Aunt Jean

Jeezuz... what if she did want to stop fucking him? He needed her as much as... no, he needed her more than she needed him. Was he using her? Taking advantage of her because she was depressed or emotionally screwed up? Or... was she taking advantage of him because he was a teenage guy who was always horny? Were they using each other? Both of them being selfish, getting what they wanted and it just happened to be they wanted the same thing? Did he care about her at all?

Yes, he did care about her! He had been an ass to her before. He had treated her terribly. He did like her, he liked her a lot. He might even love who the "total Jean" might be. He didn't want to think about love though. Yes, it was all screwed up. She was his aunt, it was incest, but he had refused to even really think about that until this moment. They weren't hurting anyone! They weren't even hurting each other! So what if it was incest!

But, why was she sobbing right now if she wasn't getting hurt? Oh shit, what would he do if she didn't want to fuck him anymore? He'd go nuts being with her for the next couple months, knowing how good it could be and then not be able to touch her. He had to do something, had to at least say something to her now. He realized what a selfish asshole he was at the moment. He should be more concerned about Jean, not whether or not she was going to stop fucking him.

He was glad her sobbing had stopped and she was just crying hard now. She didn't want to be ugly and she wasn't when she was the hot Jean. She had to change the 'daytime Jean.' Ron quickly decided that was the real problem, not incest, not any of the other stuff. 'Aunt Jean' wouldn't even look someone in the eyes because she thought she was ugly. That's what was nuts! He had to somehow get her to realize that. Any girl who wore the kind of clothes she did would probably think she was ugly too! His mind started racing. What did she last mumble?

He kissed her shoulder, then her head. "Jean... I... I'm the one who's sorry. I... I don't want to stop..." He blinked. He shouldn't say 'fuck.' "I don't want us to stop being together like this, but... I mean... Do... do you want us to stop being together like this?" He wondered if she was so drunk she'd not understand what he was saying. He wished he was better with words. He held his breath waiting for her answer. He didn't want her hurt. He didn't want her to feel bad about any of it. He admitted to himself there was more to it for him than the sex. What he wanted was to be with the the total Jean, the Jean in between the Jean of the night and Aunt Jean of the day. Did 'middle' or 'total' Jean even exist? He did care about her! He really didn't want any of this to hurt her or make her cry.

"No... I don'... don' wanna stop an'.. an'... th-th-that makes m-m-me so... s-s-so bad."

He exhaled, kissed her cheek, then even kissed her disfigured eye socket. It made her cringe. He spoke softly and hurriedly, "It's not, we're not bad, Jean. We're not hurting anyone... it's... it's us... us just ahhh... caring for each other, giving... giving each other what... what we need. We... we're... we're sharing something... that's... that's really nice, really... uh... beautiful, right? It's... it's good not bad."

"I-I-I d-d-don' know any... anymore." She let our another sob. "I... c-can't h-help that... I wan' it. I like you... an' tha... t.. t..." Another sob.

"It... it is good. But... I think we... we have to make it better and... and..." He wasn't sure he should say what was on his mind. Maybe they'd never fuck again. "I... I think we need to... to stop drinking so much beforehand... I mean... when we do it together, when we're together like this. I... I think it'll be better, you know, not being drunk and... and you'll... we'll feel more, and... and you'll be able to see that... that I really do think you're beautiful. I... I think you being dru... you being a little tipsy, you don't really see how... how I think you're beautiful and... and hot, and nice, and... and how much I like you, and like being with you."

"I... I don' know if... if I can... can do this without d-drinking. I need it... an'... an' you... I need you so much... s-s-so much, R-R-Ron." Again she broke down into intense crying.

He knew what he had to say and it was the truth. He gave her cheek, her temple, her screwed up eye socket kisses, then kissed her ear. He spoke softly, "I need you too, Jean. I need you just as much as you need me. Together we're not alone. I don't want to make you cry though. I... I want to make you feel good. I... I want to help you see how pretty you are. I want to... to be together like this when... when you haven't been drinking, when neither of us have been drinking. I want you to be... I want to help you to... to relax around people, to... to dress like... like some cute chick, which is what you are. I want you to see how... how good and... and normal you are and can be. I don't just want to be in bed with you. I... I want us to do things together, get to know each other better."

He was shocked his own eyes started welling with tears. "Jean... I like you. I want to be with you when you haven't been drinking at all. I want us to do more than have sex together, just... just do normal things together. I... I want you to be happy and... and you're not gonna be if... if you don't change. I want... want you stop worrying so much about... about how you look, and... and I want you to look me in the eyes all the time not just when we're together like this. I want you to try to be... be less worried about what everyone thinks and... and... and just try to be... be yourself, and be happy. I like you... I like you a lot." Tears started running down his face. It made him feel like a goddamn wimp.

Jean had heard at least half of what he had said. He liked her. He did think she was pretty, or maybe that was his pity talking but it didn't seem like pity. She heard him sniffle and realized he was crying too. His tears lessened her own but didn't stop them. She pushed his arms away, then twisted towards him. She put her arms around him and his returned around her. "I'll... I'll try, Ron... I'll try for you to... to be... to be braver... more... normal. I... I'll try not to... to drink so... so much."

"We're... we're going shopping for you tomorrow. We're going to do that no matter what, Jean. I'm not kidding. We are. You... you can't be dressing like... like you do all the time. I... I'm buying you new clothes. I'll... I'll help you pick things out."

"All right... all right, anything, honey, jus'... jus' don't leave me."

When she agreed Ron's tears stopped but Jean continued to softly cry on and off for the next fifteen minutes, grabbing more tissues a few times. Finally she settled down. Ron told her he felt exhausted. She said the same. She didn't tell him to leave. They continued holding each other and within ten minutes, they had both dozed off.

* * *

Chapter 6

Jean was wide eyed behind the large sunglasses. Ron had almost not let her wear them. She had lied to him when they had breakfast, well, when she had made him breakfast. Her stomach was too upset with a hangover and anxiety about the previous night to eat anything, nor did she eat much of a breakfast on any day. She lied when he asked if she remembered agreeing to go clothes shopping for her today. She had said she couldn't remember that, and she'd have never agreed to it. He had gotten angry, had stood up from the table and paced back and forth. He said they were going shopping, even if she didn't remember promising, he was going to make her go, even if he had to tie her up and carry her around.

He then went down a list of things, how it wasn't bad that they were having sex, that it wasn't hurting anyone, that they both wanted to do it and it was helping both of them. It was sharing and it was good, no matter what anyone else would think. He told her that, yeah, he was dumb and just a teenager and didn't know everything, but she was even dumber because she was being afraid when she had nothing to be afraid of. She was pretty and sexy even if she didn't know it and was blind to it. He said he was fed up watching her act like the way she dressed, like she was some stupid dork, someone who didn't even know how to act around people, which he knew she did know how to do.

He shouted that he was sick of her coming across to him and everyone else like she was some crazy person because she wasn't crazy and definitely wasn't ugly and that her acting like that made him so fucking angry. He told her she had promised him last night to go shopping, to let him pick out her clothes, to help her with that, that he'd even use his own money, and that she was goddamn going to do it, even if she shouted or cried or acted like some goddamn crazy person the entire time. He didn't care if she kicked and screamed like some little brat, he was going to drag her from store to store until she had enough clothes so she could dress differently every day. And if she somehow refused, he was going to rip up every one of her stupid "uniforms," her stupid oversized, bad fitting, stupid blue jean shorts and T shirts!

His outburst hadn't scared her, but it had affected her. No one had ever spoken so frankly and forcefully to her. She actually believed he would have dragged her kicking and screaming from store to store. She had been overwhelmed by him. When he asked a few more times if she remembered agreeing to go shopping, she had finally admitted she sort of remembered, and when she said that, he had virtually pulled her around telling her to get ready. He had held her hand tightly as he took her out to the car, opened the door for her and then shut it for her, very gentlemanly, but it was more as if he had expected her to bolt away and he was going to catch her before she escaped.

She had also been remembering everything else too. She obviously knew what they had been doing was terribly wrong. Until last night she had just rationalized that it happened because she had been drunk. She had promised herself after every time they had sex that it would never happen again. She guessed that last night, she had finally admitted to herself she had been rationalizing and outright lying to herself. She didn't want it to stop. She needed it, not just the sex, but the rest of it too, she was so glad he was talking with her now and spending time with her. And from what she remembered only having sex twice with her long forgotten boyfriend before her life had been changed by the accident, Ron was a great lover. She didn't have to remember the other two times as a teenager and compare him to that other boy, all she had to do was remember the past couple weeks, and how many orgasms he had given her.

"Hold your head up, Jean."

"I am." She lied. She raised her head.

"And put your damn shoulders back too."

"I... I'm standing fine."

"Jean.... do it."

She did as he said. She was too tired, hungover, and so near an anxiety attack she didn't want to argue.

Ron pointed to a small clothing store. He had just seen four college chicks walk out. "We'll start there."

"Ron... I... I don't want to go in here. I... I haven't been in a mall for... for years. I... I shop at Walmart for clothes. Why... why don't we go there. Please."

Ron held her hand tighter. His voice was stern. "No. We're going in here. I've got a bunch of money. You're getting new clothes. Stuff that fits, and we're going to other stores too, so.... so get used to it."

She tried to pull him to a stop, then twist her hand from his. "I... I can't."

His hand tightened on hers. He kept pulling her. "That's bullshit. If you shop at the grocery store and... Walmart, you can shop in a mall too. It's not that big of a deal, Jean. Don't get me pissed off." He opened the boutique's door, his hand released hers and then quickly went to her lower back. He virtually had to shove her inside. He was determined to get her through this shopping trip, but his attitude was mostly feigned. He was really concerned she was going to freak.

*

He stepped up to her bedroom door and stood there for a few moments. They had gotten back from the mall after 2:00 PM. He was glad he had been really horny from just seeing her try on clothes that fit, because as soon as they got into the house, he had pulled Jean upstairs. When they got to her room, he nearly ripped her "uniform" clothes off and his own. He had passionately kissed her as he had pushed her to her bed, then as soon as she sat down, he was on his knees, raising her legs, and folding them back, and his mouth was on her cunt a moment later.

His horniness had gotten them over the fear of doing it with her sober. It had been the best time ever. Jean was just as sexy and hot and awesome as all the times she had been wasted. It had taken a huge weight off his shoulders or mind or wherever that heavy worry was. He smiled softly. He was going to 'make love' with her again later. He was going to do everything she loved. It was going to be her night, everything for her later.

"Jean?" He waited a few moments. No answer. He tapped on the door lightly. His voice volume rose. "Jean? You dressed yet?"

"Yes... but... why don't we stay home? I'll wear this dress and... and then make you dinner, and... and then afterwards... I'll... I'll make you feel so good, Ron. We.... we'll stay up all night and... and I'll do anything you want. Just... just let's stay home. I did the shopping with you today. Isn't that enough for one day?"

He tried the door knob. It was locked. She had done everything he wanted today, but he wanted her to do more, she had been too damn afraid for way too many years, and he was sure this would be good for her. His voice softened, "Jean, open the door. I want to see you in the dress again."

"Can't we just stay home?" She didn't notice her voice sounded like a little girl's.

"I really want to see you in the dress. Come on. Open the door." If she refused he was going to get the pin and unlock it. He waited twenty seconds. His voice came out stern, "Jean."

"Just a second." She got up from the bed and walked to the door. She opened it. "Ron, please. Can't we just stay home? I put this dress on for you. Isn't that enough? Really, please. Let's stay here tonight. Please."

Again Ron couldn't believe his eyes. She looked incredibly hot in the form fitting short tank dress. Except for the stupid fake glasses, she really could be some girl from his graduating class, well, at least some college babe. She had those fat ankles but her legs shaved looked good, very attractive, hot. Her cute, even pretty, little feet in the thin strap leather sandals were even sexy. He looked at her face. Her hair was pushed forward at the side to hide her disfigurement. His hand rose and his fingertips combed the hair on the good side of her face back. Then he started to do the same on the scarred side. Her body stiffened.

"Ron, please... don't do that. Leave my hair there. Please."

He could see her good eye was tearing, nearly brimful with tears, the odd eye was too. The deformation around her eye socket was mostly hidden by the dumb glasses. "I think it looks good like this." She turned her face from him. His palm cupped the injured side of her face and he had to use a little strength to get her to look at him again. "I like you facing me when we talk." He lowered his hand and looked her over quickly. Something was missing. "Oh... uh... do you have a purse or bag or something?"

"Just my... my big bag."

"Ahh... well, do you need to take anything? You know, any..." He didn't know what to say. A small smile came to his mouth. "Any girl stuff?"

"Yes... no... I don't know. Ron, please, let's..."

He interrupted, "Jean, you look terrific, better than in the store when you tried this on and you looked awesome there."

Jean bowed her head and trembled as she started crying softly. "Don't... don't make fun of me."

He frowned, then put his arm around her shoulders and nudged her toward the dresser. He pulled out some tissues from the box and gave them to her. "Wipe your eyes, then look in the mirror."

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose with her head bowed. "No."

"You said you'd do anything for me a few moments ago."

"I will. Let's just stay home."

"What I want is for you to look in the mirror." His jaw tensed. "Do it, Jean, right now." She slowly raised her head. "See? You look terrific. Pretty, and hot and... jeezuz... you look my age."

"I don't... I look awful."

"I hope you know I really like what we do together in this room. It's... it's awesome for me. Do you like what we do together?"

"You... You know I do."

"I... I would miss spending those times we've been having lately if it all had to stop, I mean, you know, before college this fall. I would miss you a lot, Jean. Would you miss our time together too?"

"I'd... I'd miss you a lot. Why... why are you asking me that?"

"You know how I asked you this afternoon, and even before this afternoon, what you'd like me to do to make you feel good, and you've asked me the same question?"

"Yes."

"I would like you to go out with me tonight, like we agreed, to dinner, then.... then maybe that outdoor cafe in town. That would make me feel really good, Jean. I really want to do that with you."

Tears started rolling down her face again. "I don't want to be stared at, looked at. You don't understand."

"I thought you didn't mind me looking at you now? Were you lying?"

"No. You can look at me. I... I trust you now, I mean... I mean everybody else."

Ron spoke softly, "You know, when I've gone out on a date, I'm only concerned that my date looks at me, pays attention to me. I... I wouldn't want her thinking about anyone else around, worrying about if they were looking at her or not. And I don't care if anyone else looks or doesn't look at me. The girl I'm with is who concerns me. I guess you don't feel that way." It was sort of what had thought of to say in anticipation of this very conversation. He wondered for a moment if he had ever really thought anything like it on his handful of dates. Probably not.

"That's... that's not what I mean. You know what I mean."

He wasn't going to convince her. He didn't know enough. He had been about to threaten her, no dinner out, then no sex. Then he got afraid she'd get angry and tell him to go to hell. His voice was soft again, "Jean, I want us to have dinner out just as much as I want us to sleep together. If something... something awful happens tonight, I... I won't ask you to do this again. I... I thought this would... would be fun to get out of the house. I thought it would show you that... that I like you, that it's not just the sex for me anymore. I want to know you better. I... I want us to go out tonight. If something terrible happens, we won't ever do it again." He prayed nothing untoward would happen.

She couldn't figure out why he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her. He was being sweet, but he just didn't understand. Maybe if he saw what would happen he'd know she was right. "If... if something bad happens, we... we won't have to do this again?"

"Yeah, but... but you have to... you have to... you have to..." He didn't know how to say it. He figured he shouldn't say she had to act 'normal.'

"Have to do what?"

"You know how you're looking down right now?"

"So what?"

"You can't do that tonight. If you do, that'll break our deal. And... and we'll do this again even if something bad happens."