*****
An Taste of Incest: A Taste of Spiced Rum
His naughty aunty sets the pace for mom.
*****
Author's note: The following stroker, an entry in the 2016 Nude Day Contest, is FICTION, so chill. All depicted sex involves live humans aged 18+. Tags: group sex, bisexual, aunt-nephew, mother-son, sisters, contest, sexual resort, vacation. These standalone A TASTE OF INCEST tales include kin-fucking groups; if you object to such themes, stop reading. Views expressed are not necessarily the author's. Enjoy!
** 1. Late spring 1990, San Diego
"Todd, you need to go help your aunt Deidre."
His mother pulled the earbud loose and spoke clearly over his Walkman.
"What?" He was sprawled on the couch, almost dozing. He sat up, confused. The other earbud fell out; the Telectronica CD kept spinning in the player.
"I said you need to get up and go to your aunt Deidre's. Something broke under the house and she needs help. It doesn't sound too bad. Take a look at it and see if it's something you can fix, before she spends money on a repairman, okay, honey?"
He shook himself back into some semblance of rational consciousness.
"Sure, mom. Give me a minute."
He grabbed the too-warm almost-flat can of cola from the coffee table. He slugged down the last, grimaced, and stood. His mother's bright red hair fluffled like an aurora before him. Her smile brightened his afternoon. She stroked his forearm, feeling the light hairs there.
"You know we always help each other, any way we can. You know she'll have some treat for you for helping. Go on over and see what she needs."
Todd had, as usual, cut the study hall, his last class session of the day. He had ridden home on his vintage Lambretta scooter, hoping to chill till dinnertime. A cola with a little vodka splashed into it, some hypnotic music, a nice stretch on the living-room sofa, and he would have been good.
But blood is thicker than cola and vodka.
"Okay, mom. Under the house? Guess I'd better get into my groadies."
She rubbed his back; her smile grew.
"Sooner is probably better than later."
He rolled his green eyes. "I'm on it, mom." He headed for his bedroom.
An early heat wave was moving into to normally-temperate San Diego. Temperature outside was already in the low nineties, Fahrenheit. Under-house crawl spaces normally demanded long jeans and work shirts but today was too warm for that. He grabbed his 'work' denim cargo shorts and a tee he didn't care about.
The Kevin, Kaitlin, and Todd Thomas family home sat in a 1950's-vintage development midway between downtown and La Mesa -- cookie-cutter ranch-type tract houses with actual alleys running down the middle of gridded suburban blocks. The David, Deidre, and (sometimes) Rafael Rangel family lived on the other side of their block, a few garage-doors down. Todd walked the quick alley shortcut and knocked on his aunt Deidre's back door.
His aunt's short denim skirt and light bright white blouse did little to disguise her tantalizing curves and nicely accentuated her strawberry hair, so like her sister's. She hugged her favorite (and only) nephew. Yes, he noticed her breasts poking into him, even briefly.
The hug was a little longer than 'brief'. Todd did not mind.
"What's wrong, aunty?"
"I'm so glad you're here! The was this
THUNK
under the floor and then I couldn't get water to run from any tap. I listened at the crawl-space door but I didn't hear anything like running water so I don't think it's a broken pipe. I hate to call a plumber unless it's absolutely necessary -- you know what those thieves charge now!? So I'd really love if you'd take a look and see how bad it is."
She hugged him tighter. Like he was going to refuse, sure!
"Okay. I'll need a flashlight. A big one would be good."
His aunt was prepared. She picked a bear-beater off the kitchen table.
"Here you go. You know where the access door is?"
"Yeah, same place as in our house, just the same as yours."
She kissed his cheek.
"That's my man! Do you want something cold to drink before you go down there? A cold soda, maybe?"
"I'm okay for now. I'll probably be thirsty in a while, though."
He turned and pushed through the backdoor, stepped back from the house, and considered the layout. These tract houses had two accesses to the crawl space. The one behind the fence by the front corner was not near any plumbing. The one near the back on the other side was not too far from the water heater, where the main water line fed in. That seemed like the best place to start.
He unscrewed the screen and set the grated door aside. He shone the big flashlight's beam around the underworld. Not too many spiderwebs -- it was usually too hot here for most bugs. He aimed the light toward where he knew the water heater was. Something did not look right there. He sighed and crawled into the stuffy space.
The tract's soil was dry adobe clay that swirled in little dust clouds as he wormed through the semi-darkness.
Stuff
hung down in webby strands from the flooring's support beams. Icky stuff. Dusty stuff. He sneezed, and again, and coughed, and moved forward.
Todd had done a ROTC semester and had learned a few military tricks. Some involved crawling: the fast high-crawl, on knees and elbows, and the slower and safer low-crawl, moving like a flattened spider under enemy fire. This scene was not
too
bad -- a stready high-crawl took him to his goal.
Another sweep of the flashlight beam revealed the problem. A hinged steel support member had broken loose from its attached beam -- probably a screw had escaped from a worn 35-year-old socket -- and swung down onto a section of the main water feed that was only a two-inch aluminum pipe. The member's two sections had scissored that thin pipe, pinching it shut as neatly as hard-squeezed pliers. It was squashed tight.
The solution looked pretty simple and would not require a plumber. Todd was pretty sure he could re-attach the steel member and replace the pipe section, preferably with something stronger than that cheap just-to-code aluminum.
Yes, it would be simple. It would still be hard work.
Todd always kept a Leatherman tool on his belt. He pulled it out and set it as an eight-inch ruler. He measured the length of pipe that needed replacing, and its diameter, and he judged the connectors. Probably need new rubber washers, too, and some plumber's grout. And brackets and screw bolts to hold that steel member up. A little hydraulic jack would help there. Crescent and pipe wrenches for the grunt-work, a hacksaw, a big flathead screwdriver, a power-driver for socketed bolts, maybe a rubber mallet -- no big deal.
He crawled back to the access door and freed himself. Aunt Deidre awaited him there with an icy root beer, condensation streaming down its sides. He gratefully accepted the cold drink.
"It's nothing huge. I can do it, not problem. It'll maybe take an hour after I go to the hardware store for a pipe. Just turn off the main valve and I can get to it." He took another refreshing slug.
Deidre squeezed his arm and held out a greenback.
"Thanks so much! You're a lifesaver! Here, will a twenty be enough?"
"More than enough, sure. Uh, I might need a little help down there. Are you up to crawling in the dirt?"
"I've been a dirty girl for a long, long time," she laughed. "I'll get into work clothes and be ready when you get back."
A small strip-mall capped the end of their block on the local business street. The hardware store was only a three-minute walk away. Todd quickly bought the necessary pipe, washers, and sealant, and returned with a pile of change.
"Hey, that was pretty cheap! Do you need any tools? I have Dave's kit out in the garage."
Deidre had donned an outfit much like Todd's -- eminently practical for mucky work. Her denim cutoffs were long enough to protect her pretty knees but exposed her toned calves. Her tight muddy tee showed the lines of the sports bra underneath. Scruffy Keds covered her sockless feet.
"Yeah, let me look through the tools, see if everything I need is there."
Fortunately, everything he needed was there.
They lugged the hardware and tools to the access door. Todd rolled inside.
"Okay, start passing me stuff."
He staged the tools and materials inside. He selected his initial weapons.
First things first. The water was shut off; good. Got to get that hinged steel piece back where it belongs. Hydraulic jack. Rubber mallet. Oh shit; he needed to drill new holes. Crawl back out, get the drill and extension cord from the garage, return to the access.
"You have an outside outlet around? I need to plug this in."
"Nearest is in the kitchen." She disappeared with the cord. "Try it now," she called a moment later.
He punched the drill's trigger. Action!
"That's fine, aunty. C'mon back now."
Back under the house, he high-crawled till the cord fouled on something, halfway to the work area. He yanked but it would not advance.
"Hey aunty, I need some help down here now," he called. "Can you see what's hanging the power cord?"
Her shapely silhouette slid through the aperture. She worked her hands along the cord, feeling for obstructions.
"Oh yeah, the cord got jammed on a support post. There, I've got it free now. Is that good for you?"
Todd pulled the power cord and moved on to his task.
"Great, aunty! I can get there now."
He was positioning himself for drilling when he felt a hand on his ankle. He saw his aunt crawling up beside him.
"Woe, it's kind of nasty down here! That's where you're working?"
He pointed out the damage and explained his action plan. She nodded and squeezed his arm.
"That doesn't look too bad. How can I help?"
"Once I get into position, I'll need some stuff held in place."
"Okay, I'll be your helping hands. Let's do it!"