrow waist flared into hips that made men's groin's ache when they watched those hips sway as she walked downtown.
There had been a raft of men who tried to get her to go out with them after Ralph died, and she was horrified by it. Some of them were just trying to be nice, but she thought of them as ghouls, trying to use her grief to sate their lust.
That was what part of what her guilt was about.
Those men hadn't actually suggested they wanted sex, or that they wanted anything other than to get her out of her widow's black. But she assumed they wanted sex.
That's because Paula wanted sex, and she wanted it from every man who asked her out, and every man she saw on the street, and every man she thought about at night while she abused her clitty, trying to cum.
But she couldn't quite get there, and she always ended up frustrated.
She knew there was something wrong with her, and that she should go talk to somebody about it, but instead, she stayed on the farm, sending the children to town for things until she just HAD to go herself. Then she made herself look straight ahead, and got her business done and left.
They called her the Ice Queen behind her back in town. If she could have joined a convent, she probably would have, as long as no men were ever allowed to see her.
One way she controlled her lust was by submerging herself in mundane chores, like washing the clothing of the household. Which was why she was in her daughter's closet when her daughter tugged Bobby into the room that fateful afternoon.
She'd taken the basket of clothing into the big walk-in closet to hang up Beth's dresses. After that she planned to fold Beth's shirts and shorts and put them in the chest of drawers back out in the bedroom.
The closet door had something wrong with it, and it wouldn't stay open, always swinging shut. The closet was actually a dormer, a little room that stuck out from the roof of the house, with a window in the end. There were long bars to hang clothes on down both sides of the room, and odds and ends, old toys and such on the floor against the walls. So, when the door swung shut it was no problem, because the window provided all the light anyone needed.
Paula had just hung up a dress when she heard the kids come into the bedroom. She reached for the door to push it open, not wanting to frighten them by suddenly appearing after they began doing whatever it was they'd come in there to do. She assumed they were looking for something, or maybe they planned to read.
So, when she opened the door and saw them in a torrid embrace, arms wrapped around each other, lips firmly pressed together, she was astonished beyond words. She saw Beth's hands slide down Bobby's back to his buttocks and cup them, and her knees suddenly felt weak. She had to reach for the doorjamb to steady herself. And when Bobby's hand fumbled between them, obviously feeling her daughter's breast, Paula almost moaned. Her old enemy, Lust, flared in her belly and she looked at them not as a mother, but as a peeping Tom would, vicariously thrilled at what was going on.
Beth pulled me into her room and the next thing I knew we had a lip lock going. It was fantastic. Then she pushed me away from her, breaking our first kiss. My lips felt numb, and I was a little disappointed, thinking again that she was stopping things. Her eyes stared straight into mine, though, and she began unbuttoning her shirt. I just stared. I didn't know what else to do.
She was bare under it, and I saw her breasts for the first time. It was just like when I had hit that dirt. I couldn't breathe. Her breasts were perfectly round, like somebody had found a way to cut a balloon in half and make it keep it's shape. Then they had put the halves on her chest. The tips were brown and her nipples looked a lot like my own, except they were larger than mine. I got in a little air as she unfastened her jeans and slid them down her legs.
Now part of my brain knew what was happening here, but most of whatever was in my head just couldn't quite grasp that it was actually ... happening.
"Take your clothes off" she said softly, playing with the waistband of her white cotton panties.
I had a sort of short circuit that sometimes happens when a man's mind is shocked by a situation. I remember saying "I don't know," which didn't make any sense, under the circumstances.
Beth, who had that women's intuition that men can't understand, translated that correctly and she said "It's going to be OK Bobby. Take your clothes off for me ... please?"
Well, the upshot is that my hands just wouldn't move and I needed help, and she helped me, speaking softly and touching me gently, like a hostler does to a spooked horse when he's trying to calm him and get a halter on him.
And from what she described later, I responded like that horse, all wild eyed, and jittery and shaky as she got me naked in her bedroom.
She told me later my prick was everything she'd hoped it would be, though, at the time I thought she was horrified by it. She looked at it and her face got all scrunched up and she was breathing hard. I thought she was going to scream and tear out of there. Instead, when she saw it she skinned off her panties and herded me toward the bed.
"I want to do this Bobby," she said, in her perfectly reasonable voice. She didn't have to say what it was she wanted to do. I had a fairly good idea what she wanted, or at least what I wanted her to want. And there was a beast inside me that was perfectly willing to perform the task she wanted performed.
But I had this upbringing, though, and it said I couldn't do this, and I thought it was strong enough to keep that beast in check. I thought I could tell her that it wasn't right and I wasn't going to do it.
Until she lay on the bed and pulled me on top of her.
Paula was in agony as she watched through the crack in the door and saw her daughter manipulate the boy. It was clear to her who was in charge out there. She felt the guilt, thinking that it must be something in her blood that she had passed to her daughter. Girls just didn't act like that. Not good girls.
Then she saw Bobby's penis and her lust flamed up. Bobby had entered his growth spurt, and his cock was fully the size her late husband's had been. It was rampant too, as her daughter bared it, ready to fill a woman, prod her, make her feel good. And it was clear that her daughter intended to do just that. She wondered how often they had done this before.
The itch in her loins nagged, wanting something done about it. She lifted her dress and slid her hand into her own panties. Sweet relief made her pussy squirt and she hastily pulled her panties off so they wouldn't get soaked and broadcast the odor of her arousal later. Then, her fingers firmly planted in her pussy, she stared greedily as her nephew mounted her daughter.
My memory of what happened on her bed is spotty. I think I was too unprepared for it in a lot of ways. I had thought a lot about her pussy coming down on my face, and had dreamed the feel and smell and taste of that, but I hadn't figured on losing my virginity to her. So I s'pose the best thing is just to say what I do remember.
I remember my cock being so hard I thought it might shatter if something hit it, and I remember the feel of her hand on it. I remember her grip, not hard, but firm. I remember looking down and seeing her pull the tip of my cock and press it right into her pussy mouth.
I don't remember deciding to do it, but I remember lunging forward ... hard.
I remember this whimpering cry she made when I did that, and the shame I felt at hurting her. I remember her hands on my back, moving, stroking, and knowing then that she didn't mind the pain.
I'll never ever forget the feeling I had when I realized that she still wanted me inside her after I hurt her, and the feel of her hot, tight sheath wrapped around my prick.
Bobby would never be able to dredge up the little details she would cherish in her heart for years as the man she had chosen to be her mate filled her for the first time. She would remember the feel of his skin, the smell of his hair, the dirt from his crash that was still on his cheek. She would never forget being gloriously filled with penis, and waiting for that penis to spurt hotly, thrusting her hips up as his slammed down. She would always remember the violence when he took her and made her his woman. She hoped it would never stop. She had dreamed of what romance would be like when she chose to give up her maidenhead. She says it was perfect in every way ... except for ...
Well, you'll understand that soon enough.
Sophie entered the house looking for her sister. She had brought a warning and three bushels of tomatoes and was ready to spend the afternoon doing some canning and gossiping. "Paula?" she called out. "Hello? Anybody home?" It was quiet in the old house. "Yoo hoo" she called, and then listened. There was a noise. It was coming from upstairs. They must be up there. She went to the stairs and started up, clomping from step to step. "YOO HOO!' she called again. "WHERE IS EVERYBODY?"
I was about fifteen or twenty seconds away from making Beth's dream of being fertilized come true when Aunt Sophie's voice came floating up the stairs and through the door to Beth's bedroom.
Beth literally threw me off of her, and my prick made this strange sucking wet sound as it was jerked out of her.
"SHIT!" she said.
Now THAT'S something I'll remember for the rest of my life. I had never heard Beth use a curse word in my whole life.
"She can't find us here like this" whispered Beth urgently. "She'll tell momma for sure. We HAVE to hide you!" She looked around wildly and her eye fell on the closet door. "Quick ... Get in the closet. HURRY BOBBY!" she was frantic now as her aunt's cheery voice got closer and closer.
I darted for the door, scooping up my clothes on the way. I jerked it open and ran through.
I ran right into ... somebody, who clapped a hand over my mouth and pulled me deeper into the closet, letting the door swing shut.
Beth had just managed to get the bedspread pulled over her naked body when her aunt's head poked in through the door.
"Beth? Honey? Are you in here?"
"Hi Aunt Sophie. I was just taking a nap. I wasn't feeling too well." Beth tried to sound sick.
"Oh, that's too bad dear. Where's your mother? We're supposed to do some canning today."
"I don't know Aunt Sophie. Wasn't she downstairs?" Beth's lust had faded completely and she couldn't believe she had practically raped Bobby not even knowing where her mother was.
"I didn't see her. How are you feeling? Do you need me to make you some broth?" She started to come into the room.
Beth waved. "No, I'm fine now. Really, I think all I needed was a little rest. Why don't you go find mom and I'll come down and help." Beth didn't really want to help, but she did want her Aunt to leave so she could get dressed and get Bobby out of her closet.
When Aunt Sophie left Beth leapt out of bed and ran to her dresser. She grabbed a T shirt and pulled it on, then slipped into a clean pair of shorts, leaving her panties off. She headed for the door to the closet.
When I felt someone pulling me into the closet I panicked. You have to remember here that I had just been doing something I knew I wasn't supposed to be doing, so I was pretty fired up anyway. My cock was still stiff as a board and I was going to have a case of the blue balls. I took in a breath to shout, but that hand cut me off by covering my mouth.
"SHHHHH" came a loud whisper in my ear. About the same time I realized the hand covering my mouth and the whisper both seemed feminine some how, I was whirled around by a wild eyed Aunt Paula. With no warning of any kind, she kissed me, and I'm here to tell you it was the same kind of kiss I had been sharing with her daughter only moments before.
"I'm sorry baby" she gasped, "But I'm so hot I can't STAND it any more Bobby ... PLEASE ... I HAVE to do this." She pulled on me and I felt myself falling on top of her. Somehow her dress was up around her waist and she was NAKED under there and her hand was on my prick and she was pulling it toward her pussy.
It was that deja vu stuff. She did it almost exactly like Beth did.
And I did the same thing. I shoved ... hard. But then it was like everything was in slow motion. I felt my prick slide into my Aunt's pussy, like a quarter of an inch at a time. I remember thinking it was strange how tight she was, and how hot she was, and how soft she was and how good she smelled, just like Beth.
And like Beth she said things ... things that made me crazy. She was begging me to fuck her. Her voice was in my ear, urgent, pleading for me to FUCK her. She used that word, the first time I ever heard an adult woman say it. "FUCK ME BOBBY" she groaned in my ear. "FUCK MY PUSSY BABY, I'M ON FIRE."
Well, slow motion speeded right up and I flexed every muscle in my stomach as I thrust my penis into my aunt. I slammed in so hard I heard my naked stomach slap against hers with a SMACK that I was sure Beth could hear out there.
BETH! And Aunt SOPHIE! They were right outside the door! Aunt Paula was making moaning sounds that were getting louder and louder.
"Shhhhhh" I said into her mouth. "Aunt Sophie's out there!"
But I guess Aunt Paula was already caught in the throes of an orgasm, her first in many years with a man's sexual organ inside her. She was gasping for air, almost frantic with the need to feel what she craved most of all - hot spunk flowing into her pussy. "Cumming ... cumming ... cumming" she chanted, until I did the only thing I could do. I covered her mouth with mine and crammed my tongue into her mouth.
Beth heard a noise in the closet. She hoped Bobby hadn't tripped on something and gotten hurt. Her hand touched the knob. The door wasn't latched and she pulled on it.
"BETH!" came Aunt Sophie's cry behind her. Beth almost jumped out of her skin and let go of the door handle. "I can't find your mother ANYWHERE! I'm starting to get WORRIED! Come help me right now!" She crossed the room, grasped Beth's wrist and pulled her toward the bedroom door. Beth looked over her shoulder helplessly at the closet door. Bobby would have to fend for himself.
In the closet, I decided the best thing to do was give her what she seemed to want, and that was a pussy full of my seed. I didn't think about it in those words back then, but we get a bit more articulate with age, so cut me some slack as I describe what happened. I didn't know if or when Beth would open that door, or Aunt Sophie either, so I pounded my aunt for all I was worth until she started shaking like a leaf in a September wind. Then I let go and just filled her up with my teenage cum.
When she felt it suffusing her pussy she froze, gripping me tightly. A low animal sound began in her throat, rising up the scale in an alarming way that I knew would probably wake the dead when she got to the end of it. I started pulling clothing from the hangers above us and covering her face, trying to muffle the sound. She thrashed and began making barking sounds under an ever increasing pile of shirts, dresses and coats until I was afraid she was suffocating. I stopped and got to my knees, my wilted penis hanging desolately between my naked thighs. I stared at my Aunt's pussy, which was brimming over with my spunk.
I had no idea of what to do now. I was no longer a virgin. I had just fucked my Aunt half to death. She had obviously seen me doing the same thing to her daughter. Now she was making sounds that sounded like she might have gone crazy. I had a feeling things were going to get very strange, very quickly.
Clothing flew every which way as Aunt Paula uncovered herself. Her barking was actually laughter, giddy ecstatic laughter. She told me later that she realized that a great deal of the pain and suffering she had been putting herself through was the simple result of a lack of good sex. She had been horrified that she got turned on by watching her nephew fucking her daughter, but from the instant she got my hard cock in her own pussy she knew it was the right thing for her to do. At least for herself.
She threw the last coat off of her and sat up. I was squatting, staring at her, looking like some lost boy from some tribe somewhere that went naked all the time. I was still panting, and it made me sway. I could feel my penis swaying between my legs too. I'm sure I looked scared to death. I was.
She smiled, as widely as she could make her mouth go. "Thank you Bobby" she said softly. "You have no idea how badly I needed that. Are you OK?"
Her solicitousness, and such a typical question from my Aunt gave me the branch I could grab onto to keep from sinking into the quicksand of hysteria. She sounded so normal and it made me feel more normal. I couldn't talk, though, so I nodded his head, bobbing it much more than needed to get across that I was answering "yes".
"Good. Bobby? I'm sorry, honest I am. I didn't mean to scare you. I'll have to explain it later honey, but I want you to know you did everything just right, and I'm not mad and I hope you're not mad either. You can't breathe a word of this to ANYBODY until I explain it all to you, OK?"
"Uh huh" I nodded again.
"Uh huh?" It was working for me so I stuck with it.
"That's NOT the last time we'll do that, OK honey? Will you do that for me again? Please?"
That finally got me back onto solid ground. Her simple statement made everything seem more normal. "OK" I said softly. I mean who was I to tell my gorgeous Aunt that I wasn't going to give her sex any more. Now THAT would have been crazy.
She leaned over and brushed my lips with hers. "Good. Now, we've got to get out of here. My sister is somewhere in the house, and she doesn't need to find you looking like that. I'll go first, and you find your clothes and put them on. I'll get them all in the kitchen somehow and you slip out the front door. Then come in the back like you just got back from somewhere. Got that?"
I nodded again and she was up and out the door.
Paula could hear her sister and her daughter stomping around downstairs, calling out her name. She slipped out the front door. Bobby's sperm was running down her legs now, so she went around the side of the house and, lifting her dress, squatted and turned on the spigot on the side of the house. She had just finished cleaning herself up when a shadow fell across her. Horrified she looked up to see Dub standing there, a silly grin on his dirty face.
He was holding out an old red bandana, offering it to her to dry herself with.
"Ma'am," he said, as if seeing a half naked woman washing her lover's sperm off her legs was something he saw every day of the year.
Paula, almost unable to say anything at all, forced her panic down and stood up. "Thank you Dub" she said weakly.
He grinned and bowed and then took her elbow and pulled her back around to the front of the house. "They callin' you," he said softly.
For some unaccountable reason, Paula's nerves settled and she felt quite peaceful. "Thank you Dub" she said again, more forcefully. "We'll expect you for supper."
Dub grinned and nodded happily.
Paula looked at him. "And you can come in early and take a bath tonight. I'll wash up your clothes. I've got some things my husband used to wear that I think might fit you OK. You can eat in those and change back to your own things tomorrow. Is that OK?"
Dub bowed again. "Yessum. That be fine" He pronounced it 'fan' He turned to go toward the shed where he slept when he visited and Paula went up the steps and into the house ... loudly.
"What in the world is all the racket?" she yelled.
Sophie literally RAN into the front room. "THERE you are. Paula I thought you were DEAD!"
"What on this green earth are you babbling about Sophie? Why would I be dead?"
"That ... that ... that THING left Josie Callum's this morning and said he was coming here!"
"Thing?" asked Paula.
"That crazy man. That Dub person." said Sophie, fanning herself.
"Dub's a fine person!" said Paula stoutly. "He does good work and he's a nice man."
"He's creepy, that's what he is." said Sophie firmly. "I don't see why in the world you let him come around here. Why ... what if he raped you or something?"
Paula flushed bright pink at Sophie's reference to things sexual. She imagined she could feel Bobby's heavy spunk soaking into her womb. "Sophie Dub does good work for me and I won't have people in my house talking such trash about him. He'd never hurt a fly and nobody ever says he ever has." Paula decided to needle her maiden sister a little. "Besides, you should get to know him. You've run off every single man in the county, what with being so picky about men. Maybe Dub could give you what you need!"
Paula's obvious reference to the virginity Sophie loudly claimed she still possessed, even at age 32, got Sophie all fired up. "Just because some women go around and fall over on their back for any man who comes along does NOT mean that I'm a loose woman and would do the same. And CERTAINLY not with that ... that ... that ... creature!"
Beth, head down, trying not to be noticed and blushing furiously because she had just 'fallen over on her back' for Bobby, cut up tomatoes like a pro.
"Well, if you change your mind, you'll get your chance tonight. Dub's here and I invited him to supper."
"WHAT!? Why I could never EAT with that man." whined Sophie.
"Then go hungry for all I care" said Paula. She was disgusted with her sister's prejudice.
Because the conversation had soured, and because Beth didn't want to talk at all, the canning went apace and got done in record time. About half way through there came a scratching at the back door. Paula went and found Dub, grinning, his hat in his hands.
"Bath?" he reminded her.
When Paula brought him through the kitchen that set Sophie off again, talking about how dirty he was, and how you couldn't actually tell what color the man was. Paula looked daggers at her and took him to the big bathroom that had the cast iron tub in the middle of the floor. Paula drew him a bath and stood outside with her arm through the door, waiting for him to hand out his clothes. When he did she said "I'll bring you some of my husband's clothes in a bit. You just enjoy your bath. Then she took his clothing and put it in a tub of hot soapy water to soak.
After my Aunt Paula left the closet I found my clothes and put them back on. Then, because things had been so strange that day, I got kind of goofy and decided that I couldn't go back down THROUGH the house, cause I might get caught. I mean by that time nobody would have noticed anything odd. I mean I lived there, right? But I was feeling froggy, so I decided to go out the dormer window and crawl down off the roof so I could come in from the outside.
It was a pretty good plan too, except there was no way down. I didn't trust the down spouts, and there were no trees close enough to the house to jump to. So I went back to the window, which had slammed shut and the paint stuck and I couldn't get it open again. The only other dormer on the roof was the closet for my Aunt Paula's room. I went over there and, holding my breath and hoping, I pushed on the window. It slid up smooth as butter. I climbed inside and looked around. It was even more crammed with stuff than Beth's closet, and a whole bunch of boxes had been stacked up blocking my way out. I was going to have to move them. I reached for the first one when I heard the door to the closet open with a "creeeeaaaaaaakkkk" of hinges that need oil.
Paula went back to the kitchen to help finish up the canning and forgot poor old Dub. The man in question enjoyed his bath quite a bit, having found some bubble bath beads and used them to make a mess with. But he smelled wonderful and he was clean as a whistle when he got out of the tub and dried himself off.
Dub was the way he was because he had gotten into the ring at a carnival with a professional fighter. If you could stay in the ring for three rounds you won a hundred dollars, and in 1958 that was a lot of money. Dub was 18 and full of piss and vinegar, but he got his brain rattled so hard that he was never quite right again. He wasn't stupid or anything, he just didn't process information the same way most of us do. If he had enough to eat, and someplace to sleep, and something to do that helped people ... well, he didn't need anything else.
So he knew he was supposed to get some of Ralph's old clothes and put them on. And, having worked around the place for years - he was 28 now - he knew where Ralphs old clothes were. They were up in Miss Paula's bedroom closet. So, naked as the day he was born, Dub left the bathroom and padded up the stairs to that closet to see what he could find to wear.
The "disaster" as Sophie later called it, happened on the very last jar of tomatoes they put up. When the jar came out of the water bath, it was slippery and hot, and Paula dropped it. It hit just so and shattered and wet, hot tomatoes went everywhere. Quite a lot splattered all over Sophie's gingham dress.
"OH! OWW! NOW JUST LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" she screeched. Everything with Sophie was some kind of emergency, or catastrophe. "My dress is just RUINED. This will NEVER come out!" she moaned.
"Oh just GIVE me that" barked Paula. "I'll put it to soak and it will be fine."
"You can't be suggesting that I should stand around here naked!" huffed Sophie. "My under things are soaked too, you know."
"Don't be such a baby. Bobby's outside somewhere, and Dub's in the bathtub. Just give me your clothes and go get something out of my closet to wear. Everything I have fits you too."
Now I know you see which way the wind is blowing here, but I have to tell you that if I hadn't been hiding behind those boxes in that closet, you would never have known what happened, because Sophie sure wouldn't have told anybody.
But I WAS there, and while I didn't see anything, I can tell you what I heard.
First off, when I first heard the door open I heard some mumbling and humming and such that I recognized as coming from Dub, that handyman I mentioned earlier in the story. I didn't know what he was doing in that closet, but I didn't want to explain what I was doing there, so I sat down and just waited for him to leave.
Well, while I was sitting there waiting for him to leave, I heard that creaky door open again, and from what I could hear Dub was clear down by my end, going through some boxes. So it wasn't him making the door open.
Aunt Paula told me later that she sent Sophie up to that closet buck naked, to get a dress to wear because hers had been messed up in the kitchen. I didn't know that when I heard her voice. SHE was humming to herself too, and she said "Now, let's just see what my sister has that's fit to wear."
Then it all went to pieces.
"WHAT? What are YOU doing here? YOU'RE NAKED!"
"Yessum. You be nekked too"
"Oh my WORD you're hung like a fucking BULL!" It was a red letter day for hearing adults cursing.
"Umm" Dub was a man of few words.
Apparently his cock did his talking for him because Aunt Sophie said "I have NEVER in all my DAYS seen a penis that HUGE ... and so STRONG looking ... and so VIRILE looking. DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT YOU ... YOU ... YOU."
"Yore awful purdy Missy."
"On my WORD it's getting HARD! Oh my, I feel faint. I don't believe I can move. I'm going to have to lie down. Now don't you get any ideas about ravishing me young man. My GOODNESS but you clean up nicely. NO! Don't come any closer. OH MY! but that penis of yours is HUGE! and so HARD! And so LONG! And so CLOSE! Now I'm going to have to touch that young man, but ONLY to keep you away from me. I should scream RAPE, but I feel so breathless I just CAN'T. What's your name again?"
"Ahm Dub Missy. You real soft Missy. You feel nice."
"Well, Dub, thank you, I suppose, but you must never EVER tell anyone that I allowed you to touch me. Dub, could you touch me some more? Oh yes, that's nice. Why you're so gentle. I'd never have thought it and OHHHHHHH I can't believe your put your mouth THERE, but it feels SO nice Dub and ...
There was some quiet then, except it sounded like somebody was eating ribs, the kind that have been slow cooked and the meat just falls right off the bone. Kind of a mushy wet sound and Aunt Sophie was doing too much moaning and groaning to do much talking, so I didn't know exactly what was going on, but for some reason my dream came to mind.
But then there was this "OH NO, Dub you CAN'T put that thing IN ME Dub, IT WOULD JUST KILL ME ... DUB where are you going Dub? I didn't mean it would REALLY kill me. Now, you get back over here right this instant. That's a good boy. Yes, it's OK, I've done this before. You won't hurt me."
Well, it went on like that, and I knew what was going on, and I'm here to tell you it went on for a LONG time and Aunt Sophie did some more cussing, and she professed her undying love for Dub and made him promise about ten times that he'd come over to her house in town to "take care of my problems."
She almost messed things up though, because when Dub started huffing and puffing and it was pretty obvious that he was about to unload his freight, so to speak, she started in on how he COULDN'T do that inside her, and that she'd just DIE if he put a baby in her.
So naturally, being a nice guy under it all, he tried to stop.
And she had to get him started again, and this time she figured it out and told him that if he made her feel all nice and wet up inside her she'd make him a pie.
Well, it got me going, listening to them go at it on that closet floor, and when they finally left, him dressed like Ralph and her dressed like Paula, I had a feeling that there would be another little Beth on the way before too long.
I almost laughed at supper because Sophie wouldn't talk to Dub at all. She just sat there, flushed looking and stared at her plate. I wanted to spill the beans on her just so she could enjoy being around him in public, but she was pretty hung up, so I decided not to.
Course I had my own problems at supper, what with Beth looking at me all doe eyed and touching my leg with her bare foot, and then on the other side of the table there was Aunt Paula, looking at me an awful lot too. I was beginning to see that this could turn out somewhat awkward.
But I misunderstood my Aunt. She just waited that night until Beth snuck into my room and waited until we got to going, and then slipped in, in the dark and stood there, right by us. I could see her because I was on my back on the floor - the bed was way too noisy - and Beth was riding on top of me. She hadn't gotten her own pussy wetted up yet, and she was working hard at trying to milk it out of me. Aunt Paula waited until I shot her daughter plumb full of joy juice and then she spoke. "Good evening children."
Man Beth jumped so hard she came clear off me and landed on the floor bawling she was scared so bad.
But Aunt Paula just stood there in the dark and waited for Beth to calm down and then she said "Beth, dear, you're too young to be having Bobby's baby, so we're going to have to do something about protection for you if you're going to keep on with this. Are you going to keep on with this?"
I can tell you how most girls would answer their mothers, but not Beth. "Yes I am mother. I love him and I'm going to marry Bobby some day."
Aunt Paula said "That's fine, dear, but I love him too, so you're going to have to share him." She didn't ask if Beth would share. She just said it was going to be that way.
Well, there was some argument there in the dark. I can tell you that. But it ended up with Aunt Paula taking Beth's place, sitting on my cock, which was all hard again at the thought of going in my Aunt again.
And then my dream came true too. I couldn't see the sky, but when Beth's pussy came down on my face, the feel, and the luscious smell were just like I had dreamed them. My face wasn't so stiff though. She wiggled so nice and I had such a good time sticking my tongue in her that I just had to shoot my Aunt all full of juice again.
And that was five years ago. My how time flies when you're having fun.
Oops, there's the Grandfather clock chiming midnight. I have to go. It's my turn to change diapers in the nursery. If the twins go back to sleep that'll be all, but if they're hungry I have to get their mamma in there to feed them. Her breasts are so much bigger now than when I saw them that first time in her room.
And I have to change Timothy too, and if he's hungry I'll have to wake up Aunt Paula so she can feed him. I think she's spoiled him, letting him suck almost a whole year. But then, she let our first one go almost that long and she's turned out just fine. Her name's Cynthia and she's about to go into preschool.
I don't mind though. Staying up late, I mean. If I stay up late enough I don't dream when I finally get to sleep. I've been having these dreams about my Aunt Sophie having triplets and they all look just like Dub...
Thoughts or comments you'd like to share with the author?
Fill out the form below to contact Bob.
A valid e-mail address is required so the author can respond to your feedback.
Bob feels your opinions and thoughts are important.