Chapter 4
"I wish somebody would tell me what Diddy-wah-Diddy means," Susan Caton sang, swirling round the kitchen. Jesus in heaven, what a delicious day this had turned out to be, after all! She could smell dinner cooking-beef Stroganoff-she'd selected a good wine at the neighborhood carryout, and she only hoped that Jesse would be home in time to join her for dinner and celebration.
To begin with, the reunion with Teresa, and the sweetness of the sisterly love and passion they had shared. It was beautiful, what they'd done, how they'd done it, and her mouth still tingled with the exciting taste of Terry's cunt as it exploded in a river of hot juice.
She'd driven Terry to the local municipal airport, showing off the Maserati as best she could on Reckardsville's 45 m.p.h. streets, and she'd seen her sister off on the junket to Cleveland. Terry was right. Her boss, Mr. Gregory, was indeed a man in his sixties, plump and jolly, needing only a beard and a red suit to look exactly like Santa Claus.
And then she'd come home, to Terry's home at least, the phone ringing as she let herself in. She got to the phone in time to answer it and, yes, there was a God.
It was Craig Beavan, the under assistant production person from LOVE IS THE PROMISE. Worried about the possibility of being killed off from the show, Susan had spent last weekend with Craig in her beachfront apartment in Venice. She'd fucked him every way but loose, he was young and cute and virile as hell, with a cock that didn't seem to know what soft meant. He'd promised to do a Watergate number on the show's most closely guarded secrets, the script projection for the next six months.
Susan was not going to be kissed off. Her job and income were safe. She wouldn't have to start looking for parts in Roger Corman movies about car wrecks. At least not for the next six months. A heavy burden lifted from Susan's heart and she poured herself a very stiff jolt of Scotch and soda to celebrate.
No, the celebration would come later. Too bad Terry wasn't here tonight to share in it. But she had Jesse. They could dine on Stroganoff and Hearty Burgundy and get happy about her good luck. And tomorrow night she'd celebrate with Terry, in that special way she and her sister had.
Mmmmm. Well after six, going on seven. Where was Jesse, anyway? He was supposed to home for dinner, wasn't he?
She heard a sound at the back of the house, a door opening, closing. Footsteps. "Jesse?" A mumbed reply of some kind. More footsteps. Another door opening, closing. Susan shrugged, finished her second Scotch and soda, laid out the salad ingredients.
She passed the bathroom. Door was open, no sign of Jesse. His bedroom was down the hall, and the door was shut. Ten to one. Susan went down the hallway. "Jesse," she said, and she tapped on the door with her knuckles. The door wasn't entirely shut. At the touch of her hand, it swung open and Susan stood in the doorway, mouth agape, staring at her nephew as he lay on his bed. His pants and shorts were slid halfway down his thighs and he was fisting his cock as if his life depended on it. "Oh, excuse me," Susan said, and it wasn't until she said it that Jesse seemed to realize she was there.
He jumped as if he'd been shot, and he was anxiously trying to cover himself. The pillow was the only thing at hand, and he grabbed it, slamming it down over his exposed midsection. His face got livid-red. He did seem to blush a lot.
Susan's cheeks tingled, but she didn't feel embarrassed, except for the discomfort she had caused her nephew inadvertently. "Uh, I just wondered if you preferred any special kind of salad dressing," she told him. "I generally use oil and vinegar, but I thought you might prefer something else. Dinner's about ready," she added.
Jesse couldn't speak. His heart was pounding inside him, and there was a hammering at his temples, an awful, thud-like hammering, as if his brains were trying to beat his skull to pieces. Under the covering pillow, his cock had wilted like a piece of lettuce.
"I'm-not hungry," he said. "I think I'll pass on dinner."
He was hungry. Very hungry. He'd walked the three miles into town from Sugar Geek, walked it slowly, agony pulsating inside him with every step he took. He kept reliving the scene in the back of the van, ah the things Darlene Goodhugh had told him. She was right. She had to be right. He was a homosexual. Why else did girls frighten him so badly? Why else should he have been unable to perform, even though his conscious mind convinced him he wanted to fuck the girl?
Like, right now. He could get it up and keep it up, inside his fist. He'd been doing fine, too, until Aunt Susan walked into the room. God, what a mess he was in! Not only was he self-confirmed as a fag, his aunt had even seen him in the act of jacking himself off.
"Is something wrong, Jesse?" Susan asked. He shook his head. "I don't believe you," she said gently but firmly. "Are you embarrassed? Is that it?" He got redder still. She took a step toward the bed, put her hands on her hips, stood there smiling. Susan was wearing a floor-length gingham dress. It made her feel like an oldtime country housewife, baking bread and churning her own butter. She breathed softly as she looked down at her nephew, and her tits lifted and fell inside the clinging bodice of the dress. Under it she was wearing nothing, and she became slowly aware that her nipples were tightening and stiffening against the gingham. She also remembered the one quick sight she'd had of Jesse's stiff cock throbbing in his fist.
"You don't have to be embarrassed," she went on, corning still closer. He slid away from her, keeping the pillow in place over his bare middle. But it was a narrow bed, and he coudln't slide far without falling off the other side. Susan shook her head in gentle reassurance and she sat down on the edge of Jesse's bed. "Listen, darling," she said, touching his forehead. He was hot, almost feverish, sweat rolling from under his shock of curly brown hair. His eyes wouldn't return her gaze. She reached down, cupped his chin, turned his face up so that he had no choice but to look at her. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," she told her nephew. "Hey, listen, it's your cock! I think that gives you every right in the world to use it. Don't you? So you were masturbating and I saw you. Big deal, right? I live by myself, so nobody sees me when I masturbate, but I'm not ashamed to tell you I do. Everybody does, Jesse, even the people who he and say they don't. So be cool. You're cute when you blush, but this is nothing to blush about. Okay? Now what kind of salad dressing do you like?"
Jesse smiled. He was astonished to find that he actually could smile, in view of the things that had happened to him today. God, by now Darlene and Tim and Pete had probably told everybody in Reckardsville he was a queer! How could he ever show his face on the streets again? His heart sank. But somehow there was an aura of strength in the room. It wasn't coming from him, God knew, so it had to be a product of Aunt Susan. He smiled bigger. She was a good lady. He liked her. She was almost making him feel good again, about himself.
"Can I talk to you, Aunt Sue?" he asked. "I mean, really talk to you?" She nodded, showing her perfect white teeth. "You may find this kinda revolting," he went on, "but I think I'm queer."
Susan's eyes got big. She looked at him. "You mean, like in faggot?" He nodded glumly. She drew back, tilted her head this way and that, stared at his face. "Not possible," she said. "Not possible at all." He started to speak but she put her finger on his lips. "I've known plenty of fags, Jesse. And if you're one-"
He cut in, and he began to spill his guts. Every syllable made him feel his agony all the more sharply, and there were wrenching pains in his belly, but he forced himself to tell it all to her. Especially about today, with Darlene and the guys. He finished, choked out the last syllable, and his eyes began to sting again, the way they had in the woods. He was going to cry, he knew it. As the first tear rolled down his cheek he knew he'd just sealed his case.
Susan saw the tears begin to form in his eyes and she couldn't hold back her own. She sniffled, sobbed, and then she was holding the boy in a tight embrace, drawing him to her bosom. His tears dampened the bodice of her gingham dress but she didn't mind. Her arms encircled his head and shoulders and she stroked his hair, saying, "You poor darling, you poor darling," over and over. Tears, she thought. I must be a sucker for tears.
Sometime during that entwined crying session the pillow had slid off Jesse's crotch. When Susan released him and he fell back, he was bare again. His cock was soft, curled like a snake across his groin and upper thigh, and she saw it from the corner of one eye. Slowly she turned her head. He was long and rather thick, even when he was limp, and the head of his rod looked fat and juicy. Susan closed her eyes, remembering how his prick had looked when it was stiff and he was jerking himself off, and a lump formed in her throat. She said, "Sit up, Jesse." The boy sat up. Apparently he hadn't noticed that he was exposed once more, because he didn't grab his pillow, didn't cover himself with his hands. He simply sat up.
It's for his good, she reminded herself, standing up. "I-I think I may know how to find out," she told him. "How we can find out for sure." He had a quizzical look on his face. Susan gave a sigh and she undid the four buttons that closed her bodice. Jesse's eyes got big as she eased the gingham loose, as one of her pear-shapted, brown-nippled breasts came into view. He sat up a little higher, staring. Susan began to work her finger back and forth across her exposed nipple and it stiffened visibly.
"Well?" she asked, and her eyes glanced down to his crotch. His cock had begun to swell. Not a great deal, but enough to notice the difference. With determination now, Susan Caton slid the dress further down, freeing her other tit. Its nipple had stiffened without manual assistance, and both brown peaks stared at Jesse Parrish on the bed. She saw him gulp. His pecker crawled across his groin. The tip was bigger, fatter now, beginning to glow.
She looked at the boy, saw the confusion which was so plain on his face, saw him look down at his crotch too. Her mind raced frantically. He'd gone through a rotten experience today. And he was her nephew, her only nephew, her flesh and blood. She sat down on the bed and she put her hands on Jesse's shoulders, looking him squarely in the eye. Her taut nipples were a breath away from touching his chest. She took a breath, leaned closer.
"Aunt Sue," the wondering boy said, hollowly, as if in prayer and awe. He trembled in her grip but she held on.
Susan leaned her face in toward his and she kissed him. Not the aunt-nephew kiss she'd given him this afternoon. She opened her mouth as it touched his, and she glued herself to him like a sucking leech. Her tongue lolled across his lips, tickled them until they opened and she went inside his mouth, roving like a frisky serpent in his wet mouth. His tongue skirted around, evading hers at first, but she trapped it, licked it, made him respond lingually.
Slowly, like a glacier, his hand lifted from the bed. It touched her hip, slid up her side, across the bare flesh where she'd pulled down the top of the dress. He cupped her shoulder and held on tightly, as tightly as he'd been fisting his cock when she walked into the room. Inside his mouth, his tongue seemed to spark into life. Susan withdrew her own, and Jesse followed, tonguing his way into Susan's mouth. She kissed him harder, smearing lipstick and saliva all over his lips. His breath was hot and sweet, like warm milk.
He gripped her shoulder possessively and she decided she could safely let go of him. With one hand, at least. She loosened her clutch and her hand seemed to shoot of its own accord, straight toward his crotch. And what a surprise she found waiting there! His cock, standing up like a fencepost, big, hard, hot, and thick. Her fingers slicked up and down the vivid, throbbing erection, and then she closed her hand around him, jerking expertly on her nephew's manhood. He moaned into her mouth and his tongue seemed to vibrate against her. She squeezed his cock.
Carefully she broke off the kiss, sucking his tongue just before she let it go. Her face was an inch from Jesse's-their noses touched and tickled one another-and she said in a low, intense voice, "Jesse darling, I really don't think you have anything to worry about. But would you like to find out? For sure?"
"Oh, Aunt Susan," he groaned, and it was all the answer she needed.
Susan leaned back, caught the hem of her dress and pulled it up and off. She threw it across the room and it landed beside the open bedroom door. "For safety's sake," she said, getting up. "Hurry and take your clothes off, while I close the door." She kicked it shut and when she turned around, he was sliding out of his jeans. His dick was standing up boldly, bravely, the head swollen and purple. She stepped out of her shoes, and she was totally naked now.
I am, she thought as her knees touched the bed, about to seduce my own nephew. No! I'm about to save my nephew. I'm going to give him his manhood. She fell onto the bed with Jesse, and both of them were naked, and their bodies came together, his hard anxious cock bumping her with every roll and toss. She kissed him again, and he reciprocated. He didn't kiss very well. He seemed nervous and tense the first time their lips came together in a kiss, but with each repetition he seemed to get better. She liked that. She also liked the fantastically rigid cock that was once again nestled in her possessively clutching fist. She stroked him up and down, alternating gentleness with rougher caresses, and he writhed frantically. The narrow bed shook under them, and time and again they came dangerously close to its edge.
"This isn't going to work," Susan said finally, sitting up. She was panting, her tits heaving with each breath, and his fingers rose to capture her stiff brown nipples. "Let me concentrate," she giggled, slapping ineffectually at his hands. It didn't stop him and she certainly didn't want him to stop. "Jesse," she announced. "Do you think you could be this passionate on a bigger bed? One where we won't have to worry about falling off?"
"The only bigger bed in the house is Mom's-" Susan nodded. "Think you can handle that?" He swelled up like a bullfrog in mating season.
He took her hand and pressed it against his dick. "Will you handle this?"
"Touche!" she said gleefully, grabbing his cock. "So let's get with it, huh? I want to prove to you that you're all man, darling, and I'm dying to get it started. So come on!"
The boy paled slightly entering his mother's bedroom naked, his cock fiercely erect. Susan had him by the cock and she could feel a relaxing of his stiffness as they crossed the threshold. She pulled and they marched to the bed. Together, they lay down and began to roll and kiss and play as they had before.
But something was different now. Perhaps it was the aura of his mother's presence. Susan couldn't be sure, she could only guess. Jesse's cock seemed to wilt again and again in her hand, and he seemed less responsive to her hands and lips than before. Well, she thought, it has to happen sooner or later, so it might as well be now. "Lie still, baby," she said, and she reversed herself on the bed. Lying on her belly, she leaned across his thigh and started to lick his softening prong. God, the taste of his flesh! Young, warm, kinda salty. He squirmed and said, "My God" as she tongued him, and then she was feeding him into her mouth, sucking his limpness for all she was worth.
When he got stiff, it was sudden and unexpected. His cock was lying on her tongue like a dead fish one moment, and the next it was raging and rampant in her mouth, big enough to strangle her if she'd been less adept at cocksucking. Susan hummed her way up and down him, fucking her mouth with his fat tool, relishing each thrust it made into her wet sucking mouth. She took him deeply, but she couldn't deep throat him, not this way, working from above. Oh, the hell with deep throating. For the moment, at least. If he didn't get it from her, someone else could give him that very special treat. She was much more concerned with something really important-giving him a sense of his own masculinity.
She looked up from sucking. "Well, don't just he there. Touch me," she invited. "Touch me anywhere you want. Everything I have is yours. Rub my ass. Have you ever felt anything so smooth? Like stroking a baby, mmmmm? A man's ass is hairy and coarse. You wouldn't like to feel one of those, honey. Mmmmmm, rub me nice. I'm all squeaky clean and fresh to the touch. Have you ever touched a naked girl before? Never? Put your hand between my legs. Yes. Feel me there. How do you like my bush? See how I keep it trimmed and shaved around the edges? Just a little hedge of fur around my most precious possession. Open me. It won't hurt-won't hurt either of us. See how the lips part? They enjoy being spread. Ohhhhhh, yesssss. ... You can put your finger in me. Niiiiiiiice, oh, damn right I mean it! Two fingers. Put in two fingers. No, it won't hurt me. I can take two fingers. I can take three fingers. I can even take your big thick cock, when it's time to put that up me."
She rolled over, onto her back, and he moved into her pussy. "Eat me," she invited. "Use your tongue in me." He seemed to hesitate. "Oh, come on, Jesse," she purred.
"I-I ate Darlene today," he said. "I mean, I tried to. She tasted-funny."
Susan sat up. "Funny?"
"Like spoiled anchovies. That's the only comparison I can-"
Susan pointed at her pussy. "This does not taste like spoiled anchovies, I goddamn well betcha!" And as she squatted beside him, she reached up into her crack from beneath, two fingers prying into her slick juicy pot. She was much wetter than she'd expected to find herself. This is turning me on, she thought. I may have started with good Samaritan goals in mind, but I am getting hot. Oh, why shouldn't I? He's beautiful, and he's almost a part of me. Who has a better right to fuck him than I do?
She worked fingers in her snatch, drew them out all glisteny with pussy moisture. Briefly, tantalizingly, she waved her fingers in front of Jesse's nose. His nostrils flared and twitched, but she was in a teasy, bitchy mood. She brought her hand to her mouth, began to suck her fingers dry of the cuntal goo that coated them. Jesse sat up, tried to get her hand out of her mouth, but she shook her head. "Buffet dinner, darling," she said saucily. "You serve yourself. Would you like a taste?" He nodded, obviously not entirely sure but willing to try. "Lie back. Aunt Susan's going to sit on your handsome face."
He lay full-length and she straddled him, coming down slowly. She could smell the fragrant arousal of her cunt now, and she knew that he could smell it too, settling down upon his face. When her pussy touched his lips his tongue sprang forth, started licking furiously. Susan giggled, reached in to open her labia, and his tongue stabbed up her in a quick bandit-like raid. She squeezed her flanges together, massaging his tongue in her oozing hole, and he groaned lovingly. Amateur, but enthusiastic as hell and obviously destined to go far. Twenty to one that Darlene bitch merely needed a lesson or two in feminine hygiene. Pussy ought to smell good. And taste good. Susan's did. Ah the time. And Jesse was learning that, splendidly.
Suddenly, without warning, he stopped, fought his face free of her dominating gash. "Is something wrong?" she asked huskily. His lapping had started to hit Susan where she liked, and she wasn't ready for such an abrupt breaking off.
"Aunt Susan," he said in a hoarse voice, "I don't think we ought to be doing this. On my mother's bed, especially. But it seems like we shouldn't be doing it at all."
His mother's bed. What, Susan wondered, would he think if he could see a videotape replay of the activities that had taken place on this very bed no more than three hours ago? Susan and Terry, mouths glued to cunts. Susan eating Terry until she screamed. Terry fucking Susan with the vibrator, fucking her fucking her fucking her. The memory crawled up Susan's spine, hit the base of her brain, sent her head spinning. "We'll change the sheets after we're done," she promised. "And as for stopping-" She turned, looked at the massive weight and thrust of his stiff cock. "Do you really, I mean do you really want to stop?"
"It seemed like what I should be saying," Jesse smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid, but I don't want to quit."
"Then we won't," Susan promised. "Not until you get your head straightened up, darling." For a moment she considered telling him about Terry and herself, but it was a fleeting thought and she realized at once how bad an idea it was. After all, she was trying to prove to him that he was not a homosexual, that he'd simply been unlucky. If she turned around and confessed that she and his mother had today resumed a heated lesbian relationship they'd shared since adolescence-well, it might confuse him. And she felt a responsibility to the boy. She'd undertaken spontaneously to make a man of him, and she couldn't back down now. Not with his cock swollen gigantically and her pussy petals dripping sweet jism onto his face. Goddamn it, no matter what the reason, she didn't want to stop!!!
Susan pried herself up from the supine body of her nephew. She stood on the bed, rocking as the mattress jiggled beneath her, and she towered high above him. She put her hands on her tits, ran them down herself, stroking her belly, her hipbones, fingers tickling the edges of her gash. She caressed her thighs, inside and out, swaying almost unconsciously as the good feelings maintained. She heard him say, "You're beautiful, Aunt Sue. You're really beautiful." And it was clear from his tone that he meant it. Sincerely. She was touched, both by his words and by his hands, which began to crawl up her legs. His fingers tickled the insides of her tingly thighs and she settled down a little, so he could reach her pussy.
"
That's it," she sighed. "Touch me. There. Feel my cunt? How wet and juicy it is? Oooohhh, you licked a pretty job on me, Jesse. Stick your finger inside again. Feel my clit, how hard it is, how it sticks out? C'mon, Jesse, it wants to be touched. Rub it, huh?"
He blushed. "Where is it?" She did a double-take. "I couldn't find Darlene's either," he added. Susan repressed a giggle. Jesse got red in the face. "Well, the closest I ever got to a snatch before today was in HUSTLER. And they just have photographs, not diagrams with everything marked in its proper place."
"Now, don't take on," Susan said. "I've been playing with my pussy, and having it played with, so long that I guess I forgot you don't quite have Warren Beatty's experience. Let me show you, okay? Watch the birdie." She opened her delicate slice, about fourteen inches above his staring eyes. "Right here," she said, and he though, Of course! It's as plain as the nose on her face! A little red pea-sized button that looks like it wants to be pushed. He reached up, and he pushed her button vigorously, grinding the ball of his finger down upon it, and he got his reward. Susan screamed in delight and she sank down upon him, her hand keeping his finger in place.
"Do it, do it, do it," she chanted. "Oh, yes, Jesse, do it to me! Frig me! Harder! It's not made of glass. It won't break. Feel it squiggle? Feel me squirm? Ooooohhhh, the juices are flowing. God, Jesse, do it, I think I'm going to come all over your hand if you stroke me just one more time. I'm going to come on you, Jesse, going to come, going to come...."
And she did. The heel of his hand, flat against the mouth of Susan's pussy, grew sticky and aromatic with the little rush of juices from her pulsating hole. He liked the feeling, and he pressed his palm against her while his finger kept frigging her button. She fell over onto her side, moaning and twitching, and Jesse felt ten feet tall as he stayed with her, handling his aunt's sopping twat until her convulsions subsided and she lay there panting, brushing back the hair that had fallen into her face.
"Well, stud," she said, looking up, "I think that was round one." She slid closer, and the heavy barrel of his pecker danced on her knee. "Think you can handle the second bout?"
"Yeah," Jesse grinned. "I think I'm man enough."