Aunt Marta

A story of incest, female dominance, pain, and abuse, and a woman's golden wine.

"AUNT MARTA'S ROOM"

Elliot cursed at the guy in the Toyota, then glanced to his left as he pulled his pickup into the parking lot. Looking back, he saw a woman standing off to the side, begging near the entrance to the grocery store.

He was a shy man in his late fifties, single, and a few years into retirement after thirty years in the Military. He was handsome, soft-spoken, and mannerly, with salt and pepper hair and a ruddy, sun-tanned face. As was his wont, he kept his eyes open for homeless women begging by the stores. Elliot had had some luck with them over the years, purchasing their soiled panties and occasionally more. A few had gotten into his truck and sucked his cock, and one even went home with him for a few days, not that that worked out so well, he later found out she had stolen money from him.

The woman he was looking at was tall, maybe 5' 8", well tanned, with dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and long black hair tied off in a ponytail. She wore cowboy boots, jeans, a T-shirt, and a western-style open vest, and from the way her large pendulous breasts sagged, he was sure she wasn't wearing a bra. She was an attractive woman, maybe in her late thirties, but she looked tired, worn out, maybe even a little gaunt. She had written on a piece of cardboard. "I need money for food," and when she made eye contact with him, she smiled and he felt it in his cock swell.

Elliot was a careful man, careful in how he approached the women; he didn't want an issue, anything embarrassing, and above all, not to be arrested for solicitation.

He'd offer the begging woman a couple of dollars, and if she took it, as almost all of them did, he would hold out a twenty-dollar bill, his hand, so close to their breasts that he was nearly touching them. He'd whisper, "So nice." If the woman stepped closer and reached for the twenty-dollar bill, he'd pull it back and say, "May I?" If she let him fondle her, as some did, he'd offer to make it forty dollars if she would sell him her soiled underpants. The panties from homeless women were often well worn and quite fragrant, a special treat for him when he masturbated with them.

"Sweet Lady, I can smell your cunt from here," he whispered as he parked his truck just a few feet away from the woman and stepped out. He moved slowly, with his hands in his pockets, smiling at her, hoping to put her at ease. The woman's face lit up when she stepped toward him, and he held out a five-dollar bill. As she reached for it, he held his other hand toward her chest with the twenty-dollar bill in it, his eyes fixed on the nipple bumps in her shirt. "Um, so nice to touch," he whispered.

Her eyes widened, but she took his hand with the twenty-dollar bill in it and pressed it against her sagging breasts.

"Hi, Elliot. Do they feel nice?" she asked.

"Oh God! he muttered. "Danielle...Danie...Is that you?" He stepped back, taking his hand off her breast, shaking his head. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close, hugging her. "My God, it's been years..." He smiled. "Ten?" he asked.

She nodded and touched his face. "You don't have to pay to feel your sister up," she said, frowning at him. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

His face reddened. "I'm sorry," he said in an embarrassed tone.

She patted his cheek. "Stop," she smiled, shaking her head. "You look good."

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were in California."

She pointed to his truck. "Long story! Take me to dinner, and I'll tell you."

"Of course," he grinned. He stepped back and took her hand. "Come," he said, pulling her. "In my truck! I'm so glad I found you. You're coming home with me." He hesitated, frowned, and asked, "Are you with someone?"

Danie smiled and shook her head, taking his hand. "No, no...I'm here alone...and sure, I'll go home with you." She touched her stomach. "But could we maybe eat first?" she asked.

He opened the door to the truck and held her hand while she stepped up. "Sure, sure, I know a place. Where are you staying?" he asked, looking around.

"I sort of... live in my car; it's in the back of the store," she shrugged. "It doesn't run very well..."

He patted her thigh. "I'm so glad I found you."

Danielle was almost twenty years younger than Elliot, a late and unexpected pregnancy for her parents. "She was an accident and a wild one in the making!" her father used to tell people.

Young Danie grew up in a time when pot and alcohol were common in the high schools, and she didn't hesitate to experiment. More than a few times, her embarrassed parents were called to the police station to come pick her up, quite unlike her older brother Elliot, who had been an A student and accepted into the academy at West Point a year or two after she was born. Because of the difference in age and Elliot's Military career taking him all over the world, the two had never been close.

He pointed to a diner. "They have great food," he said.

"As long as they have food," she quipped.

A little later, Danie sat opposite him, wiping her mouth with the napkin. "Um, that was good." She reached across the table and took his hand, her eyes held his. "To be honest, you didn't find me...I'm here looking for you," she said. "If you hadn't found me, I would have tried looking up your address." She hesitated, head down, looked at her cup, and then took a sip.

He tilted his head and frowned, turning his hands palm up, asking why.

"So the truth is, I'm here with my panties in my hand. I need help...and...well, you're it!" She looked up at him, shaking her head. "There isn't anyone else I can go to."

He looked at her for a moment, then took a sip of coffee. "So...what do you need?" he asked, then smiled. "Look, whatever it is... if I can help, I will."

Danie smiled and leaned her head closer. "Something like five thousand," she whispered. "I have a warrant out for my arrest in Ohio," she said, holding up her hands in defense. "Nothing exciting, DUIs, missed court days," she shrugged, and her eyes watered. "and I'm broke, I need a place to live, and fuck it, I'm tired of living on the street."

Elliot thought for a moment and nodded, he patted her hand. "Easy, Danie. I can do that...Are you alone?" he asked again."

"Just me," she smiled, holding her hands up, then touching her breasts, "and you can touch these if you want," she said jokingly.

"Please don't," he smiled, leaning forward. "And just DUIs? What...Pills, alcohol, pot?"

"Yeah, no hard stuff," she laughed, "No crack, no H, no needles."

"How long?" he asked.

Danielle squinted and sat back out of the bright sun. "Are you married... living with a woman?" she asked. "Am I intruding?" she asked. "Or a guy? Do you have someone?"

He laughed, "No, I'm straight, and no ladies at home. No involvement," he said, and then for a moment, he thought about a woman named Frida. Until a year ago, she had been a regular visitor to his house and usually slept over. He had been seeing her since he retired and moved back home. "Well, almost none, anyway, not for a while," he said.

Frida was an older divorced woman who had lived in the next town over. She had answered his ad looking for a cleaning lady and worked for him for almost a year when one day, he got down on his knees and kissed her feet. He offered to pay her triple, but instead of her cleaning when she came to his house, he would undress and clean the house naked while she whipped him with a riding crop, and she agreed.

Elliot was a submissive, and his need to be dominated had been fostered many years ago under the tutelage of a woman he called Aunt Marta, an older gray haired lady in her late sixties, who had rented the upstairs apartment from his working parents. The strict lady used to help young Elliot with his schoolwork and soon took on the role of a poor man's governess. She didn't spare the rod.

Despite Aunt Marta's sadistic bent, or maybe because of it, young Elliot liked the woman and enjoyed spending quiet afternoons with her listening to German songs on her record player.

Elliot looked across the table at his sister. The woman's high cheekbones, brown eyes, and sensual voice all reminded him of Aunt Marta, and for a moment, his mind drifted back in time. It was just a few days after he turned eighteen. His parents were working, and Aunt Marta had called him up to her room. When he opened the door to her apartment, he could smell the woman's perfume and hear the voice of Marlene Dietrich singing in the background. In the waning light of the late afternoon, he saw Aunt Marta standing by the window, wearing her high-heeled short boots and the same long-sleeved black dress she always wore.

"Come in, Elliot, and close the door," she said. "I have something for you," the older woman added in an assertive tone. She stood facing him, slapping the palm of her hand with a riding crop. "Something I think you want," she said, and he remembered how mesmerized he was.

"Oh, God," he whispered, shaking his head. "Are you going to use that on me?" he asked, panting his words.

"Yes, Dear. I think you want me to," she said, looking down at the bulge in his pants. "Take them off, I want you naked."

Young Elliot bowed his head. "Yes, Miss," he whispered. His hands were shaking as he touched his belt. He couldn't remember the last time he had been naked in front of any woman other than his mom, and that had been years ago.

Aunt Marta nodded as she watched him slide his pants down to his ankles and step out of them and then his shirt. "And your underpants," she said. She stepped closer, putting her face close to his. She kissed him on the cheek. "I want you naked for this."

"Yes, Miss," he nodded as he slid his underpants down, exposing himself to the woman. He felt the cool air on his cock and his body shivered as a sexual thrill tingled through his body.

The older woman reached down and touched his hard penis. "Oh, I see you like to be naked in front of Aunt Marta," she said, and with that, he came all over her hand.

Danielle touched his hand and leaned forward, snapping her fingers. "Hey! Did I lose you?" she asked. "Where did you go?" she laughed, then nodded. "Yeah, I thought you were straight when you ah...ah reached out for my breast." She turned her hand's palm up, as though asking, "What's that about?"

His face turned red, and he looked away. "I don't know, I guess I'm a little kinky. Forget it."

"Umm," she nodded as she started to put the dishes together for the waitress. "I need some time to get my head together, maybe six months, a year...Whatever you allow." She turned and looked out of the window. "But first, I need to stop by my car and get my suitcase...You know, a change of clothes. I'm kind of ripe."

When they turned into the street where Elliot lived, Danie laughed. "You're still living in our old house," she said.

It was a two-story house on a quiet cul-de-sac in a small New Jersey town. When their Mom died, she left the house to Elliot and Danielle as well as a small inheritance of close to $100,000 each from her savings. At the time of her death, Elliot was in the Military and stationed overseas, but Danielle was married and recently separated, so she moved back into their old home. A few years later, Danielle had a job opportunity in California and needed money for the move, so she offered to sell her share of the house to Elliot, and he agreed.

He laughed. "Yeah...and I still sleep in my old room...You can have Mom's big bedroom back. It's more or less the way you left it," he said, taking her hand as she stepped out of the truck. "You look pretty beat. How about a little nap?"

"Yeah," she laughed, "and I need a bath. I stink... but I'm too tired."

He followed her up the stairs and held the bedroom door open. Without turning the light on, he pulled back the covers. "Sit, I'll take off your boots," he said, kneeling in front of her. He looked up and saw she had removed her vest and was pulling her T-shirt over her head, allowing her bare breasts to hang just inches from his face. He could smell the woman's strong body odor wafting from her underarms.

"Whew! Sorry, I'm a little ripe," she whispered, looking down at him. He was on his knees with his eyes closed, and she knew he was smelling her.

She reached down and touched his head. "Are you okay?" she asked as she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down, then sat on the edge of the bed. "It's...." she started. "It's alright. If you want, we can lie on the bed together. If...you..."

"No...no, I'm good," he said, sharply, without looking up.

He pulled each boot off, then pulled her pant legs down to slide them off, and his hands were shaking. "Oh God," he whispered as the strong odor from her feet captured his mind, and he felt very weak.

He lifted her bare foot and pressed it to his face, kissing it. "M- May I...Please?" he stuttered, barely loud enough for her to hear, but she did.

"Shh, easy...Yes," she whispered. She laid back on the bed and closed her eyes. "I'm very tired, Elliot. I'm going to sleep now," she said.

"Please let me," he sighed as he put his lips to her toes, kissing them. "Miss?" he said, and when she didn't answer, he put his tongue between her toes, licking, cleaning her sweaty feet, all the while rubbing his cock. He was breathing hard and his hands were shaking as he opened the zipper to his pants and twisted his hard cock out, guiding it into the cool air just as he began spurting large gobs of cum on her boot.

But Danielle wasn't asleep, she was lying quietly on the bed, breathing deeply with her head turned, facing the makeup table. A table with a large mirror that tilted down, reflecting the image of a chair, as well as the side of the bed where in the darkness, she could just make out Elliot on his knees, rubbing his cock, and she watched as he put his head down and licked his cum from her boot.

A harsh voice startled him. "Lick it up!" He thought he heard Aunt Marta say.

"Yes, of course, Miss," he whispered, as he put his face to her boots, licking them. He wasn't sure. "Did Danielle say that, or did I imagine it?' He asked himself.

When he finished licking her boots, he lifted his head and looked at her. "Oh God, Danie, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," he whimpered, but Danielle's eyes were closed, and she wasn't moving. Elliot stood up and lifted her feet onto the bed, then pulled the covers over her. "Sleep well," he whispered.

Later that night, Elliot quietly snuck up the stairs to check on her. Danielle was still asleep, but he saw that her suitcase was open and she had put her T-shirt and jeans over a chair. Her boots stood by the bed.

The light in her bathroom was on, and when he stepped inside, he saw her soiled panties lying on the floor next to the commode. He knelt on the floor and put his face down, inhaling the strong odor that wafted up from them. He lifted her panties, and held the soiled crotch to his face, inhaling the heady aroma of her vaginal exudate. "Oh God," he whispered, rubbing the soft nylon material against his face and lips. "I can't," he thought, as he started to lick the crotch of her panties, tasting the strong cunt flavor.

Later, he planned on laying in bed with her panties on his face, the crotch over his nose, and a vibrator taped to his cock. It would take close to a half hour for him to cum this way but it was his favorite way to masturbate. He lifted the commode cover and rested his chin on the seat, smelling the faint odor of her urine. He closed his eyes and put his mouth to the toilet seat where her bare behind had set, kissing and licking it, wanting to taste her. He opened his pants and took his cock out, rubbing it, slowly sliding the panties in his hand back and forth over the hard cock, and in his fervor, he couldn't resist. He put his fingers into the toilet bowl water and lifted out the floating paper she had used to wipe her cunt with. He held it to his face, smelling it. His hands were shaking as he put the wet toilet paper in his mouth, chewing on it, trying to taste her pee and his cock exploded, shooting streams of cum onto the bathroom floor.

Early the next morning, the sound of a door closing woke Elliot, and he stood up and glanced out his bedroom window. He saw his sister naked by the pool, bending over to put her towel down, and the bare white cheeks of her behind glared up at him. Elliot squeezed his cock, groaning, "Oh God, I want to lick you. I want to put my tongue up your ass." he whispered aloud, his voice shivering. "I can't...not my sister," he said aloud, in a harsh tone, then sat down on the bed and slapped himself in the face. "I can't do this to her, she's my sister."

He took his time dressing and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. When he got there, it was empty, but there were two cups set out, and the coffee pot was hot. He pulled a chair out and sat down just as the door opened, and his sister walked in, drying herself with a towel.

She smiled and stepped close, kissing him on the cheek. "Good Morning," she said, shivering. "I forgot how nice our pool was." Her bare breasts brushed against his arm. "I made some coffee." As she reached for the coffee, she pointed to her body. "Is this okay with you? I'm not a shy person, I seldom bother covering up," she said, looking at him, waiting. "Unless it bothers you?" she added and saw he was staring, his eyes fastened on her breasts.

"Oh, oh." She shook her head and frowned. "It does, doesn't it?" she said as she poured the coffee. She put the coffee pot down, picked up the towel, and started to wrap it around her, then stopped and laughed, "Can we maybe...try to get used to it? I like to be naked around the house."

Elliot's mind was still on last night, and he felt his face redden. "Danie...I'm sorry. I want to apologize for what happened last...I shouldn't..." he started.

Danielle stepped close, so close her bare breasts hung just inches from his face. She brushed his hair back. "Why?" she asked, putting her face close to his. "Nothing happened last night...I fell asleep, I was exhausted." She shrugged, "That's all I remember."

"Oh...I thought..." He started to explain but changed his mind. "No... nothing happened. I just...Oh, nothing," he said.

Danie picked up the coffee pot, pointed to his cup, and nodded. She leaned close, putting her hand on his back as she poured the coffee, and her bare breast brushed his shoulder.

She put the coffee pot down and stepped close, putting her arm around his neck and hugging him. "That's okay, we're going to be living together," she said, holding her hands palm up.

"Look, Sweet Man, if you want to touch them, it's okay. I don't mind," she said with a shrug, shaking her head. "I'm not a prude...Elliot. It's normal. I don't think of you as my brother. I mean, I like you, so... let's relax." She smiled, "We don't have to fuck...If you want, I'll do something else, whatever you want." She bent forward and kissed him on the forehead. "My coming here, interrupting your life," she said. "I'm asking a lot from you. Elliot...Look, Sweet Man, I want to make your life easy." She took hold of his chin and looked down, shaking her head. "And it's natural. You don't have to make this so hard," she said.

"It's alright. Y-Yes, I want to do all of that and more," he stammered, holding his hands up. "I don't mind seeing you naked...I like it...It's just...I don't want to embarrass you...I get too...I don't know." He glanced toward the obvious lump in his pants. "B-But you see what happens to me," he whimpered. "And you're my sister." He said, his voice breaking. "I want to. I do," he said, leaning forward, letting his forehead rest against her bare breasts. "I'm sorry, I just can't," he whispered. "I can't." And he seemed so distraught that she was afraid he might start crying.