Being just short of sixteen, born out of wedlock, male and a randy sod was nothing unusual, fancying everything of the opposite sex was supposedly normal, what wasn’t so normal was the lust I had for my mother and my aunt. For the past year I’d been having wet dreams about my mother or my aunt, not that they weren’t something to have wet dreams about, but it was not the sort of thing a boy was supposed to do.
What made matters even worse was the fact that my mother and her sister were identical twins, even people that had known them for years sometimes had trouble telling them apart so at times I wasn’t sure whether it was my mother or my aunt that I was doing such lovely things to in my dreams. Not that I really cared that much, they were both gorgeous women. Not only gorgeous but ‘sparky’ with it, they both had the same sense of humour that went exceedingly well with their dirty minds and when the pair of them were together they could have made a blue comedian blush.
It was a month before my sixteenth when fate conspired to turn my dreams into reality, my mother had gone to London with her work and she had asked her sister, my aunt Eleanor, to look after me for the few days that she would be away. Sad though I was to be parted from my mother having some-one who looked exactly like her around took the sting away. The start of the first day, a Friday, was nothing out of the ordinary, my mother left while I was at school and my aunt arrived just as I got home, in fact at first I didn’t realise it was my aunt and not my mother, but eventually we got that sorted out. Just like any normal Friday we went shopping, well my aunt and I did, usually it was my mother and I, anyway after shopping we had dinner and then spent the rest of the evening chatting and watching TV.
It was almost nine and we’d been sitting watching some rubbishy film for the past ten minutes when Aunt Eleanor muttered something and leant forward to grab the TV and Satellite guide.
“How bloody boring,” she said softly “surely there’s something better on.”
There were eight of us in my family, mum and dad, myself as the oldest child and, incidentally the only girl, one set of triplets and one set of twins, thankfully neither set of which was identical, I was seventeen, my brothers were fifteen and fourteen when our parents decided that we kids were old enough to look after ourselves while they had a second honeymoon. So off they went for two weeks of fun in the sun leaving me, as the eldest, supposedly in charge. My brothers had other ideas, however, and I was seriously outnumbered, after the first day I just gave up trying to keep them under control and concentrated on keeping the house tidy. That in itself was a full time job, five boys equates to a ton and a half of mess, I liked my brothers, but they were a lazy bunch of sods who couldn’t seem to do anything without making a mess of some sort and I was getting fed up with running around after them by the fifth day.
“Listen here you mob,” I said firmly as I stood in the living room looking at my five brothers lounging around, “I’m fed up clearing up after you, you don’t make this much mess when mum and dad are around and I don’t see why you should do it now, I’m not your slave you know.”
It was only as I finished speaking that I noticed that the boys were passing around a scotch bottle, it was nearly empty yet I was sure it had been full that morning. They were also whispering together which was always a bad sign as it meant they were up to some mischief or other. Gary, Mike, Frank, John and Len all looked up at me with silly grins on their faces and I knew that they were drunk, I snorted in disgust and was about to turn away from them when Mike spoke.
“That’s not a bad idea you know Rita,” he said, his words slurring a little, “just what we boys need.”
“What is?” I asked in total puzzlement.
The year was 1974 and as was her family’s tradition, they all packed up each summer and spent the entire vacation on Cape Cod. As her father had a successful law practice he needed to attend to, she was usually alone during the week with her sister and mother, until Friday nights when her father would join them for the weekend. Josey was almost 16 that summer; her sister was 21 and her mother a very young, and lovely, 39 years old. Each of the females in the house was gorgeous in their own way, and as I found out as I heard more of Josey’s stories, each was highly sexual and seductive toward any man that crossed their paths.
However, Josey at that time was just coming into full bloom, and beginning to grasp the degree to which sex would come to rule her life. She never got much beyond five feet tall, but she had a full, soft ass, delicate sexy legs, and a firm muscular body as a result of her tomboy up bringing. That summer her long brown hair was to her waist, and her breast had swelled to match in proportion, if not in actual size those of her busty sister and mother. I saw a few pictures of her and she was an incredibly sexy package.
Josey’s mother and sister had friends and activities that rarely included her, so she was always bored. Beyond going to the beach and reading there was little for her to do. She would often lie up in her bed room over looking the beach and masturbate as she watched the various men walk past her house on the way to the water. She remembers she was constantly horny that summer, and these sessions would take the edge of for a short while, but ultimately only serve to make her more frustrated.
It is unfortunate that more boys don’t have a big sister like I had to help them through puberty. I mean that’s a tough time for everyone. But I had my sister and am I ever grateful I did.
We have always been close even though she is three years older than me. There were some rough times in our relationship when she was between 12 and 14 but even then, I sensed that she really would come through in a pinch, if it came to that. So by the time I was 12 and beginning to grow in all sorts of ways that I hadn’t expected, Jo was there to help out.
You see, Jo had a way of getting me to talk about whatever was troubling me. Even when I felt embarrassed, she would be able to throw her arm around me and after beating around the bush, I would finally tell her the problem. What made it impossible for me to hide anything from her was that she was always so open with me. She would not only tell me everything that was bothering her but she also seemed to have absolutely no modesty around me. I mean, I was in her room once talking about some of the things happening around school when she began changing her clothes. I was certainly aware this was just my sister but I was also aware that most of my friends would have given anything to witness the show I got during the next few minutes. Keeping up her side of the conversation, she proceeded to strip down to her bra and panties. I had seen her this way many times so I wasn’t particularly shocked. But she continued to undress, slipping off her bra and tossing it on the bed.
“Come on in.” I greeted my niece and nephew, “I’ve just put the kettle on, and you go and unpack while I make us all a cup of tea.”
“Coffee for me please.” Martin grinned.
“And me.” Tina added.
“Coffee it is then.” I replied.
Martin and Tina took their bags upstairs while I headed for the kitchen to make the coffee. As I waited for the coffee to percolate I wondered what the kids and I could do for the next two weeks that they would be visiting me; I had the same problem every year, what to do. Mind you I had always enjoyed the annual two-week visit of my big sister’s kids, especially after my own marriage had broken up; they had cheered me up no end. Martin had now turned nineteen, his sister was eighteen, and growing more beautiful each time I saw her.
What I liked most about the kids was that they seemed to think nothing of the age gap between us, their attitude made me feel like a twenty year old instead of a woman of thirty-eight. The kettle clicked off and I busied myself with making coffee, I could hear the kids moving about upstairs and took the steaming cups into the living room with a smile on my face. A few minutes later they came into the living room; for some reason Tina’s face seemed a little flushed and I hoped that she was not coming down with a cold.
Mary arrived home a little earlier than usual. Her last class had ended by a fire drill so Mary and her best friend Jill slipped away rather than going back inside the school. They went their seperate ways.
When Mary went upstairs she saw that her brother Roger’s bedroom door was closed. She stopped outside the door and listened closely. She heard strange sounds coming from her brother so she assumed, correctly, that the sixteen year old was masturbating. Mary smiled as she ran her fingers along the crotch of her pants making herself feel so nice.
She made another assumption that her brother probably hurried home from school to have a good wank before she came home. Her plan was hatched at that moment. She left the house to walk around the neighborhood killing time while she finished planning on just how to catch her brother with his pants down.
Miss Moore was my home room teacher in the seventh grade, and she also taught English. She was twenty eight years old and was unmarried, although I’m sure that she had received many proposals, because she was slender and beautiful. She had dark hair, and at school she always dressed conservatively. Still, one could see her bare calves and lower arms, which were so perfectly shaped that one could imagine, as I did, that she was perfect all over. She had modest breasts, and when she wore a jacket over her blouse, one could not detect any sign of them. Her face was so pretty, so lovely, yet one could discern strength in it. She knew what teaching was all about, and she was devoted to her job, her profession. Miss Moore did not tolerate any disorder or horse play in her classroom. Usually her stern demeanor was sufficient to maintain order. But when a situation got out of hand, she could be subtly, yet effectively punishing. Once, when I repeatedly disrupted the class with stupid observations about what we were studying, Miss Moore came over to me, placed her hand on my head and told me gently to calm down and to behave. What my classmates didn’t know was that she pulled on my hair with her fingers and caused me a great deal of pain.
When I was half way through the seventh grade, I masturbated for the first time. I was then twelve, going on thirteen. We all remember that first time. For me it was unintended. I lay in the bathtub and played with my cock, soaping it and pulling on it with my fingers. It felt so good doing that. I continued until my little pecker erupted with a sting and enormous pleasure. I cried out in surprise, which caused my mom to bang on the bathroom door and inquire if there were a problem. I yelled that I had burned myself with the hot water. I knew about jacking off. Half of the guys in my class were doing it and talking about it. I sat in the tepid water and looked at the white globules of my semen floating in front of me. I washed out the tub after the bath, destroying any evidence of my sin.
It was one of the worst snowstorms ever to hit Kingston. The snow was up to the window sills and all the roads were closed so I could not possibly make it to my classes at high school.
When Dad divorced Mom, he received the family residence, and Mom took two small rental houses. She rented one out, while she and I lived in the other. Our house had all electric heat and no facility for burning wood. With the electric power off because of the snowstorm, the house temperature went down to fifteen degrees. My teeth were chattering so loudly that they sounded like a machine gun.
Mom pulled the electric blanket off of her bed and dug a feather bedcover out of the closet. After she put it on her bed, she suggested that I crawl in the bed with her as I probably would be too cold alone in my own bed. In as much as we had gotten up only to observe the snow, neither of us were dressed. I threw my bath robe on Mom’s bed and climbed under the feather bedcover with her. My teeth stopped chattering once I became warm, and I soon drifted off to sleep. When I was awaken by a wonderful feeling. As I became fully aware of my surroundings, I felt my mother’s warm hand inside my pajamas — fondling my hard cock.
One of the most stimulating sexual turn-ons for me and my boyfriend is to tell each other about our sex acts with other people. Jim is never more aroused than when I relate in graphic detail my sex with another man. I, in turn, get off listening to him describe how he fucks other women.
Jim is a confirmed voyeur and a frequent visitor to the adult bookstores and sex shops in our city. I used to love to hear him talk about his nocturnal visits to these sex stores, about the small, dark movie booths, the grainy flash of porno on miniature screens, the men lurking in the dim corridors, and the “glory holes”.