Go West, Young Man! Pt. 02

Even alone in the stall, I know that at any time he could join me and compel me to my routine. He has often gotten behind me in the close quarters of the steamy cubicle and bent me forward over the faucets. Using shampoo as a lubricant, he lathers his firm erection and preps my opening for his advance. Just the thought of his crude seduction leaves me tingling. I bring my fingers to the wet entrance of my pussy and plunge them two at a time, through the damp matted curls, and into the soft, wet enclosure of my enveloping cunt. I can bring myself to a tremendous climax just imagining his power over me. His hold on me is like a spell, a trance that I never again want to awaken from. Then like the water turning cold, I remember the uncomfortable fact not of the incest, but that his mother-my sister Tracy- will be moving-in with us soon. This is a sin that no mother, especially my straight-laced sister, could ever imagine... or forgive. And everything will come crashing down to an awful, unsatisfactory conclusion. Just as my sexual soul was awakening to all of the wonderful benefits a human body could experience, society's norms will impose it's dreadful rules. The Yin/Yang of my sensual character eats at my heart.

I was cold and depressed when I emerged from the bathroom, but the sun was shining and noon was approaching. I thought I might drive to the local bakery and then prepare us a nice breakfast. Because I knew that Saturday morning meant another 48 hours of uninhibited, farm animal-sex. Energy at the beginning was important because most of the protein flowing into my weary body for the next two days would be creamy, salty and white. With as many different maneuvers and gyrations that I would be expected to perform, and the hundreds of calories I would expend in feeding his manly passions, the perspiration would come in buckets and my body would starve for food. This could somehow prove to be a diet routine that most bored housewives would love to follow. Maybe I should write a book.

I brushed my long, auburn locks, the natural dark color was coming back. And applied a gentle dusting of makeup. No one would ever suspect that I had just given head three times and been fucked from front and back. I wore a very pretty golden sundress over a sheer slip with little spaghetti straps and yellow cork-bottomed sandals. I was bare-legged and polished my nails in a light pink shade. As I reached for my keys on the dresser I felt Jeff's strong grip on my wrist. He startled me, but only because I believed he was still sleeping. Even a fit, young stud who can fuck all day, needs to marshal his stamina at some point.

"Hey Aunt Julie, where're you headin'? " Most times now, during our sexual escapades he can be demanding, though not at all mean. But his role in our sexual dynamic demands that he be aggressive. Maybe he was sill tired; but right this minute, with his floppy hair a tangled mess and one hand cupping and fondling his shriveled balls through the opening of his loose pajamas, a slight curious grin curling his luscious lips and a little-boy twinkle in his dark eyes, I saw the look that I knew could melt hearts.

I mentioned my shopping plans and that he should crawl back to bed, or stumble into a wakeup shower before I get back. As I talked his smile widened, and he gently lifted each strap from my shoulders and with a slight tug, the cotton garment shimmied over my breasts, caught for just a second at my hips and was soon loosely crumpled around my ankles. The slip suffered the same fate, piling up at my feet.

He reached around my waist and patted my jiggly behind, then his deft fingers wormed their way beneath the elastic band of my panties. As he cupped and squeezed the fleshy mounds, the material rode over his wrists and flopped down my long legs to rest lightly on the pile quickly expanding around my feet. His middle finger snaked under my ass and gently prodded the swelling nub of my clit. He inserted a second digit in my watery cunt, searching inside as if he lost something. I jumped unintentionally and let-out an involuntary yelp. These fingers in my pussy not only revved my engine, but served to spin me around, directing me back to the big warm bed.

"We're not quite finished yet!" I heard him whisper into my ear with a grainy, soft voice. I felt the raspy stubble of his brisk chin hairs abrade my cheek. "I don't think you'll be needing this where we're headed," he laughed and I felt the sudden loss of support when my transparent bra joined the jumble of breezy clothes starting to cluster on the floor. He said simply, "Let's go." This time I saw the steely gaze return to his suddenly focused brown eyes and I kicked out of my sandals and skipped toward the unmade bed. Just the stern command that he can exude at these moments causes the warm flow to build in my loins.

When we reached the edge of the mattress, my nose picked-out the lewd aroma of past sex. I felt slightly ashamed and dirty but inwardly there could be no hiding the fact that I was highly aroused. I felt only the slightest pressure on my lower back, but my knees buckled and I was laid across the sheets. The dampness of sweat and orgasmic fluid filled my nostrils. I gripped the wrinkled sheets as he parted my legs and his strong body hovered behind and on top of me. With a talon-like grip he yanked my ponytail, arching my back, flattening my hips to the bed, and bringing my big tits into view. "Julie," he now spoke more sternly and his fingers roughly prepared my dripping cunt for his forceful approach. "Invite me in, and tell me what you want."

For just a brief instant the pages of the calendar flipped through my brain. I tried to remember how this situation could have befallen me. The erotic tension of it was an unmistakable turn-on, but the incestuous nature of it still gnawed at me. Here I was, an executive at a major Hollywood Studio, living in a condo on the Pacific, in my early thirties, attractive, single and... my nephew was about to fuck me, again. And I was growing to love it. I moaned and writhed like a bitch in heat, begging for him to ravish me. And I knew that after I came for about the hundredth time, and Jeff drove into me like a pile-driver, depositing a thick load of his creamy syrup, I would dutifully fall to my shaking knees and "clean and shine" his marvelous cock with my long, flat tongue.

With a mind of it's own, my hand snaked under my belly and splayed apart the delicate folds of my trembling vagina. I was determined to bring to a triumphal finish, the erotic teasing that my young Master began. I could feel the warmth and a sticky, viscous moisture began to slicken my fingers. The coarse tight pubic hairs that framed my labia were glistening with the dew. A thumb and one finger of my right hand pried apart the swollen lips of my eager snatch and my jittery digits brushed the sensitive tip of my extended clit, sending shock-waves of excitement rippling through my supple body. The intense spasms rumbled in my uterus and the tremors began to build in my abdomen signaling the onset of a massive orgasm. "Oh Master please," I pleaded in a throaty, desperate tone. "Don't make me wait any longer. Please give me your thick cock and fuck your bitch until she faints to the floor. I need you inside of me. I want it badly. Fuck me hard, Master. Deep and fast. Rape me. Pound me. I want to feel it in my stomach. Pump me full of your cum." It wasn't an act. In just a few short, intensive weeks I had been conditioned to mount my arousal at his mere touch on my flesh.

I shivered with the anticipation of a little girl opening a gaily wrapped present. As much as Jeff reveled in his dominance, exposing me to new positions and demeaning terms, accomplishing the total subjugation of his pliant aunt, his lust was matched by my thirst. I realized my ecstasy at the complete submission to an incestuous seduction. My final thrill could only be achieved if I knew that Jeff was entirely sated.

"Are you going to be a good slut? Am I going to enjoy fucking that hot, cunt of yours?" He always wanted me to answer him in raunchy, whorey talk. He got a special delight in humiliating me and making me ask to be used like a whore. I could feel a strong hand tunneling under my prone form to twist and pinch the pouty nipples. He had a particular fetish about my tits. They were to be available to him at all times. Sometimes he would command me to sit opposite of him while topless. Then he would demand that I squeeze and tug at my breasts until the nipples were purplish and swollen from the harsh treatment I was obliged to carryout. He watched in obscene amusement as I was told to knead and cradle my tits, all the while he flogged and stretched his rock-solid member. Then he would command me to lean forward with my pert nipples erect and pinched between my fingernails, and lick and suck them into my mouth until the frothing saliva coated my taut globes.

I would notice the shadow of his torso coloring my body and then, I would see him standing there and breathing hard. The sound of wet flesh slapping, would alert me to the sight of his raging hard-on pointed straight at my chest and while I pushed my wet boobs together forming a deep, slippery cleavage, he pumped his prick into that warm valley. His gooey jism exploded in the delta of my tits covering me from neck to navel. I was made to suction the rest from his cock with my mouth. Then I should scrape the overflow from my body with my fingers and lick them dry.

When he was jabbing his hard prick in me, he was always demanding that I answer the most vile questions. And I knew the replies and the choice of words that would get him hot. "Yes Master, I'm your slut. I will be a good fuck-slave for you. You know I love the taste of your cum. Please give it to me now." I would scream and moan. "You own me completely; my big tits belongs to you, along with my tight cunt and my virginal ass. I am yours to fuck. And I'll do whatever you wish to keep it that way." This was no mere roleplay, and it wasn't necessary to say much more, when he was already balls-deep in my dripping cunt. I understood what I was saying and committing to. This wasn't love. We never kissed on the lips. We both understood that I was his aunt. But now I realized what else I was. Sex was just better and more exciting when I finally figured-out that I was a Sub. The thrill was intense to have my hair pulled when he dragged me along the carpet, to put me in position to suck him off. Or to literally have my clothes ripped from my body and then thrown down on the bed, my legs lifted high overhead exposing my genitals in the most rude fashion, to have him survey his conquest and then rape me to his climax. I am told that I am a slut or a whore, and then I have to say it of myself and beg to be fucked. On top of all that; I have found that a consensual, incestuous, S&M tryst with my young nephew was a liberating thrill that shook me to my core and made every moment an erotic pleasure.

I find something kinky and sexy that he wants to have sex with me all the time. His groping and whispers of tantalizing sexual demands, have even begun to take place in public. Initially, when he started "courting" me, I allowed him certain sexual extravagances that I found silly or mildly flattering. After we started fucking, he mentioned that he knew at the time that I would give-in to his advances. Was this true? Did I really want him to take me physically and to possess me spiritually? When we're in line at the grocery store, he'll whisper to me to "Act natural, I'm just going to reach my hand under your skirt." And he would finger me until I broke-out in sweat and my legs began to wobble. In the car, when he wanted the top up and the windows closed, I knew that his hands would soon be under my shirt. He once tried to lick my pussy while I drove, but I nearly killed us both. He has even taken me to see some awful movies, just so that we could sit in a dimly lit theater with other people only a couple of rows away, and like a school girl, my head can be seen bobbing up and down in his lap and we leave with my mouth full but before the lights come up.

At work, we have a much more hands-off relation. Nepotism runs through the industry so that the sight of us occasionally driving to work together or sometimes meeting for lunch is nothing out of the ordinary. And the people that matter know he's my nephew. And most people understand that I'm a boss, if even a minor one. But Jeff has managed to stretch the bounds of this arrangement to suit his devious pleasure. I find envelopes, delivered to my office marked "Personal and Confidential" with pictures of his cock, or of me on my knees with his cock in my mouth, or of him fucking me in the shower. I don't even know when or how he took them, but I know by the writing on the cover that it is going to be something that will both titillate and embarrass me.

Recently he has begun calling my office, the secretary puts him through because he has convinced her that my health is of concern to him, and I won't take precautions. Then he has me speak some filthy, descriptive terms about how exactly I would like to fuck him or he tells me to touch myself or to send him pictures of my tits or cunt. I can normally amuse him with a few whispered, naughty phrases about climbing onto his stiff pole or gurgling his cum, though I usually have to stop as I feel my temperature rise. Then I tell him that someone is knocking at my door. When he wants me to masturbate or strip, I assure him that I am following his commands, knowing that he can't really see. This complex is expansive and he works in an entirely different set of buildings. But each time that I disconnect, the lingering, sinful thought of this erotic phone-sex or near-public display excites and teases me.

The other day he surprised me by knocking on my office door. I was at first pleasantly bewildered, and then startled when he leaned against the doorframe with a rakish smile, and turned the lock. He explained that he mentioned to my secretary that I had called him, saying that I was feeling ill. Now I did start to feel a bit uneasy when I recalled a phone conversation earlier in the day.

He had told me to take the underpants that I was wearing and place them in a sealed envelope, to present to him when I got home. And to include a picture taken on my phone, of me sitting at my desk with my skirt around my waist and my legs spread, revealing my bare pussy. I told him on the phone that I did it, and that he would be so pleased when I got home. I even wrote a note to myself to take a quick sex-selfie in the driveway at home, and bring an empty envelope with me. When he got home later, I would show him the photo and it would start our foreplay. The entire dirty idea of the episode made me feel sexy and horny. There was just one thing wrong...

Now as he stood infront of me, my fidgety form squirming behind my desk, he demanded the envelope. Time froze as a blur of excuses rushed through my mind. There was no envelope, no picture, no panties, and I was wearing the same pink, satin undies that I described to him on the phone as "damp and smelling of my juicy cunt." Nervous perspiration formed on my upper lip and under my arms. I stuttered for an answer and my whole torso began to quiver with guilt. His eyes narrowed, the easy smile vanished. He snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot on the carpet about midway between his legs.

My own brown eyes grew wide and teary. I shook my head side-to-side, sweaty wisps of hair beat against my face. Only mumbling, incoherent syllables sputtered from my dry lips. Jeff planted his legs shoulder-width apart, an obvious bulge forming between that ominous zipper. His mouth now formed an evil-looking smirk, his hands firmly on his hips. I swallowed what little moisture I could summon,( probably an unconscious indicator of what was in store for me.) I tried to calm my nerves but it wouldn't work. Surely, even Jeff would not expect such punishment to take place here. I stumbled for words. "Jeff, please. Not here. Not now. You know I can't..."

"Are you my slut?" he quizzed I could see a glint in his eye but I knew he wasn't joking.

"Yesss, Mmmaster. Yyyou know I am. But not here, Please gawd, not here."

"Are you my slut, you little bitch! Show me now!"

"I am," I pleaded with him. Tears seeped from my eyes. My cheeks and lips quivered. I tossed my head in a plaintive show of limp defiance. My shiny, coppery mane flailed, sweaty at the tips, drops running down my neck and into my cleavage. The blouse I was wearing was a damp, clingy rag. My bosom heaved, the soft underwire was no match for the warm water pouring into the deep cleft. My nipples sprouted prominently, as if there were nothing there to conceal them. I slowly rose from the chair, like a condemned prisoner taking that final, long walk. I trudged over to where he stood, looking every bit a God. The thought popped into my head that we have a "safe word" for extreme moments. But I instantly knew that if I used it now, nothing between us would ever be the same. I wasn't sweating because I was scared or nervous. My body was reacting to the most exciting minute of my life, I was wet with erotic yearning.

I reached under my knee-length, plaid skirt and shimmied the damp, pink satin material along my thighs and down to my ankles. There was an obvious darker red area formed at the crotch. I noticed the moist streak they left on my legs and the scent of my pussy filtered into the room. I stepped right out of my black, suede pumps and kicked them aside, emerging from my desk barefoot, the wadded panties in my fist as an offering.

That's what made me tingle. That's why my body was soaked with sweat. Jeff's little gambit at extortion was tempting my pert nipples to poke through the thin, wet cloth of bra and top. They ached to be fondled and squeezed. Intense heat bathed my pussy in a steamy smoldering musk that both of us could sense in the air. And now my mouth produced saliva like a tap had opened, enough so that I needed to use the back of my hand to wipe the excess that was dripping from the sides of my mouth. And my eyes were drawn with laser focus to my nephew's huge cock, hardly hidden under the stretched denim fabric. I could lose my job if I went through with this and got caught. We could both end up on the five o'clock news. My sister Tracy, the mother of the boy whose cock I was about to suck, would be here any day. And still I dropped to my bare knees and began to fiddle greedily with his belt and zipper.

It was one part desperate struggle, one part comedy act as my shaky fingers struggled to hurry the process. At one point I literally considered using my teeth. I was finally able to wrestle the tight denim over his hips, getting caught again at the pornographic pouch of his erection. I untangled the cotton from his gigantic missile, bending it down to remove his pants and then watching in amazement as the monster recoiled and sprung back upright. Finally released from it's restraints, the fleshy spear was aimed right at my chin, at the tip were a couple of dewy, glistening drops that were attached by thin tendrils of spidery fluid to his thigh. I planted a series of sloppy, wet kisses along the shaft starting at the thick base and winding my way to the full, flared head of this magnificent beast. Then with my tongue I captured the gossamer strands of pre-cum stretching from the tip, and held them on the flat part of my tongue. I used this silky lube to glide down and around the extreme circumference of this ivory obelisk. I gripped it lightly in my palm and let my hand slide up and down it's proud length, letting my slobber mix with the existing wetness to fully lubricate the shaft.

My lips took-in just the head, and I let my tongue swirl around the soft underside of the flared ridge. I moaned and sucked. My cheeks filled and emptied. My hand fed it into my hungry mouth inch by slow inch. My wanton cunt was moistening, longing to be serviced. I am such a slut!