THAT! Cousin John.
“Hi, John.”
“You sound half asleep, Paul. Late night?”
“Yeah……. Mmm…… Finishing off some assignments. You know how it is?” I lied to him.
“Get your arse out of bed and come and pick me up. We’re going for a game of tennis,” he informed me.
“In winter? You do know, that it’s cold outside?”
“No, not outside,” he answered. “There’s a new indoor complex that has recently opened near my place.
“It will do you the world of good. Get you away from your books.
“Pick me up at 9am. I’ll be waiting. See you then,” and he hung up.
I looked at the time. 8:30am.
Jumped out of bed, had a quick shower and headed off.
On the short drive to his parents’ house, all I could think about was how will I react when I see him.
Should I confront him about the family sex?
Should I try to act normal, as nothing has happened?
I didn’t know how I was going to react.
I reached the house a lot quicker than I thought.
I stopped in the driveway behind Aunt Jo’s SUV.
Unconsciously, images of Aunt Jo, from last night, started playing out in my head.
The images were interrupted by John.
He had the passenger door open and was looking down towards me.
“You OK, Paul?” he asked in a concerned voice.
I didn’t notice him walking from the house to the car.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a lot on my mind.” I reassured him.
“School work, or girl problems?” he said with a cheeky grin.
“Nah, nah. Just assignments and school stuff.” I lied, again.
I played a terrible game of tennis. Usually we are very evenly matched, but today I just wasn’t able to concentrate.
I kept on thinking about the family videos from yesterday.
On the way back to his house he asked with concern in his voice, “Paul? Are you really, OK?
“You don’t seem to be your usual chatty self?”
Here come the excuses, “No, John. I’m really OK. Just a lot on my mind. I’m fine. Honestly, I’m good. Just a bit tired and sleep deprived.
“I’ll just go home and get a few hours’ sleep and I should be back to normal.”
“Well, not before you come in for lunch. Mom made her famous lasagna. We’ll be having it fresh out of the oven.”
I was going to make up more excuses to not go in, but I realised that it might raise some suspicion so I graciously accepted the invitation.
Growing up, John and I were like brothers. Always hanging out together, always at each other’s houses. From the same schools to the same Little League Soccer team.
It was the norm for both of us to stay overnight or stay for lunch or dinner at each other’s home.
I was nervous enough around John today, but how will I pull it through in Aunt Jo’s presence?
What was I getting myself into?
Aunt Jo heard us coming in the house and yelled out for us to go into the kitchen.
“Sit boys, sit,” she instructed us, “Lunch is being served.”
We sat down and I couldn’t help but take a few quick peeks at Aunt Jo. Nothing that would arouse any suspicion.
She was wearing a pair of jeans tucked into knee high leather boots that had a 2–3-inch heel. A fine wool jersey that was tucked into her jeans and a wide leather belt completed her attire.
She is a sexy, attractive and confident middle-aged woman.
The woolen jersey was not tight, but I could still make out the outline of her shapely breasts.
Her jeans, on the other hand, were tight on her body and clearly showed the outline of her buttocks and a hint of a camel toe.
I clearly remember what lay beneath the jeans that she was wearing.
A beautiful hairy pussy and an anus that was more than willing.
I then remembered how both of her holes, were getting fucked by cocks of different family members.
My cock started to stir.
I had this sudden impulse to be intimate with my aunt Jo.
I wanted to be one of the guys in the videos.
I wanted to be the one of the guys that was fucking her holes.
Most of all, I wanted to be the one that was fucking her arse.
“How was the game?” she asked.
I snapped out of my daydreaming.
“Paul played like shit today. He wasn’t with his game. I think he’s got girl problems,” John jokingly replied.
“Language! Young man,” Aunt Jo sternly told her son.
“Sorry, Mom,” sheepishly, he said.
Language?
Did Aunt Jo just reprimanded her son for saying ‘shit’?
I recalled in one of the videos that I watched yesterday;
John telling Aunt Jo that he ‘loves fucking her’.
Aunt Jo asking John to ‘fuck her cunt’.
She also asked him if he liked fucking her.
She proceeded to call him a ‘mother fucker’, all whilst he and his brother, Fred, were double penetrating her.
But saying ‘shit’ was a big no-no?
My thoughts were running everywhere.
Was it all a dream?
Did I actually see all those videos?
What’s going on here?
Am I losing my mind?
“Paul? Paul?” I snapped out of my thoughts, again, to find Aunt Jo looking at me with a worried look on her face. “You OK, honey?”
She placed her hand on my forehead, checking my body temperature.
“Sorry, Aunt Jo. Just a lot on my mind. School work. Just too much of it. Sorry.”
I added, “I had a late-night yesterday and I’m a little sleep deprived.”
At least that was not a lie.
Satisfied that i wasn’t running a temperature, she took her hand away.
“Now, what’s this I hear about girl problems,” she inquired with a shy smile on her face. “How’s…… What’s her name?
“Freckles?”
“Freda,” I corrected her.
Freda and I met when I first started college and we started to date. I introduced her to the family at my father’s 50th birthday, about one and a half months ago.
I could sense that my aunt Jo didn’t care very much for Freda.
“But, if memory serves me correctly, I’m sure she did have freckles?” my aunt shot back.
“Yes, Aunt Jo, she did have a few freckles,” I agreed with her.
“So, everything alright with Freckles, ooops……. I meant Freda?”
I told her that we had broken up a few weeks after dad’s 50th.
“Sorry to hear, sweetie.” She continued with some advice, “Time. Time is the healer in matters of the heart. I’m sure that you will get over it.”
With a change in tone and attitude she continued, “Paul! Christmas Day. I know you are supposed to go to your aunt Rebecca’s house for the day, but I think you should volunteer at the local Parish.
“We prepare and serve food to the homeless people for Christmas lunch and dinner.
“We’re a little……. No, we are very short staffed this year and I could really use your help.
“John, here, has volunteered and he’ll be there”.
John interrupted his mother, “Volunteered? It was more like forced into it.”
“As I was saying, well……. Christmas Day.
“That’s lovely of you to volunteer. I’ll call your aunt Rebecca to let her know that you won’t be going for Christmas lunch.”
I tried to protest, “But, I didn’t…”
“But, nothing. Thanks again for volunteering. It’s for a good cause. You’re a good boy, Paul, and that’s why I love you.
“Gotta run boys, I have a lot of errands to run this afternoon.”
She gave me a kiss on the cheek, blew a kiss to her son and she was out the door.
Aunt Jo has always been a tireless volunteer for as long as I can remember. She has given so much to the under privileged and still keeps on giving.
She in heavily involved with the local parish and has been with their choir for years.