Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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Aunt Mandy's Dirty Secret
Readers: This is the first of ten stories based on the Mistle family; recently divorced Jenni Mistle and her eighteen-year-old daughter Chelsea Mistle. If it hasn't been placed in a series, call this 1 of 10. This series may be placed in the Lesbian category, but it does contain an incest angle where Chelsea is guided through her promiscuous aunt, Mandy, in the ways of a woman's love. I'm new to writing for Literotica, so if I screw up etiquette please tell me. Thank you for reading.
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Eighteen years, nearly a lifetime of memories, and it all fit neatly in thirteen boxes. Clothes, from T-shirts to short skirts, from ankle socks to sports bras, all that she owned packed away. Chelsea picked up an old long-forgotten white T-Shirt with a pink unicorn running along a rainbow road. A birthday gift, but she forgot which year. A pair of jeans she hadn't worn in years, which made her wonder if she should unpack these boxes or donate them. Keep a few outfits of course, but donate the clothes she hadn't worn in years. It would give her a reason to purchase a new wardrobe. New house, new life, may as well have some new clothes. She picked up her old bathrobe with a smile. This baby blue robe is something she had for years; she wouldn't donate this old thing. Underneath the robe and padded on all sides by shirts, skirts, shorts, and sweaters, was the one family picture she could never part with.
Daddy, with his handsome smile, neatly trimmed goatee, and those striking blue eyes; Chelsea was always told she had her father's eyes. Mommy was in the picture holding baby Chelsea, who couldn't be more than four years old with her curly locks of raven-black hair. Daddy was holding Mommy's hand and they seemed so much in love. They were, back then. Chelsea dropped the picture in the box, embittered by recent events and the sorrow of happier times long dead.
It started with a smack across her mother's face, followed by an apology. It evolved into arguments, which grew with intensity. Then a shove against the wall. Shoves became slaps. Slaps became punches. Punches became kicks. She watched her mother being torn down and demoralized by insults so cutting that Chelsea could never repeat them to her worst enemy. Mommy said don't worry and it would all be fine. It was fine. Until last week. He wouldn't stop hitting her this time, even when she begged. Chelsea grabbed his arm, pleading with Daddy to stop. Finally, he stopped. After he stopped he slapped Chelsea hard enough to send her to the floor. Daddy left the house before the police would arrive; they caught up with him at his favorite bar. That dark moment led to Aunt Mandy inviting the girls to live at her house, which was certainly big enough.
Chelsea tossed the picture aside and searched through the boxes hoping to find something that would brighten her day. Her teddy bear. Teddy was the first present her parents gave her on her first birthday seventeen years ago now. Poor Teddy was dirtied from years of use in her younger days without a single wash. He did not look like the furry white hero he once did, but he made her smile all the same. A smile. Was that the first one this week? The first smile of the month, perhaps. A smile when her entire life had fallen to shit and much like her teddy bear, the old memories became dirtied.
"Chelsea," her mother called out as she walked down the hall to Chelsea's new bedroom, "I'm leaving for work."
"Where's Aunt Mandy?"
"She'll be home soon, hun. Just unpack—"
"I am unpacking," Chelsea snapped back.
Jenni stood in the doorway, watching her daughter hold that old bear. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around Chelsea and tell her that everything would be all right. To kiss her head, hold her tight, and assure her that leaving Daddy behind was the right decision. She couldn't though, there wasn't enough time. It was 7AM and Jenni only had half an hour to get to work. Not that it mattered. No amount of reassurance could prevent her daughter's tears again. Nothing she said, nothing she did, ever seemed to soothe her.
"I'll see you soon, bay..." Jenni's voice cracked for a brief moment and she knew if she spoke another word, she would break down in tears again. With a heavy heart, she turned around and walked away.
Chelsea's vision blurred, staring down at Teddy. A teardrop fell onto the teddy bear's plastic blue eye. She clutched the bear to her chest as tears showered his head. The eighteen-year old threw herself on the bed, sobbing bitterly. Crying for the loss of her family, the loss of her bedroom, the loss of home, her friends, and everything she once knew. Chelsea closed her eyes and in time she cried herself to sleep.
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Two voices woke her up. It took her a moment to regain her senses after the impromptu nap, but Chelsea eventually recognized one of the voices. Aunt Mandy. The second voice was not her mother. Mandy's friend, Chelsea assumed. After wiping away the sleep drool from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand and rubbing the sorrow-filled puffiness from her eyes, the teen groggily stumbled from her new bed; leaving Teddy on the pillow to continue his rest. She hadn't seen Auntie since last night when she and her mother first arrived.
Chelsea could hear the two women chatting and laughing, but in her sleepy state Chelsea couldn't tell where they were. She yawned as she wandered down the hallway. Not in that room, Chelsea noted, that was her mother's bedroom. It looked just as empty as her own. Yellow walls, drapes, and sheets as if the sun itself had given birth to this room. In the corner were boxes stacked on boxes of all her mother's belongings. The boxes would remain unopened until Mommy returned home later; if she bothered unpacking at all.
Chelsea continued down the hall, slowly emerging from her grogginess. She found Aunt Mandy's bedroom. It was nice. Big. A sensual and passionate red, like Valentine's Day, was the theme Mandy shot for when designing this room. Red pillows laid out against the cherry oak headboard. White bedsheets covered by an artistically abstract red and maroon comforter. A maroon rug jutted out from under the bed, but didn't cover the entire hardwood floor.
The young lady wandered in, touching the lampshade on the nightstand. The scratchy fabric of the lampshade felt nice on Chelsea's fingernails. She ran her fingers down and onto the smooth red porcelain of the lamp. It was all very fashionable, very Mandy. Chelsea sat on Mandy's bed, much softer than her own, and opened the top draw of her aunt's nightstand. As expected, knowing her sexually active aunt as he does, she found a long purple vibrator; Mandy had bit of a reputation in the family, promiscuous was the word her mother used to describe her younger sister. This had to be the second smile of the month, because Chelsea grinned deviously once she lifted the vibrator from the drawer. The pair of voices drew closer. They had to be walking down the hallway. Chelsea panicked, still holding the vibrator.
"You'll be a star, sweetheart," Mandy said to her companion just outside the room. "There are so many advantages once you become a star."
Chelsea couldn't leave the room. She jolted toward the closet. The door was open and Aunt Mandy would be in the room any second. The eighteen-year-old opened the closet as quickly and quietly as possible, before ducking inside. Louvered bi-fold doors meant Chelsea would be able to keep watch through the spaces between the panels and wait for auntie and her friend to leave. She hoped no one would find her, realizing she was still holding her aunt's vibrator.
"Do you really think I have the talent for it?" Mandy's friend asked.
