The Long Hunt Ch. 01

Which it was.

And when I heard my mother say "Well sure you can have him for the day," my dick charged up like the paddles on a defribulator. "I've got some chores for him here, but he could stand to pitch in for the rest of the family, too."

So a few minutes later I was walking up the dirt driveway that connected the Apple House to the Milk House, just a bit farther up the slope of McRae's Hill, alone beneath a heavy canopy of poplar and hickory. Tasting the tang of dust and old creosote on a humid summer morning, heat already rising under under a cotton sky, swinging the sling blade my mother had told me to collect from the shed behind our house. Frightened and excited.

Clair was waiting for me at her mailbox as I rounded the bend.

"How tall are you now, Will?" Aunt Clair called out to me, her voice surprisingly smooth for a smoker. She was still in her nightshirt, with her hair pulled back in a loose pony and her bare feet balanced precariously on the sharp gravel of her driveway. She was more playing with her cigarette than she was actively smoking it.

"Six-foot-six," I said. "Or I was last month."

"Yes, I imagine that a month might matter to a boy your age," she said. "I swear, I think you've grown since I last saw you. But Lord, child, how much to you weigh?"

I was mabye 180 in those days. I lied and added a few pounds so as not to sound so spindly.

"Well, then the first thing I'm gonna do is feed you, honey," she said as I reached her, sliding a maternal arm around my waist. "Come on into the house and I'll make you some breakfast with the girls."

I thought about volunteering that I'd just eaten, but in those days, I'd take all the calories I could get.

And so I sat at the old wooden table in the big kitchen at the Milk House, a wood-frame two-story vernacular building set on field-stone pilings, with a design that made it look like the little house had a high forehead. I was flanked by my cousins Julie – at 18 years old, a virtual twin for the photos of the teenaged Clair that adorned the mantle – and Paul, a grumbling 13-year-old whose only apparent interest was professional wrestling.

Clair talked with us happily while she cooked, and every time she passed my chair she touched my arm, shoulder or neck descretely. A few minutes after the meal the house emptied out, with Julie hugging me her way out the door, piling Paul into the family Chevelle. It was a day shift at the Piggly Wiggly in town for her, another day of Vacation Bible School for him. Once the car disappeared around the bend, the house and the whole end of the hollow felt profoundly quiet.

"You hear that?" Clair said, stopping in of me at the front door and staring up into my eyes. It was hard to keep my attention fixed on her face with that cleavage gazing up at me, too. "That's the sound of the Big Lonely, Will. That's the sound of living back up here. It's a sound that's been up here for centuries."

We paused there for just a moment, maybe a moment too long, and then Aunt Clair led me out to the driveway and pointed out the work to be done. It was a long stretch of high grass, blackberry brambles, pokeberry and Jimson weed that had cropped up over the long summer. I got to work with the sling blade, pointing myself toward the old tobacco shed in the seldom-used corner of her yard. When I looked up for her again, she was gone.

I must have worked for a couple of hours before Clair re-appeared, this time with cold glasses of iced tea. We sat together in the shade of the tobacco shed on a couple of rusting old metal chairs, drinking our tea and feeling the prickly heat rising. Droplets of sweat slid down her exposed skin into the valley between her breasts, and the wet patch on the back of my t-shirt stuck to me like a new layer of skin.

"Did you know that I've never lived in a house with air conditioning?" Clair asked me, staring out across the road toward an opening in the trees that led to Uncle Jim's corn field.. "I've been in air conditioning, of course. But I grew up with your mother and Jim and Jenny up at Willa's Place, and then Bart and me moved down here to the Milk House when we got married. So that's it. Only lived in two places, neither one has ever had air conditioning."

"You could always get one of those window units. Mom put one in the living room so we could all have a place we could close off and get cool."

"I thought about it," she said, turning back to me with a look that began at my feet and rose up to my eyes. "But I think I'm just hot-blooded my nature. If I were to get one, I think, maybe I'd turn into to one of those cold ladies from in town who still come out to our church. Hell, they're practically embalmed."

"Whatever happened to your husband Bart?" I asked.

"He just wandered off, I guess," she said. This time she cut her eyes away from me. "Haven't seen him in 10 years." Clair ran her fingers provocatively down her cleavage to wipe away the sweat. "Hey, would you like to see something cool?"

I think I understood, even then, that we were about to cross a line into new territory. But rather than take me into the house and lead me to her bedroom, or have me fuck her on the back porch like Ray, Clair led me to the spring house.

"Duck your head," she said as I followed her into the thick-walled building. "Pull that door closed behind you."

As soon as I did, I felt the cool room settle around me, and as my eyes adjusted to the half-light, I began picking out the details. Sunlight slanted down from two small openings near the rafters, revealing the source of the gentle gurgling sound below my feet. There was no floor at the center of the room, as the spring house had been built around the spot where the stream that flowed past the Milk House rose from the earth. The central pool had been constructed to hold crocks of milk and cream on shelves that kept them just below the surface, although those crocks were long gone by 1981.

"When I was your age, living up at Willa's Place, we used to come down here on the days when it got too damned hot, and we'd sit in here on that bench there and just pass the time," Clair said. "It's still my favorite place in the world, I think." She sat on the bench and relaxed audibly. "Do you like it?"

"And this is where they kept the milk?" I asked, pointing to the pool.

"Yep. Back before we got electric up here. But that was before I was born."

"I think I would have liked it back then," I said, examining the structure in detail. "I like those old-time things."

"You're just like your father," Aunt Clair said. "Born out of time. I look at you and I can just see you in buckskins."

"Like the long hunters," I said.

"Just like the long hunters," she said. Aunt Clair closed her eyes, and we fell silent for a moment.

"I gave my first blow job in this very spot," she purred. Her eyes opened and engaged boldly with mine. "Do you know what a blow job is, Will?"

Hell yes I knew what a blow job was. "No ma'am," I said.

"A blow job is when a woman – well, at the time I was just a girl – takes a man's penis in her mouth and licks it and kisses it and sucks it until the man can't take it anymore and ejaculates," she said, then closed her eyes again, drifting in an expression both distant and blissful. "Ejaculate. I've always kinda liked that word. It's a bit funny for what it is, which is just plain old cum, but it sounds almost happy. Ejaculate! When you give a man a blow job, when you do it right, he cums right in your mouth. Boom! And they're just so grateful afterward."

I tried to swallow, but my throat was so dry that it basically refused.

"Was... uh, was it your husband Bart?"

Aunt Clair laughed. "No. I didn't get together with that useless fuck until I was 19 years old. Have you ever had a girlfriend, Will?"

"Yes. Sort of."

"Have you ever had a blow job?"

I shook my head in the semi-darkness.

"Do you understand that I brought you in here to offer you one?"

I nodded.

"And how do you feel about that, Will? Do you like the idea of a woman like me – a mother, your blood kin – giving you that kind of pleasure? Or does that bother you?"

"No!" I said. "It doesn't bother me. I just don't understand why."

"Honey," she said, shifting her weight forward on the bench, "I get lonely up here. And I realize that you may not understand this yet, but you're just a painfully beautiful young man."

"You're beautiful, too" I said, swallowing hard again. "I think you're very sexy. I think..."

"Will honey," she said, "I'm 10 years older than your mother. You don't need to flatter me. I just need to hear you ask me. I just need to hear the words. And if you ask me, 'Please Aunt Clair, please give me a blow job, please suck me until I cum,' then I will."

"It can't be right," I said.

"I'm not asking you if it's right. We decide what is right here. That's not the question."

"Then what is?"

"Ask me, Will."

It all came out like a single word with no punctuation. "Willyousuckmeandmakemecum?"

"Yes," my aunt said, tucking the stray strands of her long blonde hair behind her ear. "Come here, young man."

I stepped closer to her, and Clair leaned forward, undid my belt and top button, and the pulled the zipper of my jeans. My cock – already as hard as a diamond, and only constrained by underwear and too-tight denim, leaped out of the opening like an animal freed from its cage.

"My God that's beautiful," she said, leaning forward so close to my penis that I could feel the warmth of her skin in the cool spring house even before she touched me. "Will, I want you to know that this is going to be the largest penis I've ever touched. Do you feel honored?"

"Sure."

She laughed lightly again, then grabbed the base of my cock and swiftly sucked down about a third of my length, releasing it against strong suction, and then pulled her head away. The sudden jolt of pleasure made me gasp. "How long has it been since you last came, baby?"

"Well, I mean, I've never..."

"I had two brothers and raised your cousin George," Aunt Clair said. "I know you boys have to jack it regular just stay sane."

"I don't..."

"Will," she said, stroking my cock and swiftly and gentling swirling her tongue once around its head, "if you want this blow job, you've got to answer my questions. Honestly."

"This morning. First thing."

She rewarded me with another deep bob on my dick. "And before that?"

"Three times. Yesterday."

"What did you think about about?" She slurped up and down several times. "While you were stroking this magnificient dick, what did you think about?"

"I thought about you."

"Yesss...." she said, and now she brought both her hands up to grasp me, and her sucking grew more forceful and rythmic. "Was that you in the woods yesterday, Will Messer?"

"Yes," I said every muscle in my body now rigid with the equisite electric sizzle of pleasure she was generating.

"You watched that man fuck me."

"Yes."

"You watched me swallow his cum."

"Yes."

"And then you made yourself cum over and over again, just remembering it."

"Yes."

"Do you understand how excited that makes me, Will?"

"I'm glad."

Clair stopped so abruptly that her mouth made a popping sound as it released the head of my cock, and she stood straight up and pulled her v-neck top over her head, then reached behind her back and opened the clasp on her bra, freeing her womanly breasts. After staring up into my eyes for a moment, she sat back down, leaned back, and brought my dick to her chest before squeezing her breasts around it.

"Thrust," she commanded, and I thrusted. "Imagine that's my pussy. Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Do you want it?"

"Yes."

"You can't have it, honey. Oh, I'd like it. I'd like to feel this huge dick filling up my pussy. But this is my rule. This is my line. If you're family, I will suck you. I will stroke you. I'll let you fuck my tits. But pussy sex is over the line. Do you understand?"

"OK."

"Are you ready to cum?"

"Yes." I was panting now, breathless, my fingers reaching out to grab her head.

"OK then, Will," she said, returning to deep-throating my dick. "You may cum in my mouth. You may shoot your load down my throat. Do it. Do it. Do it."

And I did, too, sprialing, looping, white ropes of cum blasting out of my dick as my hands held her head firmly in place. But I needn't have bothered. The moment I began to ejaculate, Aunt Clair pressed her neck forward, taking my dick so deep that I could feel her throat contracting around the sensitive head. She wanted every drop, and she took it.

"Beautiful," she said when she released me. "Now watch me cum." It was the first time that I had even noticed that she had her left hand between her legs, and was already close to climax herself.

"No, don't take you dick from me," she said when I tried to move. "I want it in my mouth when I cum." Rather than take it away, I leaned over instead and – for the first time in my life – slipped a finger into a pussy. She was drenching wet, and in a few moments one finger had become three, and while she rubbed her clit and strained against my fingers, I felt her tip over the edge into orgasm.

The event was so exciting that my dick instantly came to life again, and as my aunt returned to the earthly plane, she suddenly became aware of the fact that my dick was hardening again in her mouth.

"My God Will. You're ready to go again."

"Is that weird?"

"It's unusual. But not so rare for someone your age." She stroked my dick with both hands and resumed slurping on the head, humming as she did it. "I think you could cum again."

"Of course."

"God I wish I could feel this dick inside me," she moaned.

"You can," I whispered.

"I can't," she said, and then deep-throated me again. "Come on, Will, cum for me. Cum down my throat again."

"I want to fuck you," I said, feeling bolder. "I want to fuck you like he did."

She sucked harder and faster.

"I've never had it," I whispered.

"It's my rule," she said, refusing to look up at me. "It's the rule I always kept with Jim."

"You fucked your brother?"

"No!" she insisted. "Only blow jobs. Handjobs. Never my pussy. Not him or my cousins."

"So your first blow job in this spring house..."

"Was your Uncle Jim," she said looking up into my eyes now. "When I was 14. He begged for my pussy, but I always said no."

"Aunt Clair, may I please fuck you?"

"No! I said no!"

"You said I just needed to ask. And I'm asking. Can I just slide my dick along the outside of it?"

"Here," she said, standing up again and turning her ass to me so that my dick pressed against the cleavage of her rump cheeks. "Come on, baby, rub it there and shoot your load all over me."

"At least let me feel your skin," I said as I pulled up her dress, revealing her naked ass. It lacked the elasticity of a young woman's perky bottom, but it was classically shaped, smooth and strong. Clair moaned and dropped her head as I laid my penis between her ass cheeks and began to slide it up and down, the slick friction engaging her sensitive anus and coming perilously close to splitting her vulva wide open.

"God I want that dick!" she said, and when mistakenly I took that wish as permission, I fumbled frantically to find her opening with the head of my cock. She recognized what I was doing and immediately pushed away. We stood there, panting, staring into each other's eyes.

"Most boys your age do what they're told." She said.

"Yes ma'am."

"Most boys your age respect their elders."

"Aunt Clair, I do respect you. And I'll do whatever you say. But I really want to feel what a woman feels like, and I think you really want to feel me, too."

"I do. It's just..."

"One time," I begged. "Just let me put it in you one time. And then I'll pull out."

For the next two or three seconds, the universe seem to balance on an infinite spindle.

"If I let you, do you promise to pull out when I say?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise to hold completely still if I say so?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said, turning around, spreading her legs with her dress hitched up over her rump, and leaning forward to put her forearms against the cool walls of the spring house. "I hope God will forgive me, Will. I hope you'll forgive me."

Her pussy radiated heat in the perpetual dusk of the cool room. It was still a mystery to me, but I could see that its lips were open.

"That's it. Right there. Hold it!" She was gasping as the tip of my cock touched the opening of her wet hole. "OK baby, you're right there. Now when I say, I want you to push it in very, very slowly, until it's in as far as it will go. And then I want you to hold very, very still. OK?"

"OK."

"OK baby. Do it."

We both gasped as I entered her, one long, excruiating stroke of pleasure. Aunt Clair slapped the wall as I reached her deepest point, let out a guttural sound, and then growled "Do. Not. Move."

"Yes ma'am," I said.

"Because if you move, you'll cum. Won't you?"

"I'm about to cum right now. I want to cum right now."

"Do not cum inside my pussy, young man. You made me a promise."

"Yes ma'am."

"I just want to feel this for a moment," she said, and I noticed she had taken her right hand off the wall and started to massage her clit while she talked. "Your dick is huge. It's shaped like a baseball bat. And I want to be fucked senseless by it."

"Then let me..."

"No!" she shouted, pushing back and away from me. I damn near lost my balance and fell into the central pool.

"I'm sorry honey," she said, resuming her role as the supportive aunt. "I understand. I should have never taken you down this road. I had no right."

But I was crazed by this point, on the verge of orgasm, driven past the point of reason by the smell and feel of pussy and saliva and my own funk. Just two thrusts would have made me explode, and in that state of limited mental capacity, I was no longer the 18-year-old boy she had known, but every sex-crazed young man who has ever lived.

And dear Aunt Clair recognized it, bless her heart.

"Honey?" she said. It was a command, not a question, like she was gently speaking through the wild haze of lust and pre-orgasmic mania to find the sane person inside me, the one that wasn't absorbed with mad desire to fuck her rough like that Ray Ross had. To hold her down, slam her hard, fill her with sperm – then shake it off, harden up and do it again. It was like her voice was coming to me from far away, and then there she was, her face looking up at me, Aunt Clair reconnecting to the sane me with her eyes and voice, holding my twitching cock still deep within her pussy.

"Will, baby, I love you so much, and I'm sorry I've brought you to this. But you're not thinking straight, because need to cum, baby. That's all. It's just that I can't let you cum inside my pussy, even though I'd like nothing more than to feel you gush into me."

Listening to those words damn near flipped my trigger, but she was slowly drawing herself off my dick as she spoke. "Shhh..." she whispered. "Don't you worry, darlin'. I know what you need, and I promis I'm going to take good care of you. Shh. Come on. You're almost there."

And then, as I watched in amazement, my Aunt Clair reached behind her and used her fingers to take juice from her pussy and begin lubricating her tight little ass.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I didn't mean to bring you this far," she said, running a finger into her asshole. "But you need to cum and I know you need to cum inside me. So I'm going to let you finish inside my ass."

"But, Aunt Cl..."

"Shhh, Will, shhh. Come here, give me your dick," she said as she reached behind her, grasped my penis, and lined it up at her tightest opening. "Now baby, you're getting kind of a crash course in sexual pleasure today. But I think you can handle it..."