He moved his hand on his cock, battling the memory of his mother saying that to touch himself down there was wrong. Stroking his erect prick brought increasing pleasure and the promise of relief from the tension. He thought of Jan, and his groin knotted, and hot stickiness stung his fingers. Lying on his back, he pumped his fist on his cock. The gooey oozings making a wet, sticky sound, he pumped his prick determinedly.
He looked down at the dusky knob of his cock, saw his juices shining on his flesh, saw the slit at the tip. It was the first time in his life he had really looked at himself. He moved his hand up and down, up and down. Fascinated, he watched the skin of the shaft wrinkle and pull.
He thought of his uncle's cock vanishing into Aunt Lil's gaping crotch, and another searing wave of cream oozed out and dribbled down over his fingers. He thought of his aunt's mouth engulfing his uncle's monster prick, and his balls knotted. His prostate ached.
Lying on his back on his bed, Paul pumped his cock. This was the first time in his life he had deliberately used his hand to stimulate himself. It felt fantastic! His slender hips bounced and writhed on the bed as he clutched his blazing cock. He was getting closer and closer to the flash point. In moments he would be there! Fabulous relief would burst through him! A wonderful pulsing firestorm of pleasure would engulf him.
It drew nearer, and nearer, with the inevitability of the first plunge of a roller coaster. There was an aching moment of anticipation as he hovered right on the brink. Then he plunged over. The cylinder in his fist jerked and jumped. His hips quivered, his ass cheeks knotted, and hot globs of jizm erupted, spattered his chest. He looked down as his cock lurched and pulsed. Gobs of pearly cum sprayed his belly, then thickened, became a heavy pulsating
oozing, became too thick to shoot away from his cock. Instead, creamy blobs fell heavily from his cook and pooled on his flat belly, spilled into his brown pubic patch. His nose assailed by the thick, musky scent, he milked the last dribbles of pleasure from his prick.
His hand felt hot and cold. He felt his cock shrinking. Intrigued by his outpourings, he licked his hand cautiously, tasted the flat saltiness. There was a stinging at the back of his throat when he swallowed. The taste was cloying and lingering, not unpleasant, but not one he particularly liked, either.
He wondered if his aunt liked the taste of Uncle Joe's cock, and if it had ever spurted into her mouth. The thought brought a tremble of interest to his groin. It faded quickly. He felt his jizm drying itchy and cold on his stomach and reached for the sheet. Carefully, he wiped his belly clean, dabbed at his stringy pubic patch. Then he let the sheet fall.
Wearily, he reviewed the events of the night. Aunt Lil had seemed horrified at what had happened between them. She also had gone out of her way to conceal it from Uncle Joe. Well, if that was the way she wanted it, that was all right with Paul.
The bit about getting pregnant bothered him. What if she did get pregnant? It would be all his fault. Regret poured through Paul. His overactive conscience completely neglected the fact that he hadn't had the faintest notion what he was doing.
He thought of Jan and his heart beat more quickly. He thought of her, in her room, nude-pure and beautiful and alluring. Between her room and his was the bathroom they shared. All he had to do was open his door, walk across the tile, hand open hers, and he would be in her room.
– The thought slid through his mind as exhaustion finally overwhelmed his consciousness. For the first time in months his sleep wasn't haunted by the fire that killed his parents. He slept deeply and soundly.
In the next room, Lil tossed restlessly beside her husband. Fear and guilt kept her awake for hours. Her aching desire for her nephew did nothing to ease her mind. It couldn't be, just couldn't be!
Trying to move quietly, but uncertain why, Paul stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight. His eyes focused on Jan's smooth back. She was sunbathing smack in the middle of the back yard. Behind him, the blank, dark windows of the empty house stared out.
He admired her slender lines silently. He remembered how she had looked two nights before, nude on her bed, all satin skin and soft exciting hair. Now she was wearing her bathing suit. The knit bottom hugged her ass closely. A dent in the stretched fabric marked the separation between her ass cheeks. The strap of the bra was fastened, but the thin string that ran over her shoulders were undone.
Her tan set off the golden blonde of her short hair. A faint dusting of platinum hairs marked the line of her spine, glittered over the graceful expanse of her back. Her cheek was cushioned on the backs of her hands, and her slender arms were sprinkled with pale hairs.
"Hi," she greeted him. He jumped with surprise. He had thought she was asleep.
"Uh, hi," he answered, awkwardly trying to keep his unreliable voice from cracking.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked, still not opening her eyes.
"Nothing," he answered. "Looking."
"At what?" she asked.
"You."
"Huh!" It was a snort of derision, as if looking at her was silly.
"You're pretty," Paul observed honestly.
"Think so?"
"Uh-huh." He fidgeted nervously. "Do you mind?"
"Mind what?"
"Mind me looking at you?"
"No. Just don't make a shadow on me."
"I won't," he assured her, sitting down on the grass. "You have nice skin," he noted. "Could I touch it?"
"If you'd like."
Tentatively, he stroked her shoulder and upper arm with one finger. Her flesh was hot, and smooth, and dry. The crushing heat and humidity had been broken by thunderstorms the day before. Now the weather was perfect, warm but not oppressive. Even direct sunlight wasn't able to bring sweat out on her golden body. He noticed her underarms were very pale, and that fine, almost invisible hair curled there.
Gently, he stroked his fingers over her back, brushed across her shoulder blades. Then he ran his fingers down her spine, skipped over her suit top, and continued down toward the swell of her ass.
"That's nice," she purred.
"You like it?"
She sighed contentedly as he ran his fingertips over her smooth back. He felt his cock getting hard.
"Don't you want to get a suntan?" she asked.
"Huh?" He stroked the back of her neck, brushed the fine hairs there.
"You never get out of your clothes. You must be pale as a ghost."
"I don't have a suit," he protested, ashamed. That was another thing Aunt LII had neglected to buy him.
"You have underpants, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"So, what's wrong with them?" she asked. "You've seen me in my underwear."
He had, just the day before. He had seen more than that, but she didn't know it, of course. Just the sight of her in her bra and panties had made his cock stiffen sharply.
"Come on, get comfortable," she urged.
"You don't mind?"
"Heck, no."
"Well, okay," he said tensely, getting to his feet. Paul felt clumsy and awkward. His hands shook as he shed his t-shirt and Levi's. He sat down nervously. He bent his knees up to hide the thrust of his hard-on. The sun stung his pale shoulders. He resumed stroking her bare back and studied the curve of her lips. She was smiling.
A timer dinged loudly in the still air. "Time for me to turn over," she announced.
Paul jerked his hand away and she rolled to her back.
"You can still touch me," she told him.
A vision of her naked on her back, arms at her sides, flashed through his mind. He saw her tits as they had looked that night, and saw Uncle Joe's hands mashing and pressing Aunt Lil's big mounds.