("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text


















--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Little Red Bike
by Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

***

Written based on another author's challenge, this story 
tells of a boy, his Aunts, his cousin and two closets. 
Oh yes, and a red bike. It's amazing what a twisted 
imagination can come up with when staring at a pile of 
junk. (F+/m-teen, reluc, inc, voy, 1st, oral)

***

Author's Note: I got some feedback from another author 
named Pleasureboy, and, in the spirit of creativity he 
issued me a friendly challenge. It was:

Put together a story with the following random story 
codes: mf mF 1st teen reluc oral voy inc cous aunt. And 
just to make it interesting, include a red bicycle 
somewhere, related to the sex, an encounter in a closet 
that does not relate to the voyeurism, and have one 
very tense scene where there's a extreme risk of 
getting caught having sex. 

Here's the clincher: include an ultimate goal in the 
story that does not relate to the sex at all, and give 
the two main characters opposing motivations about this 
goal. Have fun! :> I'm sure you'll do a great job with 
this. Send me a challenge, with 10 random codes and a 
few specific details typical of my style. I'll see what 
I can come up with too. 

So here is the story that resulted. 

***

The Little Red Bike That Changed My Life
By Beating Off Bob 

Hi. My name's Bobby, and I'm s'posed to tell you all 
about what happened to us. I mean how we ended up like 
we are in my family. I remember a lot of it pretty 
good, but sometimes I can't quite put it into words, 
you know? So I'm just going to tell you what I know 
about and Mr. B.O.B. here is going to fill in the rest, 
cause he's talked to everybody else and all, and I 
guess everybody else is too embarrassed about things to 
say it themselves. So he's going to write down their 
part, cause he's a writer and all. But he says I'm what 
they call a "pivotal character", whatever the heck that 
is, so I have to tell my part myself.

Anyway, I'll start with the dreams. Because I think 
that's what set it all off, in a way.

Have you ever had one of those weird recurring dreams? 
You know... the one you have over and over again, and 
you aren't sure what it means... or you know what it 
means but you can't stop having it? Well, mine went 
like this. I kept having this dream that the skin of my 
face was all thick, and it didn't move very easy, like 
it was stiff, and all I could see was the sky. 

I could tell it was the sky because there were clouds 
against a cobalt blue background. It was beautiful. 
Then something dark would descend and cover my stiff 
face, and then it was dark and humid and hot except 
that for some reason it was good too. And I'd wake up 
and my dick would be so hard I'd have to beat off to 
get back to sleep.

Pretty strange, huh?

And the way I figured out what it meant was strange 
too. But more on that later. First I need to tell you a 
little about us. I'm Bobby Wilson, like I said, and I'm 
an orphan. My parents were flying in a light plane 
piloted by my Uncle Ralph when it went down in bad 
weather. 

I know, all you psychologists out there are already 
analyzing the dream to be all about how the sky 
represents them flying, and then the plane crashes, 
which is the dark thing coming down on top of my face, 
which represents the inflexible ground, or death, or 
the face of someone who's buried in the ground or 
something. And the darkness and humidity and heat are 
the grave, or something like that. But you can't figure 
out why I always had the erection, right? That's 
because you're on the wrong track. 

The dream didn't have anything to do with how I got to 
be an orphan. It has to do with what happened AFTER I 
was an orphan. See I went to live with my Aunt Paula, 
and her daughter Beth, who was my age, because they 
were orphans too, kind of. I mean the pilot was Aunt 
Paula's husband and Beth's father. And we all shared 
that loss, and depended on each other to get through 
it. 

Beth and I were really little when it happened, seven 
or eight I think, and we knew what happened, but we 
didn't really understand it. I know that for years and 
years I thought my parents would miraculously walk 
through the door of that old farm house one night, and 
everything would be fine.

Of course that didn't happen. Instead, Beth and I grew 
up together, brother and sister for all intents and 
purposes, though we knew we were technically cousins. 
And we spent almost all of our time together. There had 
been a big insurance payoff, which my Aunt knew all 
about, but didn't really talk about with us. She didn't 
want to work the farm, because it had been Uncle 
Ralph's... well she called it his mistress... so she 
rented it out for shares of the crop. 

The heavy work around the house was done by Dub, who 
was this kind of old guy who wasn't quite right in the 
head. I don't know what was wrong with him, but he 
lived in the tool shed some of the time. He'd set up a 
bed in there, but he had these little nests on several 
other farms around, and he sort of drifted from one to 
the other. Everybody fed him while he was living on 
their property and he sharpened tools, and moved hay 
bales, and fixed broken things and the like. 

He was kind of a traveling handyman, which on most 
farms isn't really needed, but folks mostly felt sorry 
for him, so they found stuff for him to do. Course at 
our place we didn't have a man, so we really did have a 
lot of stuff that Dub took care of. Beth and me were 
kind of scared of him. He smiled a lot, and he talked 
funny, and when you're little that's scary. But he 
could do some work. Yes he could.

That meant Beth and I didn't have many chores, and 
could go pretty much wherever we wanted, for as long as 
we wanted to. 

Now, about the time my crazy dreams started up we were 
14, and we rode bicycles everywhere we went. Mine was a 
Schwinn with 26 inch wheels, and it was tough and would 
take a beating. Beth's was a dull red Roadmaster 
Supreme that had to be 30 years old, with a leather 
seat, and it was a boy's bike, meaning it had a bar on 
it that we boy's called the "ball buster bar". 

The one on the Roadmaster had sheet metal formed around 
it that was hollow and it looked a little like a gas 
tank on a motorcycle or something. Back then I had no 
idea where that bike came from, or why her mother got 
her a boy's bike. Now that I'm older I know that Dub 
got her that bike from an old barn and fixed it up so 
it would work. But the point is but she had it and she 
rode it as good as any boy.

Which is why, when we were powering down the dirt road 
that led to the blacktop that led to town, and she was 
standing up on the pedals, when her left foot went down 
her right hip had to lift, so her... crotch... wouldn't 
hit the ball buster bar. And then her right foot would 
go down and her left hip would rise. 

Now imagine her doing sixty revolutions per minute. Up 
down, up down, up down, up down, up down... those 14 
year old hips rising and falling, her crotch hovering 
over the bar, swaying back and forth. And then, when 
we'd hit a level spot, or maybe a downhill, she'd sit 
on that leather seat to rest while we coasted a little.

And I figured out my dream one day while I was behind 
her, which is where I usually rode, so I could protect 
her from traffic coming up from behind us. And out of 
the blue I understood the dream. Mr. B.O.B, who's 
writing all this down, says I had what's called an 
"epiphany."

See, I was in love with my cousin. And my face was that 
seat. 

Knowing that didn't make any difference though. I mean 
we were buddies and all. And we spent all our time 
together, but that didn't mean she felt the same way 
about me that I felt about her. We often felt 
completely opposite about things.

Like for instance, when we were exploring up in the 
attic one day and we found this really cool old 
Grandfather clock. It was tall and ornate, but it had 
been up there where the humidity changed all the time, 
and it got cold in the winter and blazing hot in the 
summer. So all the glue joints had popped and the thing 
was falling apart.

We asked Aunt Paula about it and she said that her 
father had made it when he was a boy - his father was a 
carpenter - and she remembered it chiming loudly in the 
hall when she was growing up. But he died, and then it 
stopped chiming one day, and her mother didn't want it 
taking up space if it didn't work, so she had it put up 
in the attic.

Well, that clock became our dream project. We decided 
we were going to figure out what was wrong with it, and 
fix it up. But that's where things stopped being the 
same for us. Beth had this dream that it would be an 
heirloom that she could pass down to her own children 
some day, and it would be a hundred years old and still 
working and all that kind of stuff.

But for me, it was an antique that would be worth a LOT 
of money if it was restored, and that money would be 
enough to buy a car with, or an air conditioner for the 
house, or something else Aunt Paula said we couldn't 
afford.

We got in big arguments about it as we carefully took 
the clock apart, piece by piece, making notes and 
drawings of how it was put together. So I had no reason 
to think that Beth was hot for me, even though I had 
dreams of sticking my face in her... well, you know 
where I wanted to stick my face.

I know things are different now, but back then, in the 
sixties, you just didn't say the word "pussy" unless 
you were a hundred percent sure no adults would hear 
you. I guess that's why I have a hard time using 
"dirty" language now, even though you can hear it in 
lots of movies these days.

The thing is... I was wrong. Well not wrong, exactly. 
Clueless is probably the better word for what I was 
back then. I didn't recognize how she felt about me 
because I was too stupid to be able to interpret the 
signals.

Like one day when we were working on that clock. We had 
the case all apart, and had been refinishing it piece 
by piece, getting it ready to be glued back together. 
She was working with the stain and a rag, and both her 
hands were all brown and oily with the stain. She had 
on a dress that day, an old thin thing that it didn't 
matter if it got all dirty.

She said "Bobby, I've got an itch in the middle of my 
back. Can you scratch it for me?"

So I put my fingers in her back and started scratching 
and she's ooing and ahing and moving around like a hula 
dancer or something while she says "higher" or "more to 
the right". I realized she didn't have on a bra, 
because her back was all smooth.

"Ohh Bobby, your fingers feel so nice. Don't stop." she 
moaned.

So I didn't, and was rubbing up and down, all along her 
back, when she turned around to give me a hug and says 
thank you, and in the process she raised her arms and 
my hand touched her breast as she turned.

Man! It was so soft. "Sorry" I said, automatically, 
hoping she wouldn't see what was going on down in my 
pants. 

"It's OK" she said, and kissed me on the cheek.

And suddenly my arms were around her, and hers were 
around me, and her brown stained hands were on my back, 
getting my shirt dirty and we were kissing. I could 
feel her unfettered breasts against my chest and they 
felt so warm and soft and big. I got another hard-on.

We broke apart and it was suddenly strange, like we 
didn't know each other.

"Sorry." I said, reflexively.

She stepped back. "Why? Was it so bad to kiss me?"

"No..." I was at a loss for words. "I just meant..." 
Hmmm. What DID I mean?

But the mood was broken, and we went back to work on 
the clock. We didn't talk too much the rest of that 
day, but she kept giving me these looks, like she was 
studying some kind of bug or something.

That night I had to jerk off to get my dick to go soft. 
I closed my eyes, and felt her breasts through that 
thin dress, against my chest... and her lips on mine... 
and BAM! I was done.

And then there was THE day. I call it THE day because 
it was THE day that everything in our lives changed 
forever. And it's why you’re reading this, so it even 
effected YOU, way back then. How about that?

Anyway we were riding bikes, and she was in front of 
me, like usual, except we were on the dirt road that 
led to the back 40, and it ran by the pond. We were 
racing, without admitting we were racing, which meant 
I'd catch up to her and almost get by her and she'd put 
on a burst of speed to stay ahead and then I'd make 
another run and it was just exhilarating.

She was wearing Jeans that day and the fashion then was 
tight jeans, and her butt bobbed in front of me like... 
I don't know, but I watched it so much I missed the big 
rock in the middle of the road. My balloon tire hit it 
and I went flying. I was probably doing 20 miles an 
hour and I hit the ground HARD.

It knocked the breath out of me... you know, like you 
can't breathe out and you can't breathe in, for a few 
seconds anyway, and I was blacking out, just lying 
there, looking up at the deep blue sky.

Suddenly Beth's face, and her hanging hair, appeared 
over my face like magic, cutting out the light. She was 
screaming right in my face. Then my chest muscles 
unlocked and I dragged in this HUGE shuddering breath, 
that felt SO good. 
And she was crying... her tears falling on my face, as 
her hands went all over my face and head and she 
demanded that I say something.

So I said, "Ow!" 

And then she was kissing me like fifty times, on my 
cheeks and my nose and my mouth and laughing, but still 
crying.

I cried too, when I saw the front wheel of my Schwinn. 
It was bent bad, and I didn't even think Dub could fix 
it. And, it was a long way back home.

But I have to tell you, that wreck was the best thing 
that ever happened to me in my whole life, because she 
offered to let me ride double on her Roadmaster, to get 
back home so I could get the pickup and come back for 
my bike. And the way she wanted to do it was for me to 
sit on that old leather seat, while she stood on the 
pedals and pumped.

So I held her waist, and she bobbed in front of me, 
that smooth butt of hers rising and falling right in 
front of my dick, brushing it sometimes. And my hands 
sort of slid around on her waist too, and my fingers 
touched her breasts, or at least the sides and bottoms 
of them.

When we rolled up into the yard we sort of fell to the 
side, because neither of us could get off the bike like 
we normally would. So we ended up tangled up on the 
ground beside the bike. Her face was right in front of 
mine and my hand was right on her side, beside her left 
breast. 

She said "I was SO scared you were dead or hurt bad."

And then she kissed me. And this time it was an honest 
to goodness kiss and we both knew it and before I could 
even think about what I was doing my hand slid around 
and covered her left breast.

And she kept kissing me. And she didn't make me move my 
hand.
Well, that went on for... a while. Finally we had to 
breathe and she said "Let's go up to my room."

I'd been to her room lots of times and, being stupid, I 
figured I'd gotten all the sex I was going to get that 
day. I was hard as a freaking rock. I mean it was 
almost painful, but I sort of moved it over to one side 
and up high in my pants and followed her as she took my 
hand and pulled me into the house.

***

Paula Reed pulled down the clothes that had dried on 
the clothes line and carried the basket into the house. 
She loved the smell of sun-dried clothes and was in a 
good mood. She was thankful for that, because all too 
often she thought of how unfair life was, mostly to her 
daughter, who'd lost her father, and poor Bobby, who'd 
lost BOTH his parents. And both of those kids were so 
strong and were doing so well. Then she'd burst into 
tears because she wasn't doing all that well.

It was the guilt she hated the most. She'd loved Ralph, 
no doubt about that, and he'd been a good provider and 
a good man. But he'd been a lousy lover and she knew 
that, even though he'd been her only lover. That's 
because she'd found a couple of Playboys in Dub's nest 
area in the shed and she'd read some of the articles. 
She also looked at the pictures, at the fancy lingerie 
the models wore and how they posed. She'd read those 
articles BEFORE her husband died, and she knew from 
them that he was not an imaginative lover... or even a 
good one.

Paula could have posed for those pictures in that 
magazine. She was what they call statuesque, tall and 
straight, with a thin waist and firm jutting breasts 
high on her chest. Her stomach was flat as a board, 
even after having Beth, and her narrow waist flared 
into hips that made men's groin's ache when they 
watched those hips sway as she walked downtown.

There had been a raft of men who tried to get her to go 
out with them after Ralph died. And she was horrified 
by it. Some of them were just trying to be nice, but 
she thought of them as ghouls, trying to use her grief 
to sate their lust. 
That was what part of her guilt was about.

Those men hadn't actually suggested they wanted sex, or 
that they wanted anything other than to get her out of 
her widow's black. But she assumed they wanted sex.

That's because Paula wanted sex, and she wanted it from 
every man who asked her out, and every man she saw on 
the street, and every man she thought about at night 
while she abused her clitty, trying to cum. 

But she couldn't quite get there, and she always ended 
up frustrated.

She knew there was something wrong with her, and that 
she should go talk to somebody about it, but instead, 
she stayed on the farm, sending the children to town 
for things until she just HAD to go herself. Then she 
made herself look straight ahead, and got her business 
done and left.

They called her the Ice Queen behind her back in town. 
If she could have joined a convent, she probably would 
have, as long as no men were ever allowed to see her.

One way she controlled her lust was by submerging 
herself in mundane chores, like washing the clothing of 
the household. Which was why she was in her daughter's 
closet when her daughter tugged Bobby into the room 
that fateful afternoon.

She'd taken the basket of clothing into the big walk-in 
closet to hang up Beth's dresses. After that she 
planned to fold Beth's shirts and shorts and put them 
in the chest of drawers back out in the bedroom. 

The closet door had something wrong with it, and it 
wouldn't stay open, always swinging shut. The closet 
was actually a dormer, a little room that stuck out 
from the roof of the house, with a window in the end. 
There were long bars to hang clothes on down both sides 
of the room, and odds and ends, old toys and such on 
the floor against the walls. So, when the door swung 
shut it was no problem, because the window provided all 
the light anyone needed while they were in there.

Paula had just hung up a dress when she heard the kids 
come into the bedroom. She reached for the door to push 
it open, not wanting to frighten them by suddenly 
appearing after they began doing whatever it was they'd 
come in there to do. She assumed they were looking for 
something, or maybe they planned to read. They did that 
a lot and she always made sure they had books to read. 
She was convinced that reading made you smarter, and it 
didn't matter much what you read about either.

So, when she opened the door and saw them in a torrid 
embrace, arms wrapped around each other, lips firmly 
pressed together, she was astonished beyond words. She 
saw Beth's hands slide down Bobby's back to his 
buttocks and cup them, and her knees suddenly felt 
weak. She had to reach for the doorjamb to steady 
herself. And when Bobby's hand fumbled between them, 
obviously feeling her daughter's breast, Paula almost 
moaned. Her old enemy, Lust, flared in her belly and 
she looked at them not as a mother, but as a peeping 
Tom would, vicariously thrilled at what was going on.

***

Beth pulled me into her room and the next thing I knew 
we had a lip lock going. It was fantastic. Then she 
pushed me away from her, breaking our first kiss. My 
lips felt numb, and I was a little disappointed, 
thinking again that she was stopping things. Her eyes 
stared straight into mine, though, and she began 
unbuttoning her shirt. I just stared. I didn't know 
what else to do. 

She was bare under it, and I saw her breasts for the 
first time. It was just like when I had hit that dirt. 
I couldn't breathe. Her breasts were perfectly round, 
like somebody had found a way to cut a balloon in half 
and make it keep its shape. Then they had put the 
halves on her chest. The tips were brown and her 
nipples looked a lot like my own, except they were 
larger than mine. I got in a little air as she 
unfastened her jeans and slid them down her legs. 

Now part of my brain knew what was happening here, but 
most of whatever was in my head just couldn't quite 
grasp that it was actually... happening.

"Take your clothes off," she said softly, playing with 
the waistband of her white cotton panties.

I had a sort of short circuit that sometimes happens 
when a man's mind is shocked by a situation. I remember 
saying "I don't know," which didn't make any sense in 
that circumstance.

Beth, who had that women's intuition that men can't 
understand, translated that correctly and she said, 
"It's going to be OK Bobby. Take your clothes off for 
me... please?"

Well, the upshot is that my hands just wouldn't move 
and I needed help, and she helped me, speaking softly 
and touching me gently, like a hostler does to a 
spooked horse when he's trying to calm him and get a 
halter on him.

And from what she described later, I responded like 
that horse, all wild eyed, and jittery and shaky as she 
got me naked in her bedroom. 

She told me later my prick was everything she'd hoped 
it would be, though, at the time I thought she was 
horrified by it. She looked at it and her face got all 
scrunched up and she was breathing hard. I thought she 
was going to scream and tear out of there. Instead, 
when she saw it she skinned off her panties and herded 
me toward the bed.

"I want to do this Bobby," she said, in her perfectly 
reasonable voice. 

She didn't have to say what it was she wanted to do. I 
had a fairly good idea what she wanted, or at least 
what I wanted her to want. And there was a beast inside 
me that was perfectly willing to perform the task she 
wanted performed. 

But I had this upbringing, though, and it said I 
couldn't do this, and I thought it was strong enough to 
keep that beast in check. I thought I could tell her 
that it wasn't right and I wasn't going to do it.

Until she lay on the bed and pulled me on top of her.

***

Paula was in agony as she watched through the crack in 
the door and saw her daughter manipulate the boy. It 
was clear to her who was in charge out there. She felt 
the guilt, thinking that it must be something in her 
blood that she had passed to her daughter. Girls just 
didn't act like that. Not good girls. 

Then she saw Bobby's penis and her lust flamed up. 
Bobby had entered his growth spurt, and his cock was 
fully the size her late husband's had been. It was 
rampant too, as her daughter bared it, ready to fill a 
woman, prod her, make her feel good. And it was clear 
that her daughter intended to do just that. She 
wondered how often they had done this before. 

The itch in her loins nagged, wanting something done 
about it. She lifted her dress and slid her hand into 
her own panties. Sweet relief made her pussy squirt and 
she hastily pulled her panties off so they wouldn't get 
soaked and broadcast the odor of her arousal later. 
Then, her fingers firmly planted in her pussy, she 
stared greedily as her nephew mounted her daughter.

***

My memory of what happened on her bed is spotty. I 
think I was too unprepared for it in a lot of ways. I 
had thought a lot about her pussy coming down on my 
face, and had dreamed the feel and smell and taste of 
that, but I hadn't figured on losing my virginity to 
her. So I s'pose the best thing is just to say what I 
do remember.

I remember my cock being so hard I thought it might 
shatter if something hit it, and I remember the feel of 
her hand on it.

I remember her grip, not hard, but firm. I remember 
looking down and seeing her pull the tip of my cock and 
press it right into her pussy mouth. 

I don't remember deciding to do it, but I remember 
lunging forward... hard.

I remember this whimpering cry she made when I did 
that, and the shame I felt at hurting her. I remember 
her hands on my back, moving, stroking, and knowing 
then that she didn't mind the pain. 

I'll never ever forget the feeling I had when I 
realized that she still wanted me inside her after I 
hurt her, and the feel of her hot, tight sheath wrapped 
around my prick. 

*** 

Bobby would never be able to dredge up the little 
details Beth would cherish in her heart for years as 
the man she had chosen to be her mate filled her for 
the first time. She would remember the feel of his 
skin, the smell of his hair, the dirt from his crash 
that was still on his cheek. 

She would never forget being gloriously filled with 
penis, and waiting for that penis to spurt hotly, 
thrusting her hips up as his slammed down. She would 
always remember the violence when he took her and made 
her his woman. She hoped it would never stop. She had 
dreamed of what romance would be like when she chose to 
give up her maidenhead. She says it was perfect in 
every way... except for... 

Well, you'll understand that soon enough.

***

Sophie entered the house looking for her sister. She 
had brought a warning and three bushels of tomatoes and 
was ready to spend the afternoon doing some canning and 
gossiping. 

"Paula?" she called out. "Hello? Anybody home?" It was 
quiet in the old house. "Yoo hoo!" she called, and then 
listened. 

There was a noise. It was coming from upstairs. They 
must be up there. She went to the stairs and started 
up, clomping from step to step. 

"YOO HOO!' she called again. "WHERE IS EVERYBODY?"

***

I was about fifteen or twenty seconds away from making 
Beth's dream of being fertilized come true when Aunt 
Sophie's voice came floating up the stairs and through 
the door to Beth's bedroom.

Panic ensued.

Beth literally threw me off of her, and my prick made 
this strange sucking wet sound as it was jerked out of 
her.

"SHIT!" she said. 

Now THAT'S something I'll remember for the rest of my 
life. I had never heard Beth use a curse word in my 
whole life.

"She can't find us here like this," whispered Beth 
urgently. "She'll tell momma for sure. We HAVE to hide 
you!" 

She looked around wildly and her eye fell on the closet 
door. "Quick... Get in the closet. HURRY BOBBY!" she 
was frantic now as her aunt's cheery voice got closer 
and closer.

I darted for the door, scooping up my clothes on the 
way. I jerked it open and ran through.

I ran right into... somebody, who clapped a hand over 
my mouth and pulled me deeper into the closet, letting 
the door swing shut.

***

Beth had just managed to get the bedspread pulled over 
her naked body when her aunt's head poked in through 
the door.

"Beth? Honey? Are you in here?"

"Hi Aunt Sophie. I was just taking a nap. I wasn't 
feeling too well." Beth tried to sound sick.

"Oh, that's too bad dear. Where's your mother? We're 
supposed to do some canning today."

"I don't know Aunt Sophie. Wasn't she downstairs?" 
Beth's lust had faded completely and she couldn't 
believe she had practically raped Bobby not even 
knowing where her mother was.

"I didn't see her. How are you feeling? Do you need me 
to make you some broth?" She started to come into the 
room.

Beth waved. "No, I'm fine now. Really, I think all I 
needed was a little rest. Why don't you go find mom and 
I'll come down and help." Beth didn't really want to 
help, but she did want her Aunt to leave so she could 
get dressed and get Bobby out of her closet.

When Aunt Sophie left Beth leapt out of bed and ran to 
her dresser. She grabbed a T shirt and pulled it on, 
then slipped into a clean pair of shorts, leaving her 
panties off. She headed for the door to the closet.

***

When I felt someone pulling me into the closet I 
panicked. You have to remember here that I had just 
been doing something I knew I wasn't supposed to be 
doing, so I was pretty fired up anyway. My cock was 
still stiff as a board and I was going to have a case 
of the blue balls. I took in a breath to shout, but 
that hand cut me off by covering my mouth. 

"SHHHHH!" came a loud whisper in my ear. About the same 
time I realized the hand covering my mouth and the 
whisper both seemed feminine some how, I was whirled 
around by a wild eyed Aunt Paula. With no warning of 
any kind, she kissed me, and I'm here to tell you it 
was the same kind of kiss I had been sharing with her 
daughter only moments before.

"I'm sorry baby," she gasped, "But I'm so hot I can't 
STAND it any more Bobby... PLEASE... I HAVE to do 
this." She pulled on me and I felt myself falling on 
top of her. Somehow her dress was up around her waist 
and she was NAKED under there and her hand was on my 
prick and she was pulling it toward her pussy.

It was that deja vu stuff. She did it almost exactly 
like Beth did.

And I did the same thing. I shoved... hard. But then it 
was like everything was in slow motion. I felt my prick 
slide into my Aunt's pussy, like a quarter of an inch 
at a time. I remember thinking it was strange how tight 
she was, and how hot she was, and how soft she was and 
how good she smelled, just like Beth.

And like Beth she said things... things that made me 
crazy. She was begging me to fuck her. Her voice was in 
my ear, urgent, pleading for me to FUCK her. She used 
that word, the first time I ever heard an adult woman 
say it. "FUCK ME BOBBY!" she groaned in my ear. "FUCK 
MY PUSSY BABY, I'M ON FIRE!" 

Well, slow motion speeded right up and I flexed every 
muscle in my stomach as I thrust my penis into my aunt. 
I slammed in so hard I heard my naked stomach slap 
against hers with a SMACK that I was sure Beth could 
hear out there.

BETH! 

And Aunt SOPHIE! 

They were right outside the door! Aunt Paula was making 
moaning sounds that were getting louder and louder.

"Shhhhhh," I said into her mouth. "Aunt Sophie's out 
there!"

But I guess Aunt Paula was already caught in the throes 
of an orgasm, her first in many years with a man's 
sexual organ inside her. She was gasping for air, 
almost frantic with the need to feel what she craved 
most of all - hot spunk flowing into her pussy. 

"Cumming... cumming... cumming!" she chanted, until I 
did the only thing I could do. I covered her mouth with 
mine and crammed my tongue into her mouth.

***

Beth heard a noise in the closet. She hoped Bobby 
hadn't tripped on something and gotten hurt. Her hand 
touched the knob. The door wasn't latched and she 
pulled on it.

"BETH!" came Aunt Sophie's cry behind her. 

Beth almost jumped out of her skin and let go of the 
door handle. 

"I can't find your mother ANYWHERE! I'm starting to get 
WORRIED! Come help me right now!" She crossed the room, 
grasped Beth's wrist and pulled her toward the bedroom 
door. Beth looked over her shoulder helplessly at the 
closet door. Bobby would have to fend for himself.

***

In the closet, I decided the best thing to do was give 
her what she seemed to want, and that was a pussy full 
of my seed. I didn't think about it in those words back 
then, but we get a bit more articulate with age, so cut 
me some slack as I describe what happened. I didn't 
know if or when Beth would open that door, or Aunt 
Sophie either, so I pounded my aunt for all I was worth 
until she started shaking like a leaf in a September 
wind. Then I let go and just filled her up with my 
teenage cum. 

When she felt it suffusing her pussy she froze, 
gripping me tightly. A low animal sound began in her 
throat, rising up the scale in an alarming way that I 
knew would probably wake the dead when she got to the 
end of it. I started pulling clothing from the hangers 
above us and covering her face, trying to muffle the 
sound. 

She thrashed and began making barking sounds under an 
ever increasing pile of shirts, dresses and coats until 
I was afraid she was suffocating. I stopped and got to 
my knees, my wilted penis hanging desolately between my 
naked thighs. I stared at my Aunt's pussy, which was 
brimming over with my spunk.

I had no idea of what to do now. I was no longer a 
virgin. I had just fucked my Aunt half to death. She 
had obviously seen me doing the same thing to her 
daughter. Now she was making sounds that sounded like 
she might have gone crazy. I had a feeling things were 
going to get very strange, very quickly.

Clothing flew every which way as Aunt Paula uncovered 
herself. Her barking was actually laughter, giddy 
ecstatic laughter. She told me later that she realized 
that a great deal of the pain and suffering she had 
been putting herself through was the simple result of a 
lack of good sex. She had been horrified that she got 
turned on by watching her nephew fucking her daughter, 
but from the instant she got my hard cock in her own 
pussy she knew it was the right thing for her to do. At 
least for herself.

She threw the last coat off of her and sat up. I was 
squatting, staring at her, looking like some lost boy 
from some tribe somewhere that went naked all the time. 
I was still panting, and it made me sway. I could feel 
my penis swaying between my legs too. I'm sure I looked 
scared to death. I was.

She smiled, as widely as she could make her mouth go. 
"Thank you Bobby," she said softly. "You have no idea 
how badly I needed that. Are you OK?"

Her solicitousness, and such a typical question from my 
Aunt gave me the branch I could grab onto to keep from 
sinking into the quicksand of hysteria. She sounded so 
normal and it made me feel more normal. I couldn't 
talk, though, so I nodded my head, bobbing it much more 
than needed to get across that I was answering "yes".

"Good. Bobby? I'm sorry, honest I am. I didn't mean to 
scare you. I'll have to explain it later honey, but I 
want you to know you did everything just right, and I'm 
not mad and I hope you're not mad either. You can't 
breathe a word of this to ANYBODY until I explain it 
all to you, OK?"

"Uh huh," I nodded again.

"And Bobby?"

"Uh huh?" It was working for me so I stuck with it.

"That's NOT the last time we'll do that, OK honey? Will 
you do that for me again? Please?"

That finally got me back onto solid ground. Her simple 
statement made everything seem more normal. 

"OK," I said softly. I mean who was I to tell my 
gorgeous Aunt that I wasn't going to give her sex any 
more. Now THAT would have been crazy.

She leaned over and brushed my lips with hers. "Good. 
Now, we've got to get out of here. My sister is 
somewhere in the house, and she doesn't need to find 
you looking like that. I'll go first, and you find your 
clothes and put them on. I'll get them all in the 
kitchen somehow and you slip out the front door. Then 
come in the back like you just got back from somewhere. 
Got that?"

I nodded again and she was up and out the door.

***

Paula could hear her sister and her daughter stomping 
around downstairs, calling out her name. She slipped 
out the front door. Bobby's sperm was running down her 
legs now, so she went around the side of the house and, 
lifting her dress, squatted and turned on the spigot on 
the side of the house. She had just finished cleaning 
herself up when a shadow fell across her. Horrified she 
looked up to see Dub standing there, a silly grin on 
his dirty face. 

He was holding out an old red bandana, offering it to 
her to dry herself with.

"Ma'am," he said, as if seeing a half naked woman 
washing her lover's sperm off her legs was something he 
saw every day of the year.

Paula, almost unable to say anything at all, forced her 
panic down and stood up. "Thank you Dub" she said 
weakly.

He grinned and bowed and then took her elbow and pulled 
her back around to the front of the house. "They 
callin' you." he said softly.

For some unaccountable reason, Paula's nerves settled 
and she felt quite peaceful. "Thank you Dub," she said 
again, more forcefully. "We'll expect you for supper."

Dub grinned and nodded happily.

Paula looked at him. "And you can come in early and 
take a bath tonight. I'll wash up your clothes. I've 
got some things my husband used to wear that I think 
might fit you OK. You can eat in those and change back 
to your own things tomorrow. Is that OK?"

Dub bowed again. "Yessum. That be fine," he pronounced 
it 'fan' He turned to go toward the shed where he slept 
when he visited and Paula went up the steps and into 
the house... loudly.

"What in the world is all the racket?" she yelled.

Sophie literally RAN into the front room. "THERE you 
are. Paula I thought you were DEAD!"

"What on this green earth are you babbling about 
Sophie? Why would I be dead?"

"That... that... that THING left Josie Callum's this 
morning and said he was coming here!"

"Thing?" asked Paula.

"That crazy man. That Dub person." said Sophie, fanning 
herself.

"Dub's a fine person!" said Paula stoutly. "He does 
good work and he's a nice man."

"He's creepy, that's what he is." said Sophie firmly. 
"I don't see why in the world you let him come around 
here. Why... what if he raped you or something?"

Paula flushed bright pink at Sophie's reference to 
things sexual. She imagined she could feel Bobby's 
heavy spunk soaking into her womb. 

"Sophie Dub does good work for me and I won't have 
people in my house talking such trash about him. He'd 
never hurt a fly and nobody ever says he ever has." 
Paula decided to needle her maiden sister a little. 
"Besides, you should get to know him. You've run off 
every single man in the county, what with being so 
picky about men. Maybe Dub could give you what you 
need!"

Paula's obvious reference to the virginity Sophie 
loudly claimed she still possessed, even at age 32, got 
Sophie all fired up. 

"Just because some women go around and fall over on 
their back for any man who comes along does NOT mean 
that I'm a loose woman and would do the same. And 
CERTAINLY not with that... that... that... creature!"

Beth, head down, trying not to be noticed and blushing 
furiously because she had just 'fallen over on her 
back' for Bobby, cut up tomatoes like a pro.

"Well, if you change your mind, you'll get your chance 
tonight. Dub's here and I invited him to supper."

"WHAT!? Why I could never EAT with that man," whined 
Sophie.

"Then go hungry for all I care" said Paula. She was 
disgusted with her sister's prejudice.

Because the conversation had soured, and because Beth 
didn't want to talk at all, the canning went apace and 
got done in record time. About half way through there 
came a scratching at the back door. Paula went and 
found Dub, grinning, his hat in his hands.

"Bath?" he reminded her.

When Paula brought him through the kitchen that set 
Sophie off again, talking about how dirty he was, and 
how you couldn't actually tell what color the man was. 
Paula looked daggers at her and took him to the big 
bathroom that had the cast iron tub in the middle of 
the floor. Paula drew him a bath and stood outside with 
her arm through the door, waiting for him to hand out 
his clothes. When he did she said "I'll bring you some 
of my husband's clothes in a bit. You just enjoy your 
bath. Then she took his clothing and put it in a tub of 
hot soapy water to soak.

***

After my Aunt Paula left the closet I found my clothes 
and put them back on. Then, because things had been so 
strange that day, I got kind of goofy and decided that 
I couldn't go back down THROUGH the house, cause I 
might get caught. I mean by that time nobody would have 
noticed anything odd. I mean I lived there, right? But 
I was feeling froggy, so I decided to go out the dormer 
window and crawl down off the roof so I could come in 
from the outside.

It was a pretty good plan too, except there was no way 
down. I didn't trust the down spouts, and there were no 
trees close enough to the house to jump to. So I went 
back to the window, which had slammed shut and the 
paint stuck and I couldn't get it open again. The only 
other dormer on the roof was the closet for my Aunt 
Paula's room. I went over there and, holding my breath 
and hoping, I pushed on the window. It slid up smooth 
as butter. 

I climbed inside and looked around. It was even more 
crammed with stuff than Beth's closet, and a whole 
bunch of boxes had been stacked up blocking my way out. 
I was going to have to move them. I reached for the 
first one when I heard the door to the closet open with 
a "creeeeaaaaaaakkkk" of hinges that need oil.

I froze.

***

Paula went back to the kitchen to help finish up the 
canning and forgot poor old Dub. The man in question 
enjoyed his bath quite a bit, having found some bubble 
bath beads and used them to make a mess with. But he 
smelled wonderful and he was clean as a whistle when he 
got out of the tub and dried himself off.

Dub was the way he was because he had gotten into the 
ring at a carnival with a professional fighter. If you 
could stay in the ring for three rounds you won a 
hundred dollars, and in 1958 that was a lot of money. 
Dub was 18 and full of piss and vinegar, but he got his 
brain rattled so hard that he was never quite right 
again. He wasn't stupid or anything, he just didn't 
process information the same way most of us do. If he 
had enough to eat, and someplace to sleep, and 
something to do that helped people... well, he didn't 
need anything else.

So he knew he was supposed to get some of Ralph's old 
clothes and put them on. And, having worked around the 
place for years - he was 28 now - he knew where Ralph's 
old clothes were. They were up in Miss Paula's bedroom 
closet. So, naked as the day he was born, Dub left the 
bathroom and padded up the stairs to that closet to see 
what he could find to wear.

***

The "disaster" as Sophie later called it, happened on 
the very last jar of tomatoes they put up. When the jar 
came out of the water bath, it was slippery and hot, 
and Paula dropped it. It hit just so and shattered and 
wet, hot tomatoes went everywhere. Quite a lot 
splattered all over Sophie's gingham dress.

"OH! OWW! NOW JUST LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" she 
screeched.

Everything with Sophie was some kind of emergency, or 
catastrophe. "My dress is just RUINED. This will NEVER 
come out!" she moaned.

"Oh just GIVE me that," barked Paula. "I'll put it to 
soak and it will be fine."

"You can't be suggesting that I should stand around 
here naked!" huffed Sophie. "My under things are soaked 
too, you know."

"Don't be such a baby. Bobby's outside somewhere, and 
Dub's in the bathtub. Just give me your clothes and go 
get something out of my closet to wear. Everything I 
have fits you too."

***

Now I know you see which way the wind is blowing here, 
but I have to tell you that if I hadn't been hiding 
behind those boxes in that closet, you would never have 
known what happened, because Sophie sure wouldn't have 
told anybody. 

But I WAS there, and while I didn't see anything, I can 
tell you what I heard.

First off, when I first heard the door open I heard 
some mumbling and humming and such that I recognized as 
coming from Dub, that handyman I mentioned earlier in 
the story. I didn't know what he was doing in that 
closet, but I didn't want to explain what I was doing 
there, so I sat down and just waited for him to leave.

Well, while I was sitting there waiting for him to 
leave, I heard that creaky door open again, and from 
what I could hear Dub was clear down by my end, going 
through some boxes. So it wasn't him making the door 
open.

Aunt Paula told me later that she sent Sophie up to 
that closet buck naked, to get a dress to wear because 
hers had been messed up in the kitchen. I didn't know 
that when I heard her voice. SHE was humming to herself 
too, and she said "Now, let's just see what my sister 
has that's fit to wear."

Then it all went to pieces.

"WHAT? What are YOU doing here? YOU'RE NAKED!"

"Yessum. You be nekked too."

"Oh my WORD you're hung like a fucking BULL!" It was a 
red letter day for hearing adults cursing.

"Umm," Dub was a man of few words. 

Apparently his cock did his talking for him because 
Aunt Sophie said "I have NEVER in all my DAYS seen a 
penis that HUGE... and so STRONG looking... and so 
VIRILE looking. DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT YOU... 
YOU... YOU!"

"Yore awful purdy Missy."

"On my WORD it's getting HARD! Oh my, I feel faint. I 
don't believe I can move. I'm going to have to lie 
down. Now don't you get any ideas about ravishing me 
young man. My GOODNESS but you clean up nicely. NO! 
Don't come any closer. OH MY! but that penis of yours 
is HUGE! and so HARD! And so LONG! And so CLOSE! Now 
I'm going to have to touch that young man, but ONLY to 
keep you away from me. I should scream RAPE, but I feel 
so breathless I just CAN'T. What's your name again?"

"Ahm Dub Missy. You real soft Missy. You feel nice."

"Well, Dub, thank you, I suppose, but you must never 
EVER tell anyone that I allowed you to touch me. Dub, 
could you touch me some more? Oh yes, that's nice. Why 
you're so gentle. I'd never have thought it and 
OHHHHHHH I can't believe your put your mouth THERE, but 
it feels SO nice Dub and...

There was some quiet then, except it sounded like 
somebody was eating ribs, the kind that have been slow 
cooked and the meat just falls right off the bone. Kind 
of a mushy wet sound and Aunt Sophie was doing too much 
moaning and groaning to do much talking, so I didn't 
know exactly what was going on, but for some reason my 
dream came to mind.

But then there was this "OH NO, Dub you CAN'T put that 
thing IN ME Dub, IT WOULD JUST KILL ME... DUB! Where 
are you going Dub? I didn't mean it would REALLY kill 
me. Now, you get back over here right this instant. 
That's a good boy. Yes, it's OK, I've done this before. 
You won't hurt me." 

"Ohhhh DUB."

OHHHH DUB!"

Well, it went on like that, and I knew what was going 
on, and I'm here to tell you it went on for a LONG time 
and Aunt Sophie did some more cussing, and she 
professed her undying love for Dub and made him promise 
about ten times that he'd come over to her house in 
town to "take care of my problems."

She almost messed things up though, because when Dub 
started huffing and puffing and it was pretty obvious 
that he was about to unload his freight, so to speak, 
she started in on how he COULDN'T do that inside her, 
and that she'd just DIE if he put a baby in her.

So naturally, being a nice guy under it all, he tried 
to stop.

And she had to get him started again, and this time she 
figured it out and told him that if he made her feel 
all nice and wet up inside her she'd make him a pie.

Well, it got me going, listening to them go at it on 
that closet floor, and when they finally left, him 
dressed like Ralph and her dressed like Paula, I had a 
feeling that there would be another little Beth on the 
way before too long.

I almost laughed at supper because Sophie wouldn't talk 
to Dub at all. She just sat there, flushed looking and 
stared at her plate. I wanted to spill the beans on her 
just so she could enjoy being around him in public, but 
she was pretty hung up, so I decided not to.

Course I had my own problems at supper, what with Beth 
looking at me all doe eyed and touching my leg with her 
bare foot, and then on the other side of the table 
there was Aunt Paula, looking at me an awful lot too. I 
was beginning to see that this could turn out somewhat 
awkward.

But I misunderstood my Aunt. She just waited that night 
until Beth snuck into my room and waited until we got 
to going, and then slipped in, in the dark and stood 
there, right by us. I could see her because I was on my 
back on the floor - the bed was way too noisy - and 
Beth was riding on top of me. She hadn't gotten her own 
pussy wetted up with sperm yet, and she was working 
hard at trying to milk it out of me. Aunt Paula waited 
until I shot her daughter plumb full of joy juice and 
then she spoke. "Good evening children."

Man Beth jumped so hard she came clear off me and 
landed on the floor bawling she was scared so bad. 

But Aunt Paula just stood there in the dark and waited 
for Beth to calm down and then she said, "Beth, dear, 
you're too young to be having Bobby's baby, so we're 
going to have to do something about protection for you 
if you're going to keep on with this. Are you going to 
keep on with this?"

I can tell you how most girls would answer their 
mothers, but not Beth. "Yes I am mother. I love him and 
I'm going to marry Bobby some day."

Aunt Paula said, "That's fine, dear, but I love him 
too, so you're going to have to share him." She didn't 
ask if Beth would share. She just said it was going to 
be that way.

Well, there was some argument there in the dark. I can 
tell you that. But it ended up with Aunt Paula taking 
Beth's place, sitting on my cock, which was all hard 
again at the thought of going in my Aunt again.

And then my dream came true too. I couldn’t see the 
sky, but when Beth’s pussy came down on my face, the 
feel, and the luscious smell were just like I had 
dreamed them. My face wasn’t so stiff though. She 
wiggled so nice and I had such a good time sticking my 
tongue in her that I just had to shoot my Aunt all full 
of juice again.

And that was five years ago. My, how time flies when 
you’re having fun.

Oops, there's the Grandfather clock chiming midnight. I 
have to go. It's my turn to change diapers in the 
nursery. If the twins go back to sleep that'll be all, 
but if they're hungry I have to get their mamma in 
there to feed them. Her breasts are so much bigger now 
than when I saw them that first time in her room. 

And I have to change Timothy too, and if he's hungry 
I'll have to wake up Aunt Paula so she can feed him. I 
think she's spoiled him, letting him suck almost a 
whole year. But then, she let our first one go almost 
that long and she's turned out just fine. Her name's 
Cynthia and she's about to go into preschool.

I don't mind though. Staying up late, I mean. If I stay 
up late enough I don't dream when I finally get to 
sleep. I've been having these dreams about my Aunt 
Sophie having triplets and the all look just like 
Dub....

END

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Kristen's collection - Directory 41