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Subject: Title story: "A Boy No Longer" Author: INCESTOR 63801694
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Date: Tue, 03 Jan 2006 15:03:35 +0000
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A Boy No Longer by Brandy Chase Chapter 1 Marcus was a fine looking young lad
of fourteen when he came to live with me and my husband on our farm several
miles outside of town. He had lost both his parents in a fire which destroyed
their home above the general store they had owned in town. The loss was as hard
on me as it had been on Marcus, his mother was my sister. We were all the
family he had left. For that matter, he was all the family we had left within a
thousand miles or so. The rest of our family still lived back east. We had
moved west five years earlier to stake a claim on a piece of Mother Earth and
to become farmers. We were doing fairly well by ourselves but Marcus moving in
had been a great help to my husband, Thomas. He had been very withdrawn for a
long time afterwards, never having had much to say, always off by himself. It
was obvious he was lonesome and still grieving over the loss of his family. He
also seemed to miss living in town where he had had friends. Out here on the
farm, there was only us. A week before Marcus' sixteenth birthday, we lost
Thomas after a long bout with pneumonia. You would think that in this modern
age of 1890 a doctor could do more for a person with pneumonia. Poor old Doc
Howard had made the long horseback ride out to our place several times to treat
Thomas. But there I was, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, a widow. Marcus
hadn't taken this major life-changing event very well either. I thank the good
Lord that I had Marcus at that point in my life or I would have probably lost
the farm too. He was a big strapping boy, with the same muscular build his
father had had. I had always envied my sister for having a husband so handsome
and well built. Not that Thomas wasn't a handsome and muscular man because he
was, but Marcus' father had muscles that rippled under his dark skin when he
moved. I knew it was wrong to feel that way, but I couldn't help it. Now that
Marcus was doing most of the physical work around the farm he was developing an
even larger build. His skin was deeply tanned from many hours in the sun. When
he came inside all sweaty after a long day of labor, the hard muscles in his
arms and chest resembled large snakes moving under his skin. One especially hot
evening about six months ago, Marcus came in just before dark. I had supper
ready for him. After quickly washing up he headed out of the kitchen toward his
room. "Where you going?" I asked. "I'm just going to put a clean shirt," he
replied. "You don't need a shirt," I said, thinking to myself how much I would
enjoy eyeing his muscles all through supper. "I can't sit down at the table
with no shirt on," he stated. "Why not? It's very warm in here tonight.
Besides, a hard-working man should be able to eat his supper in comfort and
shouldn't have to wear a shirt at his own table if he doesn't want to," I
suggested. "It is awfully hot. You sure you won't mind?" he asked. "Of course
not," I answered. "Sit down and eat before your supper gets cold." We sat
through the evening meal talking about how things were going around the farm
and such things as that. But my mind was far too busy watching him to pay too
much attention to what he was saying. By the time supper was over, I have to
admit that things had gotten a lot hotter for me and a lot wetter. I was almost
relieved to start cleaning up from supper and get away from the vision and the
evil thoughts I was having about my young nephew. While cleaning up the kitchen
after supper I heated water and poured it into the big steel tub on the back
porch for him to bath in. It took a while to heat and carry enough water.
Finally I had enough water in the tub and pulled the door shut as he started
undressing to bath. I had been quite horny and a bit sneaky over the last few
months and would turn the lantern in the kitchen down low and peek out the
window, watching him bath. He had become an incredibly handsome young man. I
loved to watch him lather up and wash his long blonde hair. With all that soap
on his head, I knew he had to keep his eyes closed tightly and I didn't have to
fear him catching me gawking at him. My favorite part of the whole process was
after he finished washing his hair, he would call for me to bring another
bucket of hot water to rinse the soap out of his hair. He would cover himself
with the wash rag and I would slowly, very slowly, pour the bucket of water
over his head until the lather was rinsed away. I always wished for the wash
rag to slip out of place a few times it did, but I always acted like I hadn't
noticed. I spent many wonderful evenings with my face pressed against that
kitchen window and my hand under my skirts and inside my undergarments. Every
time he would stand up in the tub and started drying, I would start getting
wetter between my thighs. By the time he had finished dressing, I was always
sitting in the front room with a book open like I had been reading the whole
time he had been bathing. On several occasions while I was bathing I had
thought I'd caught him out the corner of my eye peeking at me through the same
window. I was never able to get a good enough look to see if he was or not. But
if he was, I'm sure he got an eyeful, I made sure of that. I was going on thirty-five-
years old but my body was still in good shape and us Irish gals are noted for
having beautiful red hair. I mean, it wasn't like he was sneaking a peek at
some old hag, if he really was peeking at all. But it was a nice fantasy for me
even if he wasn't. For his eighteenth birthday, I had managed to save a little
money to give him to go to town with. I figured an eighteen-year-old young man
had things he would like to do in town. I had talked with him about drinking
too much and how the salon girls would try to come on to him. I didn't want him
going to town and getting taken but the first floozy who flapped her skirts in
his direction. Early that afternoon I prepared his bath he needed to get an
early start, it was a two-hour ride to town. He would stay with one of his
friends and come home the next afternoon. I took my usual station at the window
after he had gotten into the tub. I was ready with the bucket of water to rinse
his hair when he called for it, even though I wasn't quite ready to leave my
window yet. As I slowly poured it over his head he started trying to talk to
me. "Aunt Millie, I really don't like the idea of leaving you alone out here
for two days and a night," he said. I tossed a towel over his head and he
started drying his hair. "I appreciate that," I replied, watching him rub the
towel roughly over his head. "Is that how you dry your hair, boy?" I asked,
taking the towel from his hands. "No wonder your hair is still wet for so long
after a bath. Here, let me show you how to dry it right." I worked the towel
briskly through his hair, carefully making sure to work it through of all his
hair. "See, you gotta work the towel through your hair, not just over it," I
said. "That feels great. I shoulda got you to do that a long time ago," he
smiled up at me. "Maybe you better show me how to do it one more time, I'm a
slow learner." Now I took my time and even worked my way down to dry his ears
and neck. I could feel the tension in his neck muscles. I gently worked my
finger over his large neck. "How's that feel?" "Great," he answered. I kept
massaging away, slowly working my way over his powerful shoulders and down his
broad back a little. "Oh, that feels wonderful," he moaned, leaning slightly
forward so I could go farther down his back. At least, I was hoping that was
why he leaned forward. "Does that feel better?" I asked softly. "That feels
good enough to make a fella almost forget about goin' to town," he replied. I
stepped to the side of the tub, wishing he really meant that, but I knew he was
just trying to please me. I looked him in the eye. "A young man needs to go to
town now and then to sew a few wild oats, it's nature's way," I said. "Whew,
it's getting hot out here," I said, fanning the top of my blouse. "All that
steam from your bath is getting to me I think." I undid the two top buttons of
my blouse. I was curious what effect this might have on him. "I know you'll be
fine, but still I'm not so sure I like the idea of leaving you alone for so
long," he said. I knelt beside the tub, took his hand, and leaned forward over
the edge of the tub. I could feel his eyes boring deep into my cleavage. He
tried to avert his eyes so I wouldn't see him staring, but he couldn't. "I'll
be fine while youre away. Maybe a bit lonely, but I'll be fine. There's things
a man's gotta do, especially on his eighteenth birthday." I watched his face
turn three shades of red. His eyes were still trying to sneak a peek down my
blouse. "Well, yeah, but you shouldn't talk about something like that. It's a
little embarrassing you know," he stammered. "Why is it embarrassing? It's
human nature," I replied. "Yeah, but it ain't the sorta of thing a fella talks
to his aunt about," he said shyly. "You don't have any men around here to talk
to, so you're stuck with me. And I don't mind discussing these important
matters with you," I said, trying to ease his embarrassment. "There's a lot of
things a young man needs to know about life." "I know, but gosh, Aunt Millie, I
never figured you'd be the one to explain them to me," he said sheepishly.
"Well, I guess it's my place to tell you that stuff now that your father and
uncle are gone," I replied. "And you're eighteen now, how about dropping the
aunt part of my name? You're making me feel like an old maid aunt." "I'm sorry,
Aunt Millie, I mean Millie, I didn't mean to make you feel old. You're still a
beautiful woman," he apologized. "Why thank you, kind Sir, I appreciate the
compliment. A woman my age needs that once in a while, just like a young man
needs certain things once in a while," I said with a coy grin. "Honest, you are
a beautiful lady. I wasn't just trying to make you feel good," he said looking
a bit embarrassed again. "Any man would you be proud to be seen with you and
pleased to be with you." "Marcus, now you're beginning to embarrass me," I
grinned. "And just what do you mean by, 'pleased to be with me'? Be with me
how?" "I'm sorry, Aunt Millie, I didn't mean it that way," he tried to retract
his statement. "I mean you're a nice lady to be with." He kept getting himself
in deeper and I wasn't about to let up on him now. "I know what you meant. And
I'm honored that a handsome young fella like yourself would feel that way about
me," I smiled. "I noticed you looking down my blouse a while ago." He face
turned crimson. "I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it. Please forgive my
rudeness," he begged. "I didn't mind. It even excited me a little. It's been a
long time since a man looked at my breasts that way," I said, undoing another
button for his benefit. "You've probably never seen a woman's breasts before
have you?" "Ah no, Ma'am, I ah, haven't," he stumbled, his eyes widened as he
stared farther down my blouse. "Have you ever wanted to?" I asked in a soft,
gentle, yet teasing voice. He couldn't answer he just sat there, stared with
his mouth open as I undid another button, than another. I thought his jaw was
going to drop into the water when I pulled my blouse back over my shoulders,
slipped it off my arms, and let it tumble to the porch. I noticed the wash rag
over his lap was sticking up into the air a bit now too. "Looks like you have a
pretty big problem there," I smiled, leaning forward to give him a better view
of my cleavage. He tried to conceal his growing member from my sight. I pulled
his hands away. "That's all right, that's what's supposed to happen when you
see a lady undressing for you," I said. "I know, but I've never, I mean, I've
Oh God, I don't know what I mean," he apologized again. "Well, I know what you
mean even if you don't," I smiled into his bright-blue eyes as I slowly lifted
the wash rag from his lap revealing his swollen manhood. He gasped as I gently
wrapped my hand around it. "How does that feel?" I purred. "Oh my God!" was all
he said as I felt him growing harder. "Does this feel good?" I whispered,
slowly stroking his now throbbing shaft. I could sense his embarrassment, but I
could also sense he didn't want me to stop. His head leaned back, his eyes
closed, and groan came from deep within him. I squeezed his shaft tight and
stroked faster. It didn't take long for his body to go completely rigid, and a
deep guttural growl to escape his lungs. "Oh God!" he groaned, his body
quivered and shook. Then it happened, he erupted in my hand. His juice shot
high up over his chest and stomach. I kept stroking him and it kept coming,
some landed on my chest and slowly trickled down between my excited breasts.
Some of it shot into my face, landing on my lips, which I quickly licked clean
and wished for more. As I felt the pulsing of his still hard shaft slowly
subside, I slowed but continued to gently stroke him. I didn't stop until I had
felt the very last tiny pulsation. I knelt there for a while still gently
rubbing him as he slowly began to shrink in my hand. I watched the last thick
droplets of his delicious cum lightly spurt from him and glide down over the
glistening swollen head of his penis and onto my fingers that were still
wrapped around him. When I felt his body start to relax I leaned over him and
licked the remaining cum from his spent member. It was delicious. I sucked him
deep into my mouth and gently milked him for every last drop of the precious
fluid I could coax from him. I finally released him as his body wilted into the
tub. He lookup up into my eyes with a warm glow I had never seen in him before.
A sweet smile covered his face as he watched me lick the last of his cum from
my fingers. I slowly stood up, smiling down at him. "You better hurry if you're
going to make it to town before dark." "I don't think I'll be goin' anywhere
tonight," he mumbled, a huge smile crossed his handsome face, "except maybe to
bed." "And just whose bed are you going to be sleeping in tonight?" I cooed,
leaving the porch before he could come up with an answer.
End
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