chapter 9

Lillian slept fitfully that night, awakening periodically with her mind whirling from the emotional maelstrom of the past few days. An emerging sense of a novel and distinct connection with Paul, born of their shared suffering, mingled confusingly with moral concerns about what they had done and with emotions of sorrow and anger at their betrayal by Jennifer and Art.

As dawn broke, she stirred from sleep, her mind still entangled in a web of contradictory thoughts and emotions. She knew she had to talk to Paul — to work through what had happened between them the previous evening, to discuss what it meant and what it didn't mean, and to find the right path forward. But he was so young! How could he possibly be expected to grasp all the complexities of their current situation, to sift deliberatively through its implications and to decide on the best course of action? She knew she would have to shoulder most of the decision-making responsibility and to guide him gently, as her father had guided her, always with love. Paul was her charge now, her responsibility.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Investment banking was easy compared with this!

She realized she had to pee. She got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. As she passed Paul's door, which was slightly ajar, she noticed that his light was on. On her return from the bathroom, as she walked by his door, she heard his voice:

"Aunt Lillian?"

She opened the door and leaned in.

"Hi, honey," she said. He was sitting up in bed, bare-chested, a sheet pulled up to his waist.

Paul said, "Can we talk today about ... well, about everything?"

"Of course, honey!" Lillian replied, walking in and sitting on the side of the bed next to him. "You know you can always talk to me."

Paul smiled at her and nodded.

Leaning in, she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. As she did, she caught his gaze trailing down to her chest and suddenly realized she was wearing only her diaphanous nightgown — the one she wore during Art's nocturnal visits; the one that clung to her form and left virtually nothing to the imagination. I should go get my robe, she thought.

Then, as on the previous evening, she almost laughed out loud at her sudden concern about modesty and propriety — this was the man she had performed fellatio on just hours earlier, after they'd watched a shameless scene of sodomy, that she had brought to orgasm in her mouth, whose semen she had swallowed! Worrying about accidental glimpses now seemed absurd. That ship had sailed!

"How are you, honey?" Lillian asked. "How did you sleep?

"Not great," Paul replied. "A lot going on in my head."

"Oh, boy, do I understand that! And I'm responsible for a lot of it, honey. I've put you in a very difficult situation. I wish ... well, I don't wish I hadn't told you about Art and Jennifer. It was something I had to do. I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't. And I'm hoping you agree?"

Paul nodded. "Of course, yeah! I needed to know that."

"I wish hadn't had to know that because it hadn't happened. But we know it did. We saw it with our own eyes."

"Yeah," Paul replied. "It's fucked up!"

"That's a great description," Lillian nodded. "It's fucked up!"

Paul laughed, hearing those words from his aunt's mouth. She'd always been so proper! He couldn't remember a single instance of her ever swearing. On the other hand, he remembered multiple sharp corrections from her, both to him and occasionally to Art whenever their language deviated from the polite.

Paul looked at his aunt, struggling to reconcile memories from his youth — of Aunt Lillian, always moral, decorous, modest — with the woman last night.

As if reading his thoughts, Lillian said "Honey, about last night. About what we did. About what I did..."

Paul interrupted her.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?" Lillian said, her brows creasing.

"For what you did. If you hadn't ... I just don't know what I would have done." He looked down and shook his head. "I was going crazy. I was having these crazy, insane thoughts. I could have done anything. Gone out and driven a hundred miles an hour through town. Gone to her house and killed her. I was going crazy! You brought me down. You made me sane again."

"Oh, honey!" Lillian said.

"I love you," Paul said.

"Aww, honey," Lillian said, leaning toward him, her arms outstretched.

As they embraced. Lillian found herself reveling in the sensation of her young nephew's strong arms around her, his contoured chest against hers, the reaffirmation of their love for one another. They would get through this together!

Her moral sense quickly intervened. You can't do this! it said. You're practically naked! This is your own nephew your breasts are pressing against, not Art or some handsome stranger!

Lillian ignored it. They were together navigating the hell of betrayal, seeking and finding resilience from each other. There could be no harm in a comforting and supportive hug. As they embraced, Lillian experienced powerful feelings of love, security, and a deep sense of connection with her young, handsome nephew.

Lillian felt Paul's arms relax. Her arms were still around him and she began to open them but felt his hands move to her upper back, gently urging her to remain nestled against his chest. He turned his head and planted a kiss on her cheek. She turned to plant a reciprocal kiss but he turned at the same time, bringing them face to face, their breaths mingling just inches apart. His hands traced a delicate path down back, caressing her.

Lillian wrestled with her emotions, now gazing into Paul's sensitive, deep-blue eyes that seemed to radiate love and desire in equal measure. She found her head moving instinctively toward him, felt his warm lips against hers, felt his mouth beginning to open...

She drew back.

"Honey, we should talk. About what..."

He pulled her back against him, not kissing her, leaning his head to the side so that they were cheek-to-cheek as their bodies pressed against each other. His lips descended, finding the curve of her neck, a soft nuzzle that turned into a trail of delicate kisses, igniting little sparks of pleasure starting just above her collarbone and moving to the exquisitely sensitive spot beneath her ear. Her felt her body beginning to react...

"Honey," she said.

He lifted his lips to her ear.

"I love you," he whispered again.

"Oh, I love you, too, honey," she said, melting into his embrace, the warmth of his breath against her ear sending chills down her spine.

She knew she should not be doing this, should instead be returning to the subject of what they had done together, sorting things out, delineating clear boundaries. But it felt so good, his arms around her, her body pressing against his solid chest, the scent of him enveloping her in a heady mix of closeness and need. His lips were on cheek, next to her ear, and she felt a delightful shiver run through her as his tongue darted briefly into her ear.

A soft procession of kisses followed, moving from her ear, across her cheek and to her mouth. Then his soft, warm lips were against hers again. After a moment, she felt his lips part, and this time she didn't pull away. She opened her mouth and their tongues began to explore each other in silent expression of their mutual love, vulnerability and ... desire.

The kiss ended and he drew her body to his again, his hands now moving with greater urgency down her back, to the curve of her bottom, around her sides, upwards, grazing her breasts. Her breaths were coming faster, a flush spreading over her chest and neck. She now became aware of an intense tingling in her nipples and of the warmth and moisture between her legs. This could only lead to one thing now. She had to stop it now before it was too late.

She drew back, panting, and looked at him.

"Paul," she began.

But as she explored his eyes, she stopped. There was love in them, and desire and also ... a plea. Her heart began to melt. She wasn't sure what to do. She reached forward and gently touched his chest. It was so warm! She slowly began to caress him, running her hands in slow circles, feeling his nipples harden from her light touch. She brought her hands up to the sides of his face and leaned forward, putting her lips on his, opening her mouth, feeling his tongue against hers again. Then his fingers were running through her hair, down her shoulders and arms, then moving up, along her front, under her breasts...

Stop! her conscience shrieked. This was all deeply wrong, profoundly immoral! Her mind had refused to acknowledge that what she'd done last night was incest, falsely assuring herself that she had only been helping the young boy with a pressing problem of her own making. But about this there could be no doubt — the open-mouthed kissing, the bodies pressing urgently against each other, the hands roaming over her bottom and up to her breasts, lifting, squeezing — this was incest!

Then she let out an involuntary groan as Paul's fingers and thumbs found her swelling nipples, gently rolling them, attending to their aching need. His hands slipped under her nightgown, lifting the front. He leaned forward, his warm mouth closing around her nipple, his fingers attending to the other nipple. She absolutely had to stop this right now, to pull away, to get off the bed. Oh but, God, the pleasure radiating from her nipples, the delightful fire in her loins, the fire that had started last night and then subsided into glowing embers and was now being rekindled into a roaring blaze. She was so wet she could feel the slickness on the insides of her thighs and between her buttocks and her mind reeled crazily back to the image of her first sight of Paul's big penis as she pulled down his underpants, to the sensation of him in her mouth, his warm semen gushing. This can only lead to one thing! her inner voice screeched. You have to stop this! But now she was actively blocking out the voice, suppressing her wrenching conscience, leaning into the delightful sensations thrilling her body. Only one thing mattered now...

Lillian gently pulled her nipple from Paul's sucking mouth. She reached down to the hem of her nightgown, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Her hand reached down, finding him, marveling at his hardness, feeling him jerk at her touch, hearing his ragged moan.

Still holding him, she put one knee against his hip and swung the other over his groin, straddling him. She raised herself, guiding him between her spread thighs.

Paul watched his aunt's milky breasts swaying inches from his face as she leaned forward, preparing to mount him. He looked down at her golden curls, the wet vulva preparing to receive him. Oh God, oh God, his mind whirled, my aunt is going to fuck me!

He groaned as he felt the hot slickness between her legs.

"I love you, Paul," she said.

Then, she slowly sank down onto his rigid shaft, burying him in her center.

"Unnnghhhhh!" Paul groaned as she sheathed him.

Lillian gasped in delight as the impossibly hard shaft slid into her core. Using her knees as levers, she began to move her slick vulva up and down his engorged rod, climbing almost to its apex and then sinking down heavily down to impale herself again, reveling in each surge of pleasure in her groin.

Paul's hands found her breasts, lifting them, rolling and squeezing her swollen peaks. His aunt was now moving faster above him, crying out with each downward thrust. Gasping for air, he began driving upward into her, mirroring her plunges, deepening the penetration.

And now, oh, God, she was riding him practically at a gallop, her breasts bouncing in his hands each time their loins slammed together. She was so soaked he could hear sluicing sounds as his aunt's vulva moved up and down on him

Lillian sensed the storm gathering in her lower belly. Her heart thudded in her chest, electrified nerves tingling maddeningly in anticipation, muscles coiling like springs, every part of her aching for relief.

And then the blessed lightning!

"Unnnghhhhhhhhhh!," she cried, her head snapping back as she crested into the full frenzy of her orgasm, her body arching and shuddering above Paul, her face distorted with passion.

Paul felt her rhythmic contractions around him and knew it was his time. He thrust forcefully upward into his blonde aunt with strokes that kept her inner explosion going. Every sinew of his muscular body was tight as he bellowed out his final cry and turned to steel inside her.

"Nnnnghhh!" he groaned as the climax exploded within him and the impatient semen rocketed from his balls. Lillian's loins tensed to receive his flood and she cried out with delight as she felt him flexing in her vulva, his thrusts turning into glides inside her.

Then, through Lillian's clenched teeth, came a stunned, low-toned hum as, unbelievably, another orgasm developed inside her. And then she was cumming ... cumming again, experiencing the glory of a multiple orgasm for the first time, a second flash of blinding pleasure in her core, and God, it was so good ... so good...

"Ahhhhhh!" she cried out, her body bowing and trembling in obeisance to the powerful forces that controlled it.

She did not know how long she was in that state until finally the last, delirious wave of pleasure subsided and she slowly opened her eyes, panting heavily. Her eyes met the fulfilled gaze of her nephew as he looked up at her flushed face. Her body was at once fully satiated and utterly drained. She slowly leaned forward, kissing Paul's cheek as she slumped down on top of him for a moment, releasing the grip of her thighs. Then, she rolled over and lay spread-eagled and spent, feeling the cool air on her sweat-soaked body, the warm semen running down the cleft between her buttocks.