I added almost 5000 words to Picking flowers on my Birthday, in a new chapter, D-3 and counting down.
You can start the story from the top, scroll down to D-3, or preview the new chapter under the image. Enjoy xx
My Dad isn’t my father. Not my biological father I mean. He doesn’t know, he thinks I’m his little girl. I don’t look anything like him I suppose, I’m just a younger version of my Mom, all down to her magnificent body.
Not that I would call myself magnificent. Certainly not then anyway, when my body was being kneaded like a hormone-marinated lump of clay. But the way my breast were swelling and my ass and waist were shaping up, I guess I was going in the right direction. In her direction. And I loved the prospect of looking like my Mom.
I had always thought she looked gorgeous. When we grow up I guess we all look up to our parents – if the relationship is good and loving at least – but from as early on as I could appreciate beauty in people, I’d always thought my Mom was a class above all other mothers of kids my age. She effortlessly turned heads. Then, at the school gates or during parties and parent meetings, and even today – maybe even more so – when she’s already well in her forties. She’d always been my best friend and role model, in just about anything. Certainly in the way she looked, the way she dressed and the way she took care of that magnificent body of hers. She was always the limelight of male attention, something my Dad dealt with gracefully and tolerantly. I guess he felt proud and blessed having such an amazing woman by his side. He was never the jealous type.
My mom once confessed to me that he wasn’t my real father. The story of that relationship was complicated, she’d tell me all about it when I’d be older. Back then, in the cabin, I had been blissfully unaware of this. As far as I knew, my parents were just regular folks, if you didn’t count my Mom’s stunning beauty.
Seeing her naked now, sweat gleaming between her undulating breasts as she was straddling and riding a man I assumed was my father, was quite a shock. The man was mostly hidden in the pillows and the dent in the mattress, but I could see my mother clear as day in the exceptionally bright light of a full moon glinting through the diaphanous curtains. Her gorgeous face painted with a rapturous look of delight and ecstasy, firm and tan thighs gripping the pelvis of my Dad and moving in an efficient and sensuous rhythm while her hands rested on his chest, once caressing his muscles and curly fur, then clawing at him, her face contorted in a hungry, animal sneer.
I’d seen my mother naked – fleetingly – plenty of times before, and never gave it much heed. Not that nakedness was taboo in our family, but that didn’t mean you flaunted around the house like no one was watching. She was short and voluptuous, like most Latin-American women, with lush brown hair, usually tied in a sloppy knot, now opulently flowing from her sweaty shoulders and back. Her soft and generous curves might have seemed a tad out of proportion because of her height – a little over one and a half meter – she had a figure that I had heard described as curvaceous and bosomy. But although mellow and soft on the outside, underneath her smooth and tanned skin she was as lean and strong as a tiger. Going on runs with her regularly, or joining her in the gym from time to time, I knew how strong and indefatigable she was.
She was proud of her physique, and I was proud of her. And watching her now – unknowingly exhibiting her naked frame in all its lecherous splendor to her daughter – I was overwhelmed by a feeling of youthful and dubious exhilaration.
Wow…is his…is he actually inside her…? I wonder how that must feel…
My father moved his hands up and down her body, caressing the smooth skin of her strong and round ass, the small of her back, her shoulders, and then down the front, lingering on her full and heavy breasts, squeezing their flesh and rolling her nipples, hard and erect in their large brown areolas, between his fingers. Gentle thrusts of his pelvis met her increasing pace, turning more urgent and erratic with every passing minute. From where I was sitting – propped against the jamb of their bedroom door looking through a gap – wide eyed and blinking, my mouth open, throat locked and dry – I could see that she was nearing her orgasm, encouraged and stimulated by his soft and sweet whispers. Feeling horny and embarrassed in equal parts, I watched intently as my mother’s breathing became deeper and heavier, her subdued panting turned into bestial groans and her ass pumped up and down faster and more capricious.
She’s cumming…she is so beautiful…
She threw her head back, curved her spine and climaxed with a deep shudder shaking through her haunches and belly. Her hands clasped my Dad’s hands, and together they rode out her orgasm, prolonged by slow and deep grinds of his hips. He steadied her and kept her from toppling off of him as she swayed and momentarily lost herself in the energy coursing through her body.
She came so hard…that looked so good…
Unselfconsciously, my hand moved between my legs, and through the fabric of my pajama I pressed into my mound – touch and slight friction – priming my body for the release I might be seeking for myself later on. My mind didn’t notice what my hand was doing. I couldn’t tear my eyes and my attention away from my Mom as she climbed down from my Dad, settled next to him and took his glistening cock in her mouth. She started sucking him with frenzied urgency, pumping her fist up and down, determined to make him cum soon.
I wonder what that tastes like…her juices on his cock…
His moans and shudders signalled that he was very close to cumming himself. As he propped himself on his elbows to look into her eyes when he would shoot his load in her mouth, I finally saw his face. It wasn’t my Dad. It was my Uncle Stefan…
About a half hour before my life would be turned upside down, a little after midnight, I woke up from a restless and erotic dream. Sweaty and a little startled, I sat up and listened. I was sure there had been a sound that woke me up, and after a few long lingering moments of only my own paced breathing I heard it. That rhythmical, purposeful buzz of people having sex in the next room.
Again? Don’t they ever sleep?
Most people think the subject of their parents’ sexlives is embarassing, but in our house it was never really much of a taboo. I knew they had sex, I often heard them while they were at it, but apart from that, I’d never seen them and I’d certainly never walked in on them. But given the circumstances, with our relatives staying over, and me horny all the time with little chance to pursue my relief efforts, I thought they were pushing the limits of my open mindedness just a bit.
Helloooo…teenage daughter trying to sleep in the next room!
A little exasperated, I tried ignoring it for a while, looking for the way back into the Land Of Sleep. The details of my dream were dissipating fast, but as it goes when you wake up from a promising dream, you want to get back in and see how it ends. It was pointless. Still flushed and a little randy from the erotic shards of my dream, my body refused to let my mind escape the titillating suggestion of what was happening on the other side of the ten centimeters of plywood and lime separating my bed from my parents’.
Just press your pillow over your ears. Don’t go spying on them. That would just be gross.
Ignoring my own protests, I clambered out of bed and tiptoed as quietly as I could out of my room through the dimly lit corridor, only a few paces to the door of the next room. It stood ajar. Looking through the opening I could discern the very feminine silhouette of my mother move in a sensuous mating dance, sharply contrasted against the bright milky white rectangle of the moonlit window.
OK, it’s your parents having sex. Splendid. Now go back to your room.
I leaned in closer and looked. Watched. Learned. Up until then, I had never seen sex up this close, never this real. The images in the porn magazine, the odd erotic scene in a movie, nothing had prepared me for the reality of seeing my mother’s luscious body move in this lascivious way. Over the years since sex had become more than just an abstraction for me, my mind had formed its own ideas and imagery, composed mostly of generic body parts and impersonal, mechanical actions. Nothing nearly as detailed and vivid as the scene that was playing out only 2 meters from where I was standing.
You pervert. You’re actually getting excited watching this. These are your parents!
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I dropped to a crouch and watched. I watched as my Mom rode my Dad in an expert and familiar embrace, looked on as she had an orgasm, and got to my knees to get an even better look when she swilled his cock, visibly yearning to swallow the fruit of her exertions.
But it wasn’t my Dad. It took a few seconds before the realization hit me. My Mom was having sex with my Uncle Stefan. Her brother-in-law. She was sucking his cock.
Leave! Go away now! You have seen too much! Go to your room and try to wake up from this nightmare…
There was no doubt about it. My Dad and his brother looked dissimilar enough, this was not my Dad. I recoiled and stared into the gloomy corridor for a long moment, not sure what to think or do, until the murmers of his impending climax reached me, and part of me – the horny part – needed to see what was going to happen. I resumed my vigilance.
I watched in growing fascination as my Uncle – my Dad’s brother – started trembling from the hips, whispering a few last encouraging words to my Mom, and then came. His entire body clenched up. He spasmed and threw his head back in the pillow, buckled, and grabbed my Mom’s head in his hands, keeping her firmly pinned down in his lap. She never relented. I had no idea what a man’s spunk tasted like, if it was warm or cold, or how much of it was now washing into her mouth and down her throat, but from the euphoric consonance that descended over her, and her zeal, I could tell that she delighted in it.
Wow, she just swallows all of it. She’s still sucking him. She must really love the taste…
My hand had casually been pressing between my legs, but now moved into my pants and found a warm wetness there. I was still watching as my Mom was finishing off my Uncle, but the first jolt of electricity that shot through my abdomen as I touched my sensitive button woke me from my hypnosis. I realised I was about to masturbate while peeping at my parents – correction, my Mom and Uncle – and this made the scale tip to the side of my embarrassment that had become too big for my excitement and curiosity to keep in balance.
Without making any noise I got up and snuck back to my room. Before closing the door behind me I looked back – not sure why – and saw Bert’s face look straight into mine from across the hall. He stood behind his half open door, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite identify. Had he seen me? Had he seen what I had been doing – or about to do?
“I had too much cola before I went to bed. Had to piss like a horse.”
I tried to make it sound casual, but his expression didn’t change.
“Well…good night,” he said, hesitated for a second, and closed his door.
I felt caught and flushed. Good thing it had been too dark for him to see me blush. I stood there for another minute, until the sounds from the next room signalled a renewal of the adultery that had been going on for who knows how long. My astonishment had been replaced with worry and anger now.
How could she cheat on Dad like that? Right under his nose, in the cabin…
And then it hit me. Where was Dad? He obviously hadn’t been in the room. I had passed the living room and kitchen. All was dark and quiet there. So where was he?
If Mom is in her room with Uncle Stefan, then Dad must be…
I slowly, very slowly swiveled my head to the other side of the hallway, as if slow motion might postpone or even nullify the inevitable conclusion. As soon as I directed my attention to the room on the other side of mine, similar noises to the ones that had woken me up from my parents’ room now drifted through the hall from my Aunt and Uncle’s room.
Dad is in there boning Aunt Hilde…
I had never heard of the concept of swapping or swinging – couples exchanging partners – but standing here in a cabin in the Swiss Alps, in the neutral zone between two rooms, I understood what it was. It didn’t need a name. Mom was with my Uncle and Dad was with my Aunt. Having sex. And obviously – I assumed – knowing about each other. At that moment it was a little too much for me to process. I suddenly felt young and exposed. I turned around, closed the door and jumped back in my bed. I think I cried for a while, can’t really recall. I must have fallen back asleep rather quickly, but my dreams were nothing like before. Still sexually explicit, but confusing and disconcerting rather than stimulating and inspiring…
I woke up very early – six something – and dreaded leaving my room. I stayed in bed until I really did have to piss like a horse, and scampered stealthily down the corridor to the bathroom, anxious about bumping into any of the other people in the cabin. I took care of my business and like a thief in the night I scurried back to my room. I wouldn’t know what to say to any of them, wouldn’t know how to act normally after what I had seen that night, and what it implied. How long had this been going on? And the sex I had heard the night before, was that…my head was spinning, from lack of sleep and from the surreality of the whole situation. I was pretty sure this vacation couldn’t get any worse.
I would soon find out I was wrong.
Breakfast was awkward. I was acutely aware of the signals my parents and relatives were sending each other. My Dad cuddled my Mom as usual, as did my Uncle his wife, but underneath this thin veil of normality, I saw a whole cacophony of not-so-subtle signalling going across the table between these two couples. Signals that told an entirely different story.
I had gone through the standard array of negative emotions. Shame, confusion, anger, betrayal, fear…but pretty soon my liberal upbringing kicked in, and I started to relax a bit more. I saw how happy they all were. They were obviously feeling good about themselves, all four of them, and it’s not that they had been particularly indiscreet, not really. It had been me after all that had acted inappropriately by spying on my parents, knowing very well what was going on in the room. This thought also prompted the memory of how my body had reacted to what I had seen. No point in denying that watching my mother having sex had turned me on immensely, and perhaps even more so when I realised that it had been Uncle Stefan she had been fucking and sucking in stead of my Dad. If I hadn’t come to my senses when I had, I would have masturbated right there in the hallway.
I studied both my parents and my relatives in turn. None looked like they didn’t consent to the ménage à quatre. The were all positively glowing, cuddling their own partner physically, and cuddling the other couple emotionally from across the table. It was actually quite an invigorating sight…I think I felt more confused about my own arousal than about this surreal turn of events.
I can never unsee what I have seen…
I had seen details that a fourteen year old girl – almost fifteen – was never supposed to see, certainly not with her mother providing the close-up. From where I had been sitting I had an almost unobstructed view, somewhat slanted, of my mother’s rear end and my Uncle’s intrusion of it. I caught my mother’s glance. She just gave me a warm, motherly smile. If she suspected I was studying her, she didn’t show it.
Adult were like, you know, old people. It had never occurred to me to look at my parents as sexual beings. Or my Uncle. I had seen his naked junk fully erect, his balls dancing up and down as he moved in and out of my mother’s spread open vagina, silken moonlight reflecting from her juices glistening on his cock. I looked at him and tried to match the person – my only uncle, mostly funny though sometimes somewhat solemn and introverted – with what I had seen him do to my Mom, and my Mom to him.
For a moment I did make that connection. I looked at him and saw him, making love to my mother, being inside of her, his cock inside of her mouth…I started feeling flushed again. I still hadn’t eaten, but my belly was stirring with a craving that had little to do with food.
Bert came out of his room then, later than usual. His limp seemed worse again as he trotted over to the table. He sat across from me and grumbled a general greeting, mostly unnoticed by our parents, but I couldn’t escape the confrontation. I would find out soon enough what he knew or had seen.
“Sorry I woke you last night. I really had to go.”
“That’s OK,” he said while buttering a piece of toast, “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”
Oops…he had been awake through the whole thing?
“Something keeping you awake then?” I asked as casually as I could. I poured a cup of coffee and eyed him for a response. Did he have a vague smirk on his face, or was that my imagination? If he hadn’t been sleeping, had he heard the noises coming from the other rooms? Had he seen me in the hall, feeling myself up while spying on my – our – parents?
“If you want some coffee, you should probably pour it yourself. You know how clumsy I get.”
He did shrug a little jovially now, poured himself a cup of brew and went back to his piece of toast without letting me look in his cards. I didn’t like it, but didn’t pursue it any further. My Mom started getting up and announced she was going to make the beds. In an upwelling I stopped her and bade her to sit down again.
“I’ll do that, Mom. You just enjoy breakfast a little while longer. I’m not hungry anyway.”
“Are you sure you’re OK honey? You look a little pale.” Her concern was genuine enough, and nothing in her worried eyes betrayed that she knew, or even suspected that I’d seen something I wasn’t supposed to.
“No, I’m fine. Just haven’t slept too well since we got here. Must be the altitude.”
“OK, thanks hunney.” She seemed reassured. “We’re leaving early today and won’t be back until this evening. We’re going two towns down the valley to do some shopping and meet old friends. You two’ll be OK?”
“Lucy and I have a whole day of fun planned,” joked Bert, not looking up from his book. He was reading some sci fi stuff, Dan Simmons or something. Half the pages were crumpled and brown-stained from the coffee I spilt over it. I tried not to giggle, but unselfconsciously looked at him and couldn’t help myself. The joviality was gone from his gaze now as he looked at me a little exasperated.
Girls must be all over him…such beautiful eyes…
“You sure you don’t want to come hun?”, my Aunt asked Bert. “And you,” looking at me, “are you going to lock yourself in this cabin the entire two weeks? I thought you kids would like to go out and have some fun. There’s lots of entertainment for you young folks.”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure.”, dismissed Bert a little less friendly than he could have. Was he ever in a sullen mood.
He looks handsome even when he’s being a brat…
Before I could go off on a daydream again, I guzzled down my coffee and got up. Don’t know exactly why I had offered to make the beds on a whim like that. Or actually I did know. I wanted to be in that room.
What are you going to do in there? Smell the sheets?
I kissed everyone on the cheeks – not Bert of course, although I did catch a whiff of something nice-smelling when I passed him. After Shave? – and went to the rooms to make the beds.
I quickly glanced in Bert’s room, but he had already made his own bed. I skipped my own room and went straight to my parents’. The curtains were drawn and the window tilted open, a cold but fresh smelling mountain breeze cleansing the air in the room. I was a little disappointed. I had expected to smell at least something, some lingering scent of the sex that had taken place here, but apart from the signature smell of sleep, nothing unfamiliar entered my nose. The mattress and sheets were a messy pile, all wrinkled and thrown about. The cover had some stains on it, almost dried up but still visible. I brought my face closer, hesitating only for a moment, and drew a few quick breaths in through my nose. I was awarded a faint yet dizzying perfume. I was fascinated. I sniffed deeply some more, trying to identify the subtle nuances I thought I could discern. Sweat was certainly there. I recognized a smell I knew all too well, from sniffing and even tasting my own fingers after an orgasm, and finally something new. A little tangy, rich and fragrant, above where the stains in the mattress were darker and seemed to gleam a bit. I reached out to touch them, but then I heard someone – Bert – come down the hallway and enter his room. I hastily made the bed, closed the window and went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Standing under the warm cascade, I went over all the confusion of the night and conclusions reached at the breakfast table.
So my parents and my relatives are having sex together. How does that work exactly? Do they just swap partners, Mom with Uncle Stefan and Dad with Aunt Hilde? Or do they do foursomes too?
I tried imagining the four of them in one bed, tried to see how that would work, but my mind just wasn’t experienced enough yet on the subject to think up a working configuration. I laddered my hair while the warm water running down my back tingled my spine. Too lazy to get soap, I just let my foamy hands run down the rest of my body, soaping up my sore boobs and my belly.
Do they only do that here or also in our house? The weekend visits…the long summer evenings and sleepovers…
Suddenly, every occasion my Aunt and Uncle had visited over the years yielded unmistakable hints of this untraditional relationship of two brothers and their wives’ friendships.
It’s so clear now. How could I not have suspected this before?
Because I had been too preoccupied with my own budding sexuality to notice any of the signs coming from other people. One certainly doesn’t think too much about what one’s parents do in their bedroom.
What about Bert? He’s a boy, two years older than me. If I’m already riding my finger whenever I have a chance, surely he must be handling himself at least as often as I am…
I was still massaging and washing my breasts, a lot longer than needed. My boobs had been sore all morning, and kneading them like this eased the discomfort a bit. And it got me turned on. I tried imagining Bert laying on his bed, his hand massaging his cock, his lithe torso naked and sweaty…I drew a blank there. The image wouldn’t come. They were suppressed by the very vivid and explicit porn I had witnessed up close during the night.
My soapy hands descended down my belly and finally reached between my legs. I had actually planned to just wash myself, but my bubbly fingers felt no resistance whatsoever as they slid between my lips, aided by the natural lubrication that had already been flowing. My knees buckled from a sudden jolt, and I almost couldn’t stay standing. One hand moved back up to my breasts – massaging them in turn – the other hand working my aching pussy with two fingers plunged deep inside.
I saw my Uncle again. His cock, the first real cock I’d ever seen. Large and thick, his balls dangling heavily as my Mom rode him and pumped her swollen and dripping pussy up and down, her beautiful round ass cheeks flapping a bit as she had increased her tempo. I had seen those cheeks and her pussy clench tightly around his pole when she had climaxed, gripping and squeezing him hard.
Never been so turned on in my life…
I remembered vividly the look on her face as she climbed down from him. I saw his cock leave her pussy, trailing a thread of silvery mucus as it flopped on his belly. She grabbed it in her fist and never hesitated as she stuffed it in her mouth, juices and all. She sucked in her cheeks and pressed her lips down hard in the flesh of his cock. Sucking him for all she was worth…to get something from him.
I need to know…I want to taste that…
When I was a kid, maybe seven or eight years old, I had seen one of those Imax nature movies, in ridiculous high definition and picture clarity. I remember how impressive and overwhelming the details had been, my eyes bulging out of their sockets and my mouth open the whole time.
The images that flashed before my mind’s eye, as I fingered myself rapidly towards an orgasm, seemed a million times more vibrant.
I saw the skin of his cock stretch and fold as she pumped her fist up and down. Saw the flesh of his member yield ever so slightly in the glistening wake of her full and sensuous lips as they slid along his length. Again and again, maybe twenty or thirty times, in a steady and efficient rhythm. She hummed contently, her eyelids fluttering as if she was in a satisfying dream.
My god I’m cumming…I’m gonna cum so hard…
I saw his balls, big and heavy in their hairy skin folds, rise high into his groin. His butt clenched, and he started pumping his shuddering pelvis up and down, meeting my Mom’s bobbing head and thrusting his cock deeper into her mouth, almost down her throat. I almost heard – or imagined – hearing a sizzling sounds as massive squirts of that white gooey stuff shot out of the big knob at the end of his pecker, into my Mom’s begging mouth. She gagged a little and I saw a few rivulets of the stuff trickle from between her lips and over her fist, but she was swallowing the whole time, deep and slow strokes of her hand and lips claiming every last drop from him. I remembered the perfume I had just smelled, the unfamiliar but fascinating scent of the stains in the mattress, that could only have been my Uncle’s sperm. That was what my mother had smelled and tasted, not from my Dad but from his brother, as it gushed in her mouth and leaked from her lips over her fingers…
I leaned against the shower wall and came so hard that I just couldn’t hold down the loud panting groan that had been lurking in my throat like a crouching tiger. I plunged my two fingers as deep as they would go and felt my spasming pussy walls squeeze them so hard it almost hurt. I sagged to the floor and lay there for a while, the warm water drenching my quivering body, the energy of my orgasm laying waste to my senses. The images and sensory impressions, too detailed and too vivid, kept flashing through my mind, threatening to drown me. I had pulled my fingers from between my legs, but my pussy kept contracting, uncontrollable spasms sending jolts of electricity up and down my body, coursing through my nerves until everywhere my skin and flesh was prickling and burning.
That’s when I lost consciousness…
He enters me with barely contained forcefulness. Spreads my folds with his spirited lust and fills me completely. He kisses me passionately, my first kiss, the kiss I will measure all other kisses that will follow against. He kisses me on my lips with lips that he kissed my other lips with, just after he laid me down naked on my bed, spread my thighs and stirred my damp girlhood with his breath full of eager willingness. I feel him moving inside me. It doesn’t hurt. I am at my height of arousal and receptiveness, granting him full and unrestricted access to the sanctum that only my own fingers had entered until now…
“Where am I?” I startle awake with a loud pant and a terrifying feeling of complete disconnection. I’m in my bed, naked except for a damp towel wrapped sloppily around my upper body. The curtains are open, outside a dull gray overcast pours massive amounts of snow on the already snow heavy mountain flanks.
I hear a soft rapping on the door. I quickly make sure my body is covered by blankets, and bid enter. It’s Bert.
“Are you OK? I heard you yell out. Bad dream?”
Vivid shards of my dream push blood to my cheeks. It had been anything but a bad dream. It had been the most erotic dream of my life.
“What time is it?” I couldn’t tell through the snow if it was morning or afternoon, everything was white or gray.
He sits down at the foot-end of my bed, keeping his distance. “Almost nine o’clock. You’ve taken quite a nap.”
“Nine AM? It was nine when I got in the shower!”
“Nine in the evening. You have slept all day.”
How did I get in my bed? I can’t remember.
“Where’s Mom? Where are our parents?”
“They aren’t back yet. They left just after nine, while you were in the shower. I’m sure they’re held up somewhere. The snow is really coming down hard.”
“What happened? Why am I naked?” I demonstrably pull the blanket under my chin, because I know I’m not going to like the answer.
He shifts a bit uncomfortably, looks at his knees. “I…you passed out in the shower. I heard you scream and I heard a thud. I knocked, but you didn’t answer and the door was locked.
“I passed out?” Shards of pieces of fragments of memories start to flutter just beneath the surface.
I…I was…I was cumming…very hard…too hard?
“I knocked for a few minutes, called your name, but you wouldn’t answer. I was alone, our parents were already gone. So I shouldered open the door. You were lying on the shower floor, unconscious.”
“Unconscious?” I sounded like a parrot.
And naked? He saw me naked?
“You…you were naked, lying curled up. The water was ice cold, you must have emptied the boiler. You were shivering, your lips were turning blue. I turned off the water and tried to wake you up, but you were out cold…you were out.”
“How did you get me in bed?”
I know how you got me in bed. You picked me up and carried me. Naked.
“You were naked.” He’s blushing now, still trying to look away from his knees, but not quite managing. “I wrapped you in a towel as best as I could, picked you up and carried you here. You were freezing, shivering hard. I put you under the blankets but you wouldn’t stop shaking. I got another towel and dried your hair, and then I rubbed you through the blankets. I was just trying to get you warm.”
Look at me. You saw me naked, touched my naked body, I need to see your eyes.
He raises his eyes and looks straight into mine. Only for a second, just to show the sincerity and apology, and then looks over my head to the window. “It’s been snowing hard since noon. Hasn’t stopped, it must be a meter thick by now.
It hadn’t snowed yesterday, but the slopes had already been covered with a good thick pack since the week before. If it had snowed all afternoon and all evening, wherever our parents had ended up, they were going to have to sit out this snowfall.
“Haven’t they called or anything? They have a cellphone with them, don’t they?’
The cabin has a phone, but landlines are always first thing to be out in weather like this.
“No. I tried calling them, but the line is dead. I’m afraid we’re just going to have to wait until it clears up.”
And what do we do in the meantime? Want to rub me warm some more?
I’m a little shocked at this suggestion. I should be feeling embarrassed and worried. How come I had fainted in the shower? Mom had thought I looked a little pale. I told her it was the altitude and lack of sleep, but that’s not what knocked me out in the shower. The shards of memory coalesce into larger fragments, and I relive the impressions of me masturbating to the images of my Mom fucking Uncle Stefan. I remember cumming hard, an orgasm that just wouldn’t stop. I remember the images being too vivid, too real, too…intrusive, washing over me like an avalanche. And then…nothing but darkness and cold.
I look at him and will him to look at me.
Look at me!!
He looks at me. No longer embarrassed, but worried. Worry is not the look I need now. I need lust. I need hunger. I want him…
Stop it. You’re still dreaming! This is your fucking cousin!!
I turn away from him and tell him I want to sleep some more. He leaves me and I slip immediately back into the erotic dream I had never really left…
…to be continued…
Want to help me achieve my goal of becoming a full-time writer? Consider becoming my sponsor with a Paypal donation