"Why did I find a pair of your boxers in Katy's room this morning?"
The words reverberated gently off the walls of the bathroom. Although the woman who'd uttered them was standing right in front of me, her voice sounded distant, as if through a tunnel, because the blood was racing from my rapidly beating heart and into my ears.
I could only stare at her.
The woman who'd spoken those words was Ellen, who up until this morning had been my modest, kind, church-going aunt. But all that had changed because I had just fucked her on the counter of the bathroom, where a small mixture of our genital fluids still pooled. We were both still naked, my lovely Aunt Ellen, an athletic and surprisingly attractive woman in her early-forties, and me, Tom Lenovo, her lithe and horny 18-year-old nephew. Aunt Ellen had just finished squatting on the toilet, trying to purge as much of my semen out of her vagina as possible; the dull throbbing of my penis, finally flaccid again, reminded me that I had just given her a particularly huge, unprotected load.
We had hugged after, and we had caressed quite intimately. I'd even told her I loved her. It was a strange, illogical sensation, but I'd meant it. She'd told me she loved me too, but despite the fact that we'd just engaged in a most incestuous act, I sensed that those words used by her had been more affectionate, still the doting and generous aunt.
"Tom?"
I blinked. She was expecting an answer. I studied her face, which was still flushed and coated with tiny beads of sweat from the powerful orgasms I'd given her less than five minutes ago. Interestingly enough, she didn't appear angry or accusatory. The fact that she'd decided to wait until AFTER we'd fucked was also telling. Nevertheless, I needed more time to think, so I said the only quick response I could muster.
"Boxers?"
"Yes. Your underwear. I found them in Katy's bedroom this morning." Her tone was even, simply informing me. As if she was saying, "I put your socks in the drawer for you."
But again I played dumb: "My underwear?" I think I even managed a puzzled look, desperately hoping it was masking the true feeling of horror and fear of having been found out about what I had done to my 18-year-old cousin last night. Here I had been worried that Katy would somehow realize that the second cock that had been inside her last night had been me and not her brother, but instead my naked aunt was the one bringing this incestuous tryst into light.
Or was she?
Because shortly after I'd made my last response and put on the puzzled face, Aunt Ellen seemed to mirror it. She furrowed her brow slightly and studied my face. She said, "You mean, that wasn't your underwear, Tom?"
I didn't think I could pull off the actual word "no" and effectively lie out loud, so I continued to look very puzzled indeed, then managed to shake my head slightly.
Aunt Ellen's eyes went wide at that point. "Oh my!" She looked down, thinking hard about something. Despite her suddenly serious thought processes, I caught her gaze stop on my penis right as a random drip of freshly post-climactic semen fell from the tip to the floor. I don't know if she was aware of it, but when the drop hit the floor, she licked her lips. Then she looked up at me and said, "Oh, Tom, I think something terrible is happening."
I knew she wasn't talking about what we had just done; in fact, it seemed like the whole matter of nephew and aunt fucking each other was already behind her, though we were still standing nude in the bathroom. But I wasn't quite sure exactly what the "terrible" thing was she thought was happening.
"What's wrong, Aunt Ellen?" I asked stupidly.
She took a step closer to me and placed her hand lightly on my chest. She leaned close to me, and when she spoke, it was in a whisper, though we were alone in the house. "I think...I think Jack might be...doing something with Katy."
"Doing something?"
She nodded. "I think...well, those must have been Jack's boxers if they weren't yours."
Suddenly I realized where her thinking had detoured. In response to Aunt Ellen's original question about the boxers (which were, in fact, mine) I had issued the most childish of responses to an authority figure catching a child dead-to-rights. My aunt had asked why my boxers were in Katy's room, I had given a stupid reply, but despite million-to-one odds, my aunt immediately accepted that they were NOT my boxers. It was about the same level of cleverness as asking a five-year-old why he took a cookie from the jar only to hear the kid ask "what cookie" though the crumbs were on his mouth, hands and shirt.
But it was working!
Perhaps I had fucked her so hard she was still dizzy and clouded. But as long as I was about to get off scott-free, I was happy to ride it out. Here were the facts, twisted as they were: Jack was my 20-year-old cousin, Aunt Ellen's son and thus Katy's brother. Though the boxers were mine, clear evidence that I had indeed engaged in sexual misconduct with my own blood-related cousin, it was also true that Jack had fucked his own sister, and he had been fucking his own sister LONG before I'd gotten my turn.
I know, my good friend, that it sounds surreal. I know it sounds quite bazaar to worry about my aunt discovering that I had slept with her daughter when I'd just fucked HER, but there you go. That strange feeling of love and connection was still welling up inside my heart, and so soon into what I had hoped could be at least a somewhat developed relationship with my aunt, I just couldn't bear the thought of her thinking of me as just some walking erection happy to stick myself into whatever vagina was available, whether related by blood or not.
Since I was on a roll with the guise of playing the total dummy, I asked, "Why would Jack's underwear be in Katy's room?"
