Taped Confessions - Visiting Her

As the reader knows from my last two stories, I became obsessed with the taped narrations I found among the junk in an old house. I had been renovating the tall, narrow triplex, once owned by a family member, in my spare time from my job as a firefighter here in north New Jersey. The tape recordings centered around a disabled young woman, coerced, at least in the beginning, into sex with her horny father. She ended up being essentially his lifelong lover, and enjoyed every twisted second of it, she confessed. I made MP3 copies and listened to sections of them every chance I got, jerking off madly.

With time alone since a bad breakup, I wanted to share these rare confessions, so I transcribed both his tape and hers for my favorite porn story site. Looking for more information about her in the basement, I located some old power bills, photos and phone company employee magazines and deduced her full name and scanned all the pictures of her; bad group photos, but I enlarged her images the best I could. Tiny, crippled, dark-eyed Elizabeth and her voice describing her deviant immersion into sex was my unhealthy obsession for a while and kind of got me through the breakup. Finally I snapped out of it and realized I had to rejoin the real world. I put the revealing recordings out of my mind. I had almost finished the house when a few comments at a July Fourth family picnic sent me into a tailspin.

"Isn't that where Gino and his little girl lived for so long?" An Uncle asked an Aunt as they commented about the dwelling. I had just been showing them pics of the house's fresh paint and shiny refinished floors on my iPhone. We were next to a relative's backyard pool, holding plastic plates of baked beans and grilled burgers. I shrugged off their comments until the next sentence. "Yeah, his wife died and daughter was handicapped, always on crutches. Hit by a car or somethin' as a kid, poor thing. Phone operator, never married that I know of." I almost dropped my food into the pool.

Big Gino was my Grandmother's cousin, or so I remembered, but I never actually met him or knew his last name. He was only referred to as 'Papa' in the tapes, so I had no idea it was the same guy. My pulse raced. Of course I hadn't told anyone about the treasures in that basement. Besides, anyone who I did tell would think it was sick that I was so turned on by the incestuous events anyway.

I began to realize, the woman from the tape, Bess, may still be around and I could maybe meet her! Of course it would be just to satisfy my curiosity; she would be almost seventy by now. It would probably ruin my delusions, meeting her as a grandmotherly, flesh and blood person and not just a vision in my head. Maybe it would be just the dose of reality I would need to resume a normal life. Everyone at the picnic was already asking me if I was 'putting myself back out there yet' in reference to dating.

For the rest of the picnic I nonchalantly polled relatives for information on Bess, er, Elizabeth, my distant cousin. She had moved out to the suburbs the last they heard. Later I practically raced home to check the internet. She had lived in a brick ranch in West Orange since the seventies, but a later another public real estate record out towards Lake Hopatcong had her name on a retirement community condo out there a couple years ago. Bingo.

All during the week of my shift at the firehouse, I pondered what to do. Even my coworkers noticed I was kind of quiet. I made up some bull about coming down with a summer head cold, a close enough cover. I kept telling myself this was just an innocent visit to a long lost relative to return some old magazines and work mementos she may have forgotten from the basement. Innocent, not to further fuel my masturbatory visions, not at all.

2

The next Saturday morning, I nervously drove out to her condo community. I nearly turned around twice. Once there, I suddenly realized my visit may not happen. They had a security gate. If he called her, she wouldn't know who the hell I was. End of trip. However, I was driving my truck with its darkened but big square emergency flashers on the dashboard and firefighter license plates, so luckily the guy waved me on. Maybe he was thinking I was doing smoke alarm courtesy checks or something official.

Heart racing, I tapped on the glass storm door of the well-groomed brick duplex building. Suddenly a short woman in a red track suit and visor appeared. Her hair was white and curly on top of her head and she was towing a scraped up green oxygen tank on wheels. She looked up at me and smiled below her clear nasal tube. Her eyes were a bright blue. Not my cousin.

"Lizzie, you've got a young man here!" the woman called out behind her, as she passed me while I held the door open.

"Okay!" a voice from inside shouted. A little rough from age, but her voice, the one from the cassette that I had made into an MP3 and listened to repeatedly. I had to stay calm.

I stepped further into the perfectly clean and cheerfully decorated condo, and turned a corner. The living room was open to the kitchen, which had lowered counters and cabinets to accommodate her vertical challenges. The unusual room was almost a surreal background to my first sight of her.

There she was, sitting on a three-wheeled electric scooter. The olive-skinned beauty could have passed for late fifties. Her eyes were big, pretty and brown, just like the photos I had found. Now her hair was different, of course, silver and straight, down past her chin, and combed straight back off her face and held by a long yellow barrette on the top of her head. She was wrapped loosely in a mauve, shiny robe, open enough above her waist to reveal a yellow flower-print top with a gathered square neckline. It seemed to be thin cotton, probably a nightgown, based on her skinny, bare legs.

To my surprise, she cried out in fear and dropped her mug, it hit the linoleum floor with a thud and a splash of coffee.

"Sorry, your neighbor let me in. I'm..."

"Oh God, it's not that! I thought you were a ghost!" She fanned the air and held a slightly wrinkled hand to her upper chest, at an angle to her collar bones.

Thrown off kilter by the minor accident, I forgot to introduce myself right away. I headed straight for the paper towel holder, and then toward the puddle on the floor.

"You look just like my father when he was young," she said through a gasp of relief. "I thought for a second he was back to take me to Purgatory." She smiled for a moment then frowned. "Hey wait, it's Saturday! You're not from Home Health!"

"No ma'am, I'm..."

"Well, whatever you're sellin' sweetie, I'm not buyin'. All my money is tied up in this little slice of heaven!" she said, referring to the small condo. "When they say 'fixed income', they aren't just blowin' smoke out their asses. Oops, sorry I'm so vulgar. Ahh, you're a big, strappin' young man, I'm sure you can take it." She gestured toward me.

I laughed. "Actually I'm Angelo, one of Donatella's grandsons." I squatted down to mop up the spilled coffee and retrieve the fallen Ziggy mug. "I guess that's why I look like your dad." She began to name couples, trying to determine whose offspring I was. On the third try she guessed it. I put the towels in the trash and mug in the lowered sink.

"Well it's nice to meet you!" She extended her arms upward toward me for a gentle quick hug. She smelled of shampoo but didn't feel as fragile as I expected when I bent over to embrace her shoulders. "Let me look at you!" Her brown eyes misted. "Uncanny, just like Papa," she said, almost in a whisper. She crossed her arms across her chest. "Okay, I'll listen to your sales spiel, but I gotta tell ya, if it's more than a can of popcorn or a hunky fireman calendar, I can't help you, sweetie."

I had worn khaki shorts and a white polo shirt with a Department Insignia on the upper left side. My ex had thrown out most of my clothes during our final 'separation', so half of what I wore off duty was still related to work. Liz had noticed the logo apparently.

"Oh, I'm not sellin' anything. Actually I found some stuff of yours...." I went into my story about flipping the house, when I mentioned 'basement', her expression froze.

"Exactly what did you find?" she asked with a glare.

"You worked for the phone company, right?" Her expression softened as I explained about the box full of company magazines and framed pictures I had out in my truck for her.

The next couple hours and a pot of coffee passed quickly as she dug through the box and talked about her impressive career as an operator, degree from Rutgers and later as a developer of microwave and satellite communications. I updated her as much as I could about all the family members and their kids. She asked about me, and I related my own 'sad sack' single status after losing my fiancée, and how flipping the house in Hoboken had been a good distraction when not at the fire station. She seemed relieved when I mentioned how much stuff from the basement was ruined by moisture and went into the dumpster.

The whole time I enjoyed her eyes, smile and cynical sense of humor. We got along so well, she missed her cafeteria lunch time, and I offered to take us out to eat. We talked about me possibly visiting again. I got the impression she was a bit bored out there. I was honestly trying to be supportive, a friend. But I was so comfortable in my role as 'nice young man', I let my guard down when she was back on her scooter, about to ride to her bedroom to change. She had never taken the robe off, she was so glad to have a new visitor, I guess. .

"Maybe we can take a train ride someday, you liked the trains." I meant it as an innocent comment, more about her rides as child with her dad. I had momentarily forgotten about the late night blowjobs she described.

Suddenly her coffee mug whizzed by my head and hit the wall behind me. Ah, the Italian temper. This one shattered the glass of a framed photo of her and Gino at Palisades Park. This feisty petite lady could pitch for the Yankees.

"You fucking bastard!" Liz screamed. "I never said anything about trains today!"

Her eyes were wide with rage. "You found more than just this old crap didn't you? What was it? The legal pad? The tapes? I knew Papa forgot to throw that shit out.."

"There was a legal pad?" I asked, not helping the situation. "It's okay, I haven't..."

She began a yelling tirade. "I hope you aren't trying to blackmail me, you little shit. I don't have an extra fucking dime!" she screamed, her eyes filling with tears. "Yes I was a horny freak! Go ahead and post it on your Facebook page! Play it at the next family reunion! Make a CD and sell it! I don't fucking care! Damn it! You were so nice, but you're just here to con me! I loved my Papa! He loved me just the way I was. You could never understand that, you Goddamn asshole!" Elizabeth threw a small book of poems that had been hers as a teen across the room in frustration. She sobbed quietly, her face in her hands. I had screwed up, badly, ruining the new friendship.

"Even if I just found the stuff from your job, I woulda brought it out here. I didn't know who you were until a week ago." I mumbled nonsensically as I stepped toward her scooter. "I don't think you're a freak." I wanted to comfort her, hold her. tell her everything was going to be okay. I was never going to tell a soul, besides the anonymous porn stories.

"Bullshit! Don't come near me...you fucker! You came out here to shake me down. Well, the joke's on you! I've got nothing!"

"I don't want money. I came here as soon as I could once I found out who you were because I'm well, obsessed with the woman on the tape. I just had to meet you. I spent every night listening...It's the most incredible thing I ever heard..." I looked into her eyes.

"Well I'm glad you got your rocks off from hearing my pathetic confessions." Her eyes were red and she grabbed tissues out of a box on the coffee table. "Or was it the old tape of Papa's drunken rambling bullshit about me instigating it? It took him years in AA to admit to me he planned to molest me all along." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she blew her nose. "He was just lucky my hormones were raging."

"Both tapes...actually..." I stuttered, panicked, I felt terrible. I just wanted her to understand that I thought was she did was wonderful and exciting.

"Get out!" she screamed, and grabbed the corner of the cardboard box filled with magazines and books. "And take this shit with you!" Liz tried to hoist the box up and toss it at my feet, with one arm, but it weighed much more than she expected, and she slid it off the table, spilling its contents, but the momentum tipped her and the scooter to the side.

I lunged forward and caught the scooter by the handlebar before it fell completely over. Liz cursed but gracefully slid off onto the carpet next to the coffee table, landing softly on her ass. Hopefully she was unhurt. My clumsy antics were the only thing that kept her from breaking into tears again.

As I had grabbed the scooter handlebar, I depressed the forward button accidentally, and it lunged ahead and slammed into my ankles. I cursed, more from embarrassment than the momentary pain.

"Serves you right! Too bad it wasn't a Mack truck!" she said angrily.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you care?" she asked, motioning for me to get away as I squatted down to pick her up under her arm and the crook of her legs. My intent was to place her back on the scooter. She smacked me across the face. "I told you to get out!"

She raised her arm to hit me again but I grabbed her gently below the wrist. Her skin was velvety and soft. She pulled it back, but I kept my grip. We wrestled in this position for a moment, while I gently restrained her. This brought our faces to within inches. Those big brown eyes! Sure, they had lines around them, I thought, but they were beautiful, even reddened from crying.

Impulsively, I kissed her, and not just like a family member. I covered her mouth with mine, slid my tongue along her closed lips and pulled away. I still can't believe I did it. Possibly I wanted to prove I wasn't repulsed by her liaison. Maybe I figured I couldn't make things any worse. To be honest, seducing her was in the dark recesses of my mind the whole time. I wanted her, especially when I found out she was family. A secret, forbidden lust like I had never felt before. I didn't care about her age, if she was physically able, I could try, I told myself. Maybe the slip up about the train ride was my subconscious admission.

She cried out in shock and smacked me with her free hand. "You sick bastard!" Her eyes were wide with anger.

I grabbed her other wrist, and she struggled to free herself, still in disbelief, I think. I tried to kiss her again, but she twisted her head from side to side. "No! You're insane!" she yelled. I turned my head at an angle and kissed below her ear. "Angelo! Stop it! You're out of your mind! This isn't gonna happen!" She spat into my eye." I'm not some slut you can just walk in and..."

Her saliva draining down my cheek, I darted my tongue into her ear, and heard a cooing gasp escape her lips. For a moment her struggling arms relaxed. I had been kneeling back on my calves and gradually we were descending to the floor. She resumed her resistance, but not quite as ardently, and I kissed all along her collar bone and her neck under her chin.. Sure, there was excess flesh there, but it was soft and silky. "You bastard!" she mumbled, but relaxed her arms again. This time I let go of both. My hand free, I held her jaw in place as I kissed her sweetly for a few seconds in between curses and her calling me every name in the book in both English and Italian. Moaning in frustration, Liz tried to squirm away and beat on my shoulder blades as she did. As her fists thumped on my back, I kissed her neck and jaw line, and tongued her ear again before returning to her lips. They were parted, as her breathing had gotten heavier. I swiped my tongue along their softness, nibbling and nudging them around but not deeply enough for my tongue to get bitten. By the time I was done kissing and tugging on her lips, the pounding on my back and shoulders had ceased and she was unsuccessfully trying to push me off. The mature beauty's breathing was more labored, and she was all the way on her back on the carpet. I had been aware of my cock growing since that first impulsive kiss, as this wrestling match had given me a full boner down the inseam of my shorts. I slid my knees back so my weight was gently pressed against her squirming lower body. I straddled one of her thighs, my enshrouded hard meat against her bare leg.

"You're a real son of a bitch," she said, looking right into my eyes, her chest heaving beneath the cheap nightgown. Liz had ceased pushing me away, and to my surprise I felt her hands tugging at my tucked in shirttail. I raised up enough so she could pull the polo shirt up to my ribcage. I pulled it off all the way and tossed it behind me and began to unfasten my Bermuda shorts. Holy shit! I was going to fuck her right there on the carpet!

My cousin ran her hands through my heavy stomach and chest hair as she looked me in the eye. A stereotypical 'Italian Stallion', 'I'll admit I was in pretty good shape for almost thirty. I had to be in shape for work, and the exercise of the house renovation didn't hurt either. "I can't fucking believe this!" she said, but with resignation. "You damned psychotic bastard." Liz pulled me down toward her.

3

The next minute or so was sheer heaven, as we kissed deeply, our tongues frantic, laced with coffee, our breath hot. I was in a pushup position, propped up on a forearm and holding the side of her beautiful face, aged gracefully.

"Let me on top, you'll break every bone in my body you big gorilla." she said breathlessly.

It may have been a ploy to escape, but I had to trust her. I rolled onto my back and we were almost instantly kissing and dry humping. Her hands wandered all over my arms and chest as her tongue explored my mouth and ear. Soon I pulled the barrette from her hair, worked my way under her robe and nightgown from the bottom. She paused and looked confused, then surprised as I used the metal clip of the barrette like a knife and poked a hole in her panties over her ass crack. My fingers plunged into the hole and ripped outward on what felt like thin cotton. It split the underwear all the way past the crotch and leg holes and up the front nearly to her waist. As one hand caressed her heated, hairy vulva, the other pushed my khakis and boxers down.

My cock sprang out, and soon Liz was squeezing it between her soft upper thighs, and her pelvis was grinding against me. Her breathing was fast and she almost seemed to be whimpering. Her hand shot down between us and grabbed the base of the shaft, aiming it for her hole. I was ecstatic that the woman on the tape was actually holding my throbbing meat and I was going to get to fuck her!

Liz was only about five feet tall, so we couldn't kiss and penetrate at the same time, and she couldn't back up because of her below-the-knee paralysis. So I slid along the rug and felt the hot wetness on my cock head. She kept muttering 'You bastard', but soon I was balls deep in her roasting, silky pussy. She rose partially on her knees and began to rock her pelvis up and down. It felt awesome on my meat, a pretty fat six incher. She grunted as she rode, avoiding eye contact. Meanwhile my hands caressed her face and neck, and felt the soft flesh of her upper arms up her robe sleeves as she protested.

"You little shit," she said, out of breath but not missing a stroke. "I was out of...the getting laid business." She slammed her hips down hard several times, quietly grunting. "Then you here you come..."