"He's in trouble, Monica," Vicky said earnestly.
"He is not!"
"Honey, he's got a problem, and you know it. You saw him with Nancy last night after their date. They sat there listening to records, and the poor girl was dying for that big prick up her pussy, or a good finger job at least, and Bruce couldn't manage any more than holding her hand on the sly. Holding her hand! For God's sake, Monica!"
Monica flushed and looked away, remembering how the two of them had pretended to go out for a little while and then had peeked through the window at Bruce and Nancy.
Vicky was right, of course. Monica knew it. She'd known it before Vicky had even come. Gil knew it too, and that was why he rode Bruce all the time and called him a pansy.
She didn't know how he'd gotten that way. Was it her fault? Had she kept him sweet and innocent and effeminate to compensate for Gil's bull-like, he-man manner?
"Come on, honey – admit it. If not to me, then to yourself, at least. The kid's scared shitless of girls."
"Yes, yes, all right!" Monica cried. She looked up. "But I don't know what to do about it."
Vicky smiled, and that look oozed from her eyes in waves of heat. "I do," she said.
"Vicky."
"All right. You do it then."
Monica gasped and clamped her hand over her newly shaved, slick cunt. "Fuck my own son! Vicky, you're sick!"
Vicky considered that a moment, then shook her head. "You want to keep him a pansy. I want to make him a man. Who's sick?"
Monica looked away again. "I can't do it."
Vicky laughed. "You want to, honey. Oh, don't try to kid me. Hey, this is Vicky, your twin sister. You can't kid me. You're aching to feel that big fat prick all the way up your squeezing cunt, and you know it."
Monica looked at her sister quickly, her expression a little wild, her mouth open to shout vehement denial. But she closed her mouth and looked away. She couldn't lie.
Thought of Bruce's big prick, of the glimpses she had of its full girth and youthful stretch, made her cunt squirm and let her know how terribly horny she was getting.
It had been a week since Vicky had fucked the delivery boy the first time. It had been that long since Vicky had tried to help her come.
Since then, there'd been no more games. Vicky hadn't masturbated in bed beside her and drawn her into the sexual swirl. And Monica didn't have the nerve to ask Vicky to suck her cunt off or finger-fuck her or anything else.
She never had. All of it had been at Vicky's instigation, from the time they were children.
But now, Vicky was getting all the fucking she needed from the delivery boy. Monica had watched again. She'd fucked herself into a wild frenzy of orgasm again. But it wasn't enough any more.
She'd found herself staring furtively at her son, watching his crotch, seeing the bulge there and imagining the stiff eagerness of his young, hard prick.
She felt like a dirty old woman doing it. She watched the way Vicky paraded around the house in front of Bruce in thin panties and half-naked tits, and she envied her sister's freedom.
And she was jealous of the growing attention Bruce was paying his aunt. He found excuses to be with her. He helped her with little chores around the house, hoping to get another glimpse of her ass or tits.
Vicky was winning him away from her, and Monica felt herself becoming all twisted up inside.
Right now, she was ready to admit that Vicky was right, right, right. She was the sick one, not Vicky.
She felt sick inside, anyway.
"He's got to learn, Monica," Vicky persisted. "He's got to have a girl make his prick hard and fondle it and lick it and slip it up her wet cunt. He's got to get over his fright."
"Yes," Monica said, her voice distant and hollow. She shivered, the image of herself doing all that coming suddenly to her mind.
"You should do it, Monica, you're his mother. You should teach him. A parent should teach her children everything."
"I can't!" Monica wailed.
"Then I will."
"Yes, Monica," Vicky said firmly. "You can watch. You can pretend that I'm you, and then you won't feel so strange about it the next time."
"Oh, God…" Monica shivered.
Her cunt was squirming and oozing inside. Her honey flowed from the slippery, silky walls and drained to her bald cuntlips and soaked into the crotchband of her panties.
She moaned heatedly and thrust her hand between her thighs, jiggling her cunt furiously, overcome with heat and the need to blast herself into a tremendous orgasm.
Vicky pulled her arm away. "No," she said, her voice firm again. "You're not going to get away with that a second time."
"Ohhhh, I want to come! It's been a whole week!"
"That's good," Vicky smiled. "Just keep your cunt simmering that way. You'll come. Oh, will you come tonight!"
Monica looked at her sister with wide eyes. "What are you going to do? Oh, Vicky – what nasty, dirty game have you thought up to play now?"
Vicky laughed. "Dirty to you, honey. Fun to me. Now, here's what we'll do."
Monica still couldn't believe it was happening or that she'd agreed to do it. She sat on the hamper in the dark bathroom and looked through the cracked-open door into the bedroom.
She heard them talking on the way down the hall. And then they came into the bedroom, Vicky and Bruce. Bruce watched her go to the closet. He seemed a little uneasy.
"Where'd you say Mom was, Aunt Vicky?"
"Seeing a friend, honey. What's her name? Helen something?"
"Oh, yeah, I know her."
"It seems her husband is out of town, and she had somebody try to break into the house this afternoon. Your mother's going to stay there all night to keep her company."
"Boy, it's getting to be a problem any more, Aunt Vicky," he said seriously.
"Well, I'm glad I have a big strong man like you here to look after me."
"Yeah, I'll sure do that," he smiled.
"Speaking of looking after me, honey, I wanted you to tell me if this dress I altered today looks all right. Will you?"
He swallowed. "Sure, Aunt Vicky."
Monica watched her sister reach into the closet and select a dress at random. It hadn't been altered. Vicky had never threaded a needle in her life.
She took it out. It was a low-cut mini, a siren-red, slinky garment. She put it on the bed. She unzipped the dress she was wearing. Bruce watched her and swallowed again.
She pulled the top off her shoulders and uncovered her braless tits for just a flash before holding her hands to them again.
"Oh, my," she said. "I shouldn't be undressing like this in front of you. Honey, turn your head and don't look."
Bruce choked out a response and turned his head. Monica drew back from the crack in the bathroom door, because he seemed to be looking right at her. And then she remembered the mirror over the dresser right next to the door.
Vicky had planned that, too. She planned everything. Bruce wasn't looking at her, but he was sure looking at her reflection in the mirror.
Monica saw his eyes go wide and moist. She saw his quick intake of breath. She saw the way his prick started to fill and lift almost immediately, stretching out the front of his pants.
He made a quick motion with his hand to hide it. That didn't work. He scooted the thick shaft around in his pants until it was pointed up toward his belly.
Monica felt her cunt squirm and writhe. She sucked in her breath silently and held it. She stared at the line of his solid cock as hard as he stared at the naked image of Vicky in the mirror.
Vicky's tits jigged and swung freely as she slipped out of the dress she was wearing. She wore transparent panties. They were flesh colored. They cupped the round, tight balls of her asscheeks like a second skin and didn't hide the shadow of her deep cleft.
Per naked, bald cunt showed clearly through them, lips and slit and all, puffy and soft.
Bruce's cock pounded in his pants. It swelled to that huge dimension and throbbed, the rigid line of it clear, right before Monica's hungry eyes.
She didn't have to worry about being spotted behind the door. Bruce wasn't looking at the door. She could have stuck her hand through the crack and waved at him, and he wouldn't have seen her. He stared fixedly at Vicky, watching her move and posture with calculated casualness as she made ready to slip into the red, slinky mini.
"Okay, honey," she said after a moment. "You can turn around now."
Bruce turned, just as if he hadn't already seen that Vicky's tits were still uncovered. He stared at them and licked his lips and didn't even try to hide his monstrous hard-on any more.
"Oh, dear – I spoke too soon," Vicky laughed lightly, pretending she had to struggle with the dress. She looked at him. Her tits hung out. She fumbled with the material and finally brought it up over her pointed tits, snugging it around them, making the nipples poke through the red satin.
"I… I'm sorry, Aunt Vicky," Bruce stammered.
She zipped it up the back, making her tits thrust as she bent her arms behind her.
"Sorry for what, honey?"
"For-for turning around too soon like that."
"Well, it's not your fault, Brucie. I didn't know this tight thing was going to give me trouble like that. Besides, I'll bet a big boy like you doesn't really mind getting a good look at his Aunt Vicky's tits. Do you? Huh?" she teased, smiling at him. "Do you, Bruce? Come on, tell me the truth."
He broke into a wide, nervous grin. "Heck no," he said.
"Anyway, my tits look exactly like your mother's, and I'll bet you've seen her tits lots of times, haven't you?"
"N-No," he said.
"Hey, honey, you don't have to kid me. This is Aunt Vicky. I know better than that. Come on, tell me – you've snuck a look now and then, haven't you?"
"Well… yeah," he choked, grinning again, his face flushed.
"And not just her tits, either, I'll bet. Have you seen her cute little ass?"
"N-Not really, Aunt Vicky," he stammered.
"Well, we'll take care of that right now, honey. You look at mine all you want. It's just like your mother's."
She lifted the hem of the dress in back and turned her ass toward him, flipping the satin material up. She gave him a good moon, thrusting her asscheeks out, making everything plainly visible through the transparent panties.
"Aunt Vicky!" he gasped.
She laughed lightly and dropped her skirt. "Oh, don't Aunt Vicky me, honey. I know about guys your age. You aren't shocked. If you're so shocked, how come you've got such a big hard-on in there?" she said, pointing at his crotch.
Bruce looked down. He went red all over. He stood there and didn't know what to do.
"I-I'd better go do my homework now, Aunt Vicky," he stammered finally. He made a move toward the door, and Vicky stepped in front of him, stopping him.
That sultry, sexual fever sizzled from her eyes and reduced him to a rooted, flustered, awkward boy. Monica watched him. She had the sudden urge to fling open the bathroom door and charge into the room and put an end to this.
It was her son – her Bruce and her twin sister was ready to move in for the kill. She didn't want to watch. And yet she felt as helpless as he did.
She clamped her hand over her cunt and squeezed hard, trying to still the tingling in it. She only made it worse. And she knew she was going to sit right there and watch it happen.
"No you don't, honey," Vicky said, lifting her arms to him. "You can't walk out on me like that, Brucie. You'll give me a complex."
"What – I don't know what you mean, Aunt Vicky," he stammered, swallowing hard again.
"Why, you're going to make me think you're afraid of me. Are you afraid of me, honey?"
"No – of course not," he choked.
She looked at him teasingly. "Oh, I see. Just of girls in general, is that it?"
"No," he said more firmly. "Heck, I'm not afraid of girls."
"How about Nancy?"
"Gosh, no, Aunt Vicky!" he laughed shakily.
"Have you kissed her yet?"
"Sure. Lots of times," he added, not too convincingly.
"What else have you done with her? Have you seen her tits?"
"She's not that kind of girl!"
"Have you felt them? Did you ever put your hand on her big soft tit and give it a good squeeze? Huh?"
"S-Sure," he said. She looked at him with twinkling eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment. He glanced away finally. "Well, no. I brushed against it once, though."
"Now we're getting somewhere. Now we're getting the truth. You don't have to be afraid of the truth with me, sweetie. I'm not like your father. There's nothing to be ashamed of if you aren't a big fucker like he is yet. He had to start sometime too, you know."
Bruce choked over the word, but he came up grinning. "You really mean that, Aunt Vicky? I mean, that it doesn't make me a pansy because – because I haven't ever… you know."
"Fucked?" Vicky said, mouthing the word with her full, sensuous lips.
"Yeah!" Bruce gasped, growing bolder. "Fucked!"
"Of course not, darling," Vicky said, putting her soft, warm palm to the side of his face.
"Gosh, Aunt Vicky – I sure like talking to you. You don't know how good that makes me feel. Dad rides me about it until I can't stand it. And then I end up looking at Nancy in a way I know I shouldn't be looking at her, wanting to do things and all, and then I feel dirty and guilty."
He went on. Monica listened. She felt sorry for him. He was almost pitiful. He had more hang-ups than she would ever have believed. They were all there for her to see before, but Vicky was bringing them all out in the open, where Monica could see them.
She suddenly didn't mind any more that Vicky was going to cherry him tonight. He needed it. He needed it badly.
Vicky stood right in front of him after he'd talked himself out. She looked up at him and slowly twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
"Bruce, you've been honest with me just now. I'm glad. But now I have to be honest with you. I didn't ask you to come in here to look at my dress."
He pulled back slightly and swallowed again. "Oh?"
"Can't you guess why, honey?"
"N-No," he stammered.
She pushed her pointed tits against his chest. He looked down at them. She moved her chest and rubbed her tits back and forth, making him feel the stiff, rubbery nipples.
"Can you guess now?"
"I… Aunt Vicky, I…"
"There's just the two of us in the house, Bruce. All night long. Doesn't that give you any ideas?"
He looked up at the ceiling, in imitation of thinking hard. Vicky moved in closer, until her cunt was cupping the stiff, throbbing line of his prick. She swayed her ass back and forth, making her cunt mound rub against his hard cock.
"How about that?" she breathed. "Are you getting ideas yet?"
"Aunt Vicky…" he gasped.
"Don't be afraid, Bruce. Put your arms around me. I won't bite. Come on. Around my waist," she urged, moving his arms for him.
His teeth nearly chattered. He gasped and puffed. His face was red and quivery. His arms went around her waist slowly.
"Mmm, that's nice," Vicky sighed, leaning against him, rubbing her tits and cunt all over his front. "You can hold my ass in your hands, honey. Go ahead. I gave you a look at it. Now hold it and feel how tight and firm and round my ass is. I know you want to."
"Ohhhh…" he moaned.
Monica watched. Vicky didn't help him this time. His hands slid along her back slowly and hesitantly. They moved toward her round asscheeks. Then he was palming them. He slid his hands up and down her ass, and then he squeezed gently.
"Ohhh, that's nice, Bruce. You have nice hands. You have a gentle, thrilling touch. You don't know what you're making poor Nancy miss out on, honey. Believe me, I know what a woman likes. I know what she'd like. She'd like this. She'd like more than this. It's not so hard to do, is it? Feeling a girl's ass?"
"N-No," he gasped.
"Lift the back of my skirt, Bruce. Go ahead. I want you to. Don't be afraid."
"Aunt Vicky…!" he gasped quaveringly.
He puffed and wheezed. Then his fingers caught in the satin material and began bunching it. The skirt rose up over her round asscheeks. The transparent panties came into view. He looked over her shoulder at the pert globes and sucked in his breath.
"Slide them into my panties, Bruce. Feel my ass when it's naked! Touch my bare ass and knead the cheeks the way you're dying to! Ohhh, I can feel your big prick throbbing hard against my cunt, darling!"
"Oh, God – God!" he gasped.
He didn't hesitate any more. He thrust his hands under the flimsy panties and cupped her tight cheeks strongly, kneading them, feeling them, running his hands all over her ass.
Vicky moaned and pressed against him and moved her hips back and forth, rubbing against his throbbing, pounding prick all the while.
Monica's cunt began tingling terribly again. Deep throbs thudded through her abdomen, and she cupped her cunt and squeezed hard, letting her thumb slide over the top of her cleft where her clit was, pretending the sensation came from Bruce's hard cock rubbing against it.
"Ohhhh, baby, that feels good!" Vicky moaned. "God, your hands sliding and kneading all over my ass, and your big hard prick up against my cunt! My hot, watering cunt! Ohhh, Brucie, you shouldn't deny Nancy this wonderful sensation any longer!"
"Ohhhh, Aunt Vicky…" Bruce gasped.
"That's it! Ohhh, it's all right, darling, go ahead and do it! Slip your fingers into my crack again! Ahhh, all the way in it, Bruce! Yes! Oh, yes!"
"God! Oh, God! It's so deep! So soft and warm and deep between your asscheeks!"
"Ohhhh, God… no, don't take your finger away, honey! It's all right! Touch my asshole again! Mmm, I love having my asshole fingered, don't you? Don't you, darling?"
"I – yes!" he gasped. "It feels good when I do it to myself!"
"Is that what you do when you jack off, Bruce? Do you touch your asshole? Do you fuck your finger up your sweet, warm asshole?"
"Oh-h-h…" he moaned quaveringly. "Yes! Yes!"
"No, wait, honey – not yet! It isn't slippery yet. Your finger needs to be slippery, darling. Do you know how to get it slippery and warm and all wet?"
"I-I use… Mom's cold cream…" he gasped.
"You don't need that with me, darling. I'm a woman. There's another place to get your finger all slippery on a woman."
"Yes!"
"Do it, Bruce!"
"Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!"
"Do it! Reach! Ahhh, that's it – now up! Here, let me spread my legs a little more for you. Ah! Yes, darling! Up! Slide it up my hot cunt and get it all wet!"
"Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!" he cried, gasping loudly. "Your pussy! It feels so slippery and soft and hot! God! God, I love it! My first pussy! Ohhh, Aunt Vicky!"
She ground her hips against him, making his cock ride in the groove of her thighs and cunt, dry-fucking him. He began to shiver. His finger traced from her asshole under her crotch to the mouth of her steaming cunt.
He shoved it deep, the tip writhing and wriggling, exploring the warmth and silkiness of this new, delightful cavern of female cunt. His knees went rubbery, and he gasped again and again.
"Aunt Vicky! Aunt – Vicky…" he choked suddenly.
"It's all right, darling! Ohhhh, yes! Fuck my cunt with your finger and let it all go, Brucie! Come! It's all right darling – come hard!"
"Ahhhh! Aunt Vicky!" he gurgled. "Yaaaagh!"
He pulled her ass toward him. His finger shot all the way up her cunt. His prick throbbed and bucked inside his pants. It pounded in the cupping hollow her hips and watering twat made. He shuddered mightily, and his prick exploded, flooding his pants with hot, young cum.
"Ahhhhh!" he cried again, nearly weeping with the joy and shame combined.
Monica watched and listened. Her hand swirled over her wet, drooling cunt. She closed her eyes for just a moment and imagined she was Vicky and that Bruce was coming against her, making his pants wet over the feel of her pussy.
She shivered and twirled her clit and reached a small orgasm with her son, and it was a thrilling, dizzying sensation for her that left her gasping.
"Aunt Vicky!" Bruce wailed, looking ashamed. "I came! Oh, damn! I did it in my pants! Oh, damn! Now you're going to think I'm just a dumb kid who can't hold it and do things right!"
"Ohhh, baby – it's all right! Honest, it is! I'm glad! Ohh, I'm glad you came for me!"
"You are?"
She backed away from him just enough to get her hand between them. She rubbed his erect cock through his pants with the palm of her hand, feeling the dampness already soaking through.
"Mmmm, that was a big load, honey. Mmmm, I love it!"
"Ohhh, it's a mess, Aunt Vicky," he groaned.
"Let's see if it's a mess," she said.
She slid his zipper down. He groaned again, trying to stop her from doing that and showing both of them what, a mess he'd made, what a shameful failure he was as a fucker – just the way his father always said he was.
But Vicky wouldn't be dissuaded. When his zipper was down, she undid his belt buckle and the snap and dropped his pants. She pulled down his shorts. They wadded over his thighs, soaked with jism. His prick stood out rigidly, throbbing with youthful eagerness still.
"Ohhhh, Bruce!" she gasped.
She hadn't meant to put so much feeling in her voice. He took it wrong. He thought she was berating him for the mess. She was actually gasping over the size of his big fat cock.
He started to pull his pants back up, and she stopped him. "Bruce! What a cock!" she cried. "God, I love it!"
Monica didn't know if it was by accident or calculated design that Vicky turned him slightly so that his prick faced the bathroom door for her to see it, but she was suddenly staring through the crack at the full, rigid, throbbing girth of her son's enormous prick!
Cum ran down the side of it. More bubbled out the tip as Vicky jacked her hand up and down the heavy length of his cock. It flowed down the shaft and ran over her knuckles.
"Ohhhh, Aunt Vicky!" Bruce moaned. "You… you mean you don't mind all that mess?"
"Mind? I'll show you how much I mind it," Vicky said huskily.
There was a new quality to Vicky's voice. Some of the coolness was gone, replaced by heat and lust. Her tongue came out and swept over her soft lips, wetting them.
"Aunt Vicky! What are you doing! Ohhhhhh, God – God!" Bruce cried, nearly beside himself with passion.
Vicky was moving her fingers up and down his prick, through the drooling cum. Then she was wiping the hot jism on her face and lips, bathing herself with it. Then she opened her mouth and sucked it down over the head of the big cock and moaned.