I awoke the next morning in the delicious daze that comes after a good night's rest. My blankets were wrapped around my body in a cocoon. Refusing to allow myself to relinquish that semi-delirious state, where the mind threads within and without of reality, prevented me from recollecting the previous night's events for some time. The blankets kept me warm. The birds chirping outside the window soothed me and pleased my ears. The pillow was soft against my face. It was so wonderfully soft, much like - my eyes snapped open - my aunt's hands.
With that one thought, my heart was pounding. I couldn't move. I did not wonder if I had dreamed the entire ordeal. The slideshow of images from my memory were all too vivid. There was Aunt Freya, gripping my throbbing shaft. There was me on my back, looking up at her. There was a geyser of cum (actually multiple geysers) splashing all over my aunt's clothes. There was the rapidly dwindling bottle of wine, which was then replaced by another.
My face burned with the flush of embarrassment. My aunt had made me cum all over her, and she had done it more than once. Three times, in fact. Should I really have just allowed her to do that to me? In the moment it had felt right, but in hindsight, the taboo felt as strong as ever. There was nothing like a night of sleep to put things you've done into perspective. How had I been so foolish?
Maybe she wouldn't remember it. I had never drank any alcohol, but I had heard that if you drank too much you would black out, and forget most of your night. If I was fortunate, that would be the case, and then I wouldn't have to confront the memory with her. But it didn't matter if she remembered it, did it? I now knew that she was fantasizing about me just as much as I had about her. Not only that, but I also now knew what she was capable of.
Shame coursed through my body. The weight of what we had done was crushing me, pinning me to the bed. How could we have been so reckless? We're family. The consequences of our actions could be immeasurable.
I had always been someone who adapted to the will of the people around me. Life was easier this way. If you didn't challenge people on their beliefs, they might grow to like you, and then you wouldn't have to worry about a confrontation. I abhor conflict of all sorts.
But this felt like something I should take a stand on. I
knew
this was wrong, so I would just have to let her know, in no uncertain terms, that last night had been the only time we could do anything like that... if she remembered it at all.
Of course she remembered. How could she not?
This steeling of resolve filled me with the willpower I needed to move my limbs. I pulled the blankets away from my body and reached for my phone.
6:13 am
Aunt Freya probably wouldn't rise for another forty five minutes, assuming she kept her usual schedule. I could get out of bed and leave the house. Perhaps the fresh air and warmth of sunshine on my skin would help me clarify things in my head.
Being as silent as possible, I climbed out of bed and dressed myself. Autumn had arrived, so I donned a pair of shorts, accompanied by light gray thigh-high socks, and a white band t-shirt, which I then covered with a pastel blue and pink baja hoodie. It was my favorite outfit for chilly weather, and I needed all the confidence I could muster for the decisions I wanted to make.
The stairs didn't betray me on the way out, maintaining the silence I required. I stopped in the kitchen to throw my shoes on, then grabbed an apple from the pantry, which I rinsed in the sink, before stepping out into the new day.
The air was as chilly as I had expected, which blended quite nicely with the gentle rays of sun. I could see dew on the grass, which would soon evaporate, not to return until the next day. No cars currently populated the street before me, and I set out along the sidewalk, already feeling calmed by the freshness of another rotation of the earth.
Now I was sat on a bench, looking out over the serene pond in the park I had come to. From where the bench was perched, the land sloped gently down to the pond, where a family of ducks were huddled together, dipping their heads into the water for morsels of food that still remained at the floor of the pond. When they surfaced, the water dripped down their feathers, and a stream poured down the front of their bills.
I closed my eyes and rested my head back, face upturned toward the sky, and pondered my plan. I would go back home, to Aunt Freya. I would tell her that we were to keep to a strictly familial relationship, and that we
both
should keep our fantasies private. Even better, we could maybe quit them altogether. Maybe. We were physically attracted to each other, but we were also adults, and we should keep our hands to ourselves.
At that thought, I felt a ghost of the sensation from the evening before, my aunt's hand running up my thigh while the other massaged my balls. Blood instantly rushed to my cock, and I was hard in an instant.
Fuck.
I thought.
This won't be easy. But I can do this. I can do this I can do this I can do this... I just have to sit here and wait for this erection to subside, and then I can get up and leave
.
But it was a long time before I was flaccid enough to stand. I couldn't help but fixate on the image of my cum in puddles on my aunt's breasts. It was such an erotic memory. But that was all it could be. Just a memory. Although... a memory is all we are, isn't it?
Once I was upright, I took a walk to a cafe on the other side of the park. The dirt path took me up and down hills, around and through trees. I passed some groups of people along the way. A jogger, a family with an overweight, aging brown labrador who hobbled merrily alongside, and some couples, hand in hand.
At the cafe, a cute blond girl, maybe only a few years my senior, took my order and my cash. With the transaction complete, I wandered to a table and sat to wait for my latte.
On my phone, I scrolled through reddit, my mind elsewhere, my eyes not really seeing the headlines. There was something about a cop shooting an unarmed civilian, a mass shooting, some politician saying something outrageous about a fresh bill that had passed, protests in response and protests in response to the protests in response. All of it was news that wasn't really news. Business as usual, and nothing caught my eye. That may say something about how desensitized I was to all the madness, or it might just say that I couldn't concentrate on anything other than that erotic image that wouldn't stop pinging to and fro in my mind's eyes like a pinball in a frenetic arcade machine.
I raised my head and looked around the cafe. It was bustling, with people milling about. They were all either conversing with one another or staring into the glassy eyes of their phone screen. Every famine virtual. No one was looking my way, and no one was directly behind me to see my screen.
My thumbs tapped away, and soon I was browsing the incest subreddit. I really shouldn't have. I should have looked at literally anything else, but I couldn't help it. I justified my actions to myself by reminding myself of my plan. Aunt Freya and I would keep our fantasies to ourselves, so I should be free to fantasize all I wanted.
These titles did catch my eye, and soon I was as mesmerized by my phone as everyone else in the cafe. I devoured every word like a ravenous wolf. I craved all the taboo, all the lewd stories about brothers and sisters, mothers and sons, all discovering each others bodies and clinging to one another in ecstasy, crying out in...
"Kai?"
My head jerked up to see who called my name, interrupting my thoughts and startling me, my thumb simultaneously tapped the home button to clear my screen of the perversions it displayed.
It was Aunt Freya. Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be?
"Hey Auntie!" I said, desperately willing my voice to not betray the anxiety coursing through me. I even forced a smile. How the hell had she just happened to show up at the same place as me? I wasn't exactly across the city from her, but still.
"What's u-" I coughed, my saliva plugging my words and restraining their passage through my lips.
"What's up?" I said, softly this time.
She smiled at me, and her eyes had that sly shine.
"Can I sit?" She pointed at the chair opposite me, eyebrows raised.
"Y-yeah. Sure." I was failing miserably.
At the exact moment she pulled the chair from the table to sit, the barista called my name, summoning me to the counter to retrieve my latte.
I stood, relieved, and moved towards the counter, then stumbled over my own chair. I was frustrated with myself. Where had all that strength gone? I had told myself what needed to be done, now I just had to commit to having the conversation and saying my piece, even if it was happening sooner than I would have liked.
I reached the counter and smiled at the girl. She really was cute, but I hardly noticed because I was in my own head. She smiled back at me, and blushed slightly, looking down, before turning back to her duties. I didn't quite understand at the time, but later on I would reflect, and realize what that meant.
Eyes closed, I drew in a long breath, and released it gradually. My heart didn't stop pounding, but it did slow down a little.
Good
. I thought.
Get it together
.
Like a prisoner condemned to death, I forced my feet to carry me back to the table. Aunt Freya was looking away from me, out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. She appeared to be intently fixated on the passers-by. I knew she wasn't, but it certainly looked like she was.
I sat at the table and her face turned to me. My latte was already raised to my lips, and I held her gaze over the rim of the plastic cup. After a long sip, I set it down on the table, still staring into her soul. We didn't need to say any words, but we would. It just wouldn't be right this second.
The sounds of commerce seemed to fade, and the movement of pedestrians no longer registered to me. It was just me and Freya. We were alone in a bubble, smelling the pleasant aroma of baked goods and freshly brewed coffee.
"Did you enjoy it?" She finally asked.
Well... here goes.
"Yeah." I looked down at my latte, swirling it in circular motions. "I shouldn't have... but I did."
"Me too." She reached across the table and took the latte from my hand, raising it to her lips.
I looked at her again. This time, she was the one staring out over the lid of the cup. I didn't mean to, but I chuckled aloud. I wasn't sure if that was some kind of power play, or if she just wanted an innocent sip. It surprised me nonetheless.
That was good. I was relaxing now, feeling in control of myself after the laugh, so I took the latte from her hands as she was lowering it to the table and drank some more myself.
