Peter pulled off his tie and jacket and threw them on the chair. He was disgusted with everything. His dream girl, his "Marsha," had hardly said two words to him since their arrival. And tonight, she never danced with him, not even once. He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it after the others. Rationally, he knew his anger was directed more at himself than at Marsha. His entire fantasy was a pipe-dream and he should have recognized it as such. You just don't go around asking your sister to fuck, he thought. He had been a fool, and he didn't like feeling foolish.
Fortunately, he thought, aunt Mary had come to his rescue. She's really something, he mused. Who would have thought the old girl was so wild? Then he remembered that his aunt was only in her early forties. Not really such an old girl, he thought. Hell, Lucy Parsons' older and she's a fine piece of ass!
Now I'm thinking about banging my own aunt! The irony of the situation made him chuckle. Dear aunt Mary had given him a hard-on more than once tonight, but the one he really wanted to fuck didn't even say 'goodnight.' He shook his head and opened the bathroom door.
Startled, Marsha jerked her head up and looked directly into Peter's eyes. Without conscious thought, she dropped the towel she was holding. She was naked from the waist up. Her bare tits stood out proudly; the nipples, big and rosy. For a lifetime she held her breath as her mind tried to force her mouth to speak. Nothing came out.
Peter stood transfixed. His face flushed as his eyes roamed his sister's beautiful body; his mind registering every contour and curve. His stomach tightening and he felt a sharp pain in his nuts as if they were caught in a vise. Sheepishly, he mumbled, "Excuse me" and closed the door. The pain in his balls, like his frustration, intensified.
Fucking blue-balls! Angrily, he stripped, pulled on his swimtrunks and headed for the pool.
Marsha stared blankly at the closed door. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt constricted; shivers ran up her spine and goosebumps rose on her flesh. Her cunt was dewy. Fool! Fool, she thought, but as her mind screamed she wasn't sure who she was accusing. Herself or Peter? She threw the towel down and went into her room. The empty bed seemed to smirk at her. There would be no sleeping tonight, she realized sadly. Then she stripped, put on a robe and went downstairs.
CHAPTER FIVE
Peter stood in the shallow end of the S-shaped pool; the end away from the house. Surrounded by shrubs and trees it was private and secluded. Peaceful.
Churning the water to foam he had tried to burn the image of Marsha from his fevered mind. His cock still ached with desire, but the pain in his balls was gone. He shook the water from his hair.
"Ow!" He yelped as something - somebody! - squeezed his prick, then forced his legs opened and swam through them. His aunt surfaced in front of him, water streaming off her voluptuous body. She was wearing a white, one-piece bathing suit that he could practically see through - the hardened nipples of her big tits stood out like round little pebbles, and the tangle of cunt-fur was dark against the white material. He felt his cock stiffen.
"Hi, lover! I saw you swimming and I'd thought I'd join you for some fun and games."
"Er, aunt Mary! You scared the shit out of me."
She giggled. "That wasn't what I wanted to come out and greet me," she said coyly, moving close to him. The tips of her tits touched his chest and his cock jumped automatically, jabbing her in the crotch.
"Ooooo, now that's more like it!" she said in a husky whisper. Her arms went around him and she pressed her pliant body against his, her cunt grinding against his prick. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his breathing became ragged. His hands ached to squeeze her full, ripe tits, but this was his aunt, his rational mind kept saying - his father's sister! - he couldn't do this!
"Aunt Mary, this is insane! I can't do . . ."
His lovely aunt humped her pussy against his swollen cock. "Sure you can, lover. You want to! You really do, and I want you to do it! Fuck me, Peter!" she said, her voice almost a rasp. "Stick your beautiful cock in me and fuck me ragged!"
An image of Marsha's nakedness came to him and his steel-like cock threatened to tear through his trunks. His mind reeled and blinding lust filled his body. He pulled Mary to him and passionately covered her lips, his hands, roughly, kneading her sensitive skin. A moan of exquisite pleasure parted her lips as she fondled his hard cock.
Their hands tore at each others clothing until they were naked. Mary grabbed his shoulders and hoisted herself above his jutting prick, then, slowly she lowered her boiling pussy onto the throbbing member. She felt Peter's cockhead part her pussylips, stretching her cunt-channel; the water gurgling around her hot hole, squishing, as his cock slid up into her slick, waiting pussy.
* * *
Marsha paced in the semi-darkness of the den, her mind in turmoil. Her desire for her brother was becoming an obsession, and now, flirting on the edges of her mind was visions of her father's cock, and her uncle's, too. She didn't know what was happening to her or why these feelings and these images were plaguing her. She tried to shut them out but her brain refused and in her mind she could feel their cocks entering her body and her mouth, thrilling her almost to death. Her cunt was wet again. Marsha Bradford feared for her sanity.
She threw herself down on the couch. The TV's remote control stabbed her in the ass and she winced. Absent- minded, she flicked it to ON. The screen lit up in a crazy zig-zag pattern of gray lines. Stupidly, she stared at it until she realized that it was set for VCR play. She pressed the PLAY button.
* * *