Chapter 1

I woke up slowly, stretching my arms and desperately trying to replay the very erotic dream I had just had. Too late, dammit. Suddenly I realized how bright everything was. And no wonder. I was lying on the couch in my den with every light in the room on. Looking around, I noticed that the floor-length curtains covering the sliding door to the back lawn were wide open. And they weren't the only thing. As I got up to shut them, I also found that my bathrobe was also wide open, and that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. Fortunately, there's a privacy fence around my back yard. My neighbors would have gotten quite an eyeful if that fence hadn't been there.

I got up quickly, letting the robe fall around me. I locked the door — God, I couldn't believe I'd left that open too — and pulled the curtains shut. It was still dark outside and I checked the clock: three a.m. Shaking my head, I turned off the lights and went to my bedroom in the back of the house.

As I lay there trying to sleep, my very intense dream came flooding back. I couldn't quite bring back a picture of the guy who had come into the room -- through the open doors, I now remembered -- but I certainly had a vivid recollection of what he had looked like when he stripped off his jeans. Oh, God, was he big! And thick! I remember screaming at him to put it inside me, and then when he did, I exploded. It was no wonder that my body had been covered with dried sweat when I woke up. Or that I could still feel a certain dampness between my thighs.

And I had no doubt where the dream had come from. It was amazing how an innocent little conversation picked an entirely different path once you fell asleep. Earlier in the day, I had been talking to my nephew, Kevin, my brother Nick's 18-year-old son. Kevin's mom had died when he was only five, and since I only lived three blocks away, I had become Kevin's advisor on all things feminine. I was only then years older than Kevin (ten years younger than Nick), so we were able to talk about things, like girlfriends, that Kevin didn't feel comfortable discussing with anyone else.

Today, the subject had been a hot new girl at school. Kevin was a nice enough looking kid, with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and an athlete's build, but he had been without a girlfriend for a few months now. Recently, though, Kevin's friends had reported that they'd been watching the new girl giving him a frank appraisal on more than one occasion. After we discussed dating, the talk had turned to sex.

"You have 'done it, ' haven't you?" I had teased him.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, "me and Lisa fooled around a little bit. But it took, like, forever to get that far."

"Well, the number one rule is don't rush it," I told him. "We don't like to have it forced on us. If you play your cards right, you can get her to ask you for it. And if you're really good at it, she'll be begging you for it."

I smiled at the surprised look on my nephew's face.

"Really?"

"Don't sound so shocked," I giggled. "Girls like sex just as much as guys do. We just don't walk around the gym bragging about how many guys we've laid."

If we get laid at all, I thought to myself. As Kevin went on to describe his newest potential conquest, I wondered why my own sex life was so dull. Part of it was my job. After attending college here in town, I'd left for three years of law school. Once I came back, I might as well have hung a sign, right beneath my "Natalie Tritty, Assistant County Prosecutor" sign, that said "Men Keep Out." So far I had found two groups of guys: non-lawyers, who were scared by my law degree; and lawyers, who were usually too busy proving their own superiority. The first group ran off on their own, and the second I ran off after the first date. At 28 years old, I still considered myself a catch. I was five-foot, six inches tall and weighed 125 pounds. My brown hair was cut stylishly just below my shoulders, and, to be honest, I had a damned good face. My body was fit, my breasts were firm, if not overly large, and my legs were shapely; in fact, the guys at college had voted me one of their top ten "campus babes" for my last two years of school, and I hadn't lost anything recently. This lack of gentleman callers for the last several years was getting increasingly frustrating.

I remembered making Kevin dinner that evening, although I couldn't remember actually eating it. And I remembered changing into my bathrobe, obviously after he'd gone, although I could have sworn I had put a pair of panties on underneath. I remembered settling on the couch down with a glass of wine as we talked. I remembered now that I did have another glass of wine, and that I had also had a glass with dinner. No wonder I had dozed off.

I went back to bed that night with a smile on my face, wishing that my real life was even a quarter as interesting as my dream life.

The next morning I was cleaning up the den when I noticed that my videocassette recorder was on. On further inspection, I found that my video camera was also on, and that it was connected to my VCR. In theory, I knew, it was possible to record something directly onto the tape in the VCR, although I had no idea how to do it. It was then that I saw the blinking light indicating that there was a tape still in the VCR. With my heart beating faster, I turned on the TV and pushed the play button.

"Oh, God," I said, my eyes widening as the picture appeared. It was me, lying on the couch, the bottom of my bathrobe parted, my panties still mysteriously in place. I was apparently looking directly at the camera operator.

"Come on, lover," I whined on the tape, squirming around lasciviously on the couch. I extended my arms to my still unidentified partner, who had zoomed in on me and apparently put the camera on the shelf while he moved to the end of the couch.

"Hurry! I need you inside me now."

I really had needed it. I watched in horrified fascination as I saw myself reach down and tear the side panels of my panties, finally ripping the flimsy cotton off (I found them later, under the couch). My lover climbed onto the couch on his knees, his face remaining tantalizingly above the area captured by the camera. I parted my legs and he knelt between them, wearing only a pair of jeans. I leaned forward, licking my lips, and undid his belt and the button on his jeans. I slowly pulled the zipper down.

"That's right, baby," I said. "Now let me see that cock. Oh, Jesus, baby, it's huge!"

As I watched, I saw him he pushed his pants down his thighs and a gorgeous cock sprang into the camera's view, already hard.

I planted my feet on either side of him and raised my hips in the air.

"Come on, baby," I said, "push that big boy inside this hot little twat."

I reached forward and wrapped both hands around the monster, guiding him toward my very wet pussy.

Watching myself on tape, I was getting wet all over again, and I found myself rubbing my cunt through my jeans. I groaned as I saw the big cock enter the folds of my pussy, sinking in quickly to a depth of six inches. That was about the most cock I'd ever had up there before, but this guy had at least another inch to go.

"Pump it, baby," I groaned on tape. "In, yes, out... oh, yes... now back in... oh, that's it, baby."

We quickly set up a rhythm that filled me with more and more cock, and I knew, watching it on tape, that it wouldn't be long before I watched the explosion that I had thought I had dreamed. Suddenly, he reached forward and grabbed me around the hips, thrusting himself deep within me. I wrapped my feet around his back and just lost it. Babbling incoherently, I reached up and embedded my fingernails in his muscular arms, leaving deep scratches as my body bucked and writhed beneath his. I came not once or twice, but a mindblowing three times in a row, and finally, he thrust forward one final time and groaned. I knew he was draining that big cock inside me.

I spasmed again, pushing myself into yet another orgasm, and then fainted. It was odd watching that, just before my lover got up from the couch turned off the camera.

I watched the tape three times during the next week, looking for clues to the identity of my mystery date. Nobody had 'fessed up, or even given me a suggestive look, but I still found it hard to believe that I'd gone to bed with some stranger. All I could see was that he was a fairly tall man, great abs, muscled (and now scratched) arms, and, of course, a very nice cock. Not overly big, but perfectly proportioned. Pleasingly proportioned, I added with a shiver. But none of that did me much good. Lots of guys are tall and well-built, and it's hard to figure out at how they're hung when you only see them clothed. God knows I'd made that mistake more than once in college.

I have to admit I actually watched the tape more than three times. I only watched it three times looking for clues. The other four or five (well, maybe six) times, I was sitting on my couch sliding either my fingers or my vibrator inside my wet little twat. Having a tape of yourself fucking, particularly when the sex was as good as this, is incredibly erotic.

By the end of the week, though, I was more than just puzzled. I was frustrated. Some guy had fucked my socks off, and I couldn't even figure out who he was.

When I heard a knock on my door late the next Saturday morning, my heart began racing with anticipation.

"Oh, hi, Kevin," I said.

"You don't want to work on the garden today?" he asked, my disappointment apparently visible on my face.

"No, no," I said, "of course I do. Let me get dressed and I'll be right down."

Kevin had a standing appointment to work on my garden the first Saturday of each month, and, sure enough, this was the first Saturday in June. I dressed quickly and hurried downstairs. Together, we planted a set of bushes, added one new tree, and divided a bunch of bulbs, in addition to general cleanup work.

I offered him dinner again, as I usually did when my brother was out of town for the weekend. As I dumped the dishes in the sink, he walked into the den, and I followed him a few minutes later with our coffee.

"How about some TV?" I asked as I sat down on the couch with him, activating the remote and tossing it over to Kevin, who was just as much a channel surfer as the rest of his sex. I turned to say something to Kevin and then heard, to my horror, my own voice saying "push that big boy inside this hot little twat."

"OhmyGod," I squeaked. Not thinking, I lunged for the remote, which Kevin was already holding in his opposite hand. Sprawling across his lap, I reached for it, and succeeded only in knocking it to the floor. I scrambled off of Kevin and onto the floor. Finally, I picked the stupid thing up and turned both the TV and the VCR off. Damn universal remotes. It was only then that I sat back on the couch and began to give my young nephew an explanation for my odd behavior and for what he had obviously seen on the tape.

To my surprise, he was simply leaning back against the couch, smiling at me.

"I'm sorry, Kevin," I pressed on, "I shouldn't have left that in there. I —"

"I wish I could leave my copy in the VCR," he said, "but I'm afraid my dad would find it."

As he talked, he yanked the long-sleeved T-shirt he was wearing over his head in one quick motion. I took it all in at once. The abs, the muscles, even the scratches on his arms.

"You?" I whispered breathlessly.

"Me what?" he said. Kevin had stood up and was busy unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

"Kevin," I protested, "we can't..."

"We already have," he smiled, freeing his cock as he pushed his shorts to the floor.

"But it's incest," I said weakly, all the while staring at his cock — the cock that I'd been watching on tape all week long.

"Nah, that's only a problem if you have kids," Kevin pointed out, quite accurately. He sat back down, even with my hips, and reached forward, cupping his right hand between my legs. He slowly began to rub me through my jeans. "And you told me last week you're on the pill."

I continued to stare at him numbly.

"What's wrong, Aunt Natalie?" he asked me. Smiling broadly, he reached over with his other hand and turned the television back on. As he continued to massage my pussy, I listened to the sounds of our incestuous coupling only a week before. I groaned. My treacherous sex was already beginning to lubricate itself. I had to make him stop it now.

"Kevin —" I began sternly.

"Aren't you going to teach me how to eat you, like you promised me last weekend?" Kevin interrupted.

Oh, God, this kid knew all my buttons. Who the fuck taught him all this? Oh, that's right; I did. I hadn't had my pussy eaten in years, and the idea of having a guy do what I told him, rather than what he thought was the minimum he could get away with — I melted. I felt him unzipping my jeans and pushed my butt up to help him out. As he pulled my jeans and panties off, my own hands took over the job he'd started.