Alpine Hideaway Magic
part eight
For a moment despite recognizing who I saw, I simply could not believe the terrible condition they were in. Before me were my mother, my Tante Ilse, my older sister Gudrun and my cousin Bettina. All four appeared white as ghosts; quite feverish and sickly. A combination of bad weather, scarce food, and poor sanitation had taken a toll on the four women. My mother was the first to speak.
"We saw your note Hilde," she said in a delirious haze to my grandmother, "we made our way up the mountain, knowing you were all up here for a reason. We'd guessed it was becoming too dangerous to stay down ...there ...in the valley..."
My mother stopped speaking. She simply looked at our nudity and then directly at my grandmother. Realization broke through the fog of the fever. Her eyes went wide as she saw how my Oma Hilde had become somewhat... younger. She then glanced to my Tante Margarite, and saw how the lines on her face were gone... and how her hair appeared ten... maybe fifteen years younger and,
"HILDE! You didn't!"
"I most certainly DID," Grandmother replied as if she'd been caught stealing chickens but had a good reason for it, "we've had the German Army chasing us, the Gestapo kicking in our door, we've had American soldiers following us up the mountain and had to scare them off -why he even was called upon for the night of Walpurgis to help heal the land and..."
"YOU FUCKED YOUR OWN BLOOD?" my mother shrieked, "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR SENSES? HOW COULD YOU?"
"Greta," my grandmother said attempting to calm my mother down with her palms out before her as if trying to push away my mother's shock, "these were extenuating circumstances. We've been pushed to the extreme ever since Stephen arrived in that village down below this mountain."
Oma was lying... fibbing really. It was rationalization fit for endless sessions upon one of Freud's couches but she was in her element; justifying her actions. She then added,
"... couldn't be helped."
That would have been believable yet her face had the look of one who'd robbed the cradle ...
and loved doing it.
Tante Margarite had the very same illicit look about her. For her part, my mother wasn't convinced in the least and neither was my Tante Ilse, (although Ilse had slumped down in the breakfast nook next to my sister and cousin; all three of them looking as if they would pass out).
It all became a moot point as by now, my mother had slumped in the breakfast nook as well. She seemed unable to raise her head and soon lost consciousness completely. It was clear to my grandmother and Tante Margarite that something had to be done. Grandmother rushed to my mother's side and began to pull her to her feet, saying to me,
"Stephen, help your Tante Margarite and I to get these women to bed at once. They're gravely ill!"
Without a second thought we grabbed my mother, tossing both her arms over our shoulders before moving her upstairs to the beds. Between the three of us we then managed to do the same with Tante Margarite, my big sister Gudrun, and my cousin Bettina. All four women felt hot and were un-responsive.
"What are we going to do, Oma?" I asked.
My grandmother raised a hand as if flicking me away. She was deep in focused thought, attempting to analyze what had befallen the women of our family. Over the next few minutes she busied herself; looking into their eyes, smelling their breath, feeling their foreheads, and most importantly removing their damp clothes with our help.
The four women were now naked and unconscious beneath the bedclothes. My grandmother surveyed the scene and nodded to herself. Sure of her prognosis, she then turned to Tante Margarite.
"Put a pot to boil on the stove below in the kitchen, Margarite, then join me back up here. Stephen fetch my bag from downstairs and be fast. Oh and bring a spoon, and a jar of honey. This is a fever quite similar to the one you had when you arrived; similar yet not exactly the same. We are going to treat it in about the same way we did the sick women down in the village, a few days before, now both of you - away hurry!"
With that she went about the task of checking pulses and seeing to the four gravely ill women. Tante Margarite and I hurried downstairs, each with our tasks. My aunt was already lighting the stove with her magic and setting a pot of water to heat upon it. She then began pulling more of those dried mischievous mushrooms from the cupboard and unceremoniously began dropping them into the water by the fistful. It was going to be good strong batch she was making simply by the generous amount of "fuck fungi" alone! I found the doctors bag, along with the spoon and the honey jar before hurrying up the stairs.
Upon receiving the bag, Grandmother fished around inside until she located that bottle of bitter pills. Crushing one of the tablets into the spoon, she offered it to me. I knew what was to come next and made a face but took the crushed medicine. It was just as horribly bitter as I'd recalled but Oma quickly brought forth a spoonful of honey to help it go down. She then handed me her pipe which was already primed and lit, the unmistakable scent of bullweed filling the room.
"Puff on that Stephen!" Oma urged me as she motioned me over to my mother on the bed.
Two good huffs of the pipe and I felt the hot rush of my member coursing with blood; almost at once becoming a stiff snarling beast of an erection under the heady influence of crushed witch-medicine and bullweed. With a firm hand upon my bare buttocks, Oma guided me up next to my mother as she lay unresponsive; her head turned to one side upon a great pillow. My grandmother now had me straddle Mother's chest upon my knee's; my bare arse hovering above my mother's chest and my legs to either side of her shoulders. My throbbing cock loomed over her face at the ready; as if I were preparing to club her with it upon her forehead.
Oma knew what to do next. Kneeling down my grandmother brought the bullweed pipe to my mother's lips. She whispered in my Mother's ear,
"Greta, take this and inhale deeply. It will ease your suffering."
Without so much as a word, my mother cracked open her eyes and took the pipe in her lips for a good tug. She filled her lungs. Two jets of smoke blasted from her nostrils a few moments later and a great plume of smoke rose from the pillow.
Oma checked my mother's pupils. She nodded to herself. She then put the pipe in my mouth for another good puff as she pushed on my buttocks, the head of my cock moving closer to my mother's lips as she told mother,
"Now puff upon this Greta, you will feel better soon!"
Weakly my mother open her mouth and leaned her head ever so forward. She wasn't completely aware of what she was doing and my grandmother helped guide the back of her head with her palm. The time seemed to stand still for me. I'd had incestuous relations with my grandmother and Aunt, but here was something altogether different; MY MOTHER! Her mouth was open and moving just centimeters away from my cock and although it all happened in a couple of seconds for her to make contact, for me and my sense of anticipation for better or worse it felt like forever! Whatever reservations I might have had about it (as it really WAS the last frontier of taboo for me in my mind), they evaporated as her lips teeth and tongue made hot wet contact. A shudder of shameful electric pleasure ran up and down me from my schwanze, up my spine to my skull and back down to my cock tip; all while my mother commenced nursing vigorously at my organ!
"HAHHH!" I gasped.
Grandmother put a solitary finger to her lips, shushing me. I stifled my excitement and that wet mouth of the woman who'd given birth to me just eighteen years before sucked my schwanze in her state of partial delirium. OH WHAT A TALENTED MOUTH! Mother's lips, tongue and teeth provided just the right pace and pressure to my member (and that is not to mention the exquisite moisture and warmth). It was only a matter of a few minutes before I felt a wonderful churning in my cock.
"AAAGGGHH MUTTI!" I cried out, filling the mouth of my very own parent with the salty warm gift of my essence. Somewhere outside the house thunder rumbled between the mountain peaks.
My mother swallowed her mouthful of warm goo and then held my slackening cock between her lips. Her eyes presently opened wide. Looking up into my face, she realized what she'd done but just as suddenly she began to suckle and pull at my penis with those lips of hers; as if the seed she'd just now swallowed had been the finest delicacy ever and she needed more at all cost! The magic of the bullweed combined with my sperm (enhanced by the crushed tablets), had all worked in harmony to achieve the desired effect.
Now Mother fiendishly gorged herself upon my cock. After only half a minute's time it rose to the occasion. My mother now had a freshly stiffened throbber between her lips.
My grandmother looked on and nodded her head approvingly, noticing with satisfaction the change in my mother's appetite. It had however, only partially been the bullweed and my semen apparently, (for I could see her lips quietly reciting an archaic spell in the old language). As testament to the power of her magic, Grandmother's tattoos all displayed wanton cartoons of women in forbidden acts with young men. In one scene running along her arse, a farmer's wife waived good-bye to her husband as he left for the fields, only for her to turn around in her kitchen and grab a young man who I judged to be her son by his trousers; yanking them down to expose a jutting erect cock that she commenced to slurp greedily. In another scene a woman and a young man pulled weeds in a garden until they realized they were not being watched and stepped from their clothes to immediately commence fucking with the woman on all fours like a pair of dogs. In still yet another scene across her back, a woman arose from her bed to lite a candle before creeping down a hallway to a young man's room where she and the youth then had an illicit rendezvous. Countless other lewd lurid scenes played out with shamelessly naked women seducing young men in their households; each scene seeming to be more wonderfully perverse than the last!
