Our Secret Sin Ch. 02

The 7:30 AM alarm woke me on Sunday, February 16th. It was time to get ready for church. I hopped out of bed, already nude and ready for a shower. A few flakes of dried semen fell from my skin as I walked into the bathroom. How they got there was quite the story.

A few nights ago, it was Aunt Naomi's first Valentine's Day as a widow, so she proposed that I be her date. That meant a candlelit dinner with wine, cuddling on the couch to watch "Milo & Otis", and then up to my room for sex. And, no, you didn't misread that last part.

A few weeks ago, after her husband had passed away, Aunt Naomi and I started having sex. Before that, I saw her as an overly oppressive, Bible-toting disciplinarian that never allowed me to have any fun. Now, she had loosened up in more ways than one.

Her marriage to Uncle Randolph had begun when she was 28 and he was 58. They had almost reached 22 years of marriage before he had died. I had no idea how their sex life went before he became bedridden, but it was obvious that it had been a while since she'd gotten laid. I guess that fact had not been made clear until she came into my room Saturday night, removed both of our clothes, and took me again. As always, after we were done, she always went back to her room.

Once I had gotten dressed, I grabbed my bible and headed downstairs. My thin, blonde aunt was already in her Sunday best as she waited downstairs. She gave me a simple 'good morning' before we got into her van and headed for church.

As always, we never conversed on the way to church; it had been this way even before we started having sex. As the hymns came pouring out of the radio, I tried my best to get my mind to focus on holy things and not all of the sex I had engaged in last night with my dead mother's sister. Both of my parents had died eight years ago when I was 10, which is why I lived with Aunt Naomi.

It then occurred to me: what would my late mother think of our relationship? Before she had died, she had been more of a sympathetic and easygoing Christian. Aunt Naomi was the other kind, the kind of Christian that would criticize anyone who showed up to church in a T-shirt. After the first few trysts, I thought her guilty conscience would force her to stop, but she didn't seem bothered about being in bed with her nephew. I guess that I could have said something to stop our affair, but I couldn't dredge up any genuine desire to do so.

In fact, I felt a pang of longing as Aunt Naomi ventured off to her adult bible study class, while I headed for the high school bible study class. My heart -- and maybe my penis -- leapt with joy when I found her in the main sanctuary for the late-morning service. Her face, as always, was unreadable as I sat next to her in the pew.

After we sang hymns with the rest of the congregation, the church collected the offering and then the head pastor came up to deliver the sermon. It always amused me to see how anxious the crowd got when he ascended the pulpit. Personally, I had nothing against Pastor McAvoy, but it was sad to hear the audience fall over laughing whenever he made a C-grade joke.

At long last, we said our closing prayer and listened to the weekly announcements before we were dismissed. As we filed out of the auditorium and into the lobby, it seemed that a group of church ladies seemed to automatically materialize around Aunt Naomi. Even though it had been almost 4 weeks since Uncle Randolph had died, they were still very much concerned about her. Pastor McAvoy even came over to give his repeated offers for any assistance whatsoever. Aunt Naomi was in high spirits by the time we left church.

On the ride home, she was giddy as she told me that the head pastor had issued a standing invitation to his house for dinner. I said nothing as she drove through the wintry streets. About five minutes from our home, I had decided to break the one-sided silence.

"I think it would be nice to have dinner at Pastor John's sometime," I said.

"Yes," Aunt Naomi replied. "By the way, I don't know what you're wanting for dinner tonight. Did you have anything in mind?"

I gave my aunt a strange look; usually, she never asked me what I wanted to eat; she told me that I could always eat whatever she made, make something myself, or starve. I began to rack my brain for whatever I wanted to have for dinner. Even though it was February, it felt like Christmas had come early.

"How about chicken?" I suggested.

"Chicken sounds good," she replied as she pulled into the driveway and parked in the garage.

We got into the house and removed our coats. After adjusting the thermostat, Aunt Naomi looked inside of the fridge. A few minutes later she gave a deep sigh and slammed the fridge shut.

"What's wrong?" I said, worried that I had done something wrong.

"I forgot to defrost some meat for this week," she grumbled.

She trudged to the garage and then returned with arms full of frozen chicken thighs that had been stored in the chest freezer. She deposited the frozen meat into the sink and washed her hands. She still had a sour expression on her face.

"I hope you don't mind pizza tonight," she said.

"Not at all," I said.

"Good. I'll order some around in an hour. In the meantime, I'll MMPH..."

Unable to hold out any further, I grabbed Aunt Naomi and kissed her full on the mouth. She pulled away from me and delivered a slap to my face. Strangely enough, I found her reaction to be extremely arousing.

"Benjamin! What on Earth has gotten into you?!?" Aunt Naomi cried.

"I need you Aunt Naomi," I groaned as I started unbuckling my pants.

"You can't restrain yourself on today of all days? The Lord's Day?!?"

"'Restrain'? Where was your restraint when you came into my bedroom last night?!"

"Hush!" she hissed. "Do you want the neighbors to hear us?!"

Unashamedly, I yanked my pants down and bared my erect penis to her. Her eyes went huge as she let out a gasp. She quickly grabbed a dish towel and threw it at me. I was about to catch it, but it landed right on my member and draped itself like a strange tent. Aunt Naomi clasped a hand over her mouth and started to giggle.

"Oh, my goodness," she laughed. "You look so ridiculous!"

Embarrassment washed over me as I stood there with my pants around my ankles in the middle of my aunt's kitchen. She kept laughing, clutching her sides at the absurd sight that was me. I couldn't help but crack a smile at myself as well.

"Ugh, I guess I do look ridiculous," I admitted. "I'll go upstairs and take care of this problem myself."

"You do that," Aunt Naomi grinned. She snatched the towel away from my crotch and used it to give me a playful swat on my backside as I pulled up my pants and went to my room. I could still hear her giggling as I walked upstairs.

As I closed my bedroom door behind me, I tried to think about the last time I tried to masturbate and came up with nothing. Despite going to a Christian private school, I still heard the guys joke about "choking the chicken". How hard could it be (no pun intended)?

I took off my clothes and sat on the bed, unsure of what to do next. I really didn't have any material like a magazine or a video, thanks to Aunt Naomi's strict ban on pornography. The only naked women I'd ever seen apart from Aunt Naomi were in library books. I grabbed the bottle of lotion on my nightstand and tried to mentally craft a woman to masturbate to. My only thought was to use the faces of the girls from school and church and piece them with the few naked female bodies I had seen in my pitiful life.

Of course, the only woman I was able to vividly imagine was Aunt Naomi. I could just picture her slim body, that perky little backside of hers, and those small yet supple breasts of hers. When I started thinking about that large patch of golden-brown hair between her legs, I was rock hard again. I hastily put some lotion into my hand and grabbed my dick. The memories of our past liaisons played through my head easily.

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of an opening door. Aunt Naomi peeked her head inside and her jaw went slack. I stopped what I was doing and look at her with the utmost annoyance.

"Could you please knock before you come in?!" I yelled.

It was Aunt Naomi's turn to be upset. "Don't you raise your voice at me, Benjamin. This is my house. I merely came to see how you were doing."

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll be done in about ten minutes."

"Ten minutes? I warn you, Benjamin, I'm not going to let you spend the rest of the day pleasuring yourself."

"I'm almost done."

"You're not using pornography, are you?"

"Aunt Naomi," I grumbled, trying hard to rein in my frustration. "I'm trying to finish as soon as possible. Please, wait downstairs."

Instead of closing the door, she came inside. I eyed her warily as she sat down beside me on the bed. Were we about to have one of our special nephew-aunt times?

"Would you like me to help you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Understand that I...did this for your Uncle Randolph when he was having trouble."

"Okay."

She cautiously reached over and grasped my prick, which was still covered in lotion. She then began to slowly move her wrist up and down. Her frigid palm soon started to warm itself from the friction against my skin. I wasn't sure if Aunt Naomi was a pro at this but having her do it was immensely better than doing it myself. I could feel myself getting harder.

I was in heaven. I took a momentary glance at my aunt, finding her gazing intently at my penis. It seemed as though she was completely absorbed in her task. Just when I thought this couldn't get any better, she reached over with her other hand and started to massage my balls. My toes curled in rapturous delight.

For her sincere efforts, I rewarded her with three glorious spurts of cum that drenched her fist. I fell backwards, sprawling myself on the bed as I panted with weary satisfaction. Aunt Naomi bent down to give my pecker a tiny kiss before going into the bathroom to wash her hands.

"I believe that should keep you sated for a while," she said, trying not to smile.

"Yes," I told her.

"Wash yourself and get dressed," she instructed before leaving my bedroom.

True to her words, that little handjob had taken care of me. Even later in the day when Aunt Naomi and I were eating pizza for dinner, I wasn't very desirous of her. She even took advantage of my good mood to convince me to accompany her to the 6 PM evening church service.

When we returned home, I was torn. Should I try to proposition her for another liaison, or simply wait for her to come to me? I decided to take the latter option, thinking that if she wouldn't have me, then I could simply take care of myself.

One of the ladies from church had gifted us with an apple pie. Aunt Naomi had prepared a helping for the each of us, along with some vanilla ice cream. We sat in the living room and watched some movies on the Hallmark Channel that she had saved on the DVR.

When the clock read 10 PM, I decided to call it a night. I gave Aunt Naomi a small peck on the cheek and headed upstairs. Snuggled underneath my thick comforter with my belly full of dessert, I found myself too tired for sex and quickly fell asleep.

The next few days were surprisingly normal between us. I'm not sure what did it, but our relationship went back to what it had been before my uncle had died, except Aunt Naomi was now a lot more cordial. Perhaps it had been for the best that we had stopped our incest. With my mind not stuck on sex, I could focus more on more important things, like looking for a good college or a job once I had graduated. Maybe Aunt Naomi might even see fit to take part in some activities with my friends outside of church.

As a matter of fact, Mary Alice Gibson had invited me to a party at her parents' house. Not only did she attend my Christian school, but she also went to my church. It would be nice to have a nice time with people my age.

Mr. Larson, a friend of the family, was driving me home on Friday when I saw some guys carrying something large out of the house. My heart almost fell; the last time I had seen something like that was when the paramedics were wheeling my deceased uncle out of the house. Thankfully, as we neared the house, we saw that there was no ambulance, but a Rooms to Go truck. Aunt Naomi was standing in the doorway as the guys hauled what looked to be a mattress into their truck. After Mr. Larson had parked his pickup, we got out and walked towards the front door.

"Hey, Naomi," Mr. Larson said. "What's with all of the ruckus?"

"I went into town and decided to buy a new mattress," she explained. "The old one was ready to go and it reminded me too much of Randolph."

"That's understandable. Still, you should have let me help you. I could have hauled the thing for you and set it up. Would've saved you from paying for delivery and installation."

"That's very kind of you," Aunt Naomi said. "Would you like to stay for some hot apple cider?"

Mr. Larson took her up on the offer. The three of us sat in the kitchen for over an hour, talking about the goings-on in town and church. After his third mug of cider, he used the bathroom and took his leave.

"Aunt Naomi?"

"Yes?"

"You know Mary Alice Gibson from church, right?"

"Sandra's daughter? Yes, she's a sweet girl."

"Well...she invited me to a part...I mean...a get-together at her house next Friday. I was wondering if I could go."

She stopped washing the dishes and turned around to give me a furtive look. "You know I don't trust those parties that your friends throw. Will there be chaperones?"

"Her parents will be there," I assured her.

"I have Sandra's phone number from the church directory, so I'll know if you're lying," she warned. "As a matter of fact, I'll call her right now."

Before I could even protest, Aunt Naomi had conjured up both her cell phone and the church phone directory. My ears burned as I heard her conversing with Mary Alice's mother about the party, asking her very specific questions about the duration and the guest list. After a lengthy, interrogation, which had been disguised within the conversation, Aunt Naomi seemed somewhat satisfied.

"I guess I'll have to think about it," she said into the phone. "Okay. See you on Sunday."

"Thank you," I said after she hung up the phone.

"For what? I didn't say 'yes'."

"But you didn't say 'no' either."

"I'm not totally unreasonable, Benjamin. I'm only worried about your well-being. I think it's nice of you to have fun with people your age."

"Right," I said, rising from the kitchen table. "I'm going to finish up some homework so that I can enjoy my weekend."

"Before you do that," Aunt Naomi said. "I need you to help me with something. Follow me."

Wordlessly, I followed her upstairs and towards her bedroom. My heart began to pound as she turned the knob on her bedroom door and opened it. I followed her inside and looked around curiously; I rarely ventured into the master bedroom. When my late Uncle Randolph had become bedridden, this room doubled as a bedroom and hospital room. The only people who had been permitted inside were the home health nurses to assist Uncle Randolph.

"I need your help putting this fitted sheet over my new bed," Aunt Naomi said.

She picked up the bedcover and handed me one side of it. After a few minutes, we were able to fit it over her new mattress. Wordlessly, I helped her arrange the linens and pillows.

"Ah, very nice," Aunt Naomi said. "A new bed is just what I needed to brighten this place up. I think a good spring project would be to repaint the walls in this room."

"Good idea," I told her.

"Yes, well...you can go. Thank you for the help."

Aunt Naomi stared at me awkwardly in silence. I looked at the new bed and then back at her. Part of me really wanted to grab her, throw her onto the bed, and rip off her clothes, but I figured that it would be best for her to initiate. When she didn't, I slowly sauntered out of the bedroom.

I spent the next few days on my best behavior, wanting Aunt Naomi to be in the best mood possible when Friday came so that I could go to Mary Alice's party. My plan worked, and Aunt Naomi drove me to her house that Friday night. Not surprisingly, she made a point of walking into the house so that she could talk to Mrs. Gibson. Despite the overwhelming embarrassment that I felt, Aunt Naomi didn't make a scene. She peeked into the house to see a bunch of teenagers laughing and eating.

"Well, everything looks to be in order," Aunt Naomi said. "I'll pick you up later."

You could not imagine the relief I felt seeing her van leaving the driveway. I walked into the den with a smile and joined the party. I had been looking forward to this for weeks, and things were not disappointing. We ate pizza, played a few party games, and even tossed the football around in the yard.

The best part about it was talking to Elizabeth Dunn. With her golden hair and wide blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She seemed to be around everywhere I turned, but I didn't mind in the slightest. When Mary Alice turned on Moana for us to watch, she sidled up next to me so close that I could smell her perfume. When I dared to put my hand on her lap, she grabbed it, making my heart flutter.

"Ben, your aunt is here," I heard Mrs. Gibson whisper behind me.

Those words definitely killed the moment. I shrugged as I got up from my seat and exchanged farewells with my friends. I glanced over at the clock, seeing that it was barely 8:30 PM; I had been here roughly 2 hours.

After putting on my jacket, I walked outside to find Aunt Naomi parked in the driveway with the van running. Despite my ire at her picking me up so early from the party, I held my tongue on the ride home, merely remarking that I behaved myself and had a good time.

"Well, I think that went well," she said as we walked into the house. "I'm so glad that you have good Christian friends like that."

"Me, too," I muttered. "Good night."

"What? Off to bed already? It's a Friday."

"I'm tired," I lied. "Plus, I want to get a head start on my chores tomorrow."

She folded her arms and gave me a dour look. "I really hope you're not going upstairs to simply masturbate. Did the girls at that party get too friendly?"

"No, Aunt Naomi. Remember, we had chaperones."

"One chaperone can't see everything," she said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Was it that Garcia girl, the one with the ample bosom? I should call her mother to suggest she wear something more wholesome at church."

"I'm not going to masturbate," I assured her. "Even if I was, you told me that it was fine as long as I didn't go overboard."

"True, but I feel like I need to take measures to make sure these girls aren't tempting you to lust. Go to my room, now."

Some of my resentment from having to leave the party early was somewhat gone. I walked upstairs and towards her bedroom, with her following close behind. Once inside, Aunt Naomi locked the door. I'm not sure why she did this, seeing as we were the only two people in the house. A wild thought entered my head: what if she didn't want me leaving?

I looked at the new bed, which was covered with her new linens, and saw Aunt Naomi start removing them. She folded the huge comforter and placed it on the armchair. She neatly put the pillows in a neat pile in the corner.

"I don't want us getting these dirty," she explained.

She then turned around and started to unbutton her blouse. I shouldn't have looked so eager, but I didn't care. I quickly removed my clothes and put them in a neat pile at the foot of the armchair. I turned around to see Aunt Naomi removing her bra to bare her tiny breasts to me. My dick swelled at the sight of her nipples and her eyes betrayed that they had noticed.