Wrong. So wrong. Thoughts flittered through my mind in tiny snippets, like confetti blown around by the maelstrom of my mixed emotions. Yet I couldn’t help but stare through the tiny gap in the hedge. Brittany looked around one last time, shy yet excited, then crouched down in the middle of the lawn. Sandra, her cousin, sat cross-legged on the lawn a few feet away, Brittany’s folded clothes in her lap, and watched as avidly as I did. God, how wrong.

They were both eighteen. Brittany still had the lithe body of a teenager, boyish in appearance with barely a waist, small breasts and her sandy blond hair in a pixie cut. Esther always complained that she hung out with the boys, played soccer instead of girls’ games, had a mouth potty enough for a sailor and couldn’t be controlled at all. I’ve never seen her wear a skirt. She’s always in these loose cargo shorts along with tees with outrageous prints and shuffling around in heavy leather boots.

Last year, Esther had called me full of despair one night because Brittany had come home with her eyebrows missing and her lips painted completely black. She had feared that the girl was going goth, perhaps having suicidal tendencies like those poor young things in those stories in the newspapers. She had kept me up all night, but I finally got her to calm down. Eight days later, Brittany had announced that she was going to sell her bible because she had turned Wiccan. She was a little rebel, and her focus changed on an almost weekly schedule.

Sandra was the good girl, the daughter of my former husband’s sister Jessica. Tall, curvy and fit. Prime cheerleader material, which she, in fact, was. Her sleek blond hair reached down to her butt cheeks, and she was always dressed perfectly in dainty, colorful dresses. She was polite and observant. A model daughter.

Now, though, the wind carried her voice across the lawn, and it wasn’t polite at all. “Start pissing, bitch!” she snapped at her cousin.

My eyes once more roamed to Brittany. I couldn’t see her face well from here as she was looking down, but I could see how long and perfect her legs were. Suddenly, pee sprayed from the center of that hairless mound between her legs, sparkling golden and pretty in the bright sunlight before it hit the grass.

Sandra said something I couldn’t hear, and suddenly Brittany’s pee came out in short spurts. The lean girl’s head snapped up and she teetered a bit. Sandra said something else and started laughing.

I shouldn’t be watching, I thought again. It was utterly wrong. But now that I had glimpsed Brittany’s youthful body in its entirety, I couldn’t look away. Her long legs were so slender and without blemish. No, don’t think that!

Sandra stood up and walked in front of her cousin, shielding her from my eyes. They talked quietly, and I sneaked along the hedge to find a better angle.

I almost let out a yelp of surprise when Sandra lifted her bare foot, laid it against Brittany’s chest and pushed her backwards. The girl landed on her bum and looked up with a strange expression.

My heart missed a step when Sandra stepped right into the spot where Brittany’s pee must have landed. I grew dizzy and sweat broke out. Sandra lifted one foot toward her cousin, and Brittany caught it reverently with her hands, and then - oh gawd - she leaned forward and licked! Licked all the way over Sandra’s dirty, pee-covered sole, then, even worse, wrapped her lips around her cousin’s toes.

It was the craziest, sexiest thing I had ever seen. The blood rushed in my ears.

I almost cried out in alarm when I caught on to what my fingers had been doing. The spell was broken and I looked down, stared at the dark, wet spot on the front of my thin summer dress where my fingers had rubbed the material against my pussy. They were my nieces! And god, what they did was so ... nasty.

I tightened my grip on the sandals with the broken strap. Esther, Jessica and Kayla - my ex’s other sister - were probably sitting at the ice cream parlor right now. I had returned barefooted when the strap of one of my dearest sandals broke, something I probably should have expected after nine years and two replacement soles. The girls had opted out of taking a walk, claiming the need to play a new computer game as an excuse.

Computer game, my ass. I tip-toed along the edge, hunching my back, careful to avoid fast movements and give myself away. The hedge was rather dense below chin height, but with what I had seen, I didn’t want to take a risk. My breath was still going hard.

Finally, I slipped around the corner of the house and could breathe easier. I dropped the sandals on the wooden porch and went inside, heading directly upstairs. I needed - I needed - a shower! That was it! A shower would cool me down, wash away the dirty images and thoughts.

I carried a fresh set of clothes into the bathroom, stripped and turned on the water. Getting the old farm house with the tiny rooms completely renovated and turned into an modern, spacious home must have cost Kayla a fortune. I still wasn’t sure what she did for a living. She sometimes mentioned photos and movies, but she never got specific, claiming that work was work and private life was private life.

I sighed in relief. The drops from the large overhead rain shower cascaded pleasantly over me. What kind of game required a pretty girl to lick her cousin’s pee-stained feet? Fuck. There was no reprieve from these thoughts. I had to do something.

I’ve always been a creamer. When I’m horny, it just flows. It has caused me quite a number of embarrassing moments at college until I got it a little under control. Today, I was completely lacking that control, and I had no idea how I would explain away the musky smell and why I’d have to change every hour. There was only one thing.

It felt wrong to masturbate in a stranger’s home. I leaned back against the tiles and closed my eyes, trying to forget where I was. My fingers found the hard nub easily and started to coax it from its sheath, and easy task. I tried to think of John, my on-and-off lover, and his thick cock, but the image of Brittany, peeing, then licking Sandra’s feet, kept getting in the way.

Did they play this kind of games regularly? My breathing grew harder. I parted my index and middle finger a little and ran them up and down the sides of my clit. It always worked when I needed a quick release. “Oh, yes!”

I tweaked one nipple with the other hand, the tip already tight and hard and deliciously sensitive. Start pissing, bitch! It had looked so ... sensual. Like sweet golden nectar flowing from her core. “Yes! Yes!” I had to keep quiet. My fingers slid with just enough friction to send sparks of pleasure through my clit. Her beautiful, hairless mound. How soft and rosy was it on the inside?

Bad Astoria! So naughty! I rubbed faster. My thighs started trembling and my skin began to tingle all over with the first hints of the rush my release would bring. Her sweet, pink tongue trailing along the nasty, dirty, stinky, soft sole of Sandra’s foot. I let go of my nipple, pushing two fingers inside my sopping slit instead while I kept rubbing my clit. “Brittany, you dirty slut! Ohmygod, yes!”

It came like a wave and lifted me onto my toes. “Fuck, yes!” I pinched my clit and gasped hard, my body shaking with each explosion of pleasure. “Yes! Yes!”

Oh god, that felt good. I slumped back against the tiles and laid the back of my head against it, dizzy in the afterglow. Blinking open my eyes, I looked into a blurred young face peeking in through the steamed up glass.

I think I shrieked. I tried to cover my pubes and turn around, but I nearly slipped and had to grab onto the soap holder to keep upright. My chest nearly exploded.

Then I turned my head slowly back to the stall door. The bathroom was empty. Had it been a trick of my mind?

I stayed in the guestroom I was sharing with my sister for nearly half an hour, but if the others found me there once they got back from their walk, they would ask questions. So I finally mustered up the courage and stepped outside. I could hear music and giggling from the girls’ room and exhaled deeply, then walked downstairs and poured myself a lemonade. It was too nice a day to stay inside. Normally, temperatures were close to hundred at this time of day, but a few days of rain a week ago had cooled Florida down. With a little shade, it was just perfect to sit outside.

I sat on the swing on the back porch and sucked on the straw, wondering how I would survive the three weeks until the boys returned from their ice fishing trip in Alaska.

A little breeze wafted over me from the wood, carrying the sweet scent of honey and pine trees and reminding me of days long gone. Besides the fun and outdoor games, climbing out of the window in the dark to visit parties and receive our first kisses, there were other memories that tried to surface, but I pushed those back and ignored them, something practice had perfected.

Gravel crunched and female voices approached. If I managed to look Esther and Jessica in the eyes, I could perhaps make it.

“Look, Mrs. Bolton shouts through the open driver’s window, it’s set to ‘slow’. I told you! So Mona leans into the car, points to the lever and says in her friendliest voice, no, Ma’am, that ‘S’ there is not for ‘slow’, it means ‘sports’, so it’s no wonder your car is bucking like a horse when you’re pulling that heavy trailer.” Jess looked around expectantly. “And do you know what the old crone does?”

Everybody hung onto Jessica’s lips. She works in a car repair shop and always has the most hilarious stories. Our stomachs already hurt from laughing so much. Finally, Esther caved. “Spill!”

“She growls, are you saying that I’m unable to read the manual, young man?” Jess had to wipe away a tear and waved her hands through the air. “Mona’s got D-cups and the ass of a brewery horse! So she’s completely flabbergasted. But Mrs. Bolten isn’t finished. Suddenly, she shrieks, her chest wiggling like an earthquake in Frisco, then her voice turns into a siren. Are you looking down my cleavage? Pervert! I’ll sue you! I want to return the car, and I want my money back! God, it was so bizarre! I think there was even spittle flying!”

We laughed some more, clinking our wine glasses together.

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“When I could stop laughing, I fetched Frank. He gave Mona the rest of the day off with full pay and coaxed Mrs. Bolton into his office. I couldn’t understand what exactly he told her, but it was long and loud. We haven’t seen her since.”

“Do you have lots of these crazy customers?” It sounded that car repair happened on a completely different planet.

“You have no idea.” She swirled her wine. “It sometimes feels like owning a car leads to permanent brain damage for half our customers. They can get all worked up about a silly sticker getting loose.”

“I’m so glad I’m working in a safe little office,” I confessed. “The only visitors I get belong to the cleaning crew.”

“Hey, that reminds me! We had this huge mountain of a man as a cleaner, name was Jackson. What we didn’t know was that he had a bit of an issue and needed to take pills because he was deadly afraid of triangles of all things. Hey! Don’t ask me! Well thing is, there was this square tile close to the corner of the workshop that had a perfectly straight crack running from one corner to the other. He always cleaned after the shop closed. One morning, Frank and Mona head into the shop and there’s Jackson, pressed into the corner and trembling all over...”

The first thing I did when I woke up was groan. My head throbbed, and my mouth tasted like a sewer. I cursed myself for forgetting to drink some water after the wine, but Jess had pulled one story after the other from her repertoire and I had completely lost count of how many glasses I had had. Sunlight streamed brightly through the - thankfully open - windows, and while I had to blink, at least the air was fresh. I remembered flashes of stumbling up the stairs while holding onto Kayla.

I sat up, but too fast, and my stomach churned. The throbbing turned into painful stabs and I whimpered. I was a lightweight, alright.

Then I spotted the water and the Tylenol on the nightstand and blessed whatever deity that had thought ahead. The ice cubes in the water had almost completely melted. I slowly slid my legs outside and filled the glass from the pitcher, put two pills into my mouth and washed them down. Then I waited.

After a while, the throbbing settled into a slightly dizzy feeling and I stood up. My stomach had slowed down, but once I moved, it churned. Bacon and eggs, I decided, although the thought made me a bit queasy. But I knew that, once I got through the first few bites, the world would be right side up again.

The house was strangely silent. Then I remembered, and I groaned. Shopping, lunch at Alfredo’s, then the circus and the dinner cruise had been the plan, and with the necessary reservation at Alfredo’s on a Saturday, we had agreed to head out at nine. Which it was long past.

I pattered into the kitchen and dug through the boards for a pan, then fished all the ingredients from the fridge. I loved gas hearths. It only took a few seconds and the eggs were sizzling. I moved them around until they congealed, then made a heap to make space for the bacon. “Salt, lots of salt,” I mumbled and went to the spice drawer. “And coffee. God bless these fully automated Italian coffee machines!” Cups were behind the second ... no, third door.

“Make one for me too, Auntie?”

I nearly dropped the cup. I did yelp a little. I had no idea how I could have overlooked Brittany, but there she sat on the high counter right next to the stove, wiggling her finger on her iPad, then looking up and smiling at me.

“I - uh - of course...”

“Sorry for startling you. Still a bit out of it?”

“Had a bit much yesterday.” I sat the cups under the outlet and pushed the button for a double. “Oh, the bacon!” My words were lost in the racket the grinder made and I flinched. Loud noises were bad.

I turned off the flame and pushed my breakfast onto a plate. Heavy, fat, salty and tasty. Just what the doctor ordered. I sat down on the barstool next to Brittany and started to gobble down the breakfast fast enough that my stomach had no time to complain. Between hasty bites and sips of coffee, I asked, “How come you’re not off with the others?”

“We didn’t want to leave you here alone and I volunteered.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I hate circus. Thanks for the excuse.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I replied.

“I love your nightie.”

I looked down and squealed. The fork, together with the pieces of egg stuck to it, went sailing through the kitchen while I clutched one hand over my pubes and covered my breasts with the other. “Oh god!” I stammered. “I’m sorry. I totally...” My cheeks pulsated with embarrassment. How could I have missed that I was wearing that thing? The answer was my hangover, of course. I hadn’t even realized I had packed it. Kayla must have helped me put it on, but I had no memory of that.

Brittany giggled. “Oh come on, Auntie. It’s just us.”

“I’m practically naked.”

“So what?” She hopped from the barstool and ambled across the kitchen. When she bent over to pick up my fork, the flimsy shorts she wore were sucked into the cleft between her pert butt cheeks and the hem rode upwards, exposing the base of the pale, small half-orbs. Her legs appeared endless.

She picked a towel from the rack and wiped the fork, then came back. I was still frozen to my spot.

“Here you go, Auntie.”

“I - uh - thanks.” She held out the fork, unimpressed by my shyness, and I started to feel absolutely silly. Tentatively, I uncovered my breasts and reached out for the fork, praying that it wouldn’t be obvious to her that my nipples were rock hard. The egg started to taste like cardboard, but I took another forkful and chewed mechanically.

“I asked Sandra to stay here too, but she was all hyper about the circus. I’ve got no idea what she finds there. It stinks from all the animals and the clown jokes are absolutely lame. If I want that, I can watch an old Stan and Ollie movie,” she told me. “I mean, that stuff hasn’t really changed in centuries. And the dinner on the boat is wayyy overpriced. They only serve these tiny pieces, and it takes ages until you’re full.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was still perpetually exuberant and filled with the judgement of youthful naivety that painted everything black or white. I had once been the same, but that had been a long time ago.

“Then what do you enjoy?” I asked her, scraping together the last flakes of egg and maneuvering them onto the fork.

“Oh, this and that. I like all kinds of sports, especially climbing and biking, and playing soccer.”

“I know about that,” I said, winking at her while I put the last bite into my mouth, suddenly feeling a strange camaraderie. “I’ve lost count how often Esther complains about it.”

“She’s so old fashioned,” Brittany complained. “Girls should only play girls’ sports. Girls should be cheerleaders. Girls should have long hair and painted nails. Girls should dance ballet and curtsy and wear frilly things every day. They should work in girls’ jobs and talk about marriage and children all day long. She’s so ... aggravating.”

“Now, now. It’s what she grew up with.”

“You grew up with the same.”

Yes, and I rebelled too.

“I saw an old photo. You had your hair like me.”

I didn’t know that there were photos from that time. It had only lasted a few months and ended with a bang when ... No! That was dangerous territory. I swallowed hard. “Yes, I was a bit rebellious too. A long time ago.”

“What did you do?”

My palms grew warm. “I hung out with the crowd our mother despised and stayed out late. I think she worried herself half to death on my behalf. I drank and smoked. Even got arrested once for indecent exposure,” I confessed. “It was a dare that went wrong.”

Very wrong. I had no idea why I told her that much.

She hopped down again and tip-toed around the counter. “Want a lemonade too?”

“Yes, please. I’m still parched.”

She had to reach up high to get to the glasses. Her legs tightened when she stood on tiptoes, and I had to quickly avert my eyes when she turned around. She poured and pushed the glass in front of me.

“I think I drank ten gallons of that stuff yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever peed so much!”

The lemonade went down the wrong chute and I coughed, spluttering, then I had to sneeze. Was that an allusion to yesterday?

I looked at her too quickly, but she only appeared worried. “Hey, easy there. Nobody’s going to take it away,” she teased.

“Sorry,” I said and coughed again, my cheeks suddenly aflame.

She pulled one leg up and sat her heel on the edge of the stool. “Mom’s really driving me crazy sometimes. Especially because there are things I know I can never tell her.” Her fingers started to stroke up and down the outside of her soft thigh. The skin shimmered invitingly in the light, and my eyes followed the movement.

“I - I don’t think it’s so bad,” I said. “She’s your mother, after all.”

She looked really worried suddenly. Without thinking, I reached out and laid my hand on her knee. Her skin was really as soft as I had thought. Pinpricks shot through my fingers, but I couldn’t pull back without appearing strange.

“Hey. Do you want to talk about it? I swear I’ll keep my mouth closed.” I made a zipping gesture in front of my lips.

She looked at me, her expression a little wary, but then she took a deep breath. “She’s going to throw a hissy fit when she learns that I don’t like boys. She’ll throw me out of the house.”

“Don’t like boys? As in...”

“Lesbian. Queer. Whatever you want to call it.” She sounded defensive now.

“Sorry. I’m just surprised.” My heart started hammering faster. No, no! Don’t think that! “So you’re into girls-”

“Girls. Women. MILFs.” She suddenly stared right at me face. “I like to play around. It’s not as if I can get pregnant.”

Suddenly, her leg rested across my lap. My hand was still on her knee. I looked back in shock. Was she... ?

“You look good for your age, Auntie.” The tip of her tongue flicked out and she licked her lips. So cute. Her thin fingers wrapped softly around my wrist and pulled it towards her.

“No,” I ground out, tugging back, but my hand started shaking. “I’m your aunt!”

“I know,” she whispered and tugged a little harder. “I can feel you tremble. I’ve seen you stare at my legs every second you could since you arrived. I can see how hard your nipples are. God, they must hurt! Do you like touching my leg? Wouldn’t you like to touch more, to let your your hand roam all along it, caress it, worship it?”

I caved. I let her pull my hand along, my fingers prickling with delight while they slid upwards along the inside of her thigh. “We mustn’t,” I stammered, but my fingertips inched closer and closer to her sweet spot.

“You could kiss it. I bet it would feel delicious. You have so sexy lips!”

My fingers brushed the fabric of her shorts. My breath hitched. I could feel moisture seep down the inside of my thighs. What was I doing?

She pulled the fabric over her crotch aside, showing me that she wasn’t wearing panties and exposing that soft, bare mound to me. When she spread her other leg to the side, it opened like a blossom, and the prettiest, rosiest wrinkles became visible.

“Please,” I pleaded. “It’s wrong!”

“Touch me,” she whispered, and these two words washed away all thought.

The moment my fingers touched the pink, satiny flesh, I was lost. She was so warm and wet, and my fingers moved on their own, sliding up and down, drinking in her perfection. They encountered her nub and her breath hitched too.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she breathed, her own fingers caressing my arm and setting my skin on fire. “I want to feel your lips on my pussy. I want your fingers inside me. I want you to make love to me.”

I was lost in a trance. We stepped up the stairs through a hazy fog, and suddenly I was naked and lying on my bed. Brittany had shed her shorts too and was standing on the bed right over my head. I looked up along perfect thighs into an even more perfect pussy that glistened with arousal. God, it was a sight I would never forget! Her clit was dark and swollen, a pebble about to burst. She scooted a bit forward, then lowered herself.

It wasn’t her pussy that settled over my mouth. I was about to tell her, but she started talking first.

“Before you lick my pussy, would you please, please kiss my naughty bumhole, Auntie? That would make me so incredibly hot.”

Her butt cheeks touched my face. That naughty bumhole was just milimeters from my lips. I had never done something like this!

“Pretty please?”

It was soft and rippled, and it tasted a little strange. She made the most beautiful mewling little sounds above me as I twirled my tongue around that forbidden place. My own arousal tried to burst my chest. More by accident, the tip of my tongue pressed against the center of her rosebud, and her delighted cries of, “Yes! Yes! Oh my god, yes, Auntie!” made me lose all sense of propriety.

I pushed harder and felt the wrinkled ring give way. My tongue slid inside her pert, cute butt and I felt her tremble. “Oh fucking god, yes!” she mewled, and I stuck out my tongue as far is would go while my nose drank in the heady, sweet aroma of her pussy which it was brushing against.

For a moment, I wanted this to go on forever. Her delight echoed back and forth between us, little moans escaped her throat, and her pucker clenched around my tongue with each of these moans.

Her weight shifted, and lifted her butt off of me. It felt like a loss, but she knelt down astride my face and lowered herself again. Her eyes were huge and glassed over, looking down at me full of adoration. “Thank you, Auntie,” she said and caressed my cheek, setting it ablaze. “That was lovely.”

Then, finally, I tasted her. Ripe and sweet, intense and nearly overwhelming, her moisture instantly filled my whole being. Long forgotten memories surfaced, and my lips and mouth knew exactly what to do without conscious thought. I licked and sucked, nibbled and twirled, and her moans above me rose in pitch and volume with every second. Her legs started to shake, and seconds later, my mouth was flooded with her taste while she shook and whimpered.

“Oh my god,” she breathed after a while. I had gently caressed her labia with my tongue, licking up her juices but mindful how sensitive she would be. “You’re incredible, Auntie.” She slid down over my body, lying down on me and snuggling against my breasts.

I caressed her hair. “You taste divine,” I whispered. “I fear I might get addicted.”

“Good,” she purred and wiggled her hands underneath me, pulling me close.

“Will you -” I was about to ask if she would return the favor. Instead, my blood froze.

The door swung open and Sandra walked in. I stared at her in shock, unable to move, expecting her to let out an outraged shriek and bring the world crumbling down around us. Instead, she just winked at me and strolled across the room towards the writing desk at the back, where she pressed a button on the laptop there. Wait!

“What -”

“Ssh.” Brittany squeezed my breast as if Sandra wasn’t even here, and I shut up.

The display had sprung to life, but Sandra’s body hid most of it. “Perfect,” she declared, “we got it right, and it’s already uploaded.” She turned around, leaning her butt against the desk, and grinned at me. “Smile, Aunt Astoria. You’re a movie star!”

It felt like taking a shower with ice water. I panicked.

Brittany slid off of me and padded over to Sandra, pressing her back against the taller girl. Her cousin’s arms slid around my forbidden lover and pulled her close. I pulled the blanket over me as good as I could with half of it under me. My mouth opened and closed without sound.

I felt betrayed. I felt terrified. I had no idea what they wanted. A cruel plan to drive a wedge between me and her sisters? If so, they had already succeeded. Or was it about money? I didn’t have much to spare. I started shivering. “I - I thought you went with your aunts and mother.”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to witness this,” Sandra replied with a grin. “Oh, don’t worry. We don’t plan to show the movie to the others, if that is what you’re worrying about.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Was it just a kinky game? Let’s seduce our aunt and film it so we have some masturbation material?

“Unless you don’t cooperate, that is.”

“Cooperate with what?” The knot in my stomach was back.

“Oh, nothing much. It’s just a little game we like to play, and we want you to join us. The rules are quite simple.”

“What rules?” She was leering now. My breath stopped for a second when I noticed that one of Sandra’s hands had sneaked between Brittany’s thighs and was rubbing her rather roughly. The same mewling moans that had so ensnared me started to fly from Brittany’s lips, and she shuffled her legs apart.

“Just one, actually. You do everything we tell you to. And if you’re a really, really good girl, you get to taste Brittany again.”

Brittany was writhing and moaning in her cousin’s arms by now. Her eyes were completely glazed over, her lips open in a cute pout, and her breath raced.

My own juices were flowing like a river.

“What’s the aim of the game,” I asked quietly.

“That would be telling.”

Brittany came again. God, she looked beautiful. Emotions flickered over her face, her expression of joy almost painful, and everything was so much more intense and unreal by Sandra’s stoic smile.

Brittany slid to the floor and leaned against her cousin’s legs, breathing hard and smiling all over her face. Her legs were splayed wide open, her pussy red and puffy.

“There’s cake downstairs. Let’s have coffee on the back patio at three.”

I had packed my belongs twice, then emptied my suitcase again. I had run in circles, wearing a trench into the carpet. I had sobbed and wailed inside my head. But in the end, I had taken a shower, mindful to keep my fingers far away from that source of doom between my legs, then slipped into a light white summer dress and headed downstairs.

They were both in bikinis, Brittany, who was lounging lengthwise on the swing, in a flimsy black thing, barely enough to cover her nipples and pubes, and Sandra in a slightly larger orange one that went well with her tan and still left enough of her full breasts exposed to the onlookers’ eyes.

To Brittany’s eyes in particular. They were glued to her cousin’s chest, following every wiggling motion there.

I sat down in one of the reclining chairs next to the oak table and felt awkward.

“Sandra thought you’d bolt,” Brittany said with a giggle.

“I was close to. I had already packed my things.” No use beating around the bush. “I’m still not sure I can stay. How can I look them in the eyes?”