This is a continuation of "Family Dinner". The over the top nature appeared to be reasonably well received. One of the commentators expressed a liking for the elderly neighbor. I decided to expand her to more than just a walk-on character.
I haven't try to rein the story in. Obviously, there is incest, duh. There is also a bit of BDSM, including water sports. The male characters are straight but that doesn't mean they can't be curious about pegging.
Thanks, LarryInSeattle.
Thanks to those of you who take time to comment and an even bigger thanks to those readers who are kind enough to add my stories to their favorites.
Enjoy.
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"Good morning citizens and what a gorgeous fucking morning it is."
The fact that the man's speech was clear and precisely enunciated and pleasant in tone without any of that irritating false cheerful chirpiness you hear on history tapes in no way made up for the fact it was too fucking early to be awake and listening to a weather report. It wasn't Wally the Weekend Weather Watcher's fault. Caroline had neglected to turn off her alarm before falling asleep. She smiled at that thought. She had, most definitely not just fallen asleep. Robbie, he preferred Rob but he'd always be Robbie to her, had fucked her into oblivion. She took a great deal of satisfaction from the fact she'd done the same to him.
She waved her hand at the HoloVid and it promptly shrunk to a pinpoint of light and winked out. Then she turned to look at Robbie.
Her brother was twisted up in the sheets, limbs akimbo, snoring the soft little-boy snores she remembered from back when he still sucked his thumb. She arched her back and stretched her arms wide, rolling her neck and stifling a groaning yawn, not wishing to wake her slumbering brother. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone in the doorway. She turned and smiled at the sight of Ms. Banard.
Her favorite neighbor stood in the doorway, a mug of steaming tea in each hand. Caroline knew hers would be just the way she liked it, a mere hint of cream and two heaping teaspoons of sugar. She took the mug gratefully as she scooted over so the older woman could sit on the edge of the bed.
Ms. Banard was a small trim woman with a fan of fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes which highlighted the twinkle that seemed to be a permanent fixture in her pale blue eyes. She had not been a large busted woman in her youth so there wasn't much to sag. Her back was straight, her gait crisp, she gave every indication of having another twenty or thirty good years in her.
Caroline thought Ms. Banard - it was even harder for her to think of the woman as Mabel than it was to think of Robbie as Rob - was beautiful, from the top of her perfectly white hair to the funny little crooked toe on her left foot. That was due to an accident, so Ms. Banard claimed, related to an overly ambitious attempt to recapitulate an illustration in the Kama Sutra. If true, Caroline knew the illustration was fantasy. If Ms. Banard couldn't do it, it simply was not possible for a human being to do it.
Plastic surgery, Caroline had shuddered at the name the first time it was mentioned in her History of the Dark Times class, was another relic of barbarism. It was remembered only as a cautionary tale. Another example of the depths humans sink to when they deny their most basic nature. Ms. B, Caroline's informal name for her respected neighbor, had aged well but she had aged and she made no attempt to disguise the fact. No one did. No one cared.
Caroline took a sip of her tea, it was perfect of course, and turned her mind from dispiriting memories of a world long since passed to the bright eyes of her neighbor, friend and mentor.
"Thank you for the tea," she whispered, still mindful of her sleeping sib, as she hugged the woman with one arm and kissed her on the cheek. "It's perfect," she took another sip and giggled. "And thanks for last night. Holy Christmas."
The older woman waved the compliment away with a soft pshaw of dismissal. "Don't be silly, dear. What other purpose do us old farts have except to teach, advise, and offer the benefit of perspective?"
"Perspective? Is that what they called cumming your brains out when you were my age Ms. Banard?"
Her older companion chuckled. "No, smart ass, we did not. We called it 'death by fucking' or 'cum induced coma', among other things. I was happy to help."
"Okay but explain to me again about the positioning. I was too busy doing to really catch all you were telling us. I'm afraid without your hands moving us here and there, we'll never be able to duplicate it."
"Listen to your center, dear, and you'll figure it out just fine. Your center is wherever all that sexual tension is stored. One fuck it might be your pussy, another fuck and your center will be your ass or your mouth. Follow your center and you'll not go far wrong, ever. Trust me."
Caroline nodded. "Still, would you mind showing me once more? If you need to run I can drop by later. I don't have any classes today."
"But dear, I'm old and don't need as much sleep. Don't you want to snuggle up to your brother and sleep? You don't need to move to one of your sleep beds. You can stay in the family sex bed. Your parents are snoozing away, they'll not be ready for welcome-to-the-day orgasms for several hours. Besides, I imagine they'll use their own bed for wake up fucking don't you? You should sleep, love."
"Actually, the tea and the sugar really, has given me a bit of a buzz and Robbie's boner's got me all wound up inside. I don't think I could sleep without cumming first. But, seriously, I'll be fine. I can rub one out on my own if you have to be going."
Caroline's mentor responded with a second toss of the hand and dismissive sniff.
"Rub one out? Don't be silly dear. What sort of neighbor, for that matter human being, would I be to leave a friend when she's suffering with a sexually congested cunt? Really, you must learn when to control your silliness. First things first, dear. What is it you want? Always answer that question first. For me, that's generally a question of whether or not I want to get fucked or to cum. They, as you know, are not the same thing. Sometimes I'm perfectly happy to simply drift off to sleep with that well fucked feeling. Other times I want to howl at the moon as I cum so hard I feel like my body will shake itself into its constituent atoms and quarks and whatnots. So, what is it you want this morning?"
"Can't I have both?"
"Ah, the greed of youth," Ms. Banard clucked. "Yes you can and yes you may but one day you'll understand. Well let's get started. On your back."