Another quickie about a quickie.
Please no comments about editing unless you are offering to do the job for me.
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There were bells and a rumble of a diesel engine, I struggled to open one eye and immediately shield it against the bright sunlight streaming through the window. The sun was high and I guessed it must be near midday, my head was thumping in time with the diesel engine as the bus faded into the distance but the thumping sound of blood coursing through my ears continued. I tried to lift my head, it took three attempts and the thumping persisted as did the church bells. The other eye insisted on staying closed and my mouth felt rough, rougher than the bottom of a bird cage.
I found the bathroom and a glass, the first slug of cold water was a bit of a shock and I coughed it back out. The second slug felt better and I gargled then spat it out, the khaki brown deposit in the sink looked horrible but I felt a bit better. I downed two whole glasses of water then when my bladder started making itself known I sat on the shitter to thunder pee and fart.
"You gonna be there long Terry?"
"Nah." I stood and took three stabs at the button to flush. Aunty Barbra quickly sat and thunder pee'd too. I was far too hung over to realise I was stark naked but at the same time I could see through my one partially open eye she was also naked from the waist down and the todger started rising in appreciation.
"What do you think about what I said last night Terry?"
"Huh?"
"What we were talking about."
"Erm," I thought hard "what the," my head was slowly rewinding to crack open the conversation "er?"
"Yup."
"But that's incest Aunty."
"Yep, that's right."
"Can we talk about this later, my head hurts too much."
"If you're going to the kitchen, my coffee is strong and four sugars."
So what led up to this morning?
Aunty Barbra is eldest of three girls, my mother Cloe is fourteen years younger followed by Delia seven years later. I was raised with no sign of a father and never a mention of him. There was only ever one set of grandparents and they both passed away a few years ago. I'm nearly thirty and living a six hour drive away from the family hometown, I've returned for ten days and staying with Barbra as she is seventy and wanted a party, it got bigger as the arrangements progressed and there were around one hundred people for a meal and dancing at the local Hilton Hotel, after the meal the disco fired up and Barbra was soon on the floor with the youngsters, she was certainly the centre of attraction and a couple of times there was just her and two girls in their late teens dancing with a ring of guests standing in a circle clapping just like the film Night Fever.
Going back to 1889, sisters Elizabeth and Felicity and Felicity's daughter Gracie travelled to Paris to join in with the fashion of being fitted with gold 'bosom rings' and these have been passed down through the generations since, I'd never seen them but Barbra has proudly been wearing an odd pair of Felicity's and Gracie's for over thirty years, occasionally their presence has been detectable through her clothes as she has never owned a bra and he has often been called Bar Bra just like her name. Last night was one of those examples where her blouse was being pulled tight by her gyrations and her small breasts were flapping around.
After the party we were dropped at home in a very inebriated state by a taxi.
"Coffee Aunty?"
"When are you going to learn to call me Barbra."
"What?"
"You heard me, now go make that coffee, strong and four sugars."
I was too pissed to question this further and brought the drinks to the lounge, I sat on the sofa beside a sleeping Barbra. Now call me stupid but I'd thought about her bosom rings quite a lot since seeing their presence that evening and felt it would be a good idea to get my first feel, I was so pissed that it took half an hour to pluck up the courage to touch the breast of a sleeping woman. The feel of the gold through her nipple seemed to sober me up instantly and I quickly started fiddling with them both, one is over two inches diameter and the other is about half the size but the thing that shocked me was they felt really thick and her nipples felt massive to accommodate them.
"That's it play with them, pull them. Oh yes, yes twist them, yes more." I of course obeyed before it dawned on me she had awoken. To put is simply she put her hand in her knickers and came.
We started drinking our coffee. "Gonna fuck me now?"
This didn't really register with me and I replied; "I expect so."
"You know granddad fucked Cloe don't you?"
"Oh yeah?" in a disinterested way.
"So you realise she's your half sister don't you?"
Equally disinterested in my drunken haze, "'spose she must be."
"So you gonna fuck me or what?"
That went right over my head as I drifted of to sleep on the sofa, the next thing I knew it was late morning and I had a hell of a hangover.
In the kitchen I downed three mugs of cold water hoping the dehydration and resulting hangover would start receding quickly, the noisiest kettle ever was roaring away and some particularly loud mugs and spoon were clattering wildly as a result of someones clumsy hands which were so close they could have almost been mine. There was no one else in the kitchen so I started thinking they must have been mine, that was until I carried them towards the breakfast bar.
In my hungover stupor with one eye still firmly shut and the other refusing to focus properly I stopped and focussed on one mug, mentally counting the hand holding it then the other mug and finally looked down at my still hard todger and the hand encasing it. One two three, just to confirm this I did it again only this time out loud; "One two three." The count continued up to seventy-six but in a female voice, at the same time that odd hand was pumping my todger and the counting started again at one to coincide with my ejaculations which stopped at sixteen. Again I held each dripping mug up in turn and counted the hands, no definitely three of them.
With the wet mugs safely on the breakfast bar I firmly grabbed the third hand. "Gotcha." Then pulled it off my todger, it was a small hand.
"Ouch that hurts."
I turned to follow the voice, the girl seemed two feet shorter than me, well nearly as I'm six feet three and she's four feet five, and slim with dark greying hair.
"Like that Terry?"
Voice recognition clicked in, "Aunty?"
"When you gonna stop calling me aunty and what's wrong with your eye?"
"Dunno, it won't open yet, must be full of sleep still."
