. 12

Homelands: Autumn

Part One

Chapter Twelve

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You might want to read Chapters One through Eleven first.

This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy. Supernatural forces play a prominent role throughout the novel.

All characters are over eighteen. All acts are consensual.

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Jack looked at me knowingly when I strolled in, more than an hour late.

"Shut up, man," I said. Though he hadn't actually said anything.

"You look like you could use a coffee," he said.

I shrugged. "Sure."

We left the office building and went next door. After grabbing our coffees, we stood outside with them. It was raining out, so no one else was likely to join us.

"Heard about your little adventure last night. Good for you."

"Yeah, I guess. How did you hear-"

Jack waved the comment away before I could finish expressing it. "Come on, man, everyone knows. Not just about you and your mother, and the show she put on with the twins. But what's happening more broadly."

"They do?" My mother. The cat was out of the bag. "What

is

happening?"

"Shit, if you were on time for work, you'd know. It's all anyone's talking about."

I took a long swig of coffee.

He clapped me one the back. "A literal motherfucker. Ain't it awesome?"

"Suppose," I said. "So I take it that you're in the motherfucker club too, then?"

"Yup. Iva was better. But fucking the aunt you didn't know you had isn't quite as perverse, so Mom's got that going for her. Plus a killer ass."

"It really is affecting everyone, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure is. Incest, incest, and nothing but incest. And, I tell you, the only thing that bothers me about that is that I'm not related to Brianna. She must be the hottest thing around. I can't tell you how much I wish she was

my

cousin." He paused, noting my lack of emphatic agreement. "What? She not your type?"

I held up my hands in protest as best I could, given the coffee cup held in one of them. "Whoa, I didn't even say anything, man."

"Exactly," he said, tipping back his own cup. "I thought she was

everyone's

type."

"What can I say, I prefer voluptuous," I said.

He jerked his head back as if slapped. "You saying she's a stick-figure?"

"I guess she's got a nice rack, for her size. But-"

"For any size," he interjected.

I shrugged noncommittally.

"And she hasn't really got much of an ass," I said. "Not like, say, your mother. Now that there is a true work of art."

"Have you

seen

Brianna work it? That girl tears up a dance floor."

I was pretty sure that I had, at that. Couldn't remember when or where, but now that Jack said it, I dimly recalled having seen my cousin dance before, and being blown away. But still. Imagine if a woman with a real figure had those same moves. "To each his own, I guess." I rattled my empty coffee cup. For a moment, I considered getting another coffee, but the line was even loner than it was before, which was long enough.

"So, who's next for you?" he asked before finishing off his own. The look on his face said that while he was willing to let the subject go, I'd be a fool to think he was willing to accept that reasonable people could disagree about whether Brianna was as hot as it got.

"Tara, probably. If I can. Kinda hoping for a threesome with her and my mom."

"You have something against younger women?" Jack asked.

"No. You have something against older women?"

"Not at all. I've fucked my mom and Aunt Iva, right? But if Brianna and Skye are off-limits because they're on your side of the family, I'd at least like to tap Natalie's ass."

I didn't reply.

My sister had plenty nice curves. That wasn't the problem there. Something about her just didn't do it for me though.

"You wouldn't fuck her either? Are you serious?"

"Of course I would. Brianna too. Just saying neither's at the top of my list."

"Shit. Tell me you'd at least like to fuck Skye? Talk about an ass that's a true work of art. I mean, sure, my mom's is nice, but wow."

"True. True. No arguments on that one."

"Okay, there's hope for you yet," Jack said. "Not much, maybe, but at least some." He shook his head. "Neither at the top of your list. Fucking crazy."

"But, and I'm just saying, you can't look at Skye's tits then look at my mother's and tell me that Skye doesn't come up short."

He laughed. "The same goes for everyone. Even Iva. Shit, man, your mom's are

too

big," Jack said. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm still looking forward to fucking her. I've seen the way she looks at me. And she'd make a nice contrast with the others. But at the end of the day, that's definitely not my type. Those things are just unreal. There's hourglasses and then there's hourglasses and then there's your mother. I'd feel like I was fucking Jessica Rabbit or something. Don't you?"

"Well, yeah, kinda," I said. "But you say that like it's a bad thing."

He snorted.

"You one of those who says more than a handful is a waste?" I asked.

Jack gestured towards the office and started walking without waiting for a response. "No, no. I mean, there's something to be said for larger than life. But it's like a novelty. You want to see what it's like now and then, but you still realize it's unnecessary. No?"

"Unnecessary? Is even a B cup necessary?"

Jack laughed. "Touche."

"I mean, I'm just not sure that `necessary' is a useful standard," I said. "They're fun to play with. That's it. Can even be a lot of fun to play with, for that matter. And they're damn nice to look at. But sure, of course no one

needs

big breasts."

"Fair enough. But for me, after they get bigger than Aunt Iva's, and she ain't small, I start thinking they look a little funny."

"Well, Iva does have a pretty sweet pair. I'll give you that."

"Pretty sweet? God, man, you need help. They're

perfect

. Say it with me. Per-fect."

"Okay, okay. They're per-fect. Two syllables."

He clapped me on the back as we hurried across the street, hands over our heads.

"So, I feel like we've had this conversation before. Or one an awful lot like it. You really have no idea what's happening?" I asked my cousin.

He flashed me an incredulous look. "Have we? I don't remember. But I'll take your word for it. I have to admit, there were times that I got a serious sense of deja vu."

"Same here."

We passed through the sliding glass doors into the lobby. Just ahead, we saw Brianna and Natalie getting into the elevator, presumably to head up to the studio. Neither wore anything but a bra and panties.

Fuck, they did look good. That was hard to deny. I stood by my position that Brianna could stand to be a little more voluptuous, and I'd have gladly payed my sister to stop tanning and dying her hair, but it was hard not to look at them and realize why most men would think me crazy for thinking my mother more attractive.

Jack smacked my arm, pointed across the tiled floor to them. "See now, how can you look at that and tell me they don't belong at the top of your list?"

"Yeah, you've got a point," I said, drinking in their young, slender, figures. And, more importantly, painfully gorgeous faces. And they were absolutely gorgeous, there was no denying. And the makeup wasn't hurting anything either. No one needed makeup any more than they needed big breasts, but any woman who thought she didn't look better with it was lying to herself. At least in my mind. I'd met guys who swore it turned them off, that they'd really prefer a girl who wore none. More power to 'em, I guess.

Brianna had the less curvaceous figure, but if there had ever been a woman who looked better from the neck up, it was news to me. In the back of my mind, I had the sense that she'd done something to me at one point that should have made me hate her. But despite myself, my heart raced the moment I saw that smile, even from all the way across the lobby.

"What I wouldn't give...," Jack said.

#

I got back to my desk and found the red light on my phone blinking. Without even opening my laptop to check my email, which wasn't easy for me, I picked up the handset and dialed the voicemail extension.

My father, the president of the company, wanted to see me. Post haste.

Cindy was not at her desk, and the door to Dad's office was open. Even so, I knocked. Dad looked up from his desk and called for me to come in. I entered the oversized office and closed the door behind me. There were plush offices, then there were plush offices, then there was my father's office. Inside, it was large enough to take up the entire fifth floor, and then some. Even though it wasn't the only office on the floor. Which made all kinds of sense. But then, reality apparently stopped at the front door, so why not.

The office was well appointed too. Dad's desk was larger than my cubicle. There were several nice carpets, two leather couches with a modern glass coffee table between them, a mini-bar, and a private bathroom. Perhaps best of all, two of the four walls were entirely made of glass, though at the moment the Venetian blinds shut out the view. Still, that had to make for a hell of a view, when he wanted it.

Like everyone else, Dad didn't really look his age. But there were more visible signs of maturity in this idealized version of him than could be found on any of the women. His dark-brown hair was peppered with silver, and he had wingtips at the temples. His goatee was silver around his mouth, though dark otherwise. His skin was dark and weathered, with enough wrinkles to look rugged but no more. Despite that, though, he was every bit as fit as his sons, and a few inches taller than any of us besides. Including Todd, though it was by a smaller margin in the case of my younger brother than with me.

And he was dressed to impress. His Italian suit probably cost as much as my first car had. It was hard to say, since I didn't know as much as some men about such things. But even I knew it was not the kind of suit most guys wore, even at the big law firms downtown.

A glass tumbler filled with bourbon sat nestled within one hand, and a Cuban cigar poised between two fingers of his other.

Dad gestured with the cigar for me to sit in one of the small chairs opposite his giant of a desk. The chairs were comfortable, but they were chosen to ensure that anyone occupying them would sit a few inches lower than Dad.

"I received an interesting email this morning," he said. "Care to guess what it contained?"

I loosened my tie. "Sir, I can-"

"Fuck the sir shit, Frank. You know I'm your father." He put the cigar down, walked over to the mini-bar. "Care for a drink? Fine bourbon."

"Yes, please," I said.

"On the rocks?"

"Straight up."

"Good man," he said, bringing me over a tumbler identical to his. He held his glass up.

I clinked mine to his. "Cheers."

"So, tell me, what happened last night."

"Mom told me that she was fucking around on you, and that she was specifically making a point of fucking your employees. It was going to happen whether I participated or not. I realize that doesn't make it right, but I just-"

Dad started laughing uncontrollably. He clapped me on the shoulder. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Frank, I'm just fucking with you. We're all depraved shits here."

I sighed, forced a nervous laugh. "Guess so."

"Far as I'm concerned, you, or anyone else who wants her, can have her."

Should I tell him thank you? Or tell him he was an unappreciative ass?

He took a slow sip of his bourbon. "This is the life, though, isn't it? Burning through fake money, drinking the finest liquor, fucking the finest ass. And it's all in the family."

"Yeah," I said. I probably should offered more of a reply, but I just wasn't sure what to say. I felt like I should be ashamed, and was having a hard time with the fact that no one else thought so. But I'd be lying if I said actually

was

ashamed. If Mom told me she was going to try to resist the unearthly temptations, I'd be devastated.

"But here's the thing. Like I said, I don't give a shit if you want to fuck your mother. Maybe you like gigantic udders. I can do without that, but hey. What I'm trying to say is, I expect," he stopped. "No, I can't tell you what to do. What I mean is that I'd

appreciate

if you step out of the way when it comes to-"

There came a knock at the door. Before Dad could answer, it opened.

My father's sisters walked in. They closed the door behind them.

They did in fact look a lot alike. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it earlier.

There were differences, to be sure, but the family resemblance was unmistakeable now that I looked for it. Particularly in their faces. They did, however, have different physiques.

Cindy lived in the gym. You know, when she wasn't fucking Dad, at least. Her breasts were larger than you'd expect for a woman who was so toned, but they weren't amazing. Her ass, though, was what most men would call perfect. Could have been a touch bigger for my taste, and a bit softer, but I stood by my earlier claim that it was a work of art. And on her petite frame, it seemed downright oversized. It was so round, and sat nice and high on her frame. Despite its size, you could just tell it was basically solid muscle.

Iva was nowhere near as fit, though she was also far from being in bad shape. Maybe her metabolism just hadn't started slowing down yet, even though she had to at least be in her late thirties, maybe even early forties.

For all that age meant anything to us. My father was past fifty, but his body didn't seem to have gotten the message.

Iva had a slender waist and fairly nice legs. Her breasts were, well, perfect. Jack had been right about that. My mother's had a definite appeal. I didn't like hearing others call them too big. But looking at Iva, I had to admit, hers were actually more appealing. There was nothing cartoonish about her figure. She was just exceptionally well endowed.

Both women had fair skin. Iva's even more so than Cindy's. Both had blonde hair. Cindy's had prominent dark roots, almost to the point that she looked like a brunette with blonde highlights. Iva's was also dirty blonde, but more even in color.

And both were dressed like they were about to model lingerie for a catalogue. Or, you know, fuck like bunnies. Cindy wore a translucent pink cami that barely covered her breasts, leaving her skin exposed from her hips to her ribs. Her g-string was equally flimsy, and I could see her swollen labia through the gossamer fabric. Besides the camisole and g-string, she wore white fishnet stockings, pink heels and a headband with bunny ears on it. The ears, naturally, were white on the outside and pink on the inside. Her nails were painted a light pink, matching her outfit.

Iva wore a black babydoll that didn't quite fall to her waist. It had bright pink triangles attempting to cover her huge breasts. A matching bright pink thong just barely hid her snatch. Black thigh-high leather boots with stiletto heels encased her long legs. A silk black choker with a pink bow wreathed her neck. Her nails were a much brighter pink than the pastel tone her sister wore, consistent with the louder pink found in the rest of her get-up. She was the naughty to her sister's nice, apparently.

Dad cleared his throat. "Ladies, it's not 12:30 yet. Not even 11:30."

"We couldn't wait," Cindy said.

"Is he going to join us?" Iva asked, looking at me. Her brown eyes were wide and a smile formed on her luscious lips. They were possibly the fullest lips I'd ever seen, and the bright pink lipstick made sure you'd notice. Cindy's were nice as well, but holy shit.

"I don't kno-" Dad began.

"Oh, dear, how sweet of you," Cindy said. "What an unexpected treat!"

"I-—I-" The protest wouldn't come out. I felt like I

should

protest, for Dad's sake, but I just couldn't bring myself to refuse these two blonde beauties.

Dad tipped his glass to me. "The more the merrier, right?"

I clinked my glass against his then downed the remainder of the bourbon. "Right."

Iva was in my arms a moment later. I looked over to see that Cindy already had Dad's package in her mouth. Either he'd put some effort into enhancing it, or he was quite well-endowed naturally. If so, I wondered why he hadn't managed to pass that on to me.

My aunt grabbed my jaw, pulling my eyes away from Dad and Cindy to look at her. Her eyes were deepest brown. Wasn't every day you saw eyes like that on a blonde. I was just getting lost in them when she pulled me in for a kiss.

I was still gasping for air when I realized my pants were gone and she was mimicking her sister. Her lips were a gift from heaven. And she was talented too. Like Mom had the night before, she might as well have been unhinging her jaw. My mother gave really good head. Iva gave

great

head. If anyone could compare at all, it was Brianna.

Except I knew that wasn't quite right. Brianna not only compared. She was better. And it wasn't because of anything she did physically. It was that she had immense supernatural power. And for that reason, Brianna was not the only one who was better than Iva. Grandma Kaitlin, Iva's own mother, was without peer in that and a great many other areas.

Still, just at the moment, the logical part of my brain was having a hard time persuading the other part that it was even possible for anyone to deliver greater pleasure with their mouth than the aunt I didn't know I'd had was doing for me right then.

She was swallowing a hot load of my jizz within a minute. And another one very soon after that. I could have cried, it felt so good.

The sisters stood up, wiping their mouths with the back of their hands in an identical motion. It was almost freaky. "Okay, boys," Cindy said, taking Dad by the hand.

"You've been warmed up," Iva said, taking my hand as well. They led us over to the leather sofa in the corner of the office and sat us down.

"For now, enjoy the show," Cindy said.

Music started to pour out of the high-end speakers on Dad's desk. Cindy and Iva started dancing, grinding on each other, shaking their asses in our faces. They made out with each other, felt one another up. Iva lay down on the coffee table while Cindy sat just above her face, running her hands over the thin fabric covering her pussy. Cindy cupped Iva's full breasts, bounced them in her palms. Iva turned Cindy around, bent her over to pop her ass out, and spanked her repeatedly.

Cindy had surprisingly hot moves. I never would have pictured my responsible, progressive, NPR-loving aunt shaking her hips and ass like that. And god, it was a nice ass.

But Iva stole the show.

She moved like she had earned a living from a stripper pole for years. Her hips had a range of motion that didn't seem possible. Probably wasn't. Just on the basis of how she moved, I went from thinking she had a moderately nice lower body to hardly noticing the difference between her modest curves and the more impressive ones her sister was sporting. Much the way I half-remembered that Brianna could hypnotize me despite her relative lack of curves. And when Iva shook her breasts, a little drool made its way down my chin. Hell, she hadn't even taken the babydoll off yet and I was ready to be her slave, if she wanted. Yet another way that she and Brianna were in a class all their own.

Dad and I were wantonly stroking our cocks by the end of the first song. My dick was now swollen to twice its ordinary size and was still just barely bigger than his. Moreover, I realized that he too had packed on about twenty pounds of muscle. I'd hoped to distinguish myself from him in that way, but no such luck. I had biceps like cannon balls, a huge chest, chiseled abs with deep grooves between them, and powerful thighs. But so did Dad. It took a great deal of effort on my part to close the gap between us in height. If he'd bothered to augment himself there, I doubt I could have caught up again. But, regardless of whether I could say that I was better looking than my father, I was at least confident that I looked a lot better than I had a minute ago. And I hadn't been unattractive then.