Living with Great Aunt Helen

Living with Great Aunt Helen -- Chapter 3

In this final chapter Peter enjoys a threesome with his great aunt and her friend, Deborah. But is it his mother that he really wants to be with? The story starts where Chapter 2 finished.

This is the last chapter in the Great Aunt Helen series. I hope you enjoy it and look forward to comments and feedback.

Sylviafan

Great Aunt Helen and I were both looking forward to Friday: she because her friend Deborah was coming over to spend the weekend at Helen's house and they would sleep together for the second time, and me because I was going over to my mother's house where I would sleep with her for the second time. The key difference between the two liaisons was that I knew about Helen and Deborah whereas Helen did not know that I had slept with my mother for the first time the previous Saturday night. I pondered this a lot as the weekend approached, lying awake during the long watches of the night, next to my naked great aunt, hearing her breathing and smelling her scent on my fingers. What would Helen say if she knew I was having sex with my mother? Would she approve? Would she condemn us? That sounds hypocritical but on the incest scale it is surely a bigger sin to screw your mother than it is to screw your great aunt.

It was clear that Helen was looking forward to the weekend very much: she was in a state of almost continuous sexual arousal and we were fucking twice a day, once when I got home from work and again when we went to bed. I was aroused too, partly at the thought of my great aunt making love with her friend, but mainly at the thought of having my mother again. Last weekend had been wonderful but we had barely scraped the surface of the erotic possibilities of mother/son incest. And I knew we were both equally turned on by this most forbidden of couplings.

I said goodbye to Great Aunt Helen on Friday morning; I would be driving to my mum's straight from work. 'Have a good time and give my regards to Deborah,' I said as I kissed her goodbye in the hall. 'And I want to hear every erotic detail when I get back on Sunday!'

'Yes, of course,' she replied. 'And give my love to your mum.' She hugged me tightly. 'I'm ever so nervous again.'

'Why?' I asked, although I knew how she felt. I was strangely nervous too, about seeing my mother, despite our intimacy of the previous Saturday.

I got to my mother's house about six o'clock on the Friday evening. It was the weekend before Christmas and it was dark and the weather was dank and chill. I let myself in and called out and mum called back saying that she was in the kitchen. I dropped my bag in the hall and went through. The kitchen was bright and warm and steamy, a thousand miles from the cold blackness outside. Mum was taking her apron off and patting her hair down. 'Hello Peter, darling. Dinner's in the oven, it'll be about two hours.'

'Wow!' I said, 'you look fantastic!' Her deep-chestnut locks glinted in the kitchen lights. Her make-up was heavier and more professionally applied than I'd ever seen and it took years off her whilst at the same time making her look sexier. More wanton perhaps. Her peerless cupid lips were a glossy red and there was heavy eyeshadow and mascara around her eyes. Lower down she was wearing a close-fitting black woollen dress and matching stockings. There wasn't much she could do about her figure, which was slim to the point of skinny, but I thought she looked lovely.

'I went to the hairdresser's today,' she admitted, shyly. 'And the beautician.' She showed me her fingernails which were painted a deep red; I had never known her to wear nail polish before.

We stood awkwardly for a second and then I held out my arms and she came to me and I hugged her and bent my face to hers and she tilted her face to mine and we kissed, tentatively, pecking each other's lips.

'It feels funny,' she said after a few stilted kisses.

'Yes,' I agreed. 'I've been nervous about seeing you this evening,' I admitted.

'Me too. Silly, isn't it. After all, I am your mum.'

'That's probably why we're nervous.'

'Does it still arouse you, Peter?' she said quietly, 'the thought of us making love together.'

'It leaves me breathless with excitement. I think about last Saturday all the time. At work, at home...'

'What about when you're in bed with my aunt?' she smiled up at me.

'Yes, then too,' I admitted.

'I think I'm nervous because I could probably have persuaded myself that last Saturday was a one-off, an aberration. Doing it again is an irrevocable step.' She laid her chestnut hair on my chest. 'Take me to bed, Peter.'

I took her little bird-like hand in mine and led her slowly up the stairs. We went into her bedroom, the one she had shared with my father for nearly thirty years, and I shut the door and my mother pulled the curtains, leaving the room in near darkness, just a faint glow from the sodium streetlights on the road outside. The gloom was warm and intimate and seemed to calm our nervousness. Mum came into my arms and there was no awkwardness now. We kissed, lightly at first, then harder, more insistently, our mouths opening against each other, tongue flicking against tongue, sucking each other's lips into our mouths, embracing tightly, her hands on the side of my head and mine on her small buttocks, pulling her up into my crotch, my erection growing.

Then we were undressing each other. Not in a slow, seductive way, but in a disorganised tugging of clothing and fumbling with buttons and zips. In a few short minutes mum's dress was off and I was down to my underpants. She reached behind herself and unclipped her bra, revealing her small, pale breasts with their dark areolae and upturned nipples. Without a word being said I sat on the edge of the bed and held my arms out and she straddled me and sat in my lap, her breasts almost level with my mouth and I took one of the little buds in my mouth and she shivered as I suckled it and licked it and moved to the other and back to the first and she moaned and writhed and bucked her hips against me in her arousal and I pulled her head down and kissed her and she gently bit my lips and my neck. 'Oh, Peter,' she groaned softly, 'this is so wrong, and so good.'

I lifted her off me and knelt down before her, pulling her black, lacy knickers down over her stockings with a rustle of nylon, burying my head in her hairy pussy, licking from bottom to top, pressing her crotch into my face, smelling her scent, lighter than Helen's, tasting her cunt juices, sucking her labia into my mouth. She stood with her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, her thin, stockinged legs quivering.

Standing up I removed my underpants, with their soaking Y-front. 'I want you,' I said to my mother in the darkness and she scrambled onto the bed, lying on her back and opening her legs wide, raising her knees, exposing her sex to me in forbidden invitation.

'I'm all yours.'

I knelt between her legs and pushed my rigid penis into her vagina. Seven inches of throbbing erection sliding in swiftly and easily. She gasped and her nails dug into the flesh of my neck and my back. She felt wonderful: so tight for a lady of her age, so aroused. And I was aroused too; I had never experienced such intense feelings before. I thought I had, the first few times I'd fucked my great aunt, but good as it had been, it wasn't as primal, as visceral as this. This was mum. My mother. What we were doing was the ultimate act of incest, the last truly taboo act in our aggressively permissive society. I was delirious with desire, my guts dissolving with pleasure, my breathing ragged and shallow. Underneath me my mother was making little mewling noises and thrusting her hips up to meet mine, her legs hooked over my calves.

Feeling my orgasm approach, I slid out and went down on her again, pushing my tongue into her pussy as far as I could, slobbering over her cunt lips, bending her legs over until her knees almost touched her tits and licking right down to her perineum and up her slit to her clitoris in its little protective hood. I took the little nub into my mouth and sucked it and rasped my tongue over its tip and mum gasped and groaned and clutched the duvet in her red tipped fingers. Then I was back inside her, pistoning in and out, pinioning her arms to the bed as I fucked her hard, pressing my mouth down on hers, stifling her cries and forcing my tongue between her lips.

She pulled her face away from mine and looked up at me in the gloom, her eyes wide. 'Don't stop, Peter, I'm going to come.' I thrust harder, hearing the squelching noise of my cock as it went in and out of her sopping cunt hole. Mum went rigid and gave a long, low cry and I pushed harder and faster, crashing my pelvis into hers. Then I was coming, feeling the pleasure rise through my guts and up to my brain, blotting out the world, shrinking it to a singularity, a penis in a vagina. My cock spasmed, pumping my thick spunk into my mother, six, seven, eight jets, then the climbdown, the senses returning, slowing my thrusting and stopping, collapsing over my mother, gasping for breath.

I rolled off her, releasing her wrists, and she snuggled into my arms and we lay quietly, our bodies cooling, skin clammy with a film of sweat. 'It's never been that good before,' she said, breaking the silence. 'I'd never had an orgasm during intercourse before last Saturday. I didn't think it could get any better than that.'

A bit later we got up. Mum stripped her stockings and suspenders off and we showered and put on bathrobes and slippers and went downstairs and opened a bottle of wine while we waited for the casserole. That little awkwardness was back. Why! We'd just made love for the second time and it had been cataclysmic. What was the problem?

After we'd eaten we watched a dull film on the television, barely noting the thin plot. I had one arm around mum and the other hand inside her bathrobe, stroking her small breast. She didn't push me away, but neither was she responsive and eventually I withdrew my hand. 'What's the matter, Mum?'

She was silent for a while. 'Guilt, I suppose,' she said at length.

'That we're committing incest? I thought you were ok with that.'

'No, guilt that I'm enjoying it too much. Maybe guilt that I'm not feeling any guilt.' She grasped my arm suddenly. 'I'll get over it, Peter. This is what I want. I think I've wanted it for a long time.' We kissed and she turned into me and I hugged her tightly. 'How are you feeling?' she asked, breaking away.

'Breathless with excitement,' I said. Totally aroused by what we're doing...'

'But?' Mum knew me better than I did myself.

'I'm worried about keeping up a relationship with Great Aunt Helen. It doesn't really feel right.'

'Yes, it's difficult. You've been with her for three years. You can't just drop her; she deserves much better than that. You live with her for one thing, she added on a practical note.

I thought about my great aunt and Deborah, together in Helen's bed. And Helen's excitement at the mention of her friend's name, the anticipation with which she'd looked forward to the weekend. Was there a way I could gracefully disengage without hurting her? Was that what I wanted to do? The last three years had been a rollercoaster not only of exquisite sex but of love too. Then mum popped into the equation and the desire and love I'd felt for my great aunt seemed to diminish against what I felt for Carol, my mother. But she was my mother! We couldn't have a normal relationship, like a husband and wife. Everything would have to be done in secret. And what about my future? I'd always assumed I'd marry and have kids. How did that fit in with a long-term relationship with Carol? 'There's a lot to think about,' I admitted.

My mother took me in her mouth that night for the first time. We went upstairs after the ten o'clock news and slipped our bathrobes off and crawled naked onto the bed. We kissed for long moments, touching and exploring. I stroked her silky chestnut bush, tangling my fingers in the luxuriant growth, feeling her labia and running my fingertips up her outer lips. Mum's little hand was around the shaft of my cock, gently masturbating me, stopping every so often to smear my sticky discharge around the shaft and glans. 'Lie back,' she whispered. I rolled onto my back and mum knelt over me and took my engorged and tingling cock head into her mouth, her hair falling over her face. Steadying herself with one arm she bent lower, taking three or four inches inside her, the other hand grasping the base of my cock tightly in her thin fingers, her nail varnish black in the gloom of the bedroom.

Her mouth was liquid and warm and silken and she used her lips to stimulate me as she slid her mouth up and down my erection, making faint slurping noises. I groaned and arched my back in a spasm of pleasure and mum responded by speeding up, taking more of me into her mouth, holding my shaft more tightly, the tips of her fingernails pressing into my rigid flesh. 'Stop!' I moaned as I felt my balls tingle and my orgasm build. But my mother responded by sucking harder and wanking the base of my shaft, her nails digging into the veined rod. I came with a great release of energy, clutching the duvet, spurting my seed into my mother's mouth, grateful that I'd already had a climax earlier that evening so I wouldn't overwhelm her with my gooey discharge.

My mother licked me clean, squeezing the last drops from my cock, then snuggled into my arms. 'Was that good?' she asked, quietly.

'Yes,' I said, 'it was good.'

'You're the first person to come in my mouth,' she admitted. 'I never really fancied it before, but it actually tastes ok. A bit salty.'

We slept like the dead that night and there was no surprise visit by my father at seven o'clock in the morning, so we made love again. This time my mother straddled me for the first time and I looked up at her thin frame in the morning light and I took her narrow hips in my hands and helped her as she thrust backwards and forwards, grinding her cunt against my pubic bone, head back, chestnut hair all awry from the bed, eyes shut and mouth open, making little gasping noises with each thrust.

She took longer to come than I was expecting and I was starting to get sore when she suddenly screamed and started bucking backwards and forwards harder and faster. Then she collapsed over me, panting and shaking with emotion and I held her while her heartbeat eased against my ribs.

'I'd like to take you from behind,' I whispered in her ear and, without a word, she dismounted limply and knelt facing away from me, her bum facing me in invitation. I knelt up behind her and parted her firm little buttocks, positioning my cock at the entrance to her cunt. She was soaking wet after her orgasm and I slid in easily, right to the hilt. Mum gasped and braced her arms and I started fucking her with long, slow strokes, holding her hips as I pistoned in and out.

Just before the end I withdrew and flipped my her over onto her back, sinking my cock into her and pinning her arms to the bed, kissing her roughly as I hammered my penis into her. Our lips mashed together, saliva all over our chins, tongue against tongue in a liquid heaven. 'I'm coming, Mum,' I gasped tightly and she wrapped her legs around my buttocks and her arms around my back, her nails digging into me, and my climax overwhelmed me, blotting out the morning light, crashing through my nervous system, pleasure bursting through my head.

Afterwards we were both a bit stunned and lay in silence for a while. I think mum even dozed off for a few minutes. Eventually I got up and went down to the kitchen to make some tea. When I got back to the bedroom I climbed under the duvet and snuggled up with my naked mother and she kissed me and smiled. 'Thank you, Peter. What a lovely way to wake up in the morning.'

'Did you like going on top?' I asked.

'You know I did. Did you like taking me from behind? It felt very deep.' She paused. 'And I liked it when you held my arms down, that was very stimulating.' She blushed a deep pink. 'Maybe we should get a set of those straps that you and Aunt Helen have got on the bed.'

'Yes,' I said, starting to feel aroused again. 'I'll do that. But we need to be careful when people come round to the house. That's how you found out about Helen and me.'

'I think we need to have a talk about all that side of things, Peter. Whatever happens, nobody must ever know about what we do together in private. We need to be really careful, especially if you come back here to live.'

I'd been wondering about broaching the subject of me moving in with mum. 'Would you be alright with that?' I asked.

'Of course I would darling, if it won't be too far for you to get to the University. And if Helen's ok with it all,' she added.

The rain of the evening before had stopped and there was a watery sun breaking through by the time we'd showered and had breakfast, so we went for a walk before lunch in the grounds of a local stately home. We talked about this and that as we strolled through the soaking grass and the conversation inevitably moved round to "us" and we discussed what a relationship between us might look like and what we would need to do to convince the rest of the world that we were just a mother and son living together for financial and social convenience.

'What if you meet someone and want to have a proper relationship?' I teased her.

'What if you do? That's much more likely than me meeting someone. You do want children one day, don't you?'

'I suppose so. I've always assumed I would,' I replied.

'I suppose we'll cross those bridges when we need to. If we need to. But Peter,' she stopped and turned to face me. 'I'll always be available to you.'

'You're going to Suzie's for Christmas aren't you?' I asked, presently.

'Yes. I'm going up on Christmas Eve. You'll be with Helen?'

'Yes.' I thought of Helen and Deborah and my cock twitched in my trousers.

I drove back to Great Aunt Helen's after Sunday lunch. It was earlier than I'd planned -- I'd assumed we'd spend the afternoon in bed -- but a friend of mum's turned up to do her "supporting the recently separated friend" bit so, after promising that I'd come round as soon as mum got back from the North-East, I took my leave. When I got to Helen's house Deborah's car -- a top of the range Jaguar SUV -- was still parked outside so I made a point of clattering about in the porch before opening the door to let them know I was back. I needn't have bothered; they were sitting at the kitchen island sipping tea. Helen greeted me but stayed seated. Deborah surprised me by springing up and giving me a hug and a quick peck on the lips.

'How was your weekend?' I asked them, innocently.

'Lovely,' replied Deborah. 'Your great aunt took me out for a super meal last night and we had such a good chat.' I glanced at Great Aunt Helen but her expression was neutral.

'Deborah's very kindly invited us over for Christmas Day. I've said yes but I wasn't sure if you'd be at your mum's.'

'No,' I said, slightly taken aback. 'Mum's going up to Suzie's. I haven't been invited,' I added. 'So yes, that would be great, Deborah. Thank you.' Playing gooseberry while my great aunt and her friend surreptitiously pawed each other wasn't a great prospect but it was better than spending Christmas alone.

'Right, I must be on my way,' announced Deborah, going out into the hall and lifting her coat from the peg. Helen disappeared upstairs to use the bathroom and I was left standing in the hall with Deborah.

'It's kind of you to invite us for Christmas,' I began, to fill the slightly awkward silence.

'It's my pleasure. I'd have been alone otherwise; my children are scattered to the four corners of the globe.' We both glanced involuntarily up the stairs at the distant sound of a toilet flushing. Deborah stepped quickly up to me and kissed me full on the mouth, pressing her lips against mine so that I could feel her slightly oversized front teeth. There was a fleeting moment when the tip of her tongue darted against my lips and then she stepped back as the bathroom door opened and Helen clattered down the stairs.