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. 

Codes: mf mF 1st teen reluc inc cous aunt voy 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.  I'm sure Pleasureboy will weigh in
on how he thinks I did.  I thought it might be nice to let you all weigh in
too. 
===========================================================================

   The Little Red Bike That Changed My Life

   By Beating Off Bob (beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)

   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 all 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 places 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 hardon.

   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 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.

   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.

   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 it's 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 she 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 de ja 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 his 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 Ralphs 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 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 ....
   
