Rivals

Oh, what now? Jeez, the last thing I expected was to see my pudgy little aunt pull-up in her beaten up Volvo and waddle over to the front door, to spread her particular brand of annoyance to the neighborhood. She hasn't even been to our house in about a year, and I didn't think that she and her sister-in-law were still speaking with each other. The family's wicked temper plus the uncompromising stubbornness and the die-hard determination to never reach out for help, had struck a rich vein in this family.

Now what kid of ill-timed, condescending harangue would I need to endure until she decided to scoot her fat ass back to her own hovel. Certainly, she wasn't here for a pleasant visit. And I'm fairly sure that the one thing both she and my mom share, is the opinion that my father spoiled me rotten, and that all of his money should have been divided between them and not left in a Trust Fund that would revert to me on my twenty-first birthday, which is only a few short weeks away.

But it seems that since I have big money due to me on the near horizon, I will never be lonely. It has already apparently altered the dynamic in my immediate household, and I must assume that this out-of-the-blue appearance also has some relation to it. New money to greedy family members is like blood in the water to hungry sharks. So I'll wade carefully into the new circumstance and see which of us become the predator and which become the prey. One has become somewhat tamed but this new arrival presents a lurking danger. If I want to emerge from this man-eating environment, I had better be quick-witted and just as dangerous.

My name is James Jr., but they both call me Jay. It's the one thing that they agree on, as if even referring to my father's actual name, brings back memories of some perceived slight or injustice. My mother is Geri and the new arrival is my Aunt Rose. Curiosity has got me interested and the new attention being paid to me has made me suspicious. But we're all new to the game and everybody is bringing something unique to the table, so I'll just sit back for a minute and let the dealer deal the cards. And we'll see how the chips fall.

Meanwhile, I'll have to tolerate her sudden appearance and placate her on her overbearing bullshit, since for a short time she could still throw a wrench into my plans for the future. So, I'll paste on my smiley face and start pouring the bourbon Manhattans, (I do know some of her weaknesses,) while trying my best to usher her out of the house as soon as possible.

"Oh Jay, darling," spoken in her sarcastic whine. "I just have to get off my sore feet. So I thought that I might pay a visit to my dear nephew and wish you the happiest of birthdays." I accepted her wishes with the sincerity that they were offered and contemplated my next move. Since it wouldn't deter her in the least to know that she was interrupting my plans for the day. Though I admit that I was somewhat intrigued because there was something tantalizingly different about her. The attitude was the same but she seemed to be attempting atleast, to sugar-coat it while I had to dig into my memory bank to determine what was wrong with my other impressions. But I couldn't afford to be distracted by trivialities because today was a special occasion. Because at this very moment, down in the basement, I had her busty sister-in-law, (my shrill mother) tied naked and squirming to a padded bench, and had just pumped a fresh hot load of my sticky-sweet cum down her struggling, argumentative throat.

"Hi Aunt Rose," I grinningly greeted her while offering a platonic hug. She swept by me like a starlet sashaying past an adoring crowd blowing air kisses to anonymous people. It hit me at that moment just how ironically named she was. Her 90-watt smile could be beguiling and sensual when she felt the mood. The full, rounded cheeks bordered her pouty, plump lips giving her an unexpected little-girl charm. And those lips could just as easily pucker and purse to present a sexy quality that could lead men to distraction or worse, if they were not careful. And her bright blue eyes dazzled under dark lashes if something shiny or manly caught her attention. They could act as baited hooks when she turned them in your direction with their mysterious sparkle and sultry, seductive charm. A look that could be deceptively enticing but one that I thought had been lost to the past, available to me only in photos from her younger days. The entire curvaceous package would be a sexual delight if not for her namesake thorny disposition.

She brushed by me with a quick, dry peck on the forehead and a wave before ambling over to the couch. Then she carelessly lounged against the pillows and doffed her sandals in her best imitation of Cleopatra and requested a cool drink. "Because this heat just turns me into a dish rag," she dramatically intoned. With that, I watched her fan herself with a magazine as a slight trickle of perspiration seeped alluringly down her doughy neck and was lost between the dense mounds of her prominent cleavage.

With all of her haughty airs acquired from when she was a vivacious, heavily sought-after little ingenue, she was still just a girl from down the block, who was now constantly on the make. Those carefree days of men fawning over her and buying her drinks and trinkets were in the past. It left a bitter aftertaste that she never quite cleansed.

Rose unconsciously tugged at her knit top, to relieve the clingy pressure of her abundant proportions. The warm, glowing skin of her moist bosom was clearly out-lined under the form-fitting material and she hastened to circulate some cool air under the tightly-stretched bra that was struggling to conceal the pointy tips of her obscenely pert nipples poking through the cottony fabric. She always enjoyed the spectacle of seeming oblivious to her actions while showing-off her rather bodacious front porch. An enticing action that usually captured every eye in the room, male or female, but she had never before wasted it on me. I was appropriately captivated, but a bit puzzled.

It occurred to me that those bouncing C-cups probably hadn't been touched, or even seen by male eyes, in quite some time due to her prickly personality and the ridiculously unfounded opinion that she continued to be some sort of "hot package" that should be pampered and cherished. Regardless of her infuriating self-importance. Sort of a hot-house rose.

When I returned with her drink- "Maybe you can make the next one a little stronger," I smothered the desire to tell her to go fuck herself. As I sat opposite her, waiting to hear what catastrophe in her life brought her here today, I was struck by her taking a deep breath. Not so much that I was watching the majestic rise and fall of her bountiful breasts, but the heavy sigh appeared to signal her forming a big decision or drawing to some uncomfortable conclusion. Rose was not a deep thinker.

I quickly dispelled the notion because my aunt was not one to linger over weighty principles, so I concentrated on the obvious. I noticed her thick, tanned legs. She was wearing peach-colored satiny shorts that clung to her meaty hips and her smooth gams were bare down to two tiny feet sporting painted pink toes, that were crossed demurely and carelessly free of her three inch-heeled sandals.

As her graceful thighs casually bounced one foot over the other, I could discern the once-clear muscular definition that had been present twenty years and thirty pounds ago when she had been a competitive swimmer. Taking a better, more appreciative appraisal, without seeming to openly ogle my own aunt, it seemed that I could still see the stocky yet pleasingly put-together young woman that she was in her prime, before the terrible combination of icy bitterness and hard liquor had spoiled her charms.

The camera-ready smile still flashed brightly when she desired a favor. And her dark, wavy hair had grown-out since then. The tits had blossomed from the suppressed figure of her training days to the eye-catching splendor of her currently swaying mammaries. That once-sexy body had been allowed to wither on the vine, but I noticed now that it and she had undergone a fairly remarkable transformation.

The very same affliction that had beset my mother, but with a quite different root cause. One man (co-incidentally the same man- my father,) had unintentionally corrupted them both. My dad, in an effort to be a responsible husband and family man almost literally worked himself to death, earning only post-mortem degradation from those he loved. My mom believed that he should have spent more time and money on her, and my aunt believed that mom was just a gold-digger and he should have taken better care of his only sister. I was the convenient target of both of their gripes and for different reasons, they both wanted something reaffirming from me. And ofcourse, in the very near future would be a multi-million dollar payout!

"So where is your mother?" Rose barked, "Is she shopping or is she out trying to trap another husband?" Snide remarks were generally the default language, whenever either of them spoke of the other. Funny thing is, I believe now that it was more out of jealousy and spite than any true enmity. And I think they cast their own little peccadillos on the character of the other. If they could each be assured of a certain level of security and emotional support, I think they would co-operate or atleast avoid the constant bitchery. But getting them in the same room, to achieve the same goal, would take a stroke of genius.

As I listened to her never-ending list of perceived slights as if I were some cheap combination of bartender, marriage counselor and therapist, I smiled attentively and nodded while feigning to care about her woeful trivialities. Rose blathered on about having to live on such an extreme budget and not being able to find a man worthy of her standards as breadwinner and stud, so my mind proceeded to tune-out her words and conduct a more thorough inventory of her amazingly sexualized anatomy. It was like looking at a woman that I barely know.

This was not the dumpy, bloated older woman that I recalled. Maybe all the years of being biased against her acid-tongued, condescending persona for so long, I had exaggerated her "Cruella" temperament to the extent of blinding me to her uniquely "fun-size" dimensions. In a tidy little package, Rose could certainly pack a playful quantity of unrestrained energy plus a playground full of raw sexuality, if only you could cut through the thorny outer layer. She had obviously worked to alter her physical dimensions and may possibly be trying to tame her icy disposition, though that was more of a struggle.

Actually, though related only by marriage, she and my mother Geri, were very much alike. I had to admit that my distaste for my mom's disdain of my father's approach to their marital relations had spoiled my opinion of her. So much so, that when I finally flipped the authority structure of our family dynamic, I gained a new appreciation of her feminine qualities, and she developed a more open and more seductive view of her painfully repressed hidden sensuality.

This made me wonder if Rose's chilly demeanor had also repressed her passions, and that possibly now they were beginning to thaw. Thinking about it now, in the weeks that it had taken to turn the tables on mom, another unusual transformation had gripped her too. Geri had gradually grown to trust me as her Dom; understanding finally that she had a submissive trait that had never been fully realized, and was she was anxious to grow and foster this inner vamp that was longing to be freed. Once she saw that I- her son- could release those hungrily needy desires and allow her to appreciate her role in our new sexual pairing without any undo stigma, she developed a bold, new attitude to let herself explore all of the craven erotic images that had filled her darkest fantasies. To the point that now she will admit that she requires sexual domination and borderline raw humiliation, to bring to the surface the deep-seated inner slut of her obscene desires. Also, just as importantly, to generate the teeth-rattling orgasms that she never imagined possible. And it all started with a freak occurrence.

It began with her slapping my face in exasperation after I declined for the hundredth time, to perform some chore she designated as important and I did not. A shouting match ensued, some harsh words were exchanged and after being struck, I let the simmering, disrespectful, anger escape in the form of aggression. I took my mother's delicate, lithe, frame over my knee and proceeded to spank her rear end while she screamed and whimpered in stunned panic. And through her thrashing about, and struggling which forced me to grip her tighter and punish her more severely, or else be exposed as just an angry, impotent twenty year-old; I found that in the heat of nearly five minutes of pure battle where her clothes became disheveled and my dormant Oedipal longing rushed to the fore, I was replacing a harsh punishment with an unconscious taboo urge. My hand had snaked a path between her clenched butt cheeks and under her short skirt until to the amazement of us both, my fingers were suddenly sticky-wet and her resistance had become a gyrating, grinding motion that welcomed my digits to continue their incestuous wanderings. We both froze in place at the joint realization that I had unwittingly just given my reluctant and truly averse mother, a gushing, tingling climax. She cooled her violent thrashing and and all her energy appeared to come from the jolting aftershocks of her pelvis and belly, as she reclined moaning in utter delirium on my drenched lap. Our somewhat orderly universe had spun off it's axis.

I had not seen my mother as a sexual human being, ever. And as I grew older she was barely my mother anymore. Our living conditions were strained to say the least. My father died when I was fifteen and the idea of my future wealth was still a foreign concept to me. I also had failed to notice the lovely figure that my mother possessed, or the fact that maybe due to being a single mom and caring for me, she had not gone on even one date since dad. And I belittled her to her face and refused her authority while harboring the conception that she was nasty and ugly. My only defense was one of being young and stupid.

My mother was as I was soon to appreciate, tall and fine-limbed. An artist would classify her as statuesque. She had strawberry-blonde hair that rolled in torrents to the small of her back. Green eyes like the plains of Ireland and just a sexy couple of freckles that added a dash of color along the bridge of her pug nose, and a small alluring mouth that seemed to be permanently ready for kissing. A strong jaw sat on her fine neck and swept to well-defined cheeks bracketing her mouth that appeared as if she were always drinking from a straw.

Her lean body was an anomaly, because she should not have been able to support those 36Ds and stand so brazenly upright while wearing such conservative attire. At 38 years of age she was gently marked by the passage of time, but if the term "MILF" had never been invented, you would have said that this woman deserved to be in a special category of sensual desire. Yet another woman in my life, leading a lonely, meaningless existence in the prime of her sexual vitality.

And now, having unintentionally brought her to a writhing, screaming orgasm as she laid, half nude and breathing hard on my damp thighs, and rather than wanting to take out some dubious anger on her, we both became suddenly aware of the bulging, throbbing erection that was standing solid in my shorts and poking deliberately into her abdomen. My jittery hands released their grasp of her hips, that were still convulsing from her recent climax. She looked embarrassingly in my direction for a brief second, and then not quite steady enough on her long legs to walk, she slid off of my dank lap that was noticeably spotted with her discharge, and eased to a short drop on the carpet right between my legs.

The bulging pillar in my cotton shorts was unmistakable, and if the wetness in my crotch was caused by anything other than her own explosive climax, maybe she could have shamed me and walked away with this experience never to be mentioned again. My own sheepish expression should have been enough to put and end to this unplanned debauchery. Still, it seemed that a lightning bolt of sexual energy and desire had filled our pulsing veins with a lusty, crude desire. Her heaving chest was just now coming back into normal breathing rhythm and her trim body was glowing with fine beads of sweat. Three buttons of her summery blouse were hanging by a thread while her sheer bra was twisted with her left breast exposed. The pink nipple showed some rough treatment from being brushed repeatedly on my thighs, and was standing firm and rudely reddish in color. Her short skirt was turned almost backwards and the light blue silky panties had a darker cobalt streak at the gusset and was pushed-in snugly between her blatantly revealed labia. Reddish-blonde curls lay matted and shimmering at the entrance to her soaked vagina. The mysterious aroma of her particular juices was defusing in the room, as much as she wished that it wasn't so.

I had no choice in my uncomfortable position but to shift the large lump in my pants to relieve the tension, and the bulbous head of my raging-hard cock peeked from the crumpled legging of my shorts. It stood proudly on it's own as if spring-loaded and snapped to full attention, showing a few inches of it's veiny column and projecting the wide cap of the flared mushroomed head. Geri's great green eyes widened considerably catching sight of something that she never dreamed of seeing. And an unmistakable gasp of surprise escaped her lips, and her mouth remained open forming a sexy, awaiting target that seemed to be hoping to be filled.

She was on her knees between my thighs, her nose mere inches from my cock. It danced before her like a cobra to a snake charmer. A drop of saliva seeped from her mouth down to her chin forcing her tongue to swipe at the tell-tale signal that this lewd display of eroticism was further roiling the desperate waves of passion forming again in her hungry vagina. Her trembling hands were on my legs working steadily towards my upper thighs, bringing her that much closer to my straining pole. She looked at me one more time before lowering her abashed lids, almost pleading for my guidance or maybe hoping that I would be the one to do the right thing.

My cock was tingling with nervous anticipation and I grasped the thick base only to control the shudder, and the direction of what I knew to be, an imminent eruption. Dewy droplets of pre-cum leaked from the tip and oozed down the firm shaft. To my surprise Geri seemed to take this as a sign that she should ignore all of society's norms that had bottled-up her desires and labeled her fantasies as somewhat deviant. She lowered her beautiful red lips around the rubbery-tipped dome of my throbbing erection and her tongue daintily dabbed at the clear liquid. She pulled her head back slightly leaving a long silvery trace of cum dangling between my cockhead and her luscious lips. She licked the thin stream from her lips and savored the unusual salty essence. Geri appeared gratefully satisfied that she could have ventured this far on the path to erotic discovery, and took the initial length into her warm mouth and allowed me to push towards the back of her throat.

I found myself instantly fantasizing lecherously about this woman, who only moments before I had a serious dislike of. One hand grabbed the nape of her neck, drawing her further onto my cock, and with the other I took her hand and wrapped it around the width of my rod, and had her commence a smooth stroke up and down the shiny circumference of my joint, feeding it temptingly into her hungry mouth. This was amazing. I wanted the feeling to last forever but, I was at the breaking point before she began, so it took just a few quick pumps and I filled her cheeks with my salty seed, hoping that my abrupt discharge wouldn't ruin her mood. She sputtered and gagged at the suddenness of this creamy torrent, and I rushed to apologize for not giving any warning before the blast. But Geri let loose a stream of excited utterances through the deluge and gulped down as much as she could handle, using her fingers to wipe the drippings from her chin and lick her fingers like a starving waif. This led to us tumbling into bed together and her eventually confessing her deepest, darkest fantasies that she now determined only I could fulfill. We began a journey of sexual awakening, that brought us closer as both mother and son, and as S&M partners.