tagIncest/TabooHonest-Honest Ch. 04

Honest-Honest Ch. 04

byfsqueeze©

Note: Many thanks to shygirlwhore. She gave me the gift of her time and insight by editing much of this work.

*****

Amy and I were in the kitchen eating cereal. I still couldn't believe she was in my apartment. She looked around, taking in the place.

"It's not all that great. Sorry," I muttered.

"It's perfect. I love your apartment." Then, she turned to me and said, "At my school, they don't let freshmen live off campus."

"Same is true for us, unless you're a part time student."

"You're not full time?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I have two jobs. I've got to work to pay for all this."

"Your parents aren't helping?" she asked.

"No, and I didn't want them to. Not after last summer."

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged and said, "If I had felt like I owed them, then I would've felt like I had to tell them."

"Tell them...about us?"

I nodded. "It's probably stupid logic, but I really needed my independence."

"So everything? Not just this apartment? Your car? Books? Tuition? Clothes? Food?"

I nodded throughout.

Then, she asked me about my jobs, and I told her.

"So, you can't play football, then?"

"No."

"You look like you're still playing."

"When I'm not in class, studying, or working, I work out."

"Girlfriend?"

I laughed. "No. My freshman year of college was probably more celibate than yours."

She laughed, too. "My second year wasn't much better than my first."

"No way," I said.

She nodded.

A thought hit me. "So, was that...was that your first? Earlier?"

"No."

"Oh."

"During the first week back at school—I was in a bad place, Mike—I got totally wasted at a party. I don't even really remember it."

"Oh."

"Anyways, I hated myself for it, and I quit partying the day after I started."

"I'm sorry, Amy."

"Don't be. This makes up for everything."

"You are unbelievable sexy, you know."

She grinned. "Did you think about me?"

"After last summer?"

"Yes."

"All the time," I said.

"Did you think about us, together?" she asked.

"Our times together last summer were my main inspiration."

"Did you masturbate, thinking of me?"

"Honest-honest?"

She nodded.

"A lot."

"I did, too," she said, grinning.

"Really?"

She nodded. "Making you hard, it made me feel sexy and beautiful and...wanted. Even when I was all twisted around and upset at you, I was still thinking about us together. Sometimes I masturbated, thinking about sucking on you and all of that cum."

I said, "I did make a hell of a mess, didn't I?" She snorted and laughed. "Two shirts, " I added, "destroyed."

"When my Mom came in, I couldn't help but wonder if I had missed some on my face or in my hair."

"You were good."

"It came out of my nose!"

We laughed even harder. "I'm so sorry, Amy."

There were bigger things to discuss, but I didn't want to, yet. I guess Amy didn't, either. We finished our cereal.

"I need to shower," she said. "Can I?"

I nodded.

"Is it big enough for two?"

"Maybe? I haven't put it to the test."

"Come on," she said. "Last time I was in the shower with you, we got interrupted."

***

I turned it on and we watched each other undress. Whatever inhibitions about her body she may have had last summer were now vanished. She saw my limp cock turn into a tree trunk; I watched her big ass slip out of tiny green boy short panties. We climbed in.

There was no washing, not at first. We just made out. I rubbed her pussy and she tugged my cock. I slid two fingers into her and sucked on her tits. Shit, her body was firm.

She brought my head back up and our lips and tongues locked together. I think neither of us wanted to pull away. We moaned into our kisses, masturbating each other.

She stopped, panting and gazing at me fiercely. She turned around, and my fingers slid out from her. She shoved her ass back.

I seized her hips and looked down at her magnificent backside. I cursed. It was as if the perfect female ass had been magnified by fifty percent and mounted on insanely sleek and long legs. It hurt my heart to look at Amy's ass.

"Fuck me, Mike" she uttered.

"Wait."

I knelt, bringing my face level with her booty. I placed my palms on it, one on each cheek. I watched my fingers caress it. I felt her warmth.

The curvature and the smoothness were breathtaking. I clutched her ass in my hands. The heft of her flesh was perfection—muscles to give it the right shape, fat to soften the curves.

I'd dreamed about this ass since I was thirteen. Now it was in my hands and in my face. I seized each cheek and kissed one.

I stood up and she reached back, grasped my cock, and lined it up. I held her hips, and when she let go of me, I pushed inside her.

We both cursed softly at the silky jointure.

Her wet hair flowed down to her shoulder blades. Amy's back was spectacular. It narrowed slightly as it approached her waist. Little strips and bulges of water-coated muscle shined under the shower light. Water streamed down the slope of her back, collecting like a small brook in the crevasse of her spine and running down toward her ass. It spread apart from there and spilled over each cheek.

I held her where the front of her legs joined her torso, my palms on her hips, my thumbs on that incredible ass.

Amy's hands were on the shower wall, but within minutes, they slid down. She drew them up and cupped her breasts. The right side of her face pressed against the shower wall. She occasionally looked back at me, but more often, she simply closed her eyes and moaned.

She gasped, "Never stop fucking me."

I continued to glide inside her, refusing to look down at that ass. Every time I saw it, I felt myself leap closer to orgasm.

I slid my hands up her sides, nudged her hands out of the way, and cupped her breasts from underneath, letting her nipples slip between each finger. She put her hands over mine, and she led me. She glided my hands up and over her breasts, and she flattened my palms against them, squeezing them against her. I could see the sides of her tits emerge on each side of her back. She pulled me away and had me grab them again, and then she kneaded my hands into her breasts like a massage.

She came, and it was a beautiful thing. With the right side of her face against the shower wall, Amy blew air out of pursed lips and with this came an ooh sound. If I has been watching it on television, I might have called it bad acting, but being in it, with our bodies connected—no, it was real and incredibly sexy. She oohed and blew, and she got louder.

Her pleasure took me over the edge. I thrust harder inside her. Her oohs became more like screams, and she added a "fuck" to the end of them, and I buried inside her all the more quickly with my cock.

She wound down as I went off. I gazed down at her ass and, unable to see my cock underneath her, I just felt and imagined. When the first wave struck, I pushed inside her as deeply as I could, and I froze there. The connection at it's most intimate was too perfect for me to pull back and thrust again. So, I held in place, gritting my teeth and grunting. My cock felt big and strong inside her. It squeezed like a flexing fist, flooding her with what felt like lava.

We pulled apart. She turned around, and we drew together and kissed. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I held her under the shower's hot stream for a few minutes.

After, we washed up and got out.

***

No blow drier on the premises, she wrapped a towel around her head, slipped on some panties and laid down on the bed—just a mattress and box spring on the floor with some decent sheets. I threw on boxers.

Her phone rang, and she grabbed it off the nightstand.

"Here we go," she said nervously, "It's my Mom."

Based on the time, Cynthia was probably calling from back at Big Rock. I nodded and said, "I'll give you some privacy." I picked up my own phone and walked into the living room.

No calls or messages. I turned on the television.

A minute later, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Mike?"

"Yeah."

"Scott here."

"Hey." Oh, shit. Amy's Dad.

"Cynthia's on the phone with Amy right now, and I wanted to talk to you."

I waited for it.

He continued, "First, Mike, let me apologize on behalf of Cynthia, Katy, and myself for misjudging you. We were biased. We didn't have the facts, and we made some terrible assumptions about you. I'm sorry about that, Mike."

"I appreciate your apology, Scott. But, I think I'm going to wait to hear Katy and Cynthia's apologies from their own lips."

"That's fair."

I gulped and drove on. "Scott, I assume you've spoken with Cynthia and know about our...our meeting here after Amy arrived?"

"Yes."

"Then, let me tell you this: neither Amy or I anticipated this situation. We didn't envision it. We didn't plan for it. We didn't seek it out. But, it's happened."

"You mean that you're in love?"

There it was, bald and raw. I said, "Yes."

"Mike, you should know that Cynthia, well, she's laying down the law for Amy. I want you to hear it from me. Cynthia is not going to see or speak to Amy after the phone call until you two have ended this relationship."

Fuck me. "You're disowning Amy?"

"More like a moratorium. It's not my decision, but I go with my wife."

"Fuck, Scott, that's the last thing Amy needs."

"Mike, stop and think about this relationship for a second."

I waited for him to continue.

He said, "Now imagine that this all works out between you two. It's lovely for the two of you, but what about the rest of the family, Mike? You think Big Pop and Nana are going to be okay with this? You think they're going to the wedding? You think anyone in the family will go? And if you have kids, what do you tell them? How does it impact their lives? Do they even have a family beyond their own parents?"

Fuck me.

Before I could muster a word, he continued. "Now imagine it doesn't work out with you and Amy. Can we have family get-togethers anymore? Will you or Amy—and your future family or hers—ever come to Big Rock again, when everyone knows you two had this relationship? What about family weddings? Funerals?" He paused and let me absorb this, and then he said, "The bottom line is you two wreck the family, either way."

I searched for a response, and the only thing I came up with was utterly pathetic. "Like you say, Scott, if it's wrecked either way, then Amy and I might as well..."

He interrupted, "It's not too late to end this thing cleanly. But, it has to happen immediately, before this gets out."

Shit. His words were like a blinding beam of light in the darkness; they followed me. They wouldn't let me hide back into the shadows.

"Scott, I..."

"I have to go. Cynthia just hung up. Take care of Amy and do the right thing, Mikey." The line went dead.

I put my phone down and walked into the bedroom. I hadn't even had time to really understand the import of Scott's message when I saw Amy, curled into a fetal position on the bed and balling uncontrollably.

I climbed in and laid beside her, rubbing her shoulder gently and whispering, "I'm so sorry, Amy."

In halting bursts, she asked me how I knew.

I told her about Scott's call, and my news—the fact that her father was aligned with her mother against her—drove her deeper into dejection.

After a minute, I asked, "What did your Mom say, Amy?"

Cynthia's message to Amy had been similar in content to Scott's message for me...but. But, Cynthia's was of a markedly different tone. Cynthia was a tiger, and the tiger pounced. It wasn't disappointment, her tone. It was fury. And, I knew from experience: an ass ripping from Cynthia was worse than a belting by my old man.

Cynthia had a way of striking at your core values in a way that just shattered them, just annihilated your own sense of self-worth.

Poor Amy. I held her and listened. It took about fifteen minutes, and a few times when I thought we were over it, Amy burst into a new fit. Finally, the waves of sobs ebbed away, and I just kept holding Amy tight. She fell asleep.

She had been sleeping about a half hour when I noticed how closely our bodies were pressed together. It wasn't the time—I knew—but, I couldn't help it. Her ass was against me, and my cock grew into a fucking sledgehammer.

Amy stirred, sniffing and wiping her eyes. She half-rolled toward me and, staring at the ceiling, uttered, "I want you to hurt me."

I was too confused to respond.

"If it has to be over," she explained, "then I don't want to remember all of this sweetness. I want misery. I want to hate you."

"No."

"Yes, Mike! I'm going to gather my stuff up and get a ride back to the airport. I'm going to fly back home. It's over. I need you to make me want to leave, or I'll never go."

"Then never go. I can't hurt you, Amy, I'm in..."

She screamed, "Don't say it! Ever again!" She didn't want to hear that I loved her.

I was stunned into silence.

She grabbed my cock really hard. "Hurt me with it, Mike. Take me and hurt me." She held it like a joystick, with her thumb up against the tip of the underside. She pulled on it in a sudden, jerking motion.

"Ow! Fuck, Amy!"

She let go, pulled down her panties, and seized my cock again. Thrusting her ass back into me, she lined me up against her asshole and let go. I could feel the dry, crinkled skin of it on the head of my cock.

I tried to gently push myself away, but she pushed back into me.

"Stop this. You've got to stop," I said. It wasn't rational, what she was asking of me. How would hurting her, at her own request, help with anything that we were facing?

But, shit, how my cock felt, clasped between her fleshy ass cheeks.

I saw her chest rise and fall twice, and then she rolled over slowly. When she faced me, her eyes were urgent and pleading, and her voice, unsteady. "Honest-honest, Mike: I need you to do this."

She rolled back on her stomach and waited.

I gazed at the profile of her body—the sunken valley of her lower back, the rolling hilltop of her beautiful ass, the gentle declivity of her long, soft thighs. I sat up, gazing at the two fat globes of her butt and the black fissure where they joined. I reached out and caressed the soft, warm skin and my guts churned with greed.

I pulled my boxers down and threw my leg over her, climbing up and straddling the tops of her thighs. Clasping each cheek, I pulled them apart and looked past my own hard cock down to her little hole.

Fuck, I wanted it.

In an instant, I had spread her legs and put myself in the prone behind her, my face mere inches from that incredible ass. I drew her cheeks apart, exposing her fully. I paused there, letting my senses absorb the moment. Feverish anticipation surged in me.

I looked up the slope of her back and watched it rise and fall with her respiration. Amy whispered, "Mike, please."

I dove down into her ass.

I felt her skin as far up as my ears—that's how big this butt was, how deep the crevice ran, how far out the globes rose from the core of her body.

She took it. Gasping and panting filled my bedroom. An eavesdropper would have made the mistaken assumption that I was laboring on her pussy, not her ass.

When it was ready—when I had drenched the thing and tested its readiness with my tongue—I pushed myself up, collapsed her legs back together again, and sat on the back of her thighs. Quietly, I spit on my palm a few times and coated my dick.

I didn't tell her anything. I didn't make a sound. I took her hands and placed them on each of her cheeks. I nudged her fingers and she pulled her ass apart for me. I tilted forward and lowered myself. Then, I wiggled the head of my cock into position and pushed.

Amy drew in a breath. My cock was primed. The fucking thing was an iron pole. It was going to overcome any barrier it encountered. And it did.

Amy opened up for me, and the fat knob sunk inside her. The shaft of my cock was collared just behind the tip. We were joined, and the nexus was extraordinarily taut. I began to push further and stopped, suddenly.

Amy had cursed.

I didn't move again until she begged me to.

I pushed, and I felt the ring of her little hole inch down the length of my cock. Amy howled, and I stopped and held my position.

"Don't stop," she huffed. "Don't stop again, Mike."

"Amy, I don't want to..." Hurt you, I was going to say.

"Yes! You have to!" she hollered. "For me. Don't stop."

Maybe, at this point, I should have done her bidding reluctantly and hesitantly. Or maybe I should have been very tender, yielding and letting her assume control. Maybe I should have gone soft, losing my erection at the repugnance of sealing the end of our relationship by causing her pain. Any of these might have been more merciful than what actually happened.

A sound triggered me.

Amy made a sound as I pushed further inside her, and the sound—it was a kind of plaintive, whining squeal—tugged forward a memory of her. It was a memory from the worst times when we were younger, when I had cursed her in my heart for being a snotty bitch.

And I embraced the memory. I reveled in it. I wasn't fucking the woman I loved. I was fucking the big-nosed, fat-assed cunt I secretly hated.

I buried myself inside Amy. I wanted her, and I wanted take it out on her. I fucked her ass like I was that fourteen-year old, hormone-raging little two-faced bastard that I once was. I fucked that ass like it was a dream come true: I get to punish my bitch of a cousin, the one with the great ass who hated the world.

I kept myself inside her as I sat back on her thighs. I slapped her hands away from her ass cheeks and seized them, myself. I wrested them apart and watched Amy's ass suffer my cock to plunge and reload, plunge and reload, time and again.

I watched my cock impale her, letting my mind frolic with memories of the Amy I despised. She grunted and groaned; she screamed and cursed.

I remembered the dock. She had called me a "loser." She'd said I was the worst of them all. She didn't want my pity, she'd told me.

The loser's cock is fucking your ass now, Amy. The worst of them all is about to fucking fill it with cum. And, no, you won't get any pity from me.

I watched my cock fire into her like a piston. My body was ready to give it's release.

I drew back to the tip and paused there. Amy panted and recovered. She'd finally stopped crying out.

As far as it can go, I thought. I'm going to make this deposit in a place where, fuck, this cum will still be leaking out when she's fifty-five years old. The fucking land of the lost is where I'm cumming.

I pushed back inside her and watched her expand. I pushed further. I clutched her hips and tugged her into me, making more headway. Amy grunted as if she'd been shot in the gut. But, I wanted more. Deeper.

I laid on top of her and slid my feet under her legs. I drew her legs apart, pushed my calves under hers, and then rolled my feet over the top of her ankles. My legs were hooked around hers, and I used that leverage, along with all of my body weight on top of her, to squeeze my cock still deeper inside her ass.

Amy cursed.

There, I thought, and I drove my cock into those depths a few times until it loosed into her. She shrieked with each pulse.

Fuck, I didn't want it to end. There was a perfection to it, a joy, being able to ejaculate inside that big, perfect ass.

But, it ended.

Still, I held in place. I didn't want to pull out until I knew there was no more pleasure to be taken from her.

Neither of us spoke for about a minute while I held my cock inside her. She continued to gasp and moan, but I felt the diminishment. Every muscle in my body had been infused with rushing blood. My lungs had been pumping air. My brain had been alight with ecstasy. Now it was gone, and I sat up and slowly drew my cock from the depths of Amy's body.

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