This is a series of exchanges written by an aunt and her eighteen year old nephew following them having sex. It looks at that incestuous relationship from both party's perspectives, examining their doubts and concerns and their pleasure and thrills.
It is a complicated story and will be told in numerous parts. It is obviously advisable to start at Part 1 and read through each part savouring how their relationship develops and changes. However, for those unwilling to go back, each part does stand alone.
*
Was dinner as awkward for you as it was for me? I wondered. I knew I was rumbled and wasn't sure if I was the mongoose or the cobra. Either way I was in a no win situation. On one hand I'd been caught, caught with an erection, a hard on that was full and thick in front of my aunt. You may be Cat but you're still my auntie, my mum's sister. On the other hand, if I tried to give an explanation of why, what could I say? 'I saw you having a wank and that has turned me on so much I get hard every time I look at you.' So it was with a bit of a glum feeling that I sat at the table with you. I suppose "Glum" wasn't a real way to explain it. It was a sense of foreboding, I'd tried to be an adult and I had failed.
"Matt, I think we need to talk, don't you?" Your question dragged me back from my brooding. "Don't you want your pasta?" I hadn't realised I'd been pushing my food around my plate for a while.
"Hmmm... Oh sorry aunt err I mean Cat"
"Matt" you seemed to struggle inwardly, I just assumed you were about to inform me that you had spoken to my mum and I was on my way home. I had that real ball in my stomach.
"Matt, what did you see this afternoon?" Was your surprising question. I was fazed for a moment. As my mind struggled you stayed silent. Oh fuck, what was I supposed to say? I'd been brought up strictly to tell the truth yet if I did I was sure to be in massive trouble. Getting an erection in front of you, looking at you was pretty fucking terrible, but saying that I had spied on you in your shower was totally cataclysmically terrible.
I felt your gaze rather than saw it, and feeling it made it somehow worse. I struggled with the words and with a sinking feeling...
"I'm sorry... I err...um.... I came back early. I didn't, I mean to.....how was I to.....I mean I saw... Oh please don't tell them" I was desperate, pleading and knew I'd fucked up like never before. I saw no way out of this. This wasn't fobbing off the youth worker, teachers or police. I was rumbled, caught and about to be fucking well roasted!
You sat pensively for a while, I stole a glance and quickly looked away, to be honest I was, as crude as it sounds, "shitting" myself.
"Well you still haven't told me what you saw, so tell me, now!" There was an authority in your voice similar to the teachers at school who we didn't "fuck" with, the teachers who held and commanded respect. "Well?" You repeated, fairly sternly.
I couldn't tell you, I couldn't say it, I couldn't form the words. I knew you'd tell them, tell my Mum and Dad their son was a pervert, their son spied on his aunt.
I could still feel your gaze, intent, questioning, hard and firm.
"I....." I sighed, it was a sigh of resignation, what could I do? I couldn't look at you, with my eyes fixed on my quarter filled plate, my throat dry yet I could feel perspiration on my forehead.
Suddenly I blurted out.
"I saw you in the shower, I didn't mean to. I just, well... I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise but please don't tell them." Images of you naked came to me, and that was something I really could have done without. I recalled your breath ragged as your fingers rubbed and cajoled you to an orgasm.
"Matt.... This is the last time I'll ask you," Your voice was steady and calm, "Tell me exactly what you saw or I will certainly be telling your parents in the morning!"
And so I told you, told you everything. Our eyes never met as I rambled on digging myself into ever larger holes.
****
I guess it was my own stupid fault; sleeping dogs and laying came to mind.
Ok I had seen your erection, ok you had seen the outline of my nipples through that inappropriate top. Big deal, big fucking deal, that's life. Teenage kid getting off on youngish aunt with big tits, happens all the time both in fiction and fact. So, I should have just gone on as if nothing had happened. Up until that meal, nothing had happened, had it? It was only when you told me that I realised the enormity of what had happened.
"I saw you in the shower," crashed into my mind.
Oh fuck, it was worse, far worse than I could possibly have imagined in my wildest dreams. The odd moan or groan through the open window I could probably get away with. Say it was the TV, or I always make those noises when I towel myself dry. Flimsy, true, but then hey, I am the grown up!
I mumbled some inanity like. "How," or "Why," which elicited some garbled explanation that you hadn't meant to.
"What do you mean didn't mean to?"
"It just happened."
"What did?"
"Your bedroom door was open."
Shit, you were right. I tend to leave it open so I can hear the intercom, with the door shut and shower running I can hear nothing.
"Oh," was all I could summon up as a response.
I realised immediately that there was a direct view from the hallway, through the open bedroom door, through the open en-suite bathroom door right onto the see-through, glass shower cubicle; bad design I guess.
It can be odd how the dynamics of a conversation change so quickly and dramatically, how the emphasis and the apportionment of blame can alter so significantly. One moment you were the 'guilty' party. You were the one that had got a hard on in front of your aunt, you were the one that had got excited, not me. I was aunty, the adult, the blameless one!
I had been trying to help. I felt sorry for you. I appreciate the sexual anguish of teenagers, the not knowing what to do, how to think and the way to act. The enormous learning curve they have to go through in those few years of puberty. I could empathise with you and I was trying to make things better for you.
I guess it was a stupid question. It was even more stupid to talk about telling your parents, where the hell had those ideas come from? I didn't know that you had seen anything, I thought you may, just may, have heard something, but not seen, I had no reason at all to think that, well not in the near cataclysmic way you explained it. I think what I meant, in retrospect, and what I was asking in a very unsubtle way was about seeing my nipples. In my confused, quite embarrassed, but caring and empathetic way I was trying to give you a way out, not give you a fucking great hold over me.
Although badly thought out, my 'strategy' was going to be: explaining that I understood the difficulties of puberty; moving onto how I was dressed inappropriately, for I had forgotten you were staying with me and hadn't expected you home for ages; that I understood, I had planned to say "I was flattered as well" hoping for a smile to lighten the situation, that men, and I would have used that term, do get turned on by such sights; and that it was perfectly normal so you shouldn't worry.
I was in the right, I had control, I was in the driving seat.
So, to then be hit with you seeing me in the shower was a bombshell. But, there was still a chance. Slim for sure, but a chance. As calmly as I could, and that was difficult, I said lightly, as if it didn't matter what you replied.
"Oh yes you can see from the hallway right into the shower, can't you?"
"Yes," you mumbled not looking at me.
Now for the big one the sixty four thousand dollar question. I leaned back in my chair, took a sip of wine and said, again as lightly as possible.
"And er.....what Matt did you see?"
"Everything," you, almost grunted.
"Everything?" I repeated rather lamely still hoping that all you meant was that you saw all of me.
"Yes."
"You mean you saw me naked?"
