Go West, Young Man!

** This is my first attempt at actually intending to compose a multi-part story. I have not worked-out all of the details, just the rough plot. We may all be surprised at how it turns-out. So here goes chapter one. **

*****

I found myself in the awkward position of somehow having to explain to my sister, just why her son's cock was in my mouth. It had finally happened. My older sister Tracy had strolled into the small room, a bushel of folded laundry in her arms, headphones in her ears while she sang along to old eighties music, barefooted and in shorts and a tee.

We were in the linen closet, I was on my knees with my nephew's plump balls cupped in my hand as I bathed his giant cock in my saliva. He was casually propped against the shelves, his streaked blonde hair resting on fluffy towels with two greased fingers working their magic on my puckered asshole.

This was not the first time that we had taken this risky, incestuous gamble, just the first time that we had been clumsy and careless enough to be caught. We had fallen into the very trap that we had talked about and even planned to guard against, while Tracy was still 3,000 miles away. We grew lax because the sex was so fantastic and the taboo thrill got to be such a turn-on, that we flaunted our own rules.

Here on the West Coast, I had been trying to grow out of my "wild-child" days. I have a serious job at one of the studios, no longer a tour guide or some anonymous figure in one of the mascot suits. And could at least provide financial and emotional support to my family back East.

Tracy's luck had taken a sour turn back home. Jobless, nearly homeless and deep in debt, she reluctantly turned to me for the first time, and fortunately I was able to throw her a line. A fellow executive at the company did me a favor and offered her a starting position in the Accounts Division, sight unseen. I assured him that she was good with math and computers, would be a much more serious employee than I was when I started, and that she was easy on the eyes. This fella liked my flirty attitude and D-cups, and when I showed him a picture of Tracy, he was sold.

She asked me about a year earlier if her son Jeff could crash at my place while she attempted to restructure her debts. I immediately said yes. It would be nice to see my nephew again, and since my promotion to management I had been careful to safeguard my reputation. So my days on the dating circuit were painfully curtailed. I felt that it would be nice to have a dinner companion or someone "safe" to go to movies with. When he arrived at my door it was plain to see that he was no longer a geeky college kid. He instantly took to our laid-back lifestyle and the lessening of restrictions that I required as opposed to his mother. I also got him hired at the studio in an entry-level job in the Photo Shop.

At twenty four years and away from his mother for the first extended period, Jeff still had some wild oats to sow. His dark brown hair was soon blistered by the sun from the beach volleyball and surfing that occupied his days. At first his hair took a reddish shade, but then he bleached it to a dirty white-blonde. His skin took on the hue of a born beach bum. And when he doffed the ubiquitous shades, his dark eyes smoldered causing the naïve young ladies to swoon. His six foot-four inch frame was lean and hard with biceps and abs to match. He took to tooling around in a convertible muscle car that was more show than performance. Jeff could be charming and charismatic when it suited and with his little-boy smile, was learning how to win people over or disarm them with his carefree good looks. I had a notion that some day he might find himself infront of the cameras.

My name is Julie. I'm only a few years older than Jeff and just a couple of years younger than his mother. I migrated west years ago. I received a liberal education, experimented with casual drugs and sex, and wandered from cocktail jobs and flop houses. My boobs could be counted-on to get me work or find shelter. Then I gradually woke-up and began to put my life on track. I am now ridiculously overpaid for my meager talents and learning to live-down my sordid past. I can afford new things, I live well, but things get a little lonely, so a visit from my nephew would be a pleasant change. Jeff is still learning to juggle finances so I told him he could stay with me for as long as necessary. And eventually Tracy would take the cross-country trek to begin her job, and everyone would live with me until we were all on secure footing.

On the phone and in childhood pictures, my sister and I seem identical. But over time my dark hair grew shaggy and lightened also, though not all naturally. But my tits are real. In this land of Silicone, my 34Ds still jiggle. And years of walking sandy beaches and yearning to compete with the growing gaggle of aspiring models in this town, my body is tanned and relatively toned. My skin could be a bit softer but the sun is unavoidable. However my face is always shaded and moisturized. The Botox crowd can't compete with my full, unlined cheeks, pouty lips and small pug nose.

Standing next to Tracy, we now look like "before and after" photos. Her hair is still raven black. She wears it long and straight, with slight wavy curls at the tips. Her warm brown eyes and soft red lips stand out against her flawless alabaster skin. She looks like a spectral siren from some Gothic novel. Her long legs and well-developed bust, when finally exposed to the sun's warming rays, drew instant color to her pale complexion, and leering eyes from every man (and woman) around.

To our rather hedonistic approach to living, Tracy introduced a much needed structure and maturity. She insisted that we start to eat healthy and at regular intervals. She made certain that we all banked a portion of every paycheck. She also set limits on frivolous spending and late-night carousing. In short, she brought a touch of wholesomeness and some necessary restraint to our lives. This was good. We seriously needed to be reeled in. I don't know what we would have done without her, but for a while we were not so eager to have her around.

When you put a leach on an animal, his first reaction is to strain against it. And we had gotten used to running wild. Our abnormal behavior started a few months before my sister's arrival. Now the strength of those restraints was being tested. Let me explain.

Jeff discovered early on that having a sticker on his car denoting employee parking at the studio and occasionally wearing his ID tag clipped to his belt that showed his occupation as being in the film department of a Hollywood studio; was like catnip to any aspiring starlet, centerfold, beach-bunny and run-away in the state. Though he did not tally the big sexual conquest numbers that you might expect. He managed to get laid a few times and strolled into clubs with some delightful arm-candy once in a while, eliciting more looks and phone numbers from other wannabes. But since he had no private access to the lights and cameras, and very little disposable income, most people- even the dumbest of blondes- soon caught on to his sophomoric charade. But from the experience he did develop a level of confidence bordering on cockiness combined with an aggressive arrogance that would serve him well in his future.

He learned quickly to barter for a blowjob before offering to take portfolio pictures, since that little ruse usually led to a slap on the face if he was lucky, or a beat-down from the girls angry boyfriend if he wasn't.

I was also partly responsible for his mis-fires with some of his bimbos. I would not jeopardize my position in the company just to enhance his prospects. He was barely qualified to set-up lights and load film. Plus none of the senior staff photographers allowed anyone to touch their cameras. Additionally, I would not permit his "models" to spend the night in my home, nor would I pretend to be his assistant or agent. This reduced him to cheap motels and instant cameras. I felt sorry for him even though he was getting a lot more action than I was.

I an attempt to make amends, I began to accompany him to dinners and clubs, and I would slip him money to pay tabs and leave gracious tips for the servers and valets. At many of the singles bars and dance clubs, he began to give the impression to people, that I was his girlfriend. It made things easier to explain but hurt his chances at casual sex. I probably should have nipped this in the bud, but I also didn't want people to know that I was "clubbing" with my nephew. And I secretly liked the admiring looks that I attracted. Our slight age difference was no problem. And knowing that Jeff tended towards younger, big-chested women, and that he felt proud enough to pronounce me as his "main squeeze;" I found myself feeling prettier and acting a bit compliant to his wishes. I would often snuggle-up to him when he introduced me to someone. And I also allowed him certain latitudes with my body when he was showing-off, my only defense being light pinches or a gentle slap on the wrist. After all, I was trying to keep his (and my) little secrets and I didn't want to appear frigid or a prude.

I could blame loneliness, alcohol, the bright lights or the sudden attention, but after a few nights of drinking and dancing, I became aware that he was openly groping me in public. It even got to a point where he recommended the outfits that he wanted me to wear. Some of them were blatantly revealing, others downright sleazy. But he laughed it off by telling other people, that I often posed naked for him and was proud of my body and the looks it garnered. The truth was not as easy as that, but it was somewhat close.

Jeff was feeling freer to plant sloppy kisses on my neck or into my cleavage, often causing my nipples to perk up. And on the dance floor during slow songs, he would rub my butt or slide a hand a little too far up my thigh. When we were seated into secluded booths, his hands caressed my shoulders or occasionally settled in my damp crotch. I squirmed a bit at first, not wanting to blow his cover but having mixed feelings about his forward behavior. I also noticed a warm, wet sensation in my genital region at these times and was embarrassed to let on. This was taking a dangerous tack but I let it progress.

Jeff convinced me enough that we needed to appear more like a "couple" and that I should return his kisses and show more enthusiasm if this were to look real. If somebody asked either of us to dance, or especially if someone sent a drink to our table, we were quick to respond that we were a committed couple. I was falling more and more under this semi-romantic spell. At places that we frequented most, people now just assumed that we were an item, simply "Julie and Jeff."

It felt comfortable and sensual having a good-looking, well-built young man squire me around. It stirred emotions in me but I can't exactly put a name to them. He would open doors for me, hold my coat, order drinks and compliment my appearance and shape. I held on to his arm and leaned in to him. Soon, our closeness started to extend to our private life. Warning lights should have been rapidly flashing. But all that I noticed was a relaxed, seemingly discreet, platonic friendship between two similar individuals who happened to be related. You might say that I was oblivious but not blind.

I never saw an actual turning point but we gradually morphed from a wholesome family unit into something like "roommates with benefits." We would walk into each other's bedroom without knocking, unmindful of their state of undress. We were never intentionally naked infront of each other, but now, we maybe just wrapped a towel around a warm, wet body after a shower. Casually lounging around the apartment meant skimpy clothes and very minimal underwear. We became open and easy with our bodies. And then it happened, the abyss.

On a Friday night after a late evening of slow dancing and fast drinking, our inhibitions bottomed-out. We cuddled under a light blanket on the couch to watch a movie. My eyes drooped and my head fell to his shoulders. His big strong arm was around my neck, kneading me gently as I settled into a drowsy slumber. He said for me to rest my eyes and that he would wake me when the movie ended. I felt myself being gently lowered to my side while he snuggled in behind me. My head rested on his left arm and his right looped across my hips. I warmed to the soft pressure of his large hand against my waist and could feel the familiar calloused palm on my tingling flesh when his fingers crawled beneath my thin tee shirt.

I had grown accustomed to his probing digits on my pliant torso, and no real boundaries had ever been crossed. This seemed a bit different though. I could not just close my eyes and relax. His hands were moving in an unusual manner and my body became attuned to a stirring in my loins. My breathing came in halting gasps and I heard his raspy exhalations at my nape. My body was moist with perspiration and my muscles tensed. The heat between us soared. His hands grew more insistent and his hold on me strengthened. This should have stopped, I told myself many times. But now I was paralyzed with trembling anticipation. It was kinky and dangerous if I let it continue, but it would be so disheartening to halt this steamy advance. I felt the warm, sensual touch of his rigid fingertips as they began their slow, steady ascent of my quivering chest. At first my body stiffened, but only for a brief minute.

I was tired and the night's booze made me mellow. His hand was above my ribcage, working a path into the valley between my heaving breasts. My nose picked out the smoky fragrance of cognac on his breath as he whispered crude nothings in my ear and roughly kissed my neck and cheek. The scratchy prickling of his chin stubble was rubbing raw the blush of my cheeks. It felt so nice and secure to be held in a man's warm embrace that I could almost forget our family relation. He gripped my breast in his hand, kneading the full mammary and twisting the pert nipple between his fingers. My body moistened all over and a low moan escaped my lips.

The nervous perspiration on my forehead and chest should have alerted me to the impending peril, but the churning energy in my uterus awakened another long-dormant emotion. My mind was foggy with turmoil and my sweaty body was a series of pin-pricks. In a distance I could hear his rough voice mumbling filthy words and describing lewd, taboo acts. But it seemed that I was watching it all, from above. Yet it was also vivid to behold. It felt slightly juvenile but cozy as we awkwardly spooned, his hairy leg intertwined with mine. I could sense his muscular body press against me, the long, thin fingers of his left hand brushed through my tangled auburn locks. And from behind and below, came the unmistakable bump of his large bulge when his pelvis slyly contacted my supple rear.

I was not entirely drunk and there was no insurmountable force being applied, but there came a moment when an adult aunt would have recognized that this type of close quarters with a grown nephew was taboo, and verged on incestuous. I don't believe he would ever have done anything disrespectful if he thought I was not giving-off signals. And I could have resisted if I felt endangered. None of that happened. I don't quite understand what did happen.

Maybe it was the resigned inaction or the rumbling, breathy moans emanating from deep in my fluttering chest. But if Jeff was anticipating a harsh rebuke or waiting to receive a friendly but definitive spank-down, he took my silence as permission for his wandering digits to cup my boob and slowly but stridently stretch and pinch the highly aroused nub of my swollen tit. He wasn't quite certain of my attitude at this juncture, but he was not going to pass-up the opportunity, given this generous foothold. He even asked in a whispered voice, if I were still awake. His moves were not subtle as he continued his ravishment.

I knew as a grown woman that the measured climb of his hand to the soft underside of my boobs, was his not-so debonair endeavor to feel me up. The slow grope brought back silly memories of high school, still I should have stopped him. When I felt his firm grip on my tit, I let-out a throaty sigh and scooted my moistening twat back, towards that thick probing tool. We had reached a very definite point of no return and the advantage was not lost on Jeff. If I wasn't exactly taking an active part, I was certainly not stopping it. He took this as an obvious green light.

I could feel a frantic scrambling motion at my back and heard his gym shorts being violently kicked to the floor. For the moment, he was satisfied to slide his rock-hard cock between the clammy cleft of my butt-cheeks. His goal and my submission was temporarily halted by a tiny, ever-dampening sliver of silken material being slowly wedged into the crevice of my clenched ass.

His hand only left my breast for as quick as it took the small strip of material between my legs to be ushered to one side. In his exuberance, the dank, flimsy cloth ripped. That only seemed to ignite his passion. For myself, the tearing sound of my tiny pink thong brought-on a fantasy of incestuous rape that I couldn't deny. His talon-like hold on my tits resumed, and I experienced the inexorable thrust of his steely rod plowing a groove into my welcoming cavern. Jeff was not going to miss this forbidden opportunity, so there was very little refinement to his stark moves. The large knobby head atfirst garnered some slight resistance, but then I felt the gradual enlargement of my tight cavity and the sudden expansion of my narrow tunnel. The creamy fluid leaking from my vagina provided ample lubrication to ease his sturdy pole into my lusty snatch.

And having allowed this much to proceed, and assure myself that the pleasure would overwhelm my embarrassment, I parted my legs- though only a little. His huge cock settled inside my warm snatch for a second, but then the hard, quick thrusting began and I felt his strong hand dragging my butt back to meet him.

We both realized at that moment that by the simple, nearly undetectable movement of my legs separating enough to give him unfettered access to my drenched pussy, I was providing him the go-ahead to incestuously fuck his own aunt. A strange dilemma washed over me. I was hoping that in all of his evident zeal and straight-line determination to violate his young aunt, he might not notice or register my obvious, willing participation. I wanted to have sex with him, that was clear. But I didn't want him to carry in his mind, that I was just some rutting tramp to be used and disrespected. At this point, even with my panties torn to shreds and my steaming cunt inviting the pounding thrusts of my sister's son, the morals instilled in me as a girl still gnawed at my conscience. I could lose faith in myself and try to justify it in some way regarding loneliness or self-discovery but I couldn't have Jeff lose his faith or feelings for me.

I couldn't read his mind, and I didn't need to. I hope he kept his warm feelings and love for me intact. But right now it was glaringly apparent that the only thing on his mind was his own bulging erection, and my hot, tight pussy. And how quickly he could manage to combine the two. And his energy was on hyperdrive. He continued to grunt brazen and crude directions in my ear with each prodigious thrust of his sturdy missile. And the volume and intensity of his language increased as he performed his taboo deflowering.

As if the moaning, squirming and involuntary spasms of my soaked cunt weren't enough of a clue to spur him on, he growled into my ear, "I knew all along Aunt Julie, that you wanted me to fuck you." His crude accusation only sufficed to enhance the fiery fluids flowing from my vagina. He emphasized that last phrase by yanking my hair in his powerful clutches and straining to deliver a strong thrust from his solid eight-inch weapon. Jeff's gigantic organ reamed a firm, wet foothold inside of my wanton snatch. And I moaned and shrieked in passionate reply to each searing stab. His strong hand went from delicately kneading my supple bosom to grappling with my tits as if he could rip them from my chest. His thick fingers moved from twiddling the sensitive nubs to squeezing and tugging at them. The pointy tips of my pouty nipples ached, but I loved the fervid desire he expressed by his rough manipulations, and I was unmindful of any pain. This moment seemed to be predestined.