Greetings perverts.
This story came about simply because I heard someone on the radio use the word 'anteater' and my perverted mind immediately converted it to a title for some incest erotica.
This story deals with incest obviously, between the main character and her aunt, and includes a threesome.
This story includes oral sex, both giving and receiving, some cum swallowing/facials, some deepthroating, and an anus is briefly tickled (mentioned only because some readers are triggered by anal play, and I hate to blindside them).
The characters also talk about peeing at the end, but if that's your thing you'll have to wait for the follow up. And if that's not your thing, they just mention it.
As with most things that I write this story takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don't worry about pandemics, std's, or the need for birth control.
Featuring:
Callie: the narrator of this tale, a thirty-four-year-old happily married housewife, who has recently begun to explore her bisexual fantasies.
Brandon: her thirty-seven-year-old husband.
Aunt Violet: Callie's forty-nine-year-old widowed aunt.
As always, I hope you enjoy reading about some of the things that turn me on in real life.
IsabellaEmily
~~~
"I saw you, Callie." Aunt Violet said. "Last Tuesday night. And I saw what you were doing."
I paused with a mug of hot tea halfway to my mouth, and a half-chewed bite of cookie in my mouth. The question hadn't sounded conversational. In fact, I had a feeling deep inside my stomach that I was about to be accused of something.
And since I knew what I'd been doing last Tuesday, I was pretty sure I knew what exactly I was going to be accused of.
This was not what I'd expected when my aunt had invited me to her house for afternoon tea. I chewed and swallowed the cookie, and took a sip of tea, wanting to appear and sound as unconcerned and innocent as possible.
"You saw me?" I asked.
I hoped my question sounded sincere rather than like a tactic to stall for time.
"Oh, please don't worry." she added hastily. "Your personal life is none of my business, and I respect that. I only bring it up because I need someone to talk to about something rather personal. And now I think I can talk to you."
"I'm not sure I understand." I said. "Where exactly did you see me?"
"At the St. Andrew Hotel." She said. "I was in the corner of the dining room having an early dinner and waiting for the rain to let up, and you were at the bar."
"And what did you see?" I asked.
Although I knew damn well what she'd seen if she'd been at the St. Andrew Hotel last Tuesday. I'd been there to meet and stay the night with my friend Bethany.
We hadn't done anything too obviously sexual in the bar, but we were well past the days when one of us would get a hotel room and the other one would sneak up a few hours later.
After all both of our husbands knew about our sapphic experimentation. We were both consenting adults, and we weren't hurting anyone or harming our marriages.
While we certainly didn't flaunt or advertise our trysts in front of strangers, we didn't pretend that a pre-lovemaking drink was anything other than a drink between two people who had been intimate before and were about to be again.
There had certainly been some flirting going on between Bethany and myself as we sat at the bar, and most likely a bit of sexually physical interaction.
"I saw you with that woman." Aunt Violet answered. "I don't remember her name, but I met her when I stayed with you and Brandon last year."
A little more than a year ago a pipe had burst in her kitchen, causing extensive damage, and requiring some inconvenient remodeling. She'd stayed with my husband and I for most of the summer.
"And what did you see us doing?" I asked, although I was pretty sure I knew.
"I saw you kiss each other," she said softly, "and you were touching each other rather intimately. I saw you both get into the elevator. The one that goes up to the rooms from the restaurant and bar."
"Well it was exactly what it probably looked like." I admitted. "It's not something that I advertise or tell other people, but it's not something that Bethany and I hide either. She and I have a sexual relationship with each other."
"So Brandon knows?" Aunt Violet asked tentatively.
"Yes, Aunt Violet, he does." I said. "In fact, Bethany's husband knows about our relationship as well."
"Oh good." She said with a big smile. "That will make what I want to talk to you about a lot easier."
"Well whatever it is, you might as well tell me about it." I said with a laugh. "We seem to be through the looking glass here."
She smiled.
"I'm glad you're not angry." She said. "I didn't think you would be, but I am sticking my nose into your personal business here."
"Well we're family." I said, smiling back at her. "And I love you dearly. You know that. Stick your nose into any aspect of my life you'd like to."
"Does that mean I can ask you a very personal question?" she inquired.
"Yes." I said. "I might not answer if I'm not comfortable with it, but if that's the case I'll just tell you. I won't make up a bullshit answer or be dishonest."
"Are you a lesbian?" Aunt Violet asked me. "Or bisexual? I'm not sure what the correct word is anymore, and I don't want to be offensive."
"I guess most people would call me a bisexual." I said. "Other than talking about it with Brandon and with Bethany, I haven't really defined it. I've been curious about sex with females for a long time now. From before I was even married."
I paused for a moment, my thoughts drifting back to the week before Brandon and I got married. Those thoughts settled briefly on Nina, who was Brandon's sister and my maid of honor.
With a week left before the big day we'd gone on an out-of-town trip with my soon to be husband's family. His mom wasn't comfortable with he and I sharing a motel room together before our wedding, so I'd shared a room with Nina.
It had been a small room with just one bed.
We hadn't known each other very well, but we became quick friends over that long weekend. We stayed up and talked most of the night, giggling at the in-room porn movies playing and letting our conversation become more and more sexual.
Alone in that queen sized bed, we let that erotic conversation make us bold, and as we talked about orgasms and masturbation my libido had gotten the best of me and I confessed just how horny I was without Brandon in bed with me.
Nina admitted to being just as horny, and she suggested I masturbate to give myself some relief. She offered to touch herself at the same time so I wouldn't feel weird.
So, the two of us lay side by side staring at one another while we fingered ourselves through several orgasms each.
I had never experienced attraction to another female prior to that, but I'll remember the bed shaking as we fingered ourselves to several moaning orgasms apiece for the rest of my life.
She and I glanced at each other all through the wedding reception, grinning and winking as we remembered our shared bond of lust.
Five years later Nina passed through town and stayed in our guest room overnight, and in the morning after Brandon left for work, she took me into her arms and kissed me, my first ever female on female kiss.
And then she took my hand and led me to the bed I shared with Brandon, where she and I watched each other masturbate again, this time verbally encouraging each other and kissing for the rest of the morning.
I realized I was staring off into space and picked my train of thought back up.
"I'm not interested in romance with other females," I continued, "but every now and then I find myself particularly drawn to another woman physically, and I'll want to make love to her."
"Do you date women a lot?" she asked carefully.
"No I don't." I said. "In fact, aside from some kissing, Bethany is really the only woman I've ever touched in a sexual way. I told Brandon about my curiosity years ago, and he's always been supportive and understanding."
Once again, I thought of Nina, and how often I'd made myself cum while thinking about her.
"He encouraged me to explore, and about a year ago I learned that Bethany was feeling the same things I was." I continued. "After lots of talking we finally took the plunge."
"Was Tuesday your first time with her?" she asked softly.
"No, it wasn't." I laughed. "We're moving pretty slow, but we've been meeting one afternoon or evening every few weeks for a while now, trying a bit more each time."
"Are you enjoying it?" she asked so quietly I could hardly hear her.
"Yes, we both are." I said. "It's easy because we trust each other, but it's been far more satisfying than all the years of fantasizing about it have been."
We sat looking at each other, and I could tell she was struggling to find the words to say what was really on her mind.
"Aunt Violet, why do you want to know this stuff?" I asked gently.
Violet was a few months away from her fiftieth birthday, but she looked at least ten or fifteen years younger than that. More than once we'd been mistaken for sisters.
Her husband of twenty-five years had passed away just over two years ago. She'd shown no real interest in dating or romance since the funeral as far as I could tell.
Aunt Violet had always been a very quiet and private person. At family gatherings she was often the first one to blush or change the subject away from anything sexual or even remotely off color.
She'd never struck me as closeminded or judgmental, just terribly uncomfortable with sharing too much about her personal life or knowing too much about the personal lives of others.
"I want to talk about this because there's been something on my mind." She confessed. "Something that I've wanted to talk to you about for a long time now and seeing you at the hotel last week has sort of given me the courage to do it."
"You can talk to me about anything." I told her. "You know that right?"
"I do." She said. "But as much as I've been thinking about having this conversation for the last year, I'm still not sure how to get started exactly."
"It must be important." I guessed. "If you can't stop thinking about it. But it must be somewhat intimate as well if you're not sure how to bring it up."
"It is." She agreed. "It's both important and intimate. And I should start by confessing that my desire to talk to you about it began last year when I inadvertently violated your privacy."
