Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 01

He realized that if anything of the sort had really happened, it couldn't have been while she was in the body he was currently lusting over, but he chose to ignore that pesky detail. He didn't really want to know what she'd looked like at the time, or whether that had been after she'd met his father. That would kill the fantasy.

Of his mother getting gangbanged. FUCK.

There was also the implication that she cared more about the size of a guy's arms than his cock, which was interesting, but he was nowhere near ready to move past the first point.

On the one hand, Frank's complicated and still-evolving gender politics made him want to ban the word "slut" from the English language. It only had meaning in a world where women were believed, and taught, to lack sexual desire. On the other, he was a product of his upbringing and socialization, as everyone was. That gave rise to an ugly, unthinking, visceral reaction. Frank immediately disavowed it, but that only did so much good in terms of opening his airway back up or returning oxygen to his brain. Still, some other part of him thought that if his mother was that indiscriminate with her sexual partners, there was nothing to to stop her from letting her son take part. Shit, that was pretty fucking hot no matter what it meant for him—which was almost certainly nothing. Frank liked the idea of her appetite being insatiable. That made him uncomfortable, yes, but hard too.

The expression on Nat's face went from conflicted to amused. Perhaps even proud.

"Damn, Aunt Ellen," Brianna said. No mistaking the pride there. "Get it, girl!"

"You're an inspiration to young women everywhere," Grandpa Dick said. There was no disapproval in his voice. It sounded more like he was teasing his daughter—and granddaughters—than scolding her. Was this the man who'd stormed off earlier after seeing Frank kiss his cousin? Sure, incest was the ultimate taboo and all, but Frank still might have expected Mister Traditionalist to react negatively to hearing that his daughter had fucked four guys at once. He didn't seem to be aroused, the way Frank was, but he wasn't horrified either.

"Something like that," Frank's mother replied, taking a sip of her pumpkin old fashioned. There was a devilishness there, a complete disregard for how casually she'd revealed her past promiscuity to her children, that he recognized even as it surprised him. He'd seen that expression before, but associated it with his mother buying a new TV without consulting his father first rather than sordid confessions of wanton debauchery.

"Don't worry, Grandpa; she wasn't a bad influence," Nat said.

"I bet you thought I was boring," their mother replied, grinning.

Nat shrugged. "Maybe just a lot."

Aunt Liz was shaking her head. "What do you even do with that many...?"

"Penises?" Frank's mother finished for her.

"I don't call them that," her sister muttered to herself.

Todd cleared his throat. "I'm kinda curious about that myself." He looked their mother dead in the eye and asked, "Have you had a Tupperware party? Y'know, gone airtight?"

Aunt Liz and Grandma Noreen were staring at him in shock, as Frank himself probably was. Even Dom shook his head, though not necessarily in disapproval. Only Todd.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I have." She allowed no time for that to sink in. "In fact, I used to have one a week. It was harder in the fall, though, with you kids home from school. I often had to wait until January to start back up again."

Dom and Todd both laughed. Aunt Liz spat out her wine. Frank wasn't sure how anyone else reacted, because he was too busy not dying of a heart attack. Or cumming in his pants.

"The only part I have a problem with, potentially, is how you met these guys," his grandfather said, which almost made sense. "You didn't just pick them up off the street?"

"Oh, Daddy," his mother replied, sounding younger than she was—younger even than she looked, which was itself wide of the mark. "I was careful. That's all you need to know."

"I wasn't asking if they were black," his grandfather said. "Though I hope they weren't."

Several people jumped on him at once; it was hard to tell who said what. "Whoever told you 'street' means 'black' is an ignorant shit," might have come from Brianna. "There's really no need to go there," could have been Uncle Bobby. But it was definitely Natalie who said, "What's the color of their skin got to do with anything?"

Frank's head was spinning. Or maybe the room was—he wasn't sure. The bombs their mom had dropped were disorienting enough without the added shock of his grandfather's flagrant racism. That the man was something of a bigot wasn't news to him, but after so much time in the Ivory Tower, he simply wasn't used to people talking like that.

Had his thoughts been more cohesive, he might have asked Natalie why just one of the five guys she'd ever dated was white, though. It wasn't like eighty percent of the population was black; in the suburbs, it was closer to one percent. That was hardly Frank's understanding of what it meant for something to not matter at all.

It wasn't that he cared whether his sister had a thing for black guys. Frank wasn't concerned about "racial purity" or any of that shit. He was, however, a little concerned that Nat was one of those girls who thought anything less than nine inches was small.

From what he'd read, that stereotype was unfounded; several studies had found no difference between the average white guy's cock and the average black guy's. But because the porn industry survived by showing people what they wanted to see, and everyone thought it was true, it basically was true in the world of porn. No one ever typed "small black cock" into the Pornhub search bar, after all, but "BBC" was worthy of its own acronym. If porn was all you had to go buy, you might reasonably conclude that the stereotype was true.

Of course, for Frank's purposes, what mattered wasn't whether black guys really were bigger but whether his sister thought that they were. And he was willing to bet anything that she did. The question he had to ask himself, then, was whether he'd be any more comfortable knowing that Natalie only dated guys who were exceptionally well-endowed if they'd all been white. He honestly didn't think he would be. That wasn't terribly flattering either, of course, but he'd sooner be accused of harboring insecurities about the size of his cock than racism. One of those was strictly a personal problem, after all.

"Did you have fun?" Frank asked his mother. "That's really all that matters," he added, because nothing ruined a guy's chances quicker than signaling that he viewed prior sexual experiences as something to be ashamed of. He'd learned that the hard way.

Aunt Liz frowned, causing Frank to curse at himself mentally. Yes, some women hated when guys took sex too seriously, but others thought they didn't take it seriously enough.

"Sure did," his mother said, her voice slow and husky. That very nearly made him ejaculate, but somehow Frank managed to contain himself and his seed.

Eventually his mother released him from the hypnosis, taking a sip of her cocktail that inspired envy for the damn glass it was in. Frank felt sweat dampen his brow.

"So this one time," Natalie began, launching into the first of her statements.

Apparently, she'd gotten into a huge fight with her boyfriend while at a house party. By the end of the night, they'd gotten back together, but they sure wouldn't have if the guy had known that she'd fucked or sucked no fewer than three guys in the interim.

Next, Nat informed them that V-shaped torsos drove her absolutely wild. She very carefully did not let her eyes spend any more or less time on Todd than the rest of them while saying this, but everyone had to have noticed that he fit the bill. Frank thought he might have broader shoulders than anyone else at that table, but if he had Todd beat at all, it wasn't by much. And his younger brother definitely looked like he had a slimmer waist than any of them, which meant he had to have the most dramatic V.

"Finally, I've gotta agree with mom," their sister concluded, "doggy's where it's at."

"Too easy," Brianna said. "The first one was the lie."

Nat reached over and slapped their cousin's thigh. "You whore! How'd you guess?"

"I know your sense of humor. This is where you tell us it wasn't three guys, it was six."

"Five," Nat grumbled. "Would've been funnier if you didn't spoil it."

As her first statement, Brianna said that the three things that turned her on most were: great abs; confidence; tattoos; a big dick; and an open mind about kink.

"That's five things, Brie," Dom informed her, using a nickname that Frank refused to adopt. He was of the mind that if you'd graduated high school by the time you decided to ask people to call you something new, you were shit out of luck. Dom would never be "Dominic" because he'd only ever been "Dominic" on his birth certificate. Frank still sometimes called their sister by her full name but was willing to make the effort because she'd made the switch at thirteen. Brianna had tried to get people to call her "B" for a while after she'd first gone off to college, only adopting "Brie" a few years later. "I know you legal types aren't great with numbers," Dom continued, "but I'm sure you can count to five."

"I've been called worse than picky," their cousin said with a shrug.

She could pretend not to have heard the rest if she wanted, but Frank had caught it and gave Dom a few points for it. Ordinarily, the guy only talked like that to his brothers.

Well, and girls who'd soon fuck him, in no small part because he'd talked down to them.

"Okay, let's go with abs, confidence, and kink," Brianna said.

"You forgot to include a lie," Frank told her.

His cousin smiled. "I guess I did," she said very deliberately. "It's that last one that's critical," she added. "I can't have a guy who freaks out when I tickle his prostate, no matter what else he's got going for him." She held up her pinky. "Like this guy's so invasive."

That put an interesting expression on Dom's face.

"And here I was worried that people would play their cards too close to their chests."

"You spend a lot of time thinking about our chests?" Brianna shot back. "Of course you do—you're a guy." That drew a few snickers from the female contingent. "But if a woman dares to express herself the way men do all the freaking time, everyone loses their shit."

"She's got a point," Frank's mother said.

Aunt Liz frowned. "Don't encourage her."

"I wasn't trying to say guys shouldn't be open-minded," Frank said. "Or that you shouldn't express your opinions." He was pretty sure he'd freak out if anyone inserted anything into his anus, but he definitely agreed that women shouldn't be shamed for talking openly about their preferences. "I just thought it was funny that you went into such detail about that particular point. Your preference for big dicks is far more analogous to our obsession with breasts, yet none of us batted an eye when you mentioned that."

Would Frank prefer to think that none of them cared about a guy's size? Absolutely. That still didn't mean he thought they had no right to care. And if Brianna wanted to claim that there was a double-standard, she'd have to convince them that she didn't feel every bit as much anxiety about the size of her chest as Frank did what was between his legs.

"He's got a point," Dom said, echoing their mother.

"I, for one, have never even thought about your tits," Todd told Brianna. When his trademark grin appeared, Frank almost jumped across the table and covered the idiot's mouth for him. He knew what was coming. "Mostly because you don't have any."

"There's a time and a place," Frank muttered to his brother.

"Laugh it up," Brianna said, cheeks mimicking the color of her hair.

"Wait, I'm confused," Grandpa Dick said. "First you all go on and on about biceps this, V-shaped that, and how he'd better be hung like a horse. Now you're offended that we appreciate a nice rack?" He shook his head. "You can't have it both ways."

Because why make a point once when you could clobber your opponent with it repeatedly?

"Yes we can," Grandma Noreen said. "That's one of the few perks of being a woman. No one expects you to make sense anyway, so every now and then you can just run with it."

All the women seemed to find that hilarious. Frank, however, did not.

Were any of them not guilty of simultaneously caring a great deal about looks and yet judging members of the opposite sex who admitted to doing so? That was a tough trap for anyone to avoid, male or female. No need to make it about gender.

Frank forced himself to see the women of his family as the complex human beings that they were. Yes, each and every one of them was insanely attractive, representing different visions of female beauty with equal perfection, but he had to remember all the layers beneath the surface—all the roles they filled. His mother was a housewife who loved to cook and was damn good at it, even if her tastes were too traditional for the Food Network. Aunt Liz taught ninth-grade English and had introduced Frank to fantasy fiction. She too knew her way around a kitchen, though you'd never get his mother to admit it. Brianna had as much of a party girl in college as an activist, but neither her behavior nor her politics were quite as wild anymore. Grandma Noreen liked to stay physically active and led fitness classes at the senior center. As for his sister? She was a year out of high school and trying to decide whether to go to college. For the time being, she was waiting tables. In her free time, Nat liked to explore the outdoors, go clubbing, or just sit in her room and paint.

"Appearance isn't what matters," Aunt Liz said.

"Lemme guess, it's what's inside that counts?" Brianna asked, dripping sarcasm on the stone table. Then she stuck a finger in her mouth and made a retching sound.

Her mother blushed. "Actually, I was going to say it's whether he's good with his tongue."

A roar of laughter greeted the admission. Uncle Bobby's cheeks colored visibly.

"Okay, let's not get sidetracked," Brianna said. "My three statements, forealz this time. First, I love sucking dick. The sounds a guy'll make as he tries oh so desperately to hold out for another thirty seconds; the power it gives me over him; everything about it. Including the cum. Yeah, I said it—I absolutely love the taste of jizz. I once blew a judge to win a case I wasn't going to lose anyway, just because I liked the way he was looking at me."

The room went utterly silent.

"My nipples are crazy sensitive. Almost every guy I've ever been with has figured out that he can get me off just by rolling them between his fingers, let alone sucking on them. I always let them think they're the first to do that, though, just to make them feel special."

Todd laughed as he knocked back his IPA. "I don't care how sensitive a girl is, or what's made her cum in the past. Either way, Imma get the job done; you can count on that."

"We're all very proud of you," Frank said, prompting Todd to raise his middle finger.

Brianna flashed a winning smile. "Finally, my favorite color is dandelion."

"Well, I guess that makes it my turn," Frank said with a chuckle. No one argued. "Let's see here," he said, scratching at his beard. "My favorite play by Shakesp—"

"BOOOO," Todd interrupted.

Frank cleared his throat. "My favorite play by Shakespeare is The Merchant of Venice."

No reaction whatsoever. Not even from their aunt.

"I love pleasuring women orally," Frank continued, "and I don't just mean cunnilingus. If she'll let me, I'll make love to her entire body, from head to toe."

"Meaning you're a foot fetishist," Dom said. "So fucking beta."

Their mother's lip curled.

Frank's heart started racing even faster than before. Still, he told Dom, "Mock me if you will, but I can get a woman off with nothing more than a foot massage."

Aunt Liz's eyes went wide. She glanced at her brother before staring into her lap.

"I'd like to see that," Brianna said. "Well, not me personally. My feet, I mean. I mean, not my feet!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Ugh, shut up, all of you!" Her cheeks were flushed. "It's just an expression," their cousin mumbled, avoiding Dom's gaze.

"Anyway, I wasn't just talking about feet," Frank said. "I've gotten nipplegasms out of girls who thought they weren't all that sensitive. And, one time, just her hips."

Natalie raised an eyebrow at that. Her eyes went from Frank to just below her waist, he couldn't help but note, before rising to meet his once more.

Their mother still looked turned-off, though.

"The first girl I ever dated still texts me, looking for a casual hook-up," he concluded.

Todd snorted. "That last one. Come on, man, were you even trying?"

"Actually, it was the first," Frank said. "I don't have a favorite play by Shakespeare; I've hated every one I've ever read." He met his aunt's gaze. "Sorry."

He'd almost expected her to look scandalized, but she simply shook her head in a manner that conveyed disappointment but not surprise. "You must not have had the right teacher."

There were undoubtedly a lot of things his aunt could teach him. Maybe even a few that he could teach her. "Perhaps not," he replied, enjoying the way her chest heaved when he refused to break eye contact after a few seconds, the way he probably should have.

"Cool story, bro," Todd said. "Texts or it didn't happen."

Frank knew he shouldn't have, but he decided to pull his phone out, find one of her texts, and pass it to Todd. Aunt Liz gave him a disapproving look, as he ought to have anticipated.

"Okay, okay," his brother said. "You're still a bitch, but you get points for that."

Their mother was giving Frank an appraising look, and while that didn't make it okay for him to pass those texts around—it really didn't—it did feel good.

"Kinda fat, though, wasn't she?" Nat said.

"Obviously I was grading on a curve," Todd said, apparently afraid he'd lose man points for daring to award some to Frank when there was a fat chick involved.

"Let me see," Brianna said, grabbing the phone from Todd. "Yup," she said, after browsing around until she found a picture. Why had Frank even kept those? "Total heifer."

His ex most definitely wasn't fat. If she was carrying extra weight, it was mostly in the form of T and A. Guys would hit on her right in front of Frank, everywhere they went. Natalie and Brianna could afford to say stuff like that, though; the two of them conformed to a standard of beauty that was unattainable for most women, even when they weren't under the effects of a magic spell. Brianna had never struggled with weight issues. She hadn't been able to get a date in high school, but that was only because she'd been such a nerd. Once she'd realized that the world would see her differently if she just changed the way she dressed and talked, everything had changed for her. Nat had been a bit heavier when she was young, but she'd lost weight in middle school and had never put it back on. One might think that would allow her to sympathize with girls who never would fit into the clothes that filled her closet these days, but if anything she was even more judgmental than her friends, all of whom were pretty bitchy and full of themselves.

Aunt Liz glowered at Brianna, making Frank feel like he was back in the "good" column.

"Hold up," Dom said. "That the one I fucked?"

Frank's shoulders slouched. "No, that was the other one."

The memory still stung, and not just because betrayal always did. They'd been together for nearly a year before he'd brought that girl home. She'd known how Frank felt about his brother and had been prepared to hate him. She'd also considered herself a feminist who opposed misogyny in all its forms. Yet all Dom had to do was be a total dick to her, challenging her every opinion and implying that she was only with Frank because she couldn't do any better, and she'd gone into the bathroom with him for a quickie.