My sister Diane called me, and started talking about how she and Stu were planning this 10-day second honeymoon. Puttering around the Caribbean on one of those boats so huge you see a picture and immediately think How the hell doesn't that just sink?!! She actually called it a marriage rejuvenation cruise. "That means were gonna fuck like bunnies," she tittered.
"Really? With the kids in the next berth over?"
"Well, actually, that was why I was calling..."
"Well, actually," I sort of snorted, "I'd already figured out that part. I'd be delighted to have Jimmy and Tiffany stay over with me. The kennel costs will run a hundred dollars a day for the pair, and we're only open 'til noon on Sundays."
"Shut up! And thanks. They'll be perfect angels; I'll fill your pantry, and their pockets will be stuffed with money for sundries and pizzas. And again, thanks"
I had great relations with the pair. Since their births I'd been their favorite aunt. A pretty easy sash to earn, considering I was their only aunt. They had uncles galore on their father's side, but not a one was femme enough to compete. But I did earn the title. For birthdays and such, my presents were always excellent and completely unexpected.
Kids of course grow up. Tiffany had just turned 14; three months earlier, nearly to the day--ahem!--Jimmy had hit fifteen. That was my sister; she loved to fuck. She'd always lived to fuck. As if that made her unique. But still, me, I might've connived a way to not be pregnant again before my first milk had barely let down. In fact, I'd managed my life so that I never got knocked up in the first place.
But even as they got older, they still loved coming over to my house. They called me Aunt Cooly. Clever kids: if you rearranged the sounds of Cooly, it did speak Lucy, my name. Unlike my sister, I lived alone. I had art on my walls. My shelves were filled with books, not figurines. This is not a slight on my sister. Diane shared my love of books, but Stu was a dominant male who thought his love of figurines was much more important, shelf space-wise.
I know this makes Stu sound sort of sissified, so let me stress we're not talking about porcelain shepherdesses as curly-haired as their lambly charges. It was a modern man's collection: all plastic, all NFL bobble-heads.
They arrived, as planned, bearing lunch. A couple big bags of drive-thru. Being such a nice day, we took it out on the back deck, and all ate and chatted for an hour. Then Diane and Stu had to go catch a plane to get to the Love Boat. After that departure, the three of us returned to the deck, lazing in the sun. I actually dozed off for about ten minutes. The kids were in the same state.
Once roused and refreshed, I remarked, "Remember the new fish? Spotty? You should see him now. C'mon, you lazy bones, let's go see him."
It was a touchstone from when they were first able to walk. Towards the back of my backyard stood a shade tree, a stone bench, and a koi pond. I bought the house that way. The sale was a divorcing couple, and neither parties wanted custody of the fish. I thought to learn enough to keep them alive ... nay, flourishing. Their whole lives, they've gone down to Aunt Cooly's pool, where the fish will kiss your fingertips if you dare stick them in the water.
They'd been over a few months ago right after I'd added new blood to the pond. Tiff had been the one to name him Spotty. Like she was almost four instead of nearing fourteen. Because the little gold feller was dotted with black spots.
"He was the size of a pill bottle last time you saw him. Now he's like a soda can."
We collected and walked down there. Spotty, the food whore, seemed to be waiting for us. We tossed some bits of leaves and shit in the water, and laughed at the stupid fish darting around with its mouth wide open. I wasn't the only one to get a bit teary.
"It seems like all my life I've sat on this bench," Tiffany started sort of weeping. "It's the most beautiful place in all the world."
Even Jimmy was sniffling. "It's like Monet's gardens, except without the creepy lily pads."
Then Jimmy laughed. "I thought you said Spotty was the size of a soda can?--looks more like a Pringle's canister to me!"
We went back inside, lining the couch in the livingroom. We chatted a bit, then turned on the t.v. There was nothing but stupid shit on, so we watched and laughed at it.
It got to be that time, so I stood and stretched, then looked down on them. "Okay. So what sounds good for dinner?"
They jumped in unison, bounding up and down on their sides of the sofa. I'd laid in the appropriate supplies. Everyone eats better these days, so it's good to be rewarded now and then. My signature meal, from years past, involved a pair of 12-inch cast-iron skillets on the stove. One fried the bacon, then was used to make grilled Swiss & bacon on rye. The other was filled with oil, heated, and then used to deep fry the fresh cut strips of potatoes.
I wandered off into the kitchen to start the preparations. I had the French fries all cut, the first pan of bacon done and draining, when I decided to drop back in the livingroom to ask about making salads or fruit cups.
Jimmy was still sitting on the sofa, though he'd slid down some. His eyes were sort of unfocused ... probably because his pants and underwear were shoved way down his thighs and his sister was jacking his naked cock.
"Tiffany! What are you doing?!!!"
She looked over with the sweetest little smile. "Making Jimmy feel good. Why, is dinner ready?"
"You can't do that!"
"Because you're his sister! that's why!!!"
"So what? What's wrong? Mom and Dad are on vacation, doing sexy things. And so are we!"
She bent down and sucked her brother, slowly taking his engorged head in her mouth. Showing me what wasn't wrong. She moved her hands away; indeed, she lowered her arms entirely, dropping them behind her back, her wrists crossing at her waist, looking almost like they were bound.
Something about that submissive posture made my inner feminist flare. "What's wrong is that girls shouldn't just give pleasure, they should get it as well." Boy did that sound stupid even as I was saying it. Not the sentiment, but under the circumstance. "I mean, what's wrong is that he's your brother."
Tiff moved her hands back up to Jimmy's cock so she could talk. "I'm just making him feel good. Isn't that what family is all about--being nice to those you love? Jimmy likes it, a lot, and I really like doing it."
"Just watch, Aunt Juicy," Jimmy slipped and moaned, "it's really cool."
They secretly called me that?!!
"Tiffany, you need to stop that right now!"
"Don't worry, Aunt Lucy, I'll be done in a couple seconds." I swear the little vixen winked at me. Then she was jacking the shaft like a pro, one-handed; the other hand reached under and cupped her brother's entire scrotum. I recognized the technique, but before I could react Jimmy jerked and groaned. Like a double-barreled shotgun, two thick ropes of jism jetted out of him nearly simultaneously. Tiffany squealed as they struck her cheeks. There were impressive loads to follow, but they mostly fell short and landed on her shirt.
"See," she scolded her brother, "I told you I should've taken off my shirt." Then she bent down and sucked his softening cock clean, getting the last tiny dribbles. "Okay," Tiff looked at me, "I stopped like you asked."
I looked my young niece in the face, astonished. "Young woman, you need a washcloth!"
"No I don't," she giggled sweetly, running fingers to sweep her cheeks clean into her mouth.
"You ... you need to go change shirts!"
"That I certainly do," she admitted, rising from her knees. She stood there for a moment, all saucy-eyed and sticking out her young tits, showing me how her shirt was all stained with boy. My shirt, I could hang it over the back of a chair to air overnight, and safely wear it tomorrow. Then Tiffany went skipping down the hallway, humming as she headed to the guestroom and her luggage.
To his credit, Jimmy was afraid. If he too had been cocky, I would've been afraid. During his sister's final scene, he'd surreptitiously managed to get dressed, pants pulled back up and shirt tucked back in, his cock back in its Jockey pouch. After Tiffany sashayed into the guestroom was when I turned my eyes back on him. He sat there on the sofa the way I'd left him when I'd gone into the kitchen to prep for dinner. As though nothing had happened in the interim. As though I hadn't just watched him shoot all over his sister.
"You," I declared, "need to just stay seated right where you are. Because I'm calling your parents." Jimmy's face got a little ashen. And sullen.
I had to call twice before Diane would pick up. They'd just gotten off the airplanes and onto the ship. She immediately yammered on and on about the amenities--the damn ship hadn't even shoved off yet! When finally I got a word in edgewise, hinting at what'd happened in my livingroom, she just brushed it off. "Oh, c'mon, Lucy! They're just kids, for heaven's sake. What do you expect? They're maybe just, you know, satisfying some natural curiosities. That's what kids do, you know, like, experiment. You need to loosen up on the matter."
"She reached down and rubbed his balls! That's no experiment, that's rank experience."
.... There is more of this story ...