In Town for a Funeral

Just then Mother Nature intervened with a gust of wind that caused the old house to creak. The noise startled Flo, and she dropped her hands from her breasts and swiveled her head around looking for someone else in the room. Finally satisfied that it was just the wind, she reached over to the table for her drink. As she reached her tablet slid to the floor with a clatter. She quickly surveyed the room to assure herself that there was no one who had heard the noise. Satisfied, she leaned forward to pick up the e-reader.

As she leaned forward, her face aimed at the floor, I took a gamble and reached down with a hand to get a grip on my sheet, but somehow my hand wound up on my cock. How do these things happen? Did it result from the stunning view I had of her tits illuminated by the fallen e-reader? They were almost falling out of her nightgown.

That's when she saw me. As she picked her head up to rise back to her sitting position, I saw her pause. She was looking straight at me. No question but that she realized I was there. She stared straight at me for a long moment, and then returned to her sitting position. Her knees were more tightly pressed together than they had been before, but the nightgown remained bunched about her hips.

She sat for a moment, obviously thinking about what to do about the voyeur on the couch opposite her. Even with my fist wrapped about the base of my cock, it twitched again moving the sheet with it. She saw the motion. Her e-reader was throwing enough light on her face to let me see a brief smile flicker across her lips. She reached across and picked up her drink and sat sipping on what was left of it while she stared at me.

Eventually she smiled, a soft Cheshire cat smile, more for herself than me. She set her e-reader on the table and stood up, still looking at me. Then she walked to the kitchen carrying her now-empty glass. She turned on more lights in the kitchen increasing the visibility where I was as well. I could hear her making herself another drink. While she was gone, I freely stroked my erect cock, and I guess I got a little too into what I was doing, because I suddenly realized she was back, standing in front of the chair with a replenished drink. She had left the additional lights on in the kitchen, so I was well illuminated, as was she. Now she was really smiling, almost laughing, and I realized that I was the source of her humor.

While I had been jacking off in her absence, I had let the sheet slip to the floor. Now I was lying on the couch naked with this enormous erection in my hand. Flo was standing a few feet away sipping from her drink and watching me. Because of the increased light from the kitchen we could see each other quite clearly.

After staring at my cock for a few moments, Flo set her drink on the table. Then she gripped the hem of her nightgown and pulled it over her head so she was as naked as I was. So I guessed, she wasn't going to run away because she had found her naked cousin jacking off in the living room.

She sat in the armchair again, but this time instead of discreetly crossing her legs or holding her knees together, she lewdly spread them, hooking a knee over the padded arms on each side. Then she began to slowly masturbate. One hand was stroking her labia, occasionally sliding a finger or two into her cunt, and briefly flicking her clit, while the other hand alternated massaging each of her tits and pulling on her erect nipples. Occasionally she would reach over and pick up her glass for another sip of gin.

Since there was no pretext of hiding my conduct, I sat up, slouching just a bit and facing Flo as I slowly stroked my cock. I was so aroused, but I didn't want to cum before she did. For a long time we both masturbated with a slow steady rhythm while we stared into each other's eyes. Nothing was said by either of us. It was obvious that we were both holding back to prolong and enjoy the moment.

Flo took another sip of her gin and then held the glass out, silently offering me a drink. I stood and walked the few steps between us, my cock bobbing with each step. When I reached her, I was standing with my knees just in front of the cushion of her armchair. Her legs remained lewdly spread over the arms of the chair and her hips were pushed forward in the chair so that she was just inches from my thighs. She handed me the glass, and I took a long pull on the gin. She hadn't bothered with any tonic this time! As I was drinking, I felt her slurp my cock into her warm wet mouth. Oh fuck! I almost lost it right then.

I guess she could sense that I was on the edge. She pulled her head back, sucking lightly as she retreated. Then she reached up and retrieved the glass from me and leaned back in her chair, taking a long drink that emptied the glass. She rubbed the empty glass, still cold from the ice cubes in it, over her nipples. Each time she threw her head back and gasped. I continued to slowly stroke my dick as I watched her. It was getting much harder to hold back.

She set the empty glass on the table and resumed her masturbation, this time with both hands on her sex. Three fingers of one hand were fucking her cunt and the other was swirling about her clit. She looked up at me, her face showing the same strain of resisting her impending climax that I was feeling. She silently mouthed the words, "Cum on my tits."

I responded silently mouthing, "Now?"

Her head swung back and forth as her impending climax took control. She managed to whisper a response to my question, "Fuck yes! Now!" It was more a low growl than a whisper. Then her back arched as her climax took control. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her hips bucked repeatedly against her hands.

By now I had both hands on my cock. I could feel the cum rising from my balls. As I watched Flo thrash in her orgasm, I pointed my cock at her tits and let the cum squirt from the head of my prick as I climaxed. One, two, three long shots? Fuck I don't know. I just knew I was squirting as much cum as I had ever produced and it was spraying on her glorious tits.

It felt like forever for each of us, but it was just a few seconds I'm sure. When we finished, Flo was slouched naked in the chair with her warm legs now pressing against my thighs. I was leaning over her, my hands on the back of the armchair and my prick still dripping a few drops of cum onto her chest.

Flo groaned and reached up with her hand to my slowly softening prick. She pulled me towards her and used her mouth to suck the last few drops of cum from my prick. While she did this she smeared the cum I had sprayed over her tits across any portions of her chest I had missed.

Eventually she let my prick escape from her mouth, and I stood and staggered back to the couch where I slouched staring at her.

Flo stood and pulled her nightgown back over her head, letting it drop over her cum-glazed tits. Then she picked up her e-reader and began to walk away. After a few steps she turned and looked back at me. She smiled and spoke the first really audible words I had heard, "Meet me in the Carriage House tomorrow at 2:00." Then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness as she ascended the stairs.

Who is Flo?

I slept soundly for the rest of the night. Awakening as I heard people began to stir upstairs, I quickly pulled a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on and stepped out to the pool house where I had been told I could shower. By the time I returned to the house, I found the kitchen a beehive of activity as a major breakfast was being prepared for the family, most of whom were drinking coffee in the huge formal dinning room. I spotted my mother and joined her with a cup of coffee.

Of course I had no intention of telling her of my late night tryst with Flo, but I had to learn more about who this mystery woman was. "Mom," I said, "I met a cousin yesterday that I never knew about."

"Well, that's not so surprising," she said. "This is a big family, and we don't see most of them very often. Since most of them live in the South and we live in California, I suspect there are a lot of relatives here that you've never met."

"Yeah, I suppose so. But I met this woman yesterday. She's about ten years older than me. She told me her name is Flo. Do you know how I am related to her?" Please let her not be a first cousin I was thinking.

Mom looked a little shocked. "Flo?" she said. "Really? Are you sure? Who told you her name was Flo?"

"She did," I responded.

"That's surprising. What did she look like?"

I described her, downplaying the details that made her so attractive to me.

"Hmmm." Mom frowned a bit and was silent. Finally she spoke. "Let's take our coffee out on the porch where we can talk without the whole family listening in."

We walked out to the large covered porch where we sat side by side in a pair of rocking chairs. Mom took a sip of her coffee and then spoke, "Andrew, its very unlikely that you met anyone in this family named Flo, and if you did, you should refrain from telling anyone about it."

"Why? What's wrong with that name?"

"Well, there has only been one member of this family named Flo, and she so seriously disgraced the family that no one has used the name since. It's a name we never mention in this family, much less apply to our children."

"Really," I said, now seriously curious. "Who was this Flo and what did she do?"

My mother looked uncomfortable. She took a long time deciding how to answer. Finally she sighed and said softly, "Flo was your great grandmother."

"Great grandmother? Do you mean my great grandmother that just passed away? I thought my her name was . . ." I actually had to pause while I tried to remember. "Her name was Lucinda, wasn't it? Yes, I'm sure that's what you told me, and that's what I have heard others around here say—Lucinda. No one has said a word about a Flo." None of this was making any sense to me.

"Your great grandmother's full name was Florence Lucinda, but when she was young she went by Flo."

"So let me get this straight," I said. My great grandmother—your grandmother—was named Florence Lucinda, and at some point she dropped the Florence and became Lucinda. Why?"

Mom looked even more uncomfortable now. "It had to do with my grandfather."

"Charles?" I had never met my Great Grandpa Charles. "You've always told me he died many years before you were born."

"Well, that's right. He died shortly after my mother, Samantha, was born.

"You mean Grandma Sam?" I asked interrupting and using the nickname I had always used for my late maternal grandmother.

Yes, but here is what you have never been told. Grandma Sam's legal father was Charles, but he was not her biological father.

"Whoa, let me get this straight. Great Grandma Lucinda was married to Charles when your mother, Samantha was born, but someone else was her biological father? Who?"

"She wasn't going by Lucinda then. She was Flo."

"Okay I get that, but who was Grandma Sam's biological father and why wasn't it Charles?"

"Oh, I guess I should have told you all this years ago." She looked very pained. "Charles had a twin brother named Cranston. Cranston and Flo had an affair, and Cranston was Grandma Sam's biological father."

"Really, and that's why Flo had to change her name to Lucinda?"

"There is more to it than that."

I waited in silence for the rest of the story.

"Okay, I'll tell you the rest of it. A few months after Samantha was born, Flo and Charles had a fight. Apparently he walked in on Flo and Cranston as they were having sex. A shouting contest ensued. Flo got mad and told Charles that she and Cranston had been having an affair for a long time and even told him that Cranston was actually Samantha's father. Flo never could keep her mouth shut. Then Charles challenged Cranston to a duel."

"A duel? You mean like pistols at twenty paces?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes. I know. People didn't really do that by the late-1920s, not even in the South. But Charles was an odd character. Sometimes he was still living in the antebellum South where a man's honor was everything. Cranston thought it a joke. He played along, assuming his twin would back out at the last minute. No one backed down and they were both killed."

I just looked at her with my mouth open. "Wait there's more," she said. "As you can imagine from what had already happened, Flo was very promiscuous. She was barely twenty then. She had come to Charleston from a plantation in Mississippi. Later the family heard fantastic stories about how she had grown up there. For the first couple of years after Samantha was born and the brothers died, Flo cut a wide swath through Charleston society. More than a few marriages were ruined by her. Not only was she promiscuous, but she liked to brag about it, too. She was beautiful, promiscuous, and the concept of discretion was a foreign notion to her. Apparently that was the way she was raised."

"Before they killed each other, the twins father, Andrew, had already given substantial gifts to each of his two sons. Charles' will bequeathed everything he had to Flo. Furthermore, since Cranston had no heirs, everything he had passed under his will back to Charles, or to Charles heirs if he was deceased. This meant Cranston's share went also went to Flo. The family was appalled. A tramp had married into the family and was going to inherit a huge part of the family estate."

"Eventually your great great grandfather, Andrew, went to Flo and told her that he would hire lawyers to contest both wills. He was prepared to spend any amount of money to cut her off from everything if she didn't straighten up and act like a respectable member of the family. Furthermore, he wanted her out of Charleston for some indeterminate period of time until the immediate scandal could blow over, and when and if she did come back to Charleston, she was to go by the name Lucinda. Flo was to disappear."

"So what did she do?" I asked.

"She agreed to do as Andrew asked. Then the family packed her and all her belongings up in the dead of night and moved her to one of their plantations in Georgia, down towards Savannah. The story fed to Charleston society at that time was that she had run away."

"What about Grandma Sam? Was she packed up and sent to Savannah, too?"

"No. The family treated her as Charles' daughter—not Flo's daughter. They kind of ignored Cranston's role in the debacle. They kept her in Charleston, where she was raised by her grandparents. The story they put out about the brothers' death was that they were murdered by a pair of black convicts escaped from a Georgia prison. Conveniently, the killers were never caught. Many years later, after Andrew and everyone in his generation had passed, Flo returned to Charleston. But she returned as Lucinda; not as Flo."

"And every one bought all that?"

"It worked at the time of the duel, because they got the sheriff to cooperate on the story, and no one in Charleston society was going to ask any questions about Flo's disappearance. They were just happy to see her gone. When Flo came back as Lucinda, enough time had passed so that most of Charleston society had forgotten who Flo was, and the family was deliberately vague about who Lucinda was. Also the family gave a lot of money to everyone's favorite charities, so no one dug too deeply into Lucinda's background. Eventually she became the grand dame of the family, mostly by outliving everyone else. The main thing most of the family knows is that the name Florence is off limits."

"So, really? Flo comes back as Lucinda, and no one recognizes her or remembers her?" I asked, my voice incredulous.

"Well, at least fifteen years had passed, and she not only changed her name, but she had changed her hair color from a strawberry blonde to jet black. There really was very little resemblance. She also had a husband, Jack, whom she had married while she was in exile. They had brought three children back with them. They were Jack's children by his late wife. Jack was from a prominent Savannah family, and there was some question in Savannah about the circumstances of Jack's first wife's death and the short period between her death and Jack's marriage to Lucinda, but that all passed from interest when Lucinda and Jack left for Charleston. So when Flo came back she looked different, had a different name, and a respectable family."

"What did Flo look like?"

"I asked Grandma Sam about that once. She told me that she had never really known Flo, given that she had left her with the family as an infant. She only knew her as Lucinda. The duel occurred shortly after she was born and when the family shipped Flo off to Georgia, they kept Samantha here in Charleston. She was raised by her grandparents until she was about sixteen when they sent her off to boarding school in Connecticut because she wasn't getting along with her new family from Savannah."

"But one time when I was, oh, I guess about twelve or so, I was digging around in my mother's room without her permission, and I found wedding pictures of Flo and Charles. She was absolutely beautiful." My mother proceeded to describe in detail a ten-year-younger version of the woman I had met as Flo the night before.

"So you see, that's why you couldn't have met a woman named Flo last night. There aren't any in this family, at least since not since your great grandmother Lucinda died. So unless you met a ghost . . ." she finished with a chuckle.

"Yeah," I said. "I must have been mistaken about the lady's name. I don't believe in ghosts."

"You must have been," my Mother agreed. "Let's go in and have breakfast before it's gone."

"One last question, though. What happened to Jack? I've never heard of him?"

"He died a few years after Samantha went to Connecticut. He had a fight with a field hand from one of the family's lowland plantations and was killed. No one would ever tell Samantha what the fight was about. The sheriff hung the field hand. As it turned out, though, Lucinda inherited most of Jack's family's plantations in Georgia through him. Somehow Lucinda always came out on top."

"Grandma Sam was always bitter about Lucinda's ability to always come out the winner." There was a trace of bitterness in my mother's voice also.

An Afternoon in the Carriage House

By two o'clock, everyone had headed out to one of the family's nearby low country plantations for a dinner. Lucinda had spent a lot of time at this plantation, whenever she was not at the townhouse in old Charleston. It was also the plantation where Jack had been killed in the fight with the field hand. I begged off, claiming I had an upset stomach. Everyone was happy to leave me behind, fearing I was coming down with the flu.

The Carriage House was an outbuilding that sat on the side and behind the big Charleston mansion. It had originally been built, as its name implies, as a place to store carriages and the horses that pulled them. The first floor had been converted to a very large garage when the automobile replaced the horse drawn carriage. The building had a second floor that had originally been used to store tack and other equipment needed to work and groom the horses and maintain the carriages. After the automobiles had replaced the carriages, the upper floor had been used for servants' quarters, but by 1940 or so, the servants had all moved to their own homes in other parts of Charleston. Since then it had been empty and unused, or so I had been told.

At two o'clock I walked quietly into the garage. It was empty, all the cars having been used to take the family down to the picnic. I stood looking around for a moment, wondering if I had simply dreamed the whole experience the night before. Maybe my mother was right. There was no Flo. She was just a very vivid wet dream.