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My Family
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Straight Male / 45
Growing up I could never relate to the families I saw on television. Family Ties, Growing Pains, and Who's The Boss all featured close knit loving families who could always count on each other in times of trouble. That was as alien a concept to my teenaged self as the Klingons on Star Trek, or KITT the talking Trans-Am on Knight Rider.
You see, my parents had never been married to begin with and not too long after my seventh birthday, dad ditched mom and me without so much as a backward glance. And while mom had plenty of sisters and brothers (she being the oldest of thirteen kids), I rarely saw any of my aunts and uncles or even my cousins. We didn't exchange cards or gifts during the holidays, there were no family reunions where everyone wore matching t-shirts and played softball or pitched horseshoes. Most of the time a state of informal civil war seemed to be in effect.
And so it didn't surprise me much when after my mother passed away in the early 2000s, very few relatives cared to show up for her memorial service. One of the few who did was my aunt Kathleen. She had always been the black sheep of the family. I always assumed it was because she married a black guy (something that was looked down upon by most of my family) and had a bunch of mixed kids. But that never explained my mother's subtle distaste for her younger sister. Mom had always been as liberal as you could get when it came to interracial, even homosexual relationships. She was an ex hippie chic afterall, ready to jack her fist in the sky and shout "Right On!" at any opportunity. No, my mother told me several years before she passed away, Kathleen wasn't "right" in the head. She had been caught having drunken sexual relations with her oldest son and so that's why her husband had divorced her and why she'd lost custody of her children. It was why she'd become ostracized from the family and now lived largely alone.
I suppose mom expected me to be just as disgusted by the story as she was, and I pretended to be. But in fact, it didn't disgust me at all. It had turned me on a little. Later the same night, I actually masturbated to the thought of Kathleen stumbling into my cousin Ray's bedroom and drunkenly seducing him. He would have been about seventeen at the time. I remembered how horny I always was at that age. It would have been easy for her. Especially since Kathleen had always been a good looking woman.
I walked over to my aunt Kathleen at the service and hugged her and thanked her being there. I lied and told her mom had really loved her a lot and talked about her often. She seemed a little surprised by that, but accepted it. I asked how she'd been doing and she started to cry a little and said not good. She'd been living off and on at the women's shelter, but most recently just bumming a place to sleep where she could amongst her friends. That was when I noticed a scrawny older Mexican man standing uncomfortably at the back of the room. He was chewing on a toothpick and dressed like a farm worker with his dirty John Deere ball cap, heavy work boots, jeans and cheap button-up shirt.
The thought of her sleeping with him disgusted me. Not because he was Mexican, but because she deserved better than a guy like him. I asked her if she'd like to have mom's old room at the house. I'd be all alone there now and I'd love the company I said. She asked me if I was serious. I said sure. We hugged again. As if sensing something, her "friend" walked over. "Kathy we need to get going," he said, tugging on her arm.
"You go ahead," she told him. "I'm going to visit my nephew for a while."
He frowned. "No, we got no time. You said you were gonna stay with me tonight, remember?? If I give you a ride to your sister's funeral."
"Hey," I interposed my 6'2'', 300 pound frame between them. "She said go. I suggest you do it. Now."
He stared at me a second as if calculating his odds of survival if he pulled on Kathleen's arm one more time and asked her to come. He was all of 5'' tall and 140 pounds soaking wet. "Yeah ok," he grumbled, stormclouds roiling in his eyes. "I not gonna forget this Kathleen. You no call me for rides no more. Or no nothing else."
We watched him leave in an impotent fury. I grinned. "Where did you find the midget??"
Kathleen shrugged. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was panhandling for some smokes a while back and he was at the Home Depot where I was asking for change. He was looking for work. We just started talking. I've um, dated him a few times."
"Ah," I said. "Well, we should be going."
"What about the burial??" Kathleen asked.
I shook my head. "Mom didn't want one. She's going to be cremated."
"Oh." ;
"Mom was claustrophobic," I said. "The idea of being buried under 6 feet of dirt scared her."
I have to admit, part of me felt like a conniving bastard offering Kathleen room and board not out of the kindness of my heart but because I hoped to get her into bed. But it was all I could do to not get hard just sitting beside her in the car on the drive home. Fucking her was all I could think about.
Yet as much as I wanted to do it, I knew it would have to be carefully done and it would take time, otherwise she would know I was no different than the jilted "friend" she had left at the memorial service. If I wanted her to think the relationship was more than that, she'd have to think it had evolved naturally and was the right thing to do.
As it was, that took about three months. Ninety odd days during which I treated her like a queen, buying her new clothes, fattening her up on home cooked meals, spending lots of time with her and getting to know her better even as she was given access to my work as a freelance photographer and a writer for popular regional travel magazines and websites.
One night while we were sitting together on the front porch sipping wine and looking at the stars over the vineyards that surrounded my country home, we kissed. And there was nothing strange about it. It was a kiss between a man and a woman who had fallen for one another and didn't give a damn if the world objected. Ten minutes later we were in my bedroom, undressed and in my bed.
Though Kathleen was in her late fifties she still had the large breasts common to the women on my mother's side of the family. They'd begun to sag a little with age, but they turned me on like crazy and I sucked, licked and pulled on her fat dark nipples in an ecstasy of long pent-up fantasy and emotion come to life. I reached down past her little pot belly and ran my fingers through her hairy blonde bush, now streaked with wisps of silver and found the moist lips of her pussy. My fingers caressed her clitoris and then slid inside of her as she moaned softly. I could feel her hand wrapped around my rigid shaft, slowly stroking me. Her tongue slid around inside my mouth.
"Fuck me," she whispered. I didn't need to be asked twice.
I was on her and inside of her, thrusting away with all my might as her moans and groans echoed off the bedroom walls and the bed rocked a steady tattoo on those old wooden floorboards. When I came it was an explosion that made me totally rigid and then continued sending little aftershocks throughout my body long after the initial climax. I rolled off of her and lay there naked, my cock slick with her juices and twitching slightly, illuminated by the moonlight coming through the bedroom window.
She put an arm around my middle and snuggled up tight. "Mmmm," she purred. "that was incredible."
I kissed her forehead. "Only the first of many incredible times, I hope."
"Absolutely,&q uot; she giggled.
"Can I ask you something," I said. "Something really personal."
She hesitated a moment. "I suppose."
"Did you really," I started.
"Have sex with my son??" she finished. "Yes I did. And it was a beautiful loving thing. His bitch of a girlfriend was constantly turning him on and then leaving him with blueballs. She was driving him crazy and so I did what any mother should do for the son she loves. I made it better. If that makes me sick and twisted, then I guess I'm sick and twisted. They've all convinced Ray I practically raped him. The poor dear was in therapy because his mommy loved him. He won't even talk to me anymore."
"Hey," I squeezed her softly. "I never said it made you sick and twisted. I think what you did was wonderful. Hell, I wish my mom had done it for me. You have no idea how hard it was growing up out here in the boondocks with no woman beside my mom, who happened to be gorgeous by the way, as I went through puberty."
"I bet it was hard," she sighed.
"Constantly," I joked. She burst out laughing and hit my stomach with the flat of her hand.
"Not what I meant!"
"I think we both came pretty close once," I admitted. "On my 34th birthday we had a few drinks and danced a little after dinner. Maybe the booze went to her head, I don't know. But we were slow dancing and we looked at each other and for just a split second I could feel it. She wanted it and so did I. But just before the moment became something more meaningful, she broke off and walked away, making some excuse to use the bathroom."
"Aww," Kathleen said. "I wish you two would have made love. There's nothing wrong with it. Hell, you were both all alone out here. Whose to damn you for it??"
"Her conscious I guess," I shrugged.
Kathleen shook her head. "It's a shame."
"I jerked off to her so many times," I laughed softly. "I'd steal her panties and wrap them around my cock and go to town. I jerked off to you a ton too."
"Me??" Kathleen seemed surprised. "Why me??"
"Well," I said. "After mom mentioned you sleeping with Ray I got the biggest crush on you."
She laughed. "Well, you don't have to jackoff anymore baby. Aunty Kathy will happily take care of you anytime you want it."
"I love you," I told her.
"I love you too," she replied. We kissed.
Aunt Kathleen and I have been living as a couple ever since. She's now 64 and I'm 45. We still have a very active sex life, though she has encouraged me to date "I won't be around forever, kiddo" has become her catch phrase. I do date on occasion, but the pussy I crave the most is still between Kathleen's legs.
You see, my parents had never been married to begin with and not too long after my seventh birthday, dad ditched mom and me without so much as a backward glance. And while mom had plenty of sisters and brothers (she being the oldest of thirteen kids), I rarely saw any of my aunts and uncles or even my cousins. We didn't exchange cards or gifts during the holidays, there were no family reunions where everyone wore matching t-shirts and played softball or pitched horseshoes. Most of the time a state of informal civil war seemed to be in effect.
And so it didn't surprise me much when after my mother passed away in the early 2000s, very few relatives cared to show up for her memorial service. One of the few who did was my aunt Kathleen. She had always been the black sheep of the family. I always assumed it was because she married a black guy (something that was looked down upon by most of my family) and had a bunch of mixed kids. But that never explained my mother's subtle distaste for her younger sister. Mom had always been as liberal as you could get when it came to interracial, even homosexual relationships. She was an ex hippie chic afterall, ready to jack her fist in the sky and shout "Right On!" at any opportunity. No, my mother told me several years before she passed away, Kathleen wasn't "right" in the head. She had been caught having drunken sexual relations with her oldest son and so that's why her husband had divorced her and why she'd lost custody of her children. It was why she'd become ostracized from the family and now lived largely alone.
I suppose mom expected me to be just as disgusted by the story as she was, and I pretended to be. But in fact, it didn't disgust me at all. It had turned me on a little. Later the same night, I actually masturbated to the thought of Kathleen stumbling into my cousin Ray's bedroom and drunkenly seducing him. He would have been about seventeen at the time. I remembered how horny I always was at that age. It would have been easy for her. Especially since Kathleen had always been a good looking woman.
I walked over to my aunt Kathleen at the service and hugged her and thanked her being there. I lied and told her mom had really loved her a lot and talked about her often. She seemed a little surprised by that, but accepted it. I asked how she'd been doing and she started to cry a little and said not good. She'd been living off and on at the women's shelter, but most recently just bumming a place to sleep where she could amongst her friends. That was when I noticed a scrawny older Mexican man standing uncomfortably at the back of the room. He was chewing on a toothpick and dressed like a farm worker with his dirty John Deere ball cap, heavy work boots, jeans and cheap button-up shirt.
The thought of her sleeping with him disgusted me. Not because he was Mexican, but because she deserved better than a guy like him. I asked her if she'd like to have mom's old room at the house. I'd be all alone there now and I'd love the company I said. She asked me if I was serious. I said sure. We hugged again. As if sensing something, her "friend" walked over. "Kathy we need to get going," he said, tugging on her arm.
"You go ahead," she told him. "I'm going to visit my nephew for a while."
He frowned. "No, we got no time. You said you were gonna stay with me tonight, remember?? If I give you a ride to your sister's funeral."
"Hey," I interposed my 6'2'', 300 pound frame between them. "She said go. I suggest you do it. Now."
He stared at me a second as if calculating his odds of survival if he pulled on Kathleen's arm one more time and asked her to come. He was all of 5'' tall and 140 pounds soaking wet. "Yeah ok," he grumbled, stormclouds roiling in his eyes. "I not gonna forget this Kathleen. You no call me for rides no more. Or no nothing else."
We watched him leave in an impotent fury. I grinned. "Where did you find the midget??"
Kathleen shrugged. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was panhandling for some smokes a while back and he was at the Home Depot where I was asking for change. He was looking for work. We just started talking. I've um, dated him a few times."
"Ah," I said. "Well, we should be going."
"What about the burial??" Kathleen asked.
I shook my head. "Mom didn't want one. She's going to be cremated."
"Oh." ;
"Mom was claustrophobic," I said. "The idea of being buried under 6 feet of dirt scared her."
I have to admit, part of me felt like a conniving bastard offering Kathleen room and board not out of the kindness of my heart but because I hoped to get her into bed. But it was all I could do to not get hard just sitting beside her in the car on the drive home. Fucking her was all I could think about.
Yet as much as I wanted to do it, I knew it would have to be carefully done and it would take time, otherwise she would know I was no different than the jilted "friend" she had left at the memorial service. If I wanted her to think the relationship was more than that, she'd have to think it had evolved naturally and was the right thing to do.
As it was, that took about three months. Ninety odd days during which I treated her like a queen, buying her new clothes, fattening her up on home cooked meals, spending lots of time with her and getting to know her better even as she was given access to my work as a freelance photographer and a writer for popular regional travel magazines and websites.
One night while we were sitting together on the front porch sipping wine and looking at the stars over the vineyards that surrounded my country home, we kissed. And there was nothing strange about it. It was a kiss between a man and a woman who had fallen for one another and didn't give a damn if the world objected. Ten minutes later we were in my bedroom, undressed and in my bed.
Though Kathleen was in her late fifties she still had the large breasts common to the women on my mother's side of the family. They'd begun to sag a little with age, but they turned me on like crazy and I sucked, licked and pulled on her fat dark nipples in an ecstasy of long pent-up fantasy and emotion come to life. I reached down past her little pot belly and ran my fingers through her hairy blonde bush, now streaked with wisps of silver and found the moist lips of her pussy. My fingers caressed her clitoris and then slid inside of her as she moaned softly. I could feel her hand wrapped around my rigid shaft, slowly stroking me. Her tongue slid around inside my mouth.
"Fuck me," she whispered. I didn't need to be asked twice.
I was on her and inside of her, thrusting away with all my might as her moans and groans echoed off the bedroom walls and the bed rocked a steady tattoo on those old wooden floorboards. When I came it was an explosion that made me totally rigid and then continued sending little aftershocks throughout my body long after the initial climax. I rolled off of her and lay there naked, my cock slick with her juices and twitching slightly, illuminated by the moonlight coming through the bedroom window.
She put an arm around my middle and snuggled up tight. "Mmmm," she purred. "that was incredible."
I kissed her forehead. "Only the first of many incredible times, I hope."
"Absolutely,&q uot; she giggled.
"Can I ask you something," I said. "Something really personal."
She hesitated a moment. "I suppose."
"Did you really," I started.
"Have sex with my son??" she finished. "Yes I did. And it was a beautiful loving thing. His bitch of a girlfriend was constantly turning him on and then leaving him with blueballs. She was driving him crazy and so I did what any mother should do for the son she loves. I made it better. If that makes me sick and twisted, then I guess I'm sick and twisted. They've all convinced Ray I practically raped him. The poor dear was in therapy because his mommy loved him. He won't even talk to me anymore."
"Hey," I squeezed her softly. "I never said it made you sick and twisted. I think what you did was wonderful. Hell, I wish my mom had done it for me. You have no idea how hard it was growing up out here in the boondocks with no woman beside my mom, who happened to be gorgeous by the way, as I went through puberty."
"I bet it was hard," she sighed.
"Constantly," I joked. She burst out laughing and hit my stomach with the flat of her hand.
"Not what I meant!"
"I think we both came pretty close once," I admitted. "On my 34th birthday we had a few drinks and danced a little after dinner. Maybe the booze went to her head, I don't know. But we were slow dancing and we looked at each other and for just a split second I could feel it. She wanted it and so did I. But just before the moment became something more meaningful, she broke off and walked away, making some excuse to use the bathroom."
"Aww," Kathleen said. "I wish you two would have made love. There's nothing wrong with it. Hell, you were both all alone out here. Whose to damn you for it??"
"Her conscious I guess," I shrugged.
Kathleen shook her head. "It's a shame."
"I jerked off to her so many times," I laughed softly. "I'd steal her panties and wrap them around my cock and go to town. I jerked off to you a ton too."
"Me??" Kathleen seemed surprised. "Why me??"
"Well," I said. "After mom mentioned you sleeping with Ray I got the biggest crush on you."
She laughed. "Well, you don't have to jackoff anymore baby. Aunty Kathy will happily take care of you anytime you want it."
"I love you," I told her.
"I love you too," she replied. We kissed.
Aunt Kathleen and I have been living as a couple ever since. She's now 64 and I'm 45. We still have a very active sex life, though she has encouraged me to date "I won't be around forever, kiddo" has become her catch phrase. I do date on occasion, but the pussy I crave the most is still between Kathleen's legs.
- That's Juicy! 22
- Remove It! 1
