Now That Daddy's Gone Ch. 02

"You know what I think?" Millie said.

Meg began to shake with worry.

"I think you have a boyfriend. And I think your boyfriend visits the house while your son is out working the farm and that way you keep it secret from him," Millie smirked.

"Yes! Of course! I can never hide anything from you Millie," Meg sighed with relief.

Millie had provided Meg with the perfect alibi. A fictitious lover that she could blame for any discretions that Millie may uncover.

Dinner that night was a chore for Peter, his aunt talked incessantly about boring subjects that interested Peter not one bit. He found her big-city adventures a chore to listen to. The only compensation was that her micro-mini dress had ridden up right to the top of her thighs. Peter had never seen pantyhose before and was fascinated by them, the way she sheer nylon continued all the way to the top of her thighs under her panties which was very captivating. It was obviously the only sort of hosiery that could be worn with a dress that short but he still preferred the look of his mother's fully-fashioned stockings.

Millie saw her nephew peeking at her legs. It's not like she wasn't used to men ogling her legs, as well as her tits and ass, that's what men did. But Peter was a lot younger than the old farts that her husband called friends and colleagues. Friends indeed, nearly every one of them had felt her up or propositioned her. Not that she could sling mud.

The day of the family funeral William Balfour had taken his wife Margaret and young son Peter back to the farm and made an excuse to drive all the way back into town. He'd knocked on the door to her room at the town's only crummy motel.

"What do you want Billy?" Millie stood leaning on the door smoking a cigarette.

She was still wearing her funeral attire, a black long-sleeved dress with a hem that rode ridiculously high on her thighs, fully-fashioned black stockings, black pumps and full makeup.

"You know you show contempt for your family coming to your uncle's funeral dressed like that," he growled.

"Oh I think he would have liked it Billy. The old coot used to chase me around the room and when he caught me he'd sit me in his lap and panty-pop me Billy, he'd have likely loved to have done it to me dressed like this," she said disparagingly.

"That's no way to talk about your deceased uncle," William was red-faced.

"You mean the man who liked to rub his cock on me until he ejaculated on my panty-clad ass while I sat in his lap pretending to watch TV?" she replied.

"You were probably asking for it you slut," William balled his fists.

"Oh come in Billy. I know the real reason you came to see me. You haven't taken your eyes off me all day. Whatever would my sister think?" Millie turned her back on him and walked over to the bed and crushed out her cigarette in an ashtray on the nightstand.

William came in behind her and pushed her onto the bed. Millie rolled over and looked at William who was shaking with rage and lust. His cock was tenting the front of his suit pants. Millie lay sprawled on the bed her legs open, her dress had ridden up, her stocking tops and black lace panties were wantonly on display.

Millie looked up at William and smiled seductively, running her tongue along her bright red lipsticked lips. She put a red-nailpolished fingertip between her legs and stroked the front of her panties and gave him a questioning look.

William fell on top of her, crushing his lips against hers. Millie opened her legs wider and kissed him back, fumbling with his zipper and belt. William pushed his pants down to his knees and freed his erection. He poked at her with it, rubbing it on the gossamer material of her panties. He was getting impatient trying to get his cock inside her and finally he tore out the crotch of her panties.

"Oh god it's so big," Millie gasped as she took him in hand.

She eased him inside the torn-out crotch of her panties and guided him to her sex. William thrust forward and Millie moaned as his long thick phallus entered her hot wet vagina. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he began to fuck her. She bit his ear and raked his flesh with her nails.

"Fuck me! Fuck me you animal! Fuck me you farm boy!" she goaded him.

Williams cock was the biggest she had ever had inside her and she'd had plenty. She loved the feel of its girth, it filled her, and the bulbous glans pressed on her G-spot. William thought that Margaret's cunt was tighter than her sister's but he was enjoying fucking this haughty bitch. She smelled and tasted wonderful and her cunt was wet and inviting.

It was over quickly.

William drove himself deep inside his sister-in-law and ejaculated. She came with him, riding the peak of his orgasm, drumming her heels on his back. He was holding her so tight that she was suffocating but that only added to the thrill. Her sister was miss prim-and-proper and her husband was fucking her whore sister.

Peter disentangled himself from Millie and pulled up his pants, he wanted to leave so bad that he was still buckling them when he walked out the door without saying a word. Millie lay on the bed with her legs still spread wide, her panties tattered and torn, a rivulet of semen dripped from her cunt, William had laddered her stockings during the frenzied fucking.

Millie just chuckled to herself and lit a cigarette, leaving her legs wide open so she could get some cool air on her battered vulva.

She never saw William again and she had never told her sister what had happened. She wore the secret like a badge of honour and whenever her father rang Millie, which wasn't often, and complained that she should be more demure like her farmer's-wife sister, she recalled being ravaged by William Balfour. Meg might be the better sister, but she couldn't keep her husband satisfied apparently.

When Millie heard that William had turned into a vicious drunk who had run away from his wife and son, she couldn't help but feel a little schadenfreude. But a year later when her own husband found out about her affair with a younger man and had thrown her out of the house penniless, Millie had no one else to turn to but Meg.

The tension grew in the farmhouse as Peter and Meg were denied sex due to Millie's presence. What made things worse is that there seemed to be no end state. Millicent rang her husband at least once a day but he refused to forgive her but more importantly, he refused her access to their bank accounts so she was effectively destitute. Peter feared she may never leave.

Peter compensated for his lack of sexual gratification by working harder and longer, his six o'clock assignation with his mother was no longer a longed-for pleasure, he had to endure the torture of listening to his aunt's inane conversation; tales of her living the high life and mingling with the well to do lording over the hoi polloi held no interest for him.

It was worse for Meg because Millie confessed her discretions to her about the numerous men she had been with, often going into the minutiae of what she was wearing, how big the man's cock was, what they did, in what positions, and how often she orgasmed. It not only drove Meg wild with jealousy, it made her lustful and made her more aware of what she was missing out on with Peter.

Adding to Peter's frustration was his aunt's insistence on getting around dressed only in her underwear under a pink negligee until mid-morning when she would dress for the day. She also made a habit of leaving her bedroom door ajar, holding conversations with her sister across the hallway through the open door. Millie liked to sleep in so Peter was usually gone for the day well before she got out of bed, but on weekends Peter didn't mind catching a few extra hours sleep himself.

His mother tried to make up for their lack of sex by leaving Peter little gifts under his pillow: a pair of her soiled panties for him to sniff or a pair of her nylons for him to masturbate with. She'd spray them with her perfume so that he could imagine fucking his mother whilst sniffing her panties and slipping his cock inside the stocking and stroking himself until he climaxed. He would then reciprocate the gesture and leave the cum-filled stockings and panties in his mother's room so she could use them as masturbatory aids.

Peter left his room one morning and was about to make his way downstairs when he heard his aunt shuffling about in her room. Peter sidled up to the open door and looked inside. Millie was bent over the bed fussing with the bedclothes. She hadn't finished dressing and was wearing only her pantyhose and her negligee. Peter was fascinated by pantyhose, this new fashion garment that fully encased a woman's legs in diaphanous nylon. But what he was witnessing intrigued him further. His aunt's ample buttocks were also encased in the coffee-coloured transparent fabric.

He could see the firm globes of her buttocks and the cleft between her legs where tufts of pubic hair were smoothed flat against her pubis. Her long and shapely legs glistened in the lamplight and Peter couldn't help but take out his cock and stroke it whilst watching his aunt's ass dance and wobble as she struggled to make the bed. The scent of her perfume permeated the hallway adding to the delusion in his head of throwing Millie down on the bed and fucking her while she struggled to break free.

Peter was mature enough to know that the fantasy served the dual purpose of releasing his sexual frustration whilst punishing his aunt for being in their house. He had no intention of acting it out but it fuelled his imagination as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the nylon stocking he intended to put under his mother's pillow and slipped it over his engorged penis. It was still wet from this morning's emission but it felt so smooth and soft as he pressed the gauzy garment to his manhood and began to stroke.

His eyes were locked on his aunt's soft buttocks, the sheen of her pantyhose giving them an ethereal ambiance; he imagined nestling his cock in that silk-lined cleft whilst stroking those long gossamer-clad limbs, holding Millie down on the bed while he humped away at her ass. The more Millie struggled to smooth out the bed clothes, the more invitingly her buttocks waggled and swayed.

Peter stifled a groan as he ejaculated into the stocking, his semen darkening the tan nylons and then bursting through in a puddle of viscous warm cream. He fell back against the wall at the pinnacle of his orgasm and tried to control his breathing. Realising the precarious position he was in Peter quickly stuffed his cock back into his pants and jammed the nylon into his front pocket.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Millie called out from her bedroom.

"Just me Millie; on my way downstairs for lunch. Will you be joining us?" Peter called back, pretending he was just leaving his room.

He sidled back to his door then walked confidently down the corridor as if nothing had happened.

Millie came to her bedroom door and leaned against it. She had closed her robe but she was still clad only in her pantyhose beneath it. Peter could discern her ample bosom through the tiffany negligee, the dark circles of her areola, the engorged pink berries of her nipples and the dark triangle of her pubic thatch.

She had completed her makeup; the flicked upper eyeliner, matte green eyeshadow, false eyelashes with heavy mascara, coral-blushed cheeks, and pink lipstick but her blonde hair fell about her face in disarray. She looked sexy leaning back against the door, one leg bent with the sole flat against the wooden panel which caused her gown to open slightly so he could he see all the way to the top of her thighs. Her perfume was cloying but simultaneously exciting.

"What are you doing sneaking around your own home Peter?" she smiled bewitchingly.

"Nothing! I'm not sneaking anywhere! This is my house and I'll come and go as I please," Peter overreacted and Millie smiled innocently back at him, knowing she had caused the rise in his temper.

"Ok Peter; settle down. Tell Margaret I'll join you both as soon as I'm dressed," Millie dropped her foot and turned away.

Peter exhaled sharply and continued his journey down the corridor to the head of the stairs.

"Peter!" Millie called from her bedroom door.

"Just one thing," she smiled sweetly but Peter saw the menace.

"This is your father's house; not yours," she closed the door and Peter made his way downstairs.

Millie's grin turned to a grimace of lust as she leaned back against the door and thrust her hand inside the waistband of her pantyhose and inserted two fingers into her quim. She worked her thumb on her clitoris, quickly invoking a raging orgasm that caused her to slide down the door and collapse on the floor.

Millie had heard Peter wheeze and moan while he tended to his needs outside her door and had she had deliberately waggled her ass for him. She had seen Peter's semen spattered on the polished wooden floor outside her door. She had seen the toe of her sister's stocking poking out of his pocket and the huge bulge in his pants and knew that what she thought he was doing was exactly what he was doing.

It excited her. The bulge in Peter's pants was huge and she wondered if her nephew's cock was as big as his father's. And that nylon stocking in Peter's pocket... did her sister know that Peter was using her intimates as a masturbatory aid?

She slipped into panties and bra and put on the miniskirt and blouse she had selected for the day and sat at her dresser and fixed her hair, all the time wondering what exactly was going on this house. One thing was for sure... she was going to find out.

Millie slipped into her high heels and made her way down to join her sister and her nephew at the dining table as if nothing had happened. She saw that Peter was blushing and when he looked up at her she winked at him furtively and then began to eat.

Peter couldn't sleep, every time he closed his eyes he thought about his mother. Mother bent over the counter top in the kitchen with her skirt hiked up; Mother lying on the bed dressed in her bustier, satin panties, silk stockings and high heels, legs open, beckoning her son; Mother stroking his hard cock as he wallowed in the bath crying out with surprise when his cock convulsed and spattered her face and hair with his scalding spend.

He rolled over but then all he could think about was Aunt Millicent, her ass sheathed in those silky pantyhose lifted high on the bed, she was looking at him and inviting him to mount her, red fingernail waggling at him. Millicent sitting at the dining table with her skirt around her waist, her long legs clad in the sheer pantyhose, red nylon panties worn over, through which he could see her dark thatch.

Peter had already masturbated, once and his mother's stocking soaked in his semen lay cooling on the bedside table. But he was frustrated. Two women in the house, one of whom he used to fuck two or three times a day and the other one teasing him he was sure.

He just couldn't sleep so he decided to get up and take a nice hot bath; maybe that would put him to sleep. He tiptoed down to the bathroom carrying a candle so as not to wake the others sleeping in the house. He closed the door and ran the bath, throwing in some bath salts and some of his mother's bubble bath. He eased himself into the near scalding water and lay flat, letting the water ease his tense muscles and envelope him with a feeling of wellbeing.

Peter closed his eyes and drifted away, feeling serene and secure.

The candle flickered and Peter heard the door creak, a miasma of perfume drifted to his nose, followed by the padding of feet on bare boards. The door clicked shut and Peter sensed his mother's presence in the quiet room.

"Mom?" he whispered.

"Shh!" she didn't want anyone waking.

Peter smiled and then her lips were on his mouth and her hand was searching the suds to find his manhood. She stifled a moan as he became fully erect when she touched him. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and began to stroke him, using the bath lotion to lubricate the swollen shaft as she worked her fingers along it and then curled them around his bulbous glans and squeezed.

He smothered a scream by pressing his lips hard against hers and driving his tongue into her. She pulled her face away from his; she wanted to see him come.

The first rope of milky spend spattered across her face, the second splattered on her breasts, the third spurted over the rim of the bathtub and fell on her thighs, soaking into her nylons and scalding her flesh.

"Oh my god it is as big as your father's!" Millie squealed.

"It's even bigger!" she sighed.

Peter opened his eyes and was shocked to see his aunt dressed in her usual bedroom attire of negligee and pantyhose kneeling beside the bath, stroking his manhood. He wanted her to stop but he also wanted her to continue; it felt so good and she looked so sexy with her blonde hair, now streaked with his issue, down on her bare shoulders, her heavy makeup; and for him tonight, red lipstick like his mother wore.

He reached inside the negligee and hefted her breasts, they were heavy and saggy but beautiful and he tweaked her nipples making her bite down to stifle a moan.

Peter got out of the bath, naked, covered in suds, his huge erection waggling in front him like a truncheon.

"Shh! Peter. Be quiet! We can talk about this tomorrow!" his aunt hissed, scared they would wake up Meg.

Peter said nothing; he had a determined look on his face that scared Millie.

He pressed her against the wall, his cock sliding across her thighs in the mess of his own making, his hands raking at her breasts, his mouth on hers, hot and hungry. She shuddered with fright and lust as her nephew pinned her against the wooden planks and pushed his cock between her plump thighs and up into her cunt, protected by a flimsy layer of nylon. He pushed harder and his cock burst through the sheer gusset and deep into his aunt's cunt.

"Ung!" she gasped, the air knocked out of her.

Peter put his hands on his aunt's shoulders and pushed downward, impaling her on his rampant tool, driving his cock as far into her as it would go, their pubises' scraping together, the base of his cock grinding on her clitoris.

"You tell me if it's as big as my daddy's," he hissed in her ear and then crushed her mouth with his again.

Millie put her arms around Peter's neck and wrapped her legs around his waist; he put his hands under her buttocks to support her as he fucked her with her back pressed to the wall.

His warm wet skin on hers and his tongue in her mouth excited Millicent, but not as much as the thick hard poker he was driving in and out of her sodden cleft which clung to the flesh of his penis when he pulled out, then yielded to the weapon as he drove it back inside her.

His aunt's cunt was as tight as mother's, maybe tighter, she hadn't had kids. Peter loved the way her cunt clutched at his cock as he fucked her, the tight sheath of her vagina enveloped his penis, squeezing it; caressing the tender flesh. Her tongue was like a dervish in his mouth, her breath sweet, her saliva delicious, even her lipstick tasted good. Her breasts pressed against his bare flesh, her nipples hard, digging into him like small hard berries. And those soft, sleek nylons against his flesh was heavenly... her silken-clad thighs and calves rubbed and caressed his skin, sending rockets of delight to his pleasure centres.

Peter filled Millie's spongy tunnel with rock-hard pulsing flesh, driving it deep into her and grinding his pubis against her clitoris causing her to whimper obscenities into his mouth as her mauled her, his fingers dug into her buttocks, pulling her down hard onto his shaft as he fucked her viciously.