Aunts in His Pants

He had a serious look, but I could see that he was trying to not laugh. He wasn't sure I understood what had made mom angry or not. I might be innocent, or guilty, he wasn't sure. However he just shook his head, and said, "Son, Sally doesn't grow roses." Then it clicked, she had said, "I'll let you water my roses", which was quite a provocative promise of more sex to come, at the time. When I had quoted it, I thought it was a good cover. But instead, I may have let the cat out of the bag that I had my aunt's pussy in the sack! Mom came back after a few minutes and acted like nothing in the last ten minutes had happened. Dinner was good, but quiet, unusually so.

Then a week later, Aunt Sylvia came by one evening. She had a favor to ask her favorite nephew, that being me. In fact, I was the only child of the three sisters. I knew that Sylvie and her husband had decided not to have kids. He was older, it was his second marriage and he had two by his first wife. They were in another state and got a sizable inheritance when he died, and would receive the bulk of the rest when Sylvia passed, since there were no other heirs. Sylvia was on friendly terms with them, but they were not her kids. Sally had a bad miscarriage and was unable to conceive after her operation. Mom and dad wanted more than just me, though it never happened for some reason.

Sylvie had an important charity ball to attend, but her usual escort, since my uncle had been gone, was going to be out of town. She thought of me because I had some dance lessons and was good at the waltz, foxtrot and could 'boogie with the best of them'; her words. Besides, I was old enough now to have champagne and there was my tux left over from the proms, just hanging in the closet gathering dust. So I was all set if I wanted, if I would be so kind, "I'll make it worth your while," sultrily entreated the most elegant of the three sisters Savoy. How could I refuse? I wondered if I might get as lucky with Sylvia as with Sally; and had they talked? 'Make it worth my while' sounded not only promising, but perhaps a bit like a proposition!

I dressed in the tux at Aunt Sylvia's house (small mansion) where the limousine was picking us up. I came down the curved stairs first. Then Sylvie made her entrance. She was wearing a designer dress, a black number made of a material that clung to her every curve, which were all over and in all the right places and proportions. The front and back were symmetrical, with an opening like this (), which ran from breast bone to just below the navel and from the shoulder blades to just above the split of her buns. The sides had smaller similar but narrower gaps that ran from the outer edge of her breasts to the top of her hips. It was held together and up by inch wide straps over the shoulders. The lower part of the dress had thigh-high side slits to allow freedom for dancing. It was stunning.

We arrived and found our table, a mix of younger well-to-do and middle-aged wealthy; but nice folks, friendly. The music was quite varied, even if the orchestra did favor the slower rhythms. There was plenty of wine and great hors d'oeuvres. I enjoyed Sylvia's company as she was a vivacious and witty woman who loved her life and had the charm to enchant others with her joie de vivre. We had a great time. The thing I liked the most though, was dancing with her. Dancing close and slow and putting my hands on her, smelling her perfume, her body pressed against mine. Being so near, I could tell that the dress was the only covering of her pulchritude, and there was no hint of panties, or thong either for all I could perceive. Just thinking about that made me begin to swell in my pants. I had to loosen my tie as things warmed up.

Eventually, my tumescence was full and upright. Still Sylvie pressed with her legs and abdomen against what she must have felt hard on her tummy and thighs. It was like she expected it, enjoyed it, had planned it and was getting a thrill from my condition. I certainly didn't mind the soft cushions of femininity pressing on my chest. I took off my jacket so that there was less between us. Sylvie looked me straight in the eyes as we tangoed with verve and flair. The sparks were definitely zapping from our contact and it wasn't static electricity! Then came a slow waltz and we were quite tight together, my manhood pressing and rubbing on the bump of her mons as we swayed.

After that Sylvia grabbed her purse from the table and took out a check, beckoning me to follow with a crooked finger. I grabbed my coat and obeyed, using the jacket to hide my still protruding erection. She went by the head table, dropped the bank-note in the big glass bowl for donations and we exited out the hall. She fished out her cell and made a call; within a minute the limo was there to pick us up. In the back of the long sedan, she rolled up the dividing window for privacy. She half turned to me and taking my hand furthest from her, placed it on her thigh. I turned toward her expecting a kiss. Instead, she said in a soft husky voice, "This is what you have done to your Aunt, you naughty boy!" She moved my hand up to her crotch.

As I had surmised, there were no panties, nor a thong, all I felt was bare bald pussy and a wet slit. She continued, "If I had to sit down, after that last dance, I'd have a very telling wet spot on my tush when I arose. We were too public to have that happen. As it is, now that I am sitting, this gown will need a trip to the cleaners!" Then she kissed me. Can she kiss! Even without the tongue her lips made a marvelous tender mushing on my mouth. When our oral digits danced it was a sensual ballet of slippery squiggles, an art of knowing the inside of the other's face. Meanwhile, my hand was rubbing the squishy place she had shoved it, and she loved it.

Nor were her fingers idle, as she was stroking my boner through my pants. It was a short drive back to her home, so we didn't undress until we were through the front door. Sylvie just unhooked the front clasp at the top of her dress, and shrugged off the straps. It fell to her feet and she was like Eve before the fig leaf (but after having tasted the apple)! She drew me by the hand to the living room and picked up a remote. With some practiced button pushing the lights dimmed and romantic music started to play. Then she stripped me like mom had done when I was little and tired. Only I was not tired, even after the wine and fancy food, and I certainly was not little; you know where I mean!

When I was down to my pants puddled at my feet, I shed my shoes and socks stepping forward, now Adam - sans leaf also. She gathered me into her arms and said, "Let's dance a little more." I put my arm around her waist to lead, and moved slow to the music, my bare cock against her clean pudenda. But of course, she really was the one leading me, down the garden path, just as Sally had done in her own salacious way. My pre-cum dampened her mons, my shaft was grinding the greased groove of her womanhood and we shuffled on the shag carpet not moving much from where we started from, most of the motions was at our pelvis level.

Finally I just stopped moving my feet and hunched my hips, so that my hard-on was sawing at her notch, it was planning over the nub of her clit and her head tilted back in an open-mouth gasp of passion, her tits lifting and making the perfect target for my sucking lips. She then came forward and pushed me so that I lost balance and went back on my ass. That was as she wanted; for she straddled me as I stretched out, her dripping center hovered over my prick and she reached down to guide it to her pussy. It happily was a solid awl to puncture her tissues, slicing up the cavity it widened in her body. That heated snug casing was fabulous, as Sylvie sank and rose upon the handle of my masculinity.

My hands went to clutch her bosom as the pendulous mams hovered over my torso. I gave a gentle pinch to the protruding flesh that was in the middle of the rosettes. My aunt's pelvis rocked back and forth, to and fro. "That's right Baby, just let mama do all the work for us. Did you ever want to do this to your mom, kiddo? Be honest, tell Aunt Sylvie the truth, don't you have a lust for your own mother, somewhere deep in your loins?" My surprise at her words made me speechless for a moment, but my libido answered involuntarily as my dick lurched and my hips thrust, as the spice of that even more sinful incest spiked my pike.

"I knew it!" cried Sylvia in triumph, not at my expense but in delight at her insight as to what secret lust lurked within her sister's son. "It's okay, Darling, that streak runs all through the family. You're just the next generation of Savoy degenerates!"

"But, I always had a hankering to hammer you too, Sylvie!"

"Of course, you did dear boy, and I bet that goes for Sally as well. We three are like the triple scoops of ice cream on a banana split; you want to have the whole she-bang. And your banana is doing so nicely in my split! But stay put; I like to ride in reverse too!" With that she made a practiced maneuver and actually turned around on me with my penis still up her vagina, to face the other way. Away she went up and down some more. I was looking at her fine posterior, an ass to be proud of on any woman, when I made an observation that hit me like a thunderbolt. There on her hindquarters, in the exact same spots, were two tattooed flowers; same as Aunt Sally's but a different bloom, and blue not red.

"Sylvie, you've got flowers on your tush too!" It's funny how fast the mind can work sometimes. I had blurted out the line about 'watering Sally's roses', and possibly spilled the beans about our making love. Clear as if she were in the room, I heard Sal say, 'Don't you dare tell your mom, or Sylvie, about this!' I immediately tried to cover my rear about the intimate discovery I had made with both of them and added, "Uh... two blue flowers on your buns." I hoped that Sylvie had not caught the barest hesitation that was the millisecond I took, as all that flashed through my brain. "When did you get those?" The question was a diversionary tactic. It failed, but in an unexpected way brought more revelation!

All the while the exquisite sensation of our fucking was continuing full out. She laughed as her derrière bobbed upon my dick and felt like warm butter that gripped me like a rubber glove. Her Kegels were highly trained I realized as she bounce on my boner, the interior muscles of her sex surrounding my manhood. Before answering she shuddered, and a fine coating of perspiration broke out over her whole back. That was her first cum. She dismounted and pulled me over to the couch where she slouched so her hips hung on the edge of the cushions and I knelt between her thighs, then plugged in for more action. "New Orleans."

I had lost track of the conversation, with the switch of positions, but her next words brought understanding to my lust fogged head.

"Those flowers on my rump are bluebells. I used to have a favorite pair of slacks which I wore constantly. My sisters even teased me about them. So when I got my tattoo, I made a pun about my pants, they were a cobalt blue color, bell-bottoms." I looked slightly befuddled as I fucked her. "Blue - bell - bottom, bluebells on my bottom, get it... oh! Yeah! Just like that, more - harder yess! YESS! AHH!" She came again.

"Damn! I can't believe how turned on it makes me that you got the hots for your mom. You naughty boy, I've caught you out!" I was confused about what she meant, though now I understood about the in-joke of Sylvia's tattoos. "You've been peeking at your mom's ass, haven't you? Or did she show you? No, Susan wouldn't be so bold. So you had to see her butt sometime when she didn't know. Was she sleeping naked on top of the covers and you peeped? Yes! You wanted to see mommy naked because you lusted after her and want to fuck her so bad! That is soo exciting, I'm cumming again you dirty nasty little boy!!" And she did, twice.

I wasn't sure why my lechery for my mother was a turn on for my aunt, but it seemed to get her off quite nicely. I was happy to be doing the honors. I was getting close myself now to blasting in her pussy. I was vaguely aware in my jumble thoughts while working on my own orgasm, that it must mean that mom had a set of tattoos, like her sisters did, on her own ass. What Sylvia guessed about my feelings was true, even though I had not had the pleasure of spying on my mother's naked body in such luscious circumstances. My current paramour was indeed a fair substitute physically for my maternal parent. I began to fantasize with the inspiration that my aunt's words incited.

Sylvia could tell that I was beginning the rush to the rumble, the pace quickened and I gripped her legs harder to gain leverage to sock my raging rod into her genitals. Slap-slap-slap went our flesh clapping together as I beat her with my club of love, our crotches smacking. Her tits were jiggling with the banging as I pounded away at her pussy. "Think about fucking mommy, fuck your mama!" she urged me. That pulled the trigger and I was engulfed in the reverie of screwing mother.

I cried out my thoughts and deepest desires and most secret of lusts. "Yes, mom! Susan fuck me! I love you mom, I need you! I have to... I have to..."

"Yes, Baby! Cum in mama, squirt it all into mommy's tummy. Do it, Darling! FUCK ME! FUCK ME NOWW!"

We were cumming together, mom/Sylvie and me, a wild and chaotic pistoning in her cunt by my out of control cock. Son was slamming into aunt/mother with all the energy that had been withheld for so long, wanting to give my parent the love she had given to me. But in this wonderful physical way that brought her and I together and provided such a grand pleasure to our united bodies. I made "uh-uh" grunts and "ah'whoo" wails as I release the load that had waited to fire from my balls into the receptacle of her loins. I felt my prick pulse in big throbs of gushes, in the burning wetness that held me and drank the flow that streamed through the tube of meat planted in her.

At last we rolled off the sofa and onto the floor hugging one another, still connected for moments, until withered and well satiated, my tool lost its insane fury and retreated to be its softer self. I think we fell asleep like that, for the next thing I knew, the faintest light was glowing through the curtains. With the movement of my waking, Sylvia stirred as well, and we struggled to our feet. Both of us were a bit rubbery in the knees as we staggered, holding on to one another, and found our way to her bed. We kissed and she managed to pull the sheet over us before we drifted off to dreamland again. I sort of remember my last thought before unconsciousness, what I wondered was the type of flower my mother had on her tush?

When we finally woke it was about ten in the morning. It being Sunday, the shop was closed and I didn't have work. My parents had expected that we might get out of the dance late and that I'd spend the night at my aunt's. What they were not going to find out was that we came home from the ball relatively early and screwed long and hard. I balled my relative, I was both long and hard, and I spent the rest of the night sleeping in her bed. That was not going to slip out, the way I had almost slipped up about Sally. I still was unsure if the aunts had talked, or if each was independently seducing me. Not such a difficult task either time. Sylvia ordered a brunch delivered. I went back to my house in the afternoon.

Mom wanted to hear all about my evening at the gala. So I told her a sanitized version of the event. Then I made an error in judgment. "Aunt Sylvie showed me her blue bell-bottoms." I could see that raised mom's suspicions, but it was true. I continued. "You know; the pants you and Aunt Sally used to kid her about? She still had them hanging in the closet and brought them out to show me. Told me how she used to wear them constantly, as they were her favorite clothing, back in the day. She even tried them on; they were a little too tight. And they split!" This made mom burst out in a fit of laughter.

Mom wouldn't have thought it very funny if she had known that her sister had not been wearing underpants at the time. It left her whole crotch open and exposed. I took advantage of the situation and took my aunt right there on the bed. She was bent over and she lay prone on her stomach getting fucked by her nephew, still in Adam's un-attire. I put it through the split fabric into her crack and fucked her in her blue bell-bottoms, while her bluebell bottom was held inclined to give full access to my fat tool. It was the best cure for a hangover I ever had!

I then asked mom if I could get a tattoo. That got her eyes narrowed and I knew she was wondering where that idea had come from and if any hanky-panky HAD gone on between me and her sister. But she decided that she was not going to ask and open that can of worms just yet. So she answered, "Not until your old enough."

"I'm nineteen, almost twenty, I'm old enough."

"No, you have to be older."

"Twenty-one?"

"Twenty-five."

"That can't be the law?"

"It's my rule, your mother's rule; that's a higher authority than the law!"

"But you got a tattoo before you were twenty-five!" Whoops! Me and my big mouth again.

"WHO told you about my tattoo?" She was angry, maybe that I knew about the fact that she had a tattoo, but more likely thinking that I knew the intimate details about her decorated derrière.

I bluffed, "Uh... dad mentioned that you had one in an unmentionable place which he didn't mention where."

"Your father knows about where it is, of course, but not when I got it. Did Sally tell you about... mm... what age I got it? Or was it the other blabber-mouth aunt?"

"It was a while back and I don't remember which one it was, but they just said that the three of you got them on . . uh . . in New Orleans while you were doing the act. Since I was born when you were twenty-four, that means you had to be about twenty-two or three. 'Elementary, my dear Watson!' I quipped the quote."

"Oh, uh . . . yeah that's right. And no, you're not getting a tattoo until you're twenty-five and have grown out of that silly notion! End of discussion." Well it was at that point, I was just glad to have escaped from the 'Susan inquisition' on aunts and private matters. Me and my damn big mouth!

It wasn't until next Friday that I really upset the apple cart. I was home waiting for dinner, I had set the table and dad would be down soon from changing his clothes. I had a pad of note paper that we kept by the phone and a pen. I was drawing. Mom came in, saw what I was doing, and looked over my shoulder. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's just a design I was working on, for my tattoo."

"What is it?" she puzzled at the big X with flames rising from it.

"Well I wanted something masculine. I can't very well get butt-rcups." Mother flushed slightly, and I just had to push my luck. "I'm going to get one on each side."

"I don't get it, and you're not getting them until you're twenty-five Mr.!"

"It's easy. It's a kind of a pun." I paused to see if she might catch on, but I was too subtle. Me and my big mouth. I explained, "Hot crossed buns!"

Mom stood straight up like she had been jerked by a string on the top of her head. She looked at me with the most peculiar expression and suddenly I realized that I had really torn it this time. She didn't know the details but she was certain that either one or both her sister's had sex with me. She walked back into the kitchen. I just sat there mentally kicking myself. Dad appeared a few minutes later.

"Where's your mother?"

"In the kitchen, she's upset." Dad went after her to find out what the matter was. I figured he'd be steamed too, when he found out. But he reported she wasn't there. We looked all over the house for her but didn't find her. Dad determined that her set of car keys was missing and got on the horn to Sally, no she wasn't there. Same with Sylvia. Sylvia called back a few minutes later and asked to speak to me. When I confessed what conversation had taken place shortly before mom disappeared, she let out a big sigh. Then she told me to get ready, she was picking me up in half an hour.