I would like to thank WiccanMuse, NoSnow, Kris and Nadia from the Literotica Editors Program, as also two real-life friends who took a look at this story. I have chosen to ignore some of my editors’ advice. If you like something about this story, it’s probably the parts where their advice has been taken.

Chapter One: Paul

Being sixty-five tends to make one pretty set in his ways, but I suppose I have always been a bit of a tightass.

I don’t have a very long back-story to tell. I had been raised conservatively, an only child, by strict parents; attended military school followed by West Point; earned a couple of hearts in Vietnam. Married Anne, who I had only kissed exactly once before our wedding. Fathered three children and named them Mary, John and Janette. I retired from the corps a Colonel.

Sex in my life had been fairly enjoyable, reasonably frequent and respectably unadventurous as long as I was married. When my wife succumbed to a short, sudden illness a few years ago, I missed her, but didn’t really miss the sex. It’s not that I never got the urges for physical release but, being an ex-military man with iron self-discipline, I have found many alternative pursuits. Golf, carpentry and woodcarving, voracious reading, and running marathons seem to take my mind off such matters most of the time, but honestly, maybe once a fortnight, I take matters in my own hand, so to speak, with the centerspread of a girlie magazine open in my lap. Never could get with internet porn, honestly. I suppose I’m old-school that way.

Today, however, the situation has evolved into something I could never have imagined.

I had spent last night restlessly dreaming and woke up in my sparsely furnished bedroom feeling depressed and irritable. I set off on my daily eight-miler this morning determined to get a personal best. As I turned into the last mile, I realized that I would not be able to finish in time. Something inside me snapped. Years of loneliness so effectively repressed until now seemed to be tied to my ankles. The run turned into a personal battle between me and my waning years. I lengthened my stride, almost giving myself a heart attack as I ran. That last mile may have been a suicide attempt. I reached home sobbing freely, a burning stitch in my side, 32 seconds after the clock had run out.

Last night’s dream came back to me. I had seen myself having sex with a woman. We were in a sterile white room with mist for walls. The floor was cold and hard under my knees. I was behind her, holding her waist as I fucked her.

“Anne!” I had cried as I thrust into her like a man possessed.

But then suddenly, I looked up. Anne was standing there, in the flowing white dress I had buried her in, looking at me silently. Who was I fucking? Someone else! My mind rebelled at the thought. Anne didn’t look angry. I had been fiercely faithful to her throughout our life together, having firmly rejected several advances by several women, and I knew for a fact that she had been equally devoted to me. But now, in my dream she smiled, turned and started to walk away.

“No! Anne!” I screamed, pushing the other woman away. I rushed forward, reaching for my wife. But she dissolved into the mist. And I woke up.

My dead wife was giving me permission to have sex with other women through my dreams. Extra cheese.

I had to get this crap out of my system and get back to my sedate existence.

I walked over to the shed in the backyard. The secret cardboard box full of old Playboys and a bottle of lubricant that I had at the back came out. So did a couple of bottles of fifteen year old scotch. I flipped my phone off its hook, locked myself up and drew all the curtains. Downing two shots of the scotch, I sank into the rich maroon embrace of my living room couch and reached into the box. Ah… Danielle De Vabre, November 1971. Poetically, almost a spitting image of Anne. It began.

The June heat rose from the floorboards as I sat there and spanked the monkey between single malt interludes. An hour before noon, I had drunk myself into a stupor and jacked off to half a dozen naked two dimensional women. After that, I passed out.


The doorbell rings at six PM, driving cold nails into my head and jolting me awake.

“Daddy! Daddy, are you in there? Open up!”

It is Mary, my eldest…also my bossiest.

I stagger to the door and she bursts in, all worry and concern.

“What’s going on, Dad? Your phone isn’t working…Your cell is turned off… Why aren’t you…”

She stops dead in her tracks. Fuck! The magazines! They’re strewn all over the carpet, centerfolds unfolded. Tissues…lube…the characteristic smell…No great feats of deductions are required to arrive at the reason for the mess. My hangover vanishes in an instant.

“Give me a second will you?” I say calmly. Grabbing her shoulders I turn her around, push her right back out the door and close it behind her. It takes me two minutes of feverish scurrying about to reconstitute the secret jack-off box and dump the tissues into the wastebasket in the kitchen. Once I’m done, I pause. Can’t face her right now, I decide.

“I’m fine, Mary. Why don’t you come back … um… tomorrow…?”

There is a minute of silence. I’m starting to think she has left, when quietly, she knocks.

“Open the door, Dad.”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m fine. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Dad…just open the door…”


“Daddy,” she says sweetly, “I swear if you don’t open this door right now, I will get a sledgehammer from your shed out back and smash it in, okay?”

She would too. I had spent a week on that door, hand carving the Corps insignia into the wood. I open the door.

She walks straight past me into the kitchen. I flop down on the couch, head in hands. Mary walks in a minute later with two cups of coffee. Mine is black, very bitter. She finds half a bottle of scotch that has survived the day, and drops some into her own. Understandably, she doesn’t ask me if I want some, not that I do. We sit and sip. Just when the silence starts getting heavy, Mary pipes up,

“You know Dad, Kath was asking about you the other day.”

Katherine is this woman who works in Mary’s office. A seriously sexy forty-two year old divorcee who had practically thrown herself at me when I had met her at Mary’s house a month ago.

“Dammit, Mary not this again.”

“Come on Dad! How long do you think…”

“Don’t say it, Mary.”

“…you need to be in mourning?”


I am about to tell her to get out but it doesn’t happen. Because somewhere in the back of my mind, I know she’s right. I am being unreasonable. Anne has been gone five years. I will always be in mourning for her. But I also have a life to live.

“…I don’t like dumb blondes.” I finish weakly.

“Katherine is a very smart lady,” Mary says, fixing me with a disapproving look, “She went to Yale.”

“Yale is a bordello,” I declare, “She’s a trollop.”

“Daddy!” Mary gasps in shock. Then a hint of a smile appears on her lips. I grin back at her. We burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“She is though, isn’t she?” Mary says, wiping a tear from her eye. More scotch finds its way into her coffee.

“Can you believe she asked me…?” I stop just in time, mentally kicking myself.

“What? What did she say?”

“Nothing, forget it. She’s really forward.”

“Come on Dad! What did Kath ask you?”

“Well… I told her I worked with wood as a hobby. And she asked if she could come over and…you know…”

Mary didn’t get it.

“…learn to work on my wood…”

It took a moment. Then she squealed, wide eyed, hand on mouth, “Oh. My. God!” Another minute of mirth follows, punctuated with Mary’s ‘Oh my Gods’. When it finally dies down, Mary’s concern is back.

“Dad, please go out with Kath. Once. For me.”

“Not gonna happen, Mary”, I say firmly.

“Do you want me to fix you up with a brunette?” she asks slyly, “There’s Justine from accounts. Very classy girl… aaaaaand… she’s into older men.”

“See this?” I say, pointing at my face, “This is how a marine blushes. See? See? Seriously, Mary, no fix-ups.”

“I cannot trust you to do this on your own, Dad.”

“What! Young lady, let me tell you, I can find women on my own.”

“I know…they were all over the floor here just now.”

Awkward silence.

“Ouch.” I say plaintively.

“Sorry. Look, Dad… have you seen yourself? You’re a real catch. I mean, you’re really handsome. Fit as a fiddle. Well-to-do. Funny. Talented…”


“Oh tosh! You don’t look a day over sixty-five!”

More laughter. She empties the scotch into her coffee, so that it’s not really coffee anymore.

“You’d be surprised how many women I know, single and married, keep asking about you, Dad,” she continues.

“Read my lips. No fix-ups. This has got to be something spontaneous. And I won’t lower my standards out of desperation.”

“Really, Dad? You’re hoping to meet a true-blue playmate of the month, then?”

“That’s not fair, Mary…”

“You’ll never find anyone as good as Ma, you know. But you cannot be alone just because you keep measuring women in your life up to her and they all fall short.”

“Ha! The women in my life don’t all fall short. You measure up. Janette measures up…”

There is the slightest pause. In retrospect, later, I will probably consider this as the point in time where I stepped into some sort of impossible, alternate reality, because I then hear Mary say the strangest thing…

“Yeah…too bad we can’t work on your wood…”

That can’t be what I heard. It’s getting dark outside. The faint light of dusk filters through the tasteful cream drapes. Mary, sitting across from me, has a strange look on her face. I notice that her coffee/ scotch is gone.

“Or can’t we?” She asks, eyebrow raised.

It sinks in slowly. I know it’s the drink talking now, nevertheless my jaw drops to the floor. I look around desperately, trying to think of something to say, and come up empty. I cannot believe my ears. Did my daughter just actually come right out and suggest what I think she suggested?

“Huh…what?” I feign having not heard.

Mary, that impossibly strange smile still on her face, stands up. She has made a decision. In a flash of understanding, I realize what that decision is, and I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to make of it. She hooks her fingers under the waist of her tight turtleneck top.

There is a machinegun in my chest. I think I am about to have my second near-heart-attack of the day.

“Mary, now…”

“Be quiet, Daddy,” she commands. The bossiest one.

She slowly lifts her sweater up and throws it off. Splendid C-cup breasts nicely contained in skimpy black Victoria’s Secret are duly revealed.

“Mary…what the blazes are you doing…”, I say shooting out of the couch as if it had suddenly transformed into hot coals.

“I can see that you like these, Dad,” she says, gently letting her fingers run over and across her chest, outlining the perfect shapes. Very perceptive. You’d have to be blind not to notice that my cock has twitched to life in my shorts. Dammit, cock! After I’ve spent all day trying to pacify you…

What the hell is happening? I scream inside my head.

Mary is beautiful. No father can ever think otherwise of his own daughter, I know, but now I see her from a detached third-party perspective and I am sure she is absolutely gorgeous. Five feet seven, 115 pounds of perfectly toned hotness…shoulder length dark brown hair that frame an insanely pretty face that looks a lot like her late mother’s, deep brown eyes, soft features, dreamy breasts, a narrow waist that flares out into incredible, curvy hips, and the hips extending into long, shapely legs.

At thirty-nine, she has been married for twenty years to a man who was her college boyfriend and has a strapping teenage son of her own, but she hasn’t let the years take away anything from her body.

“Mary, this is…this isn’t right…” I splutter. There is no conviction in my words, and Mary knows it, because my eyes are still fixed on her breasts.

“It doesn’t matter, Daddy,” she whispers, “This is what you need…this is what I want…”

With one quick step, she is in my space. She grasps my wrists and places my hands on her chest. I feel the weight of those tits in my palm. My thumbs touch her nipples through the silky bra. My cock has turned into a phallic steel sculpture.

“No…Mary…stop this…” I say but my hands aren’t ready to leave those breasts just yet. She raises one arm and locks it behind my neck. Then she’s on her toes and her lips are on mine in a kiss that blows my mind right away. My own daughter!

Her other hand is between us. Her fingers move, the drawstring of my shorts comes undone. Suddenly, I can feel the softness of her bare stomach with the solidity of my cock.

I shudder. I think the room is on a turntable. I think I have a fever. She moans into my mouth. The scotch/coffee is intoxicating on her breath.

The small part of my mind that just doesn’t get what’s going on, the part that is thinking incestdaughter …wrong …, the part that is resisting, dies.

I break our kiss, and spin Mary around and bite her neck. My hands find her tits again. The bra has a hook, front and center. I fumble at it zealously, unsuccessfully. Mary reaches up and takes care of the problem. The cups fall away, and those striking breasts swing free. I paw at them, feeling a woman’s uncovered breasts for the first time in half a dozen years.

“Oh Dad…” she mewls. Under my palms, her nipples are little round stones. She unhooks her pants, and they drop around her ankles. Black panties that match the martyred bra follow them. She pushes her hips back against me, and now my cock is snuggling in her butt-cleavage.

“Daddy…down there…touch me down there…”

I let my right hand travel slowly over her midriff and cup her groin. An artistically trimmed bush of pubic curls tickle my palm. The folds of her labia are distended, moist.

“Down here?” I ask stupidly. My middle finger is burrowing into her slot. Her hips thrust forward against it.

“Rub it… Daddy, rub my clit…” she begs.

I rub it. Slowly and firmly, like Anne taught me all those years ago. I remember exactly where to rub, with how much pressure and with what kind of motion. Like riding a bike, it comes back to me in a flash.

Mary reaches up and back and grabs my neck again, hanging on. I’m surprised at how light she seems. I have her nipple between a thumb and a forefinger, squeezing and tugging it in tempo with the ministrations of my other hand down at her crotch. I curl my finger, and it enters the wet warmth of her cunt.

Mary moans loudly. Her hips jerk, her buttocks knead my cock. I move my hips in time to hers, my mouth still working her neck.

Suddenly, she is breathing in short, sharp gasps. She grabs my wrist.


“I won’t, sweetheart…”

“I’m there, Dad… I’m there…Oh God…I’m…”

And then, with a sudden cry, she’s there. Her back arches, her body jolts in the orgasm. She goes limp and drops to her knees.

Without missing a beat, she turns. My cock is wobbling in front of her face.

“Daddy…thanks…I really needed that,” she sighs lovingly.

I ponder whether I should say ‘You’re welcome’ to my own daughter who is kneeling naked in front of me, thanking me for fingering her to climax. Before I can come to a decision on that etiquette dilemma, Mary continues,

“Now, it’s your turn to thank me.”

She reaches up to hold my erection, like she is holding a bird. Fingers of one hand tentatively curl around my shaft, as the other cups my balls.

“Oh fuck…” I whisper hoarsely.

Her lips graze my cock. Her tongue snakes out to wet my shaft with a double coat of spit. I keep asking myself if this can really be happening. It feels like heaven, but it is nothing compared to the thrill that streaks up my spine when she opens her pert mouth and takes me in.

I thank my stars I had the forethought of masturbating repeatedly in a drunken haze that morning, because if I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure I would have copiously shot off down my daughter’s throat as soon as this happens.

Mary knows what she is doing. She sucks the head in, and lets it slip out again. Her tongue tickles the tip of my cock wetly, traces a line down to the underside, returns to the tip, then in it goes again, half a centimeter deeper this time. I watch, fascinated, as slowly, in successive stages, more and more of my cock starts sliding past her eager lips. The hand on my balls continues fondling them gently. Deeper and deeper goes my cock into my girl’s mouth, until all seven and a half inches are sliding in and out if her throat, and my balls are touching her chin. I marvel at how expertly she does it. Her mother, bless her soul, had only ever taken a couple of inches.

A couple of minutes into this fantastic incestuous blowjob, I suddenly feel my cum starting to build up in my groin.

“Uhn…” I exclaim, ready to shoot.

Mary senses it too, and stops. Both her hands close around my shaft in a vice-like grip.

“Not yet, Daddy…” she says. The feeling recedes.

She spins around on her knees and plants her elbows on the carpet; her glorious heart shaped buttocks high, her sopping wet pussy and wrinkled asshole flashing at me from between the cheeks.

She reaches down between her legs with one hand and I see her fingers splay her wet labia, revealing the glowing pink flesh tunnel there.

“Take me, Daddy…fuck your little girl…”

I drop to my knees behind her. It takes me a short second to find her entrance with the tip of my cock. And then, in one swift motion, I am buried balls deep in my daughter’s burning wet cunt. We groan in symphony as it happens.

Mary lets herself run out at the knees, my cock slipping out gently from her cunt until only the glans remained lodged in her vulva, then back again, ever so slowly, all the way in. Impatient as only a man can be, I begin plunging my cock into her in right earnest.

“Slowly, Daddy! I like it slow…” she murmurs.

Slow it is.

Her hand remains between her legs, working her clit, as I, with that iron self-discipline I mentioned earlier, slow my hips down, leisurely enjoying every millimeter of friction. Mary moans in delight. I can feel the walls of her vagina spasm and clutch my cock as, over the next five minutes, she announces one, then another and then a third orgasm with a little squeal.

She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes lidded in wanton lust.

“That’s it, Daddy…fuck me…”

I grab her slim waist. This was in my dream! I realize, suddenly, as I look down to see my cock, wet from Mary’s moisture, plunging into her cave. In a passionate frenzy, begin pistoning my cock into her. Years of long distance running have ensured that I don’t lack the stamina for a good, long fuck. Mary lets out a long, loud wail as the intensity of my drive peaks. I am at the crest.

“Cumming…” I manage to croak.

“Inside me, Daddy…” she breathes.

I see stars as my orgasm hits me and I pour what seems like a whole pint of semen into my daughters cunt in accompaniment to several loud ‘Uhs’. When I’m done, I fall forward over her back, exhausted.

We pant in unison for a long while. I withdraw, and a flood of my spunk follows my wilted cock out of her cunt, splattering down onto the carpet.

“Wow, Dad,” Mary sighs joyfully, “You are really something!”

As before, I don’t know what to say. Should I thank her? Should I tell her what a great fuck she has been? I realize I don’t feel an ounce of guilt or regret. Whatever unholy karma in my life has led to this, I am actually grateful for it. Words still elude me, but Mary probably understands.

She crawls out from under me. I flop back on the couch, and watch her affectionately as she, with a subtle smile on her lips, gathers her clothes and puts them on again and finger combs her hair back into shape. Once she is presentable again, she kneels between my spread-out legs and plants a kiss on my limp cock, then another on my lips.

“We should do this more often, Daddy,” she says, winking. She leaves me sitting there, in a much better state of mind than the one she had found me in…

Chapter Two: Janette

Peter had come in this afternoon to my office, and asked to borrow my car.

“Hot date, Aunt Jan!”

“How hot?” I asked him, and he had gone all red.

“Come on, Pete,” I said dangling the keys in front of my eighteen-year old nephew’s nose, “Tell!”

“Well… it’s Sierra.”

“Sierra? Sierra the sophomore? Wow! Look at you, Pete… finally getting an older woman to go out with you… Congratulations!” I said, tossing him the keys.

“Oh come on, Aunt Jan…she’s not that much older…”

Flashback. I had fallen in love with this one the moment he was born, the cutest golden-haired baby ever. I had been at Bryn Mawr then, and had rushed down to help Mary. Mary and Anthony had both been working parents at the time, and I had moved in with them after graduation. For the next six years, I had helped raise the little tyke, until I finally managed to set up my consultancy and moved to my own apartment downtown.

During this time, little Peter had grown very close to me, and I to him. I remember how heartbreakingly he had bawled when I was moving out, though we kept telling him that I was just a twenty minute bus ride away, and we would see each other all the time.

Our bond had only strengthened as Peter grew into a handsome teen, and today, we were more like pals than the traditional nephew-aunt. Over the years, he had confessed all his crushes to me, and I don’t remember him ever being so completely smitten with a girl as he had been with the exquisite Sierra.

Girls had, until now, fallen over themselves to go out with Pete, given his irresistible good looks and winning ways. He was a brilliant student, a star athlete and an undeniable all-round nice guy.

But it was different with Sierra. This apparently incomparable African-American girl was the first to actually intimidate him. It had taken him months to gather the guts to ask her out the first time, and she had turned him down flat.

Devastated, Pete had, but of course, come to me. I had never needed to teach my nephew the value of perseverance in the pursuit of the opposite sex, so now, I did. Pete learned fast, and implemented his lesson with a vengeance. Sierra never stood a chance, in my opinion.


I leave work a couple of hours early (one of the perks of being your own boss) and take a cab back home. Peter has planned dinner and a late movie for his first date with Sierra, so I don’t expect him to drop off my wheels anytime soon. Since I am not currently dating anyone myself, I’m just looking forward to a quiet evening with some bubbly, a book, and a bath.

I am surprised to find my Camry parked in its spot when I get to my place. Apparently Peter’s date has not gone according to plan. The poor guy must be waiting for me (there is a spare key to my apartment with the car keys) moping, I think. I am soon to discover how wrong I am.

I walk into my place and toss my bag on the living room couch.

“Peter? Are you here?” I call hesitantly.

There is no reply. I venture deeper into the apartment on tiptoe, and as I cross the guest bedroom I find its door ajar just a couple of inches. The faintest moaning sound drifts to my ears from inside.

So, Peter has managed to get his prey! His date, contrary to my earlier belief, is going much better than expected, it seems. Obviously, he doesn’t expect me back for some time yet, so he has brought Sierra over for a little heavy petting. My first thought, of course, like a good aunt, is to quietly leave.

And then I am overcome with this insane desire to take just a little peek. I mean just the tiniest glance, you know… what harm could it do? The lovebirds would never know…

The room is dimly lit, but not dark, and I can see them clearly. As soon as I lay eyes on her, I can understand why Peter has had Sierra on the brain for so long.

She is the loveliest, most enchantingly beautiful girl. Now I am unabashedly bisexual, and have been attracted to my share of women. But Sierra is undoubtedly in a class by herself. I am absolutely spellbound by her beauty.

Wonderful cocoa skin. Long, wavy black hair flowing down over her back. Dark, almond-shaped eyes over regal cheekbones. Luscious maroon lips. She is wearing a simple red shirt that is tight enough to emphasize a perky bosom, with a long maroon plaid skirt that is…that is…

…Oh my god! Her skirt is hiked up around her waist as she sits on the bed, leaning back on her hands, revealing a long pair of shining black legs, and my nephew has his head buried between them! There is a lot more than ‘heavy petting’ going on in there!

The smallest involuntary squeak escapes my lips. My crotch goes hot and damp with sudden arousal. I clamp my hand to my mouth in panic, praying. There is no indication that I was heard.

On the bed, Peter pushes his hands under Sierra’s perfect butt, lifting her to get better access to her sex. She lets one hand take her weight, and places the other one on his ruffled blonde head to guide him.

“Ohh, Peter…just a bit lower…that’s right… no, no…that’s too low…”

It’s amazing how lost boys can get in three inches of real estate. I imagine myself in Peter’s place, hitting Sierra’s button with my tongue. My panties are soaked. I drop a hand down the front of my pants and grab my pussy.

Sierra moves her hips, and Peter finally gets it.

“There!” she sighs loudly, and starts grinding her pelvis into his face. It is incredibly erotic to watch this adorable young girl’s face as she is being eaten out.

Peter may have been clueless about her clit, but I can tell that he does not lack enthusiasm, because once he has found it, he seems to get his act together. For a couple of minutes, I hear him slurp and lick, wetly. Suddenly, Sierra’s hips spasm, and I can tell she has cum.

She collapses backwards on the bed. Peter’s face emerges from her crotch.

“Did you…Did I…?”

“Oh yes, Pete…you did…and I did…” Sierra whispers.

“Wow!” he grins and raises his hands like a zombie to reach for her, but she quickly leaps off the bed and away. Poor Peter. I can feel his agony! He makes to follow her up.

“Sit back down,” Sierra orders.


Down, Peter!”

Oh this girl is evil, I think delightedly. Peter drops back on the bed, a little pout on his face. Sierra sits back down next to him.

“Now Peter, what if your Aunt… Janine?…”


“…Janette comes home early?”

I hold my breath as she says this. She’s beautiful and intuitive.

“What? No, no…that’s not happening…don’t worry!”

“But what if she does? I mean, can you even imagine how embarrassing it would be?”

“You really don’t have to worry, Sierra. Aunt Jan is a really busy person. She doesn’t leave work till much later. We have time, babe…”

“But still, what if? I really don’t think we should risk it…”

“Oh, come on! Sierra, she really won’t, I’m telling you… look, we can be really quick, if you want… I’ll be done before you know it and then we can split…”

Oh Peter, you fool.

Sierra cocks an eyebrow at him, and he immediately backtracks.

“No, no, no…that came out wrong…what I meant was…”

Of course he hasn’t the faintest what he meant to say.

“Tell me about her, Pete.”

“About… Aunt Jan? Well…she’s…” he stammers, “She’s really cool, and everything…”

“How cool, exactly?”

“Very cool,” Peter says, “She’s more like a friend or a big sister to me, you know…”

“Is she hot?”

What now?”

“You heard me, Peter…is Janette hot?”

“Welllll… I guess.”

“You guess? Peter…”

“She’s my mom’s sister, Sierra… I never really considered…”

“Don’t lie to me, now…”

Peter hesitates, then raises his arms in resignation.

“Oh alright… she’s hot. Okay?” he says, red as a beetroot.

Why thank you, Pete! I grin.

“Oh my god, you have a crush on your hot aunt!” Sierra exclaims.

“No, come on…it’s not like that…”

Liar. I know for a fact that he has had a crush on me since he was a little boy. These things are obvious to women.

“Forget it, Pete…now get up…let’s see what you’ve got…”


“Clothes, Pete…Off…”

Peter leaps up like an eager, horny ape. His shirt comes off. My nephew has a godlike torso. I lick my lips. The next second, he yanks down his trousers and boxers together, and I see his cock leap from his groin, rigid as a steel bar, his balls tight in anticipation below it. He flounders comically as he kicks off the clothes.

I nearly climax that instant, as his forbidden nakedness burns itself into my mind. I’m not sure I could have kept quiet if had. I stop playing with myself.

The lovely Sierra has also risen from the bed and strips (with a lot more poise), a wicked smile on her lips as she watches his antics. She unbuttons her top slowly, and lets it hang open at the front. There is no bra underneath. Her impeccable mocha breasts are firm and round, topped with nipples like pointy drops of dark chocolate. Her skirt drops. I see a glorious black thatch of hair.

A goggle-eyed Pete works his hard-on impatiently as his dream girl reveals herself to him with tantalizing slowness.

She puts her hands on her hips.

“Well? What do you think?” she asks.

“I think…you are… the most…”

“Peter? Am I hotter than your Aunt Janette?”

“Come again?”

“Tell me this truthfully, Peter,” Sierra’s voice is hoarse, seductive, “If your aunt was outside that door right now, and she decided to walk in here…and join us… which one of us would you fuck first?”

I freeze as it dawns on me… She knows!

She must have heard me earlier. I realize she has known for some time now. Peter has this incredulous look on his face. He’s actually thinking about it! Does she really want me to come in?

“You can come in, Janette,” she says, reading my mind.

I take a deep breath and step into the room.

Like a cartoon character, Peter yelps and leaps three clean feet into the air as I enter, then keels back over behind the bed and whips a pillow down in front of his erect cock, a look of pure abject terror on his face.

I disregard him (for the moment) and look at Sierra. I can tell by the way she looks at me, with a barely hidden hunger behind her eyes, that she swings both ways too. She walks over to me, slipping her shirt off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. I can’t help but ogle at her brazen nakedness.

She takes my hand and places it gently on her naked breast. Her other hand quickly sneaks up under my blouse, pushes my bra up over my breast, and cups it smoothly.

“Hello, Jan…I’m Sierra,” she says sweetly, “It’s good to meet you.”

With that, she touches her lips to mine in a long, tender kiss. My knees almost collapse. Her nipple is stiff with excitement under my palm, as is mine under hers.

I hear Peter mumble something incoherent from his inadequate hiding place. We look over to him. His face is a mask of confusion. I giggle like a little girl.

“Shut up, Peter.” Sierra tells him sternly. There is no question as to who is in charge of how this is going to play out. She turns back to me.

“You are really stunning, Jan…” she says.

“Thanks,” I say meekly, completely under her spell. We kiss again. Her lips never leave mine as she slowly gets rid of my blouse and bra. I am now beyond caring that I am being stripped right in front of my teenage nephew.

I hear Peter gulp as my breasts are bared. I look at him nervously, but Sierra gently puts a finger on my chin and turns my head back to her.

“Ignore him,” she mutters, “You have the most beautiful breasts, Jan… I wish I had breasts like yours…”

Dipping her head, she takes my left nipple into her mouth. I feel her teeth and shiver as a thrill of pleasure passes through me. Sierra’s hands are busy at my waist, undoing my skirt. It falls, and I feel her fingers slide down the front of my panties and dip into my wet gash. Her mouth leaves my nipple painfully erect and wanting more. She lifts her fingers, wet with my cunt-juices, and sucks them, looking me straight in the eye as she does so.


She puts her arms around my neck and kisses me again. Our breasts rub together, nipples grazing nipples. She turns me and pulls me towards the bed. Breaking our embrace, she falls back on the mattress.

“You know, Jan, Peter is pretty ignorant about what a woman wants…down here…” she says, gently massaging her crotch, “Something tells me that you, on the other hand, know exactly what to do…”

Sierra’s legs part, and she reaches into her dark pubic forest to part her pussy lips, showing me her pink center. Without any further prompting, I drop to my knees. She’s right… I know exactly what to do.

I nibble on the smooth dark skin of her inner thighs, and let my hand caress her belly just above her mound. I move closer to her groin with my mouth, millimeter by millimeter. I can see her getting wetter, tiny moans of anticipation issuing from her lips. I plant soft kisses on her vulva. I dip my tongue into her sweet cunt.

Two minutes of this and she is squirming and bucking her pelvis into my face, ready as she will ever be. I bite down on her clit. The sudden orgasm hits her like a sledgehammer. She screams with pleasure as she cums, and goes limp.

I climb over her supine form and shower kisses on her face, lips and breasts as she catches her breath.

We turn to look at Peter. He is frozen in place, jaw hanging in a look of unfathomable disbelief.

“See, Peter…” Sierra meows, “That’s how you pleasure a girl…”, then, turning back to me, “Are you ready, Jan?”

“Ready? For…?”

“Why, reimbursement, of course…”

She laughs a lovely, joyous laugh. With a swift twist of her torso, she puts herself on top, then slides slowly down my body. Helplessly, I accommodate her between my knees.

Tenderly, she licks my pussy, her tongue darting all over my dripping gash. I close my eyes, enjoying her mouth teasing my swollen clit. She is an unquestionable expert at eating pussy too, I realize soon, as she gets me to the edge, then stops. Once, twice, thrice…until I am sobbing with anticipation. My eyes are screwed shut, my cunt is in flames.

Once again, a wet tongue carries me to the peak. Just as I am about to climax, I feel teeth on my nipple. My eyes snap open. It is Sierra. So, the tongue in my pussy must be…

…Peter, my teenage nephew…

I recoil instinctively, but Sierra pins me down, hard. Half a second later, it is too late. Words cannot describe the orgasm that explodes in my core as I look down and lock eyes with my sweet Peter while his tongue stabs my clit.

My orgasm subsides slowly, leaving me trembling uncontrollably in its wake. A dense silence descends upon us. Sierra breaks it.

“Get up, Pete,” she says, “Show us that lovely cock, now.”

Peter jumps to his feet. Half a cubit of man-meat is presented to us, its head purple with longing, rising from a base of sparse golden fuzz at his groin and over his smooth, tight scrotum. Sierra slides over and leans forward to take him into her mouth.

“Eep!” he exclaims, pulling his hips back in mad panic. The boy has been watching two naked women getting jiggy with each other for the past twenty minutes, one of them his aunt. He has been tonguing their pussies. It’s really no wonder that the moment he feels Sierra’s hot breath on his cock, he starts cumming uncontrollably.

I gasp in awe. Sierra bursts into musical laughter as a copious shot of cum leaps from Peter’s cock-head and splashes across her mouth and chin.

“Oh no! No…no…no…nooo…” Peter laments, as his cock wildly ripples again and again to spray Sierra’s face and neck. By the time he is done, he is wilted and dripping a single long string of cum, and Sierra is a complete, beautiful mess.

“Dear God, I am so sorry, Sierra… I just couldn’t…”

“Shut up, Peter!” Sierra says, mock exasperated. She licks her lips and tastes him.

“Salty!” she says, looking at me, “Seems to be a family flavor!”

I feel the blood rise to my cheeks.

“Well, Janette,” Sierra continues, laughing out again, “He’s no use to anyone now, is he?

“Goddammit, you fucking stupid…” Peter grumbles as he grasps his limp cock and shakes it vigorously, as if to discipline it. It is cute as fuck.

Peter looks at me, shrugs and grins in the most self-deprecating manner. That does it. I feel my love for my gorgeous nephew overwhelm me. I laugh, and all feel my inhibitions vanish in that instant. I know now that before this evening is over, I will have his cock in me.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie…” I say fondly, “I’m sure we can do something about it.”

Sierra is sitting back against the pillows, dabbing away at her face with a corner of the bedsheet. She looks at me approvingly, noting the change.

I get up from the bed and go to him. I kiss him long and slow, pressing my breasts into his pecs. I feel his taut, muscled abdomen with my hand, then reach lower. My fingers curl around his cock and he quivers deliciously. I feel his hands move to my waist, then circle around boldly and cup my buttocks.

I start fondling his shaft gradually. Even when limp, I am duly fascinated by its weight and girth in my palm.

“My, my… when did you grow up, Pete?” I murmur appreciatively.

“Heh,” is all he can manage for now.

I drop to my knees in front of him. A single pearl of cum is shining at the tip of his cock, I lick it off. Peter sighs in pleasure. Without further ado, I pop him into my mouth.

“Oh Aunt Jan…That is so good!”

I sense some movement next to me. The exquisite Sierra joins us at the foot of the bed, face clean.

“Do share, Jan…” she says, eyes sparkling. I pass him to her a bit reluctantly.

I watch Peter’s cock slide past her lips as her hand rises to cup his balls. I bend down to lick them.

“Oh fuck I’m in heaven!” Peter cries out.

She sucks and licks him for a minute or two, then passes him back to me. This time when his cock enters my mouth, I can feel it slowly rejuvenating. This won’t take long at all, I think happily.

We pass Peter’s cock back and forth between us, letting him move his hips in horny urgency to push his cock as far down our throats as it will go. Sure enough, before long, he is stiff as a sword again, glistening wet with our saliva.

He beams at us proudly, kegelling to make his cock jump up and down in front of our faces. All three of us laugh. Sierra and I stand up and give him a sexy hug.

“Well, Pete…moment of truth…” Sierra says.

“Um, what?”

“You know… who will you fuck first?”

Confusion clouds his face. It is adorable.

“I dunno,” he scratches his head, “Maybe…”

“Hint…there is no wrong answer…” she says with a wicked smile.

“Enough, Sierra…” I say, “Don’t torture the poor kid anymore. You were here first.”

Before she can say anything, I turn her around by the shoulders and push her down on the edge of the bed, so that she is on all fours, ass in the air. I grasp Peter’s…well… peter, and pull him into position behind her. I feel her pussy. It is soggy with eagerness. I position his cock-head at her entrance. Peter doesn’t hesitate, inserting his cock slowly into her.

September 2018
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