Living with Great Aunt Helen Ch. 02

'I've already tasted that forbidden fruit.'

'But I'm your mother.' Her voice was so soft I had to strain to catch it.

I kissed her lips again. 'I think that would make it very exciting.'

'Exciting,' she whispered. 'Yes, it would be exciting.' We kissed again and this time she opened her mouth hungrily and I felt her hot little tongue slide into my mouth and I put my arms around her and pressed my mouth against hers and felt a volcanic surge of desire sweep through my body, hardening my cock and turning my guts to water.

Then there was the sound of a key in the lock and we sprang apart as Aunt Helen came through the door with her wet umbrella. Thank goodness there's no glass in the front door, I thought, fleetingly.

'Carol!' she exclaimed, kissing my mother's cheek. 'I didn't think I'd see you.' She pecked my cheek. 'I went over to Deborah's house after the meeting and she gave me some books. I hope you weren't worried Peter.' She took off her raincoat and went through to the kitchen and I was left in the hall with mum. We looked at each other.

'Is the invitation to come over one weekend still open,' I asked quietly so that Helen shouldn't hear.

'Of course,' she replied, looking at me steadily. 'Why don't you come next weekend?'

I leaned over and kissed her cheek, very softly. 'I look forward to it, Mum.'

Back in the kitchen my great aunt seemed strangely energised by her visit to the book club. She prattled on for about fifteen minutes about the book of the week and the opinions of the various members. 'Then I went around to Deborah's place. She's got a couple of books that she said I must read.'

'Why didn't she bring them to the book club?' I asked.

My great aunt hesitated. 'I think she wants to keep our friendship a bit private from the rest of the book club, for the moment.'

'Yes,' I said, 'I can imagine. What happened at her house?'

Helen blushed deeply. 'She kissed me,' she admitted. 'As I was leaving. In the hall. She kissed me.'

'A proper kiss?'

'Oh, yes!'

'How did it feel?'

'It was lovely.' She paused for a few seconds. 'I was sort of expecting something when she invited me round. Well, like you said, she could have brought the books to the meeting. And in her house you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife... But nothing happened until I was leaving and then, in the hall, when I'd got my coat on, she put her arms around me and kissed me and I could feel her teeth and her tongue and it was really sexy. The first time I've ever kissed another woman.'

'And then?' I asked, very aroused at the mental picture of Deborah and my great aunt locked in an embrace.

'Nothing. I came home.'

'So what happens next? Do you want something to happen?'

'Yes,' said Helen, with unexpected firmness. 'I do. I wasn't sure until that kiss, I thought I might be turned off, but I wasn't. I'm not.'

'I think you should invite her around for dinner. Just the two of you. Do it this weekend. I'm going over to mum's on Saturday morning.'

'Oh gosh. Do you think I should?'

'I think you should.' I went over to Helen and kissed her, thinking about Deborah's lips on hers. The kiss quickly became very passionate and I grabbed her buttocks through her grey woollen dress and lifted her onto the scrubbed pine of the kitchen table. Within seconds I'd got her knickers off -- she was wearing stockings and suspenders as she always did now -- and her legs were waving in the air, exposing her black bush and pinky-brown labia.

'Does it turn you on, Peter, the thought of me with another woman?' said Helen, gripping the edges of the table and opening her legs wide.

'Yes,' I said, tightly, fumbling with my belt and pushing my trousers and underpants to the floor. My cock was rigid and I guided it to her slit, rubbing it up and down to gauge how lubricated she was -- I hadn't given her much notice and she was an old lady. But it was fine; my great aunt never seemed to have a problem with lubrication and I sank my seven inches in and she gasped and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the table harder.

'Yes go on, Peter, use me! Fuck me!' It was maybe only the second time in three years that I'd heard her use the F word. She was clearly very excited. So was I; I rammed my cock in and out of her, holding her legs aloft by her ankles, one high-heel on, the other lying on the kitchen floor, visions of Deborah eating my aunt's cunt flashing through my mind.

'What will you do with Deborah?' I gasped.

Helen's long black hair was spread on the table and her eyes were wide and wild. 'Kiss and touch and use our fingers and tongues... and, oh God, I'm coming...' She cried out and at the same time my orgasm crashed through me and I pumped my semen into her cunt leaving me weak-kneed and breathless, taking my softening cock out of her, a string of spunk looping down onto one of her stocking tops, a dribble of it leaking from her cunt and trickling down onto the tabletop.

I helped her off the table, feeling a little twinge of post-coital guilt that I'd thrown a sixty-nine-year-old lady onto the kitchen table and screwed her hard. But Helen just stood up and kissed me and then she knelt down and sucked the sticky liquids off my dick and kissed me again so that I could taste myself on her lips. She was evidently still very turned on.

At my suggestion she texted Deborah and invited her to dinner on Saturday evening, mentioning that I would be away until Sunday evening. She got a message back within five minutes accepting the invitation. This made my great aunt hornier than ever and by late afternoon she was ready for sex again and we went to bed where she straddled me and rode me to another climax. This was unprecedented; she just didn't seem to be able to get enough. 'Why don't you take me in my naughty hole?' she whispered as she dismounted me. This time I didn't bother tying her up; I was rampantly hard and I just wanted to be in her tight little arsehole. She knelt on the bed while I lubed her rosebud generously then I positioned myself behind her and guided my cock to her sphincter and pushed against the sticky, jelly-smeared ring. Helen gripped the bedstead and pushed back at me and my penis slid in suddenly, almost halfway and Helen gasped and I started pumping and it felt other-worldly. Having come a few hours before I thought I could take my time but then Helen said, 'Will you be thinking about Deborah and me on Saturday night? Would you like me to text you?' And as I fucked her anus I thought about them together in this bed and I thought about what I might be doing on Saturday evening with my mother and I felt my orgasm approach and I erupted into my great aunt's rectum.

Afterwards we lay together, languidly kissing. 'I'm just so excited thinking about it,' said Helen. 'I've never really thought about it before, or if I did I was probably horrified. But the fact that it's Deborah makes it seem perfectly ok. You won't be jealous will you darling? It won't change us will it? I promise I won't turn into a screaming lesbian.' I laughed. In truth I wasn't jealous. I was happy that my aunt was happy and excited that she was excited. I was also thinking about Saturday. About my mother.

The week dragged by slowly. Helen still wanted sex at least once a day and I was happy to oblige. She also consulted me on what to wear for her evening with Deborah and I recommended a red skirt and a white blouse that she looked very trim and sexy in. We made love again on Saturday morning and there was an urgency about Helen that I hadn't seen before. She gripped me tightly and dug her painted fingernails into the flesh of my back as I thrust into her, making me yelp with pain. After we'd got up and showered she roamed the house looking for things to do but unable to concentrate on anything. So I was glad when lunchtime came and we had a quick bite to eat in the kitchen -- or at least I did, Helen was too nervous to do more than pick at her quiche -- and I wished her luck and kissed her goodbye and set out for my mother's house, some forty odd miles away.

It was a miserable journey: it rained all the way and there were traffic jams everywhere so that it took me more than two hours to get there. I parked next to mum's Toyota on the drive and, opening the front door with my key, dumped my bag in the hall. Mum, dressed in jeans and jumper, came out of the kitchen to greet me.

'Peter! How lovely. How was your journey?' She reached up to kiss my cheek but I turned my head and kissed her on the lips and she put her hands on my chest. 'No, Peter. Not yet.' I looked at her questioningly and she must have seen the disappointment in my face. 'I've been baking and I'm a mess and I don't feel remotely attractive and I want to feel attractive when... you know.' She smiled shyly at me and I knew then that everything was going to be ok.

Mum had booked a table at a Thai restaurant for seven o'clock. And a taxi, so we were able to sip our way through a bottle of Chardonnay while we chatted the rest of the afternoon away. Mum avoided asking about my sex life with my great aunt and I didn't volunteer any information. Wild horses would not have dragged out of me the fact that Helen was entertaining a female friend that evening and would, in all probability, sleep with her. At six o'clock we both went upstairs to change. I was downstairs fifteen minutes later in a pair of chinos and a jacket. Mum didn't appear until thirty minutes later when I called up the stairs that the taxi had arrived.

She came downstairs a bit nervously, treading carefully in her high heels. She was wearing a well-fitting royal blue silk dress and black stockings, which made the best of her thin figure and slender legs. Her hair had been washed and brushed until it shone, falling over her shoulders in a chestnut waterfall. Her make-up was perhaps a bit on the heavy side but I thought she looked lovely. How could I ever have considered my mother plain?

'You look fantastic!' I said, meaning it.

'Thank you,' she said shyly and I bent my head to kiss her and this time she didn't demur and our lips met in a light, lingering kiss before there was another toot from the taxi outside and we put our coats on and left the house.

I've always enjoyed Thai food and, I have to admit, the sight of gorgeous Thai girls in traditional cheongsams serving it. But this evening I had eyes only for my dinner partner. In the dim light of the restaurant she looked at me across the table with her clear blue eyes, carefully made up with liner and eye shadow, and I was entranced.

'You look gorgeous,' I said, simply, and she cast her eyes down in embarrassment.

'Well I can't compete with my aunt's figure but I've done the best I can.'

'Mum, you look really good. I'm not just saying that.'

She smiled gratefully. 'I wonder if you might prefer to call me Carol, instead of Mum, that is. You call Helen, Helen, don't you?'

'Yes, I do. Ok -- Carol.'

The meal was superb and the service fast and efficient so that by nine o'clock we were sitting in the back of a taxi on the way back to mum's house. I reached for her hand in the darkness of the back seat and she took mine and I stroked her index finger with my thumb while we sat in silence, the tension building between us.

At the house I paid the driver and we dashed for the front porch as the heavens opened. Inside we took our coats off and mum found half a bottle of red in the kitchen and poured us both a glass and we took them through to the lounge and stood looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

I swallowed nervously. 'Are you ok, er, Carol?'

'My stomach's all butterflies,' she said softly.

'Mine too. We... we don't have to you know, do anything.'

'No. But let's at least sit down,' she smiled weakly.

We sat down, side by side on a grey leather settee, and I put my arm around my mother's thin shoulders and drew her slowly to me. She didn't resist. Instead she looked up at me, her red lips parted and I felt an enormous wave of passion and love and lust and I turned my head to her and we kissed and her mouth opened against mine and I felt her tongue and tasted her saliva and her lipstick and our mouths worked lightly against each other. 'How does that feel?' I asked her quietly.

'Oh, Peter, it's been so long since anybody kissed me like that.' She stifled a sob, 'I'm not sure anyone ever has.' Then we were kissing again, harder, with more passion and I was reaching for her small breasts and cupping one through the silk of her dress, feeling its firmness. 'I'm sorry they're so small,' she whispered in my ear. 'Not like Helen's.' Then we were both laughing and whatever tension was between us disappeared and we kissed again and the kissing went on for long minutes while I fondled her breasts and ran my hand along her stockinged thigh and under her dress, feeling her stocking top and a suspender strap and the warmth of her inner thigh as she parted her legs slightly and moaned softly into my mouth as I slid my hand towards her crotch.

But perverse as this sounds, I needed to have a conversation with my mother before we got any further, before we passed the point of no return. Breaking the kiss I gently stroked her face. 'Are you really ok with this, Mum?' My use of "Mum" was deliberate. I needed to know that she was happy to commit incest with her son, perhaps the most dramatic act of incest. I didn't want her to feel a crushing guilt afterwards.

'I'm frightened,' she said softly, 'but I want this, very much. We do need to talk, but afterwards.' With that she stood and held her hand out to me and led me, unresisting, up the stairs to her bedroom.

Inside her room I stood quietly while my mother closed the door, drew the curtains and switched on a low-wattage bedside lamp, casting the room into a mix of soft light and half-shadow. Then she came and stood in front of me and held her arms out and we came together and I bent my head down and she turned her face to mine and we kissed slowly and deeply, using our tongues to explore and taste. As we kissed our bodies came together and she clung to me and I felt the contours of her thin body through her dress. I was equally aware of my almost painfully hard erection pushing against her lower abdomen. Then she was breaking free and stepping back and I stood mutely while she pulled down the side zip of her dress and let it slide, rustling over her stockings, to the ground all the while looking at me, gauging my reaction. Still maintaining eye contact my mother reached behind her, unclipped her bra and shrugged it from her shoulders and down her arms. Then she stood, arms by her side, waiting.

'You're lovely,' I said. Her body, naked apart from her panties and stockings, was thin, almost skinny, the skin pale and flawless. Her stomach was flat and taut, more like a thirty-year-old, her breasts small and pert with light-brown upturned nipples. Further down her hips barely swelled from her waist, but her legs, although they were very slender, were long and shapely in her black stockings. At that moment, in that place, she was lovely, to me. Very lovely.

And then it suddenly hit me. That feeling of unease, fright even, of what we were about to do. Making love with my elderly great aunt was one thing, but this was my mother standing in front of me. This was incest to a far more serious degree. She must have recognised, in my face, the emotions that were tumbling through her psyche at the same time.

'Are you frightened too?' she whispered.

'A bit,' I admitted.

She moved towards me and started tugging my shirt out of my waistband. 'Well at least we'll go to Hell together,' she said quietly. I stood still as she unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off my shoulders. Then her hands, with their long, thin, fingers, were at my belt buckle and my trousers were falling to my ankles and I was stepping out of them and tugging off my socks and then we were facing each other again and I was just wearing my Y-fronts.

Without a word, my mother climbed onto her bed and I followed and we lay down, side by side, looking at each other. 'Kiss me, Peter,' she whispered and she came into my arms and we kissed again and it was deep and slow and ultra-erotic. Because this was my mother, the woman who had given birth to me, here in my arms, kissing me, while I stroked her small, firm breasts and ran my thumb over her nipples making her gasp quietly into my mouth. She put her hand behind my head and pressed her mouth to mine and my hand went slowly down her stomach where I found her suspender belt and I ran my fingers over the silky black nylon. Then I was tracing one of her suspenders, down to her silk panties and on to her stocking top, feeling the smoothness of the fabric and then the warm softness of her inner thigh and my mother gave a moan and opened her legs to let me in and I stroked her vulva through the sheer silk of her knickers, cupping it in my palm and gently squeezing.

'Don't stop!' she hissed, digging her fingers into arms and arching her back, thrusting her hips into my hand. I found the waistband of her panties and slid my hand inside and my mother opened her legs wide, bending them, tilting her hips to give my exploring fingers better access. I was shockingly aroused, all qualms about the morality of our act seemingly blanked out by the primal urge to commit the sexual act. My cock was painfully trapped in my underpants, leaking warm, sticky fluid. And underneath my fingers was my mother's pubic bush, thick and luxuriant. I stroked the silky hair and she kissed me hard, sucking my lower lip into her mouth and thrusting her tongue into me. She gave a strangled moan as my searching finger found her labia and parted the outer lips, seeking and finding the hidden well of pleasure within.

I slid my middle finger deep into my mother's saturated cunt, feeling it's tightness. 'Yes,' she gasped, 'yes!' So I added another finger and my thumb searched for her clitoris and stroked the tip, emerging from its protective hood. 'Take my knickers off,' she gasped, urgently. 'And your pants.'

I knelt up and she raised her hips and I slid her panties down over her stockinged legs before ripping my Y-fronts off and throwing them to the floor. Then I was on top of her, supporting myself on my elbows, my erection pressed against her hairy pussy, kissing her lips and cheeks and ears and neck. Tasting her and smelling her scent. 'Are you ready?' I whispered in her ear.

She looked at me fiercely, a trace of defiance, or fear, in her expression. 'Yes!'

Then a thought struck me like a dash of cold water. 'Do I need protection?' I asked, aware that I hadn't got any. Hadn't given it a thought.

'No.'

I raised my hips and gripped the shaft of my cock, rubbing it up and down my mother's slit, lubricating the glans and seeking, and finding the entrance to her vagina. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, lips parted. 'Slowly, Peter,' she said, it's been a long time.'

So I pushed slowly and carefully and her labia parted and my cock head penetrated her and my mother sighed as I slid in and she took my full seven inches. God, she felt tight! How could that be after having two children? The sensation was exquisite, very different to the feel of my great aunt. Mum was hot and slippery and I could feel her muscles gripping me as I started pulling out and pushing back in with long, gentle strokes.

'How does that feel?' I whispered, kissing her neck and shoulders.

'Big,' she said, tightly. 'Be gentle with me.'

So I fucked my mother that first time with long, slow stokes, coming almost out of her then sliding back in until our pubic bones rubbed together. Underneath me, her breathing was quick and shallow and she clutched at my upper arms and made little mewing noises. And she was so tight! It felt like a velvet glove gripping me. And it was my mother underneath me! My fifty-two-year-old mother in whose soaking cunt my cock was buried. I felt my orgasm approach and there was nothing I could do about it. The combination of sensations and the erotic act of incest was too big resist, however much I slowed down.