Case History 5: Aunt And Nephew

Nancy Wallace suggested to her husband, Tim, that they visit a marriage counselor. They had been married six years, their marriage was going poorly, they argued a great deal about money and about matters that concerned the permanent residence of a seventeen-year-old nephew, the son of Nancy's deceased younger brother. The nephew, Gene, was an attractive boy, and well liked by both Nancy and Tim. But his presence caused difficulties they could not combat. So, Nancy suggested a marriage counselor. Tim agreed to some preliminary interviews.

After several hours of private conference with each of the subjects, the marriage counselor interviewed them jointly, then suggested that they take advantage of a group therapy session that had been recently organized at the marriage counseling center. The Wallace's agreed to submit to participation in group therapy as a means of solving their marital problems.

The following is a capsule presentation of the background of the married couple.

Tim was twenty-nine years old, a good, steady worker in a food processing plant where he held a position of supervisor. Nancy was five years his junior. They owned their own small, suburban bungalow in a middle-class neighborhood on the outskirts of town. They were both high school graduates and both had normal intelligence as established by pre-testing examinations. Tim was rugged looking, but not handsome. He was given to somberness a good deal of the time. Nancy was pretty and fun loving. One of her complaints about her marriage to Tim was that "they never did anything never had any fun or went out like they once did." Another complaint submitted by Nancy was that her nephew should not live in the same house with a young married couple, that the boy should room alone, that she did not think it right that a mature boy should be in such close proximity to herself, especially since she was only a few years his senior.

The psychiatric case worker thought it very interesting that Nancy should render this complaint about her own nephew and stated that he would not be surprised had the complaint been the husband's, not hers.

"Maybe it does seem odd," she said. "But that's the way it is. My husband--likes the idea of Gene living with us. I'm the one who objects to the arrangements."

"And the boy is your nephew, is he not?" the case worker asked.

"Yes."

But you don't want him living with you and your husband, right?"

"That's right. I don't want it at-all."

"Why?"

"I don't really know. I just kind of sense that Gene being with us puts pressures on us that we could do without."

Upon this note, Tim and Nancy Wallace entered active group therapy.

The first few sessions were little contributed to by either Nancy or Tim. Mainly, they listened to the discussions around them and did not offer their own views of other's problems. But during the sixth session of the group, Tim, after stating the circumstances of some recent problems that concerned the nephew, made a statement that provided for some important retorts from other members of the group. They are reported here exactly as they were recorded during the session.

TIM: I think the reason my wife and I fight so much about her young nephew being in the house is because she's afraid she's going to get sexually involved with him. After all, he is a good-looking kid and Nancy isn't very much older than he is. Also, they're together a lot when I'm at work.

THERAPIST: That's an interesting observation.

MEMBER: I think you might have something there, Tim. We know that people sometimes resist the things they want the most. Success, for one thing. There's a little self-destruction in us all, we've learned at these sessions, so maybe your wife is righting hard to get Gene out of the house because she's really afraid of her own feelings for the boy afraid that she might get sexually involved with him because she wants to.

NANCY: That's absurd. It's not the truth at all. I might be a member of a group therapy organization, but that doesn't mean I don't know my own feelings. And I very definitely am not sexually attracted to Gene. Besides, that's incest.

ANOTHER MEMBER: So, what's with incest? It is done, you know.

NANCY: Not by me, it isn't.

TIM: Hey, the way you just said that. It gave me a funny feeling. The way you said that makes me think that because it would be incest, that that's the only reason that you wouldn't have sex with Gene.

MEMBER: That's exactly how I interpreted it, too.

ANOTHER MEMBER: Me, too.

THERAPIST: How do you feel about the statement you just made, Nancy? Would you retract the wording if you had the chance? Tell us about it. NANCY: All I said was if I had anything to do with my nephew that it would be incest.

TIM: See, now you're down to saying if you had anything to do with Gene. You say that as if it means you would, or that you've been considering it or thinking about having it with him or something.

NANCY: It does not. Oh, you're so stupid.

MEMBER: You sound jealous, Tim. Maybe that's why you put up such a big pitch about liking the nephew and wanting to keep him with you. Maybe you do that because you're jealous and don't want to admit it.

TIM: Maybe you're right, but I've never thought about it in those terms.

It is impossible for members of a group therapy session to leave feelings and emotions behind once the session is over. And so it was with Nancy and Tim. They talked very little on their way home. Each of them burned with inner thoughts, provoked by the session, but not yet answered satisfactorily. And later, in bed, in a manner that was extraordinarily unusual for Nancy, she provoked a sexual act with her husband and participated in it as an aggressor for the first time during their marriage. She was wilder and more driving and showed greater passion than any ever displayed during her years of marriage.

The next morning, with Tim off to work, Nancy was plagued with reminders of the remarks made the previous evening. She tried to direct thoughts to the core of her problems, made a true attempt to diagnose her part in the family difficulties she knew. She considered her nephew in the terms that had been suggested by members of the psychotherapy group. She considered everything she knew about him, about herself, and even forced herself to face sexual fantasies that she created with the two of them as lovers. Still, she saw no truth in the proposition that she wanted Gene removed from her home because she feared her own sexual attraction for him. Yet, even as she denied this, there was a L hint of something familiar, something about her f nephew that did make her feel a certain fear. For a long time, Nancy thought about these things, resulting in irritability and restlessness that was foreign to her. Several times, she tried to turn her thoughts off. It was impossible. And for a little while she began to suspect her motivations in the light that had been suggested.

Nancy was still pondering these many questions when Gene returned home from the high school where he was a senior. She looked at him with new interest an interest that was created from a hypersensitivity for everything about the boy.

"Hi, Nancy," the boy greeted her, banging through the front door in the carefree and careless manner of the happy young.

"Hi," she responded.

"What're you doing? Just sitting?"

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" she said.

"Yeah. That's a novelty for you, I'd say."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you're always busy around this place a real little swinger, or at least you could be if you'd let yourself go."

"A swinger?" she inquired.

"Sure."

"And what kind of swinger?"

"Well, the real cool kind of swinger, you know a gal or a guy who's well who's...."

Nancy smiled, then said, "So a dreary old housewife like me could be a swinger, eh?"

"Yeah." He grinned at her and walked to where she was sitting on the couch.

Nancy looked intently at his face, noticing the dark, brown eyes that seemed so full of life, so happy and gay and without a care in the world. She felt a stab of envy for that youth and happiness that was not too many years removed from her own age. She felt cheated, too, as if she had never really known such happiness herself.

"Hell, you're the cutest aunt a guy could have," Gene said. "I just think I might ask Tim if it's all right for me to take you to a school dance some night that, or a drive-in or someplace where I can show you off. How does that sound to you?"

"So, you'd like to show me off me, your aunt," she said, lifting her words in a question.

"Sure."

Her eyes darted over his young body. She noticed how finely chiseled his features were, how he was so lean in his tight jeans, how he seemed as agile as some wild animal. And then she noticed his lips. She became intrigued with them. She wondered how they would feel on her own. She wondered about the taste of them and about their hardness and determination. Then, feeling a sweep of shock, she jumped up from the couch, made an excuse of housework to her nephew, and disappeared to another area of the house, a place where her thoughts and the reality of the young man's reality would not follow her. She retreated to a safety zone.

At the very next session of the therapy group, Nancy mentioned her self-analysis and the feelings that suddenly swept her when she faced the subject of her fantasies.

"Now, I don't know if I'm exaggerating things or not," Nancy told the group. "I don't even know if I started to feel these things because of the matters we discussed at the last session, but I do know that when Gene came into the house, I looked at him with new interest. I kept thinking about what some of you said the last time we met about my being hostile about Gene being in the house because I was afraid of my own feelings for him and when he was suddenly there in front of me well, I thought that maybe this was true that you all were right about me wanting to fuck with him. I really became frightened of my own self then."

"Did your nephew say anything or act seductive in any way that might have provoked these feelings in you?" the group therapist asked.

"I don't think so," Nancy answered.

"What did he say?" asked her husband, Tim.

"Well, he just said that I looked cute that I was cute a swinger, he called me, and he said that he was going to check with you to see if he could take me out some night and show me off. He said he wanted to go out with me to a dance or drive-in."

"He did, eh?" Bill answered.

Another member of the group said, "This must have flattered you, Nancy. Don't forget that one of your complaints about your marriage is that you don't go out enough with your husband."

"That's true," said the therapist, nodding his head affirmatively in agreement to the last remark.

"Yes, but that couldn't move me as much as I was moved," Nancy replied. "I actually looked at him looked at my own nephew and while I was looking at him I was thinking about his lips and his cock and how it might feel if I kissed his cock and how it might feel if his lips were over my pussy lips. Now that's just terrible and I'm the first one to admit it."

"Why?" asked the group therapist.

"Because I'm his aunt, that's why," she replied almost angrily.

"See," her husband said. "There you go again. You always say things like incest is the only reason that you wouldn't fuck with him."

"I do not."

"You do."

"I don't," she insisted. "I'm just doing what every one of us here is supposed to do be honest, honest about everything, about every thought while we're here or when we're away from the group. And that's more than you do, Tim Wallace, I'll say that right now and right in front of everyone here and...."

"This is getting you no place," one of the members interrupted. "Save your fights to have at home. We're here to iron out your difficulties and not listen to your squabbling. Now let's get this discussion back in its proper perspective so that we can accomplish something."

"Well, do you know what I think?" Nancy questioned loudly, turning from her husband to the entire group.

"No, what do you think, Nancy?" asked the leader.

"I think that this treatment is causing me to go through these things to make things more serious than they really are. Now I swear that I never intentionally thought about fucking with my nephew before these sessions."

"That can't be true," one of the members cut in.

"Why not?" Nancy asked.

"Because of your ages and your proximity. It is absolutely impossible for a girl not to have a sexual thought about a man who's around all the time. You're not being honest with us or yourself, Nancy."

"I am, too."

"You're not," the group member said. "How old are you, Nancy?"

"Twenty-four."

"And how old is this nephew of yours?"

"Seventeen."

"Hell, that's only a few years difference. You're not looking truthfully at yourself, Nancy. You have had sexual thoughts about your nephew you've had to have, if you're normal. You've had to have these thoughts, because it's impossible for you to be around a good-looking kid only a few years younger than yourself and not have thoughts about how it'd be to fuck with him. That's the truth, Nancy. Why don't you admit it to yourself? Maybe if you did, you'd get over some of your problems with Tim."

"I can't admit it because I don't know if it's true or not," she said. "Maybe I'm just feeling all these things because of this treatment because of all these ideas you people give me."

"Sometimes this does happen," the group therapist agreed. "Sometimes the things we discuss cause us to be a little extra-sensitive about ourselves, our feelings and everything, nevertheless it's important and worthwhile that you've been considering these different things. That's what this group therapy is all about and the sooner you understand this, the sooner you will achieve self-realization."

That night followed a pattern that had been set for Nancy and Tim shortly after their first session of group psychotherapy. They were silent, almost shy with each other on the way home. But once in bed, Nancy again turned the sexual aggressor. She was ravenous in her desires for Tim's cock. And for the first time in her life, she performed an act of fellatio to completion. She sucked on Tim's prick with an unbelievable appetite. Tim was shocked. He could not fully appreciate the intimacy for he kept thinking that it was as if she did this for him as a means of "making up" or asking for forgiveness for something. The act made Tim suspicious of his wife, made him wonder about the motivations behind her sudden interest in fellatio. (It made him question his own nature, as well, it was later learned, for the act, one that Tim had often wished for, touched at his latent homosexuality, causing threats and anxiety.)

When Nancy awakened the following morning, Tim had already left for work. She felt a sweep of embarrassment for her sexual activities of the previous night. She recognized that she had been different and that the sucking she had performed on Tim's cock had been a symptom of that difference. Nancy remained in bed a long time, pondering her emotions, trying to relate them to the experience of group therapy.

When she finally arose from bed, she went to the window and looked down on the rear yard. Her nephew was there, stretched on his back on facing the early summer sun. He was naked except for very short, tight swim trunks. She felt a moistness at her cunt, then remembered that Gene had mentioned that there was no school that particular day because of an area teacher's meeting. Then Nancy wondered why she had experienced the panic, finally deciding that Gene's presence when she had not expected it posed some threat to her. She did not question the dampness at her crotch any further, nor did she dwell on the tightness below her tits, a pressure in her chest unlike any she had ever before experienced. It was in reality a feeling of excitement, but Nancy was determined to brush these feelings aside quickly.

Nancy dressed in hot pants and a halter top. It was going to be a steamy sort of day. She loved the sun and wanted some of it. She decided to give herself a rest from trying to relate the questions that were raised at group therapy to herself and her nephew. She would enjoy the day, she decided firmly.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, when Gene appeared at the back door and entered the house. He looked at her and emitted a low, slow wolf-whistle.

"All right now," Nancy reprimanded. "It's too early in the morning for any of that. Besides, I'm not about to be conned by you."

"No con intended, Nancy," Gene said. "Just thought I'd give a little whistle for the way you look. You sure as hell do look sexy in that outfit."

She smiled and took more of her coffee. As Gene moved across the room to get a drink of water at the sink, Nancy's eyes followed his body. She noticed at once that he had a hard-on. His swim trunks were tenting at his crotch very obviously. He made no effort to conceal it. If anything, she decided, he acted as if he wanted her to become aware of the effect her nearly nude body had made. She looked away from the sight of his erect cock. But her eyes could not free themselves from the rest of his body, from his broad shoulders that had flecks of grass and perspiration on them, or from his firm thighs and flat belly. And Nancy experienced a grind of longing at her own thighs, a return of the moisture at her cunt that had so suddenly engulfed her earlier this morning. It was like nothing she had ever previously experienced. She had a mental image of herself performing fellatio upon her husband the previous night. She kept tasting his cock flesh in her mouth as her thoughts lingered on those moments with her husband. Then there was a montage of images of herself and her husband in an act of face-to-face fucking. She recalled, too, the absence of an orgasm in her life, how sex to her seemed always experimental in that regard, how she pursued it optimistically every time with the hope that that encounter would bring her the climax she had never had.

Gene finished his drink and turned from the sink. He leaned his hips back against it, causing a slight arch of his body and a greater showing of his hard-on pushing against his swim trunks.

Nancy avoided a direct look at that sign of his passion. She looked directly into his eyes, yet she has stated that there was a portion of her vision directed to the sight of his protruding cock. She could not help herself. She was drawn to the bulge at his thighs by some unexplained force.

"So, what are you going to do with your free day?" Nancy asked her nephew.

"Oh, I just thought I'd be lazy and soak up some sun, I guess," he answered. "But right now, I'm going to try and get some of this damn grass off me."

With that, he turned and left the room.

Soon, Nancy heard the shower turn on in the bathroom directly above her. She visualized her nephew beneath the needle spray and she wondered if the grass on his back had been an excuse, wondered if he now showered under cold water in an effort to subdue his risen passion. Then she felt a stir of excitement when she considered that it had been she who had caused it, she, a kind of dreary, not especially attractive housewife who was also the boy's twenty-four-year-old aunt.

The sound of the shower quieted. Then there was a thump on the ceiling above her. Then there was Gene's voice calling out.

"Hey, Nancy, where the hell are the towels? There's no towel at all in here."

She remembered that she had not brought the clean linens from the laundry room where she had washed them the previous day.

"Hold it, they're down here, Gene," she called, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll bring you one in just a minute."

Nancy hurried to the laundry room, gathered an armful of towels together, then hurried back up the stairs, those from the laundry room and those that led to the upstairs bathroom where Gene awaited her.

Nancy was surprised that the bathroom door was partially open. She stood to the side of it, and called to her nephew. "Here you are, Gene."

"Oh, great. Thanks," the boy's voice said.

In a moment, he came into view. Standing behind the bathroom door, he leaned out from it, exposing his naked body from the waist upward. He reached his hand out to take the towel from Nancy.

His eyes danced merrily when she handed him the stack of towels which made him stretch both arms outward and further expose himself from behind the door.

"There you go," Nancy said.

"Yeah, thanks."

Nancy turned and started to leave the bathroom, but Gene called to her before she had moved two full paces.

"Stick around a minute, will you, Nancy?" Gene asked. "You've got to help me."

Nancy paused. She breathed deeply. She turned, feeling a strange mixture of fear and curiosity. She moved back toward the bathroom, then stopped in her tracks when Gene's bare body flashed into view. He was naked except for a towel that was wrapped loosely around his waist. He held another towel in his hand. Nancy saw at once that the shower had not cooled him. A portion of the towel stuck straight out from his thighs. He very obviously had a hard-on, despite the fact that he had just been sprayed by the shower.

"Here, give my back a going over, will you, Nancy?" the boy said, extending the towel to her.

Nancy took it. She didn't speak. Her eyes were not shy now, it was as if she had reached a point of decision from which she could not turn back. And her eyes were more candid. They did not hide her awareness of his protruding cock. She looked directly at the bunching towel, then into her nephew's eyes. Then she took a step closer to him as he turned to present his back.

Nancy was incapable of making a full stroke with the towel. She brought it to the back of his neck, pressed it down, then collapsed her own body against the boy's lean form as she moaned inwardly.

"Oh, Gene," she sobbed, holding close to him.

The two words and the sound of her impassioned voice were all that the seventeen-year-old youth needed. He turned and clutched his aunt tightly to his naked body.

Nancy felt his kiss at the same time that she felt the pierce of his strong cock against her thighs, throbbing and pleading and pressing for a welcome. She gave it. She cuddled tight against him. She wound her arms around his neck. She pressed her heavy tits into his chest. She gave her tongue, then took his. And then, as if afraid that any extra step or movement might break their spell, they crumbled to the hallway floor, settling their nudity into the tuft of the carpeting.

"Oh, Gene," moaned Nancy softly in his ear. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Oh, hell, you've wanted this fuck for a long time, Nancy, and you know it. I'm going to give you a taste of some real cock the sort of cock you won't be forgetting for a long time. I've seen the look in your eyes lately. I've known what you were after, and I'm going to give it to you right here and now. So get that pussy opened up. I'm coming in!"

"No, no, we mustn't be doing this. What if Tim should come home?" Nancy began to squirm beneath Gene, unable to control her movements as she sought to place his male lance to her opening.

"Oh, shut up, Nancy. Let's concentrate on what we're going to do. We both need this fuck. I've been so damn hot for you lately, I've been squirting off in my pants. I can feel how juicy your cunt is, so don't think you're not ready. Baby, you're more than ready."

Nancy began to shiver as Gene spoke to her in this manner, speaking words that she would have never herself uttered.

And then words were no longer needed. Gene had swiftly removed Nancy's clothing, throwing aside his own towel and now there was a single kiss between them. A single kiss that was the signal for the beginning of their incestuous love-making. There was only the kiss that glued their mouths together as if that joining could keep them from noticing the other joining at their thighs, that of cock to cunt.

Nancy yelped a short cry into her nephew's mouth when he went into her cunt with a hard, crushing drive. Then he withdrew, then pounded to her in a heavy beat. His cock kept working at her thighs and her hips rose and lowered, went high, arched, descended, then ascended to meet the fury of his youth again. And again and again and again. And onward and more driving and more intense until at last there was a gathering of all her emotions in that single place that finally offered release and Nancy Wallace's first experience with a sexual climax.

Nancy found an excuse not to attend the next session of her therapy group. Nor did she attend the next, or the one after that. Her husband attended alone. And while he was in the midst of deep, psychic discussion, Nancy was at home, involved in matters of the flesh with her nephew, fucking matters, acting out the incest wishes that her peers had claimed as her major problem.

When Nancy finally attended a session of her group, it was for a brief few minutes of discussion with the leader, alone and away from the others. She confessed the new developments in her life to the therapist, then asked him to put her in touch with a psychiatrist for private treatment. The matter was arranged. Nancy entered psychotherapy according to her own wishes.