Chapter 19C

Thursday morning her alarm beeped away and she shut it off roughly and flopped onto me naked, her arms sleepy and hot and her lips on my neck.

After a couple of minutes I said, "You have to go to work."

She groaned. She hugged me. She lay still.

I kissed her shoulder. "Hey."

She sighed and raised her head and looked at me, her eyes thinking, thinking, and she swept her hair back on both sides. Then her eyes looked at mine and she whispered, "All right."

I started the coffee. I had a long jog in Central Park. When I returned she was in the bedroom, dressed, finishing her makeup. I gave her a kiss and whispered, "That was good last night."

She blushed, and screwed on an earring.

I stroked her shoulders. I said, "There's nobody like you."

She hugged one of my hands to her face. She stood up, fastening her other earring, smiling dryly. "Now, listen. I'm not going to be able to work all day."

"Bring it home. Work here."

"I can't." She started for the living room. "And you know what would happen if I could."

"What?"

She stood at the dining table drinking her coffee.

I leaned in the doorway and teased her, "What would happen?"

She gave me a sweet, brief grin, and she sipped again and she took a quick bite of toast. She asked as she chewed quickly, "What are you going to do with yourself today?"

"Learn."

She took another bite of toast. "You've already done some of that."

"Learn more."

She breathed a little laugh and swallowed fast and took another sip of coffee. "I have to go." She hurried to the door and reached for her briefcase and I walked to her and gave her a little kiss. She looked at me, one hand on my cheek, and she started to say something, but she made a little smooch with her lips and opened the door.

I said, "You were gonna say something."

"It can wait." She left.

All day, I was back to searching, learning. But now I was open to whatever I found. I had five days left to scour every idea in New York. Adolescent development textbooks fed more clues into me. I hooked into the incest thread again, finding little on it in the books of 1957, but finding enough to give me more insight into my feelings about Martha. And about Ronnie.

At noon I was waiting for Ronnie when she unboarded the elevator in her building and walked to me. She craned her head to give me a kiss, but I pulled her to me gently and kissed her neck. I had one arm around her waist and the other stroking her hair.

She whispered, "Hey. What's this?"

"Just a brotherly hug."

She laughed. "Not exactly."

I said, "Well, you gave me a hug. Remember?"

"Honey, not like this." She relaxed against me. People in a hurry scurried all around us.

I said, "Well, think of it as a hug for my dear Aunt Veronica."

She breathed a laugh against me again and pulled her face back. She wore a dry little smirk. "Yeah? Auntie? That has to wait for the weekend."

"Okay."

"You sure?"

I shrugged. "Will it hurt?"

"No. But, mister, are you gonna blush!"

On our way down the street she announced, "Today you get a treat. We're going to do a great, cheap New York City thing and go to an automat. Ever been to one?"

"I've seen them around."

"Oh, they're great. Even better than real food."

Ronnie led me through the details of finding and buying food from the wall of mechanized food bins in an automat on Sixth Avenue. I sat at the table with her, taking a taste from my tray of what Ronnie called "pre-fab food".

I winced. "Ronnie, do people actually live on this stuff?"

"For brief periods. But this is the romance of New York, Steven. the ambiance. This is where Marlon Brando and so many movie stars stayed alive while they struggled for stardom. Doesn't it get your blood up and make you ready to charge right into it? Doesn't it make you want to spend the rest of your life in New York, living just like this? Where else can you get rice pudding that you can also use to fill potholes?"

"Okay, I get your point."

"Just giving you a little preview, sweetheart." She sprinkled salt and pepper on her pre-fab cheeseburger. "So what earth shaking discoveries have you made today?"

I finished chewing and swallowed. "Well, it's very interesting, the role that narcissism plays in these mother-son relationships."

Ronnie put her hands over her eyes. "Oh, Steven. God. When will this stop?" She frowned. "Don't they have anything out about nephews and aunts?"

Shortly after I arrived home to fix up a dinner for Martha, she called me from work. She'd been invited to a retirement dinner being held for someone in her department, and decided we should go. I was to meet her at the subway ticket window at the Columbus Circle subway station. "And dress nice," she said, "you need a coat and tie to get into the place."

Ah, New York. Nothing like last-minute, crisis-level planning. Columbus Circle was on the other side of town, and I was short on taxi money. I hadn't yet showered or shaved -- not that I had that much of a beard in those days, but I did have one. I showered quickly, cursing the distance between the shower stall and the bathroom, and rushed into the bathroom to shave. In my rush I managed to inflict a quarter inch razor cut on my chin that refused to stop bleeding.

I left the apartment with a pocket full of tissues for blotting the cut. Constantly checking my wrist watch, I had to walk faster and faster to get all the way across Central Park and then drop twenty blocks south. And I knew that the faster I walked, the longer it would take the cut to coagulate.

Eventually I had to take off my sport jacket and start jogging along a diagonal path in park -- not easy, because few paths of any kind led all the way across Central Park to the West Side. In the meantime I stuck a small patch of tissue on the cut. By the time I reached Columbus Avenue and 72nd Street, I felt the patch was still wet. I dabbed it with a clean tissue and the bloody little patch came off. Darn it, this was the kind of trivial crap that used to infuriate me in Memphis. As I trudged down junky Columbus Avenue I became aware of how fragile my New York euphoria could be. It became a major battle for me to maintain the frame of mind it had taken me two months to achieve.

I made it to the Columbus Avenue station five minutes early. I paced back and forth in the crowded subway mezzanine, dabbing at my chin. Eventually, the tissue came away from my face clean. Then, at five fifteen, Martha was late. I wondered if I were in the right location. My white shirt collar and underarms were getting sweatsoaked. I paced back and forth in the muggy station, dodging people and getting liberally cursed in hot headed New York style.

Finally, finally, Martha appeared at five twenty, trying her best to run in her heels and straight skirt. It was amazing: I was hot, sweaty, tired, and flustered, and the sight of her had me instantly in love and horny. I thought I could be half dead, my arms and legs cut off, and I'd still get horny looking at her.

She walked in a rush and grabbed me by the arm. "C'mon!"

"Do we have to be in a hurry like this?"

"Maybe we can get a seat on the train. The D train just pulled in."

We hopped down a short flight of stairs, Martha pulling me by the hand all the way, and we scooted into the subway car just as the doors were slamming shut. The car was packed. No seats.

"Well," Martha said, hanging onto a center post, "we tried."

"It's the five o'clock rush. What do you expect?"

"I guess so."

"Where are we going?"

"Greenwich Village. MacDougal Street. What's wrong with your chin?""

"Razor cut."

"It's bleeding a little." She started searching through her purse. I quickly reached into my pocket for a tissue and I dabbed it at my chin, and Martha saw me and said, "Here, gimme that."

"I can do it."

"Gimme. You can't see what you're doing." She snatched the tissue and dabbed at my chin.

I winced, pulling back angrily. "Stop mothering me."

She didn't move for a moment, staring at me as if shocked, or hurt, or insulted. I shrugged and pointed my finger at my chin. "Okay, c'mon. Do it. Go ahead, you do it."

"You sounded so mean."

"Oh, I'm just in a big rush. C'mon, help clean this off." I stuck my chin out. "C'mon. I'm okay."

She dabbed at me gently, examining me closely, and I looked at her eyes, her big captivating eyes and the lashes and her little nose and her soft, lipsticked mouth. She was just unbelievably pretty. I felt like an idiot for snapping at her.

A tall, lean black guy with a goatee and a crushed old hat stood just behind and beside her, and looked down at her with a big grin. "Mmm, Mama! Dat is one fine woman!"

Martha's eyes rolled in her head, and she ignored him.

"Really fine!"

I looked up at him, steadfast. "She sure is. She's the best around."

Martha glowered at me, forming a shh! with her lips.

The big black guy beamed at me. "Dat's what I says, man! She is fine, fine, FINE!" The train jerked violently to a stop at 47th Street. The black guy turned to get out. "I mean fine, baby!" On his way out the door he exclaimed, "REAL fine! Whooo!"

As soon as the guy left, Martha glared at me and said below the noise of the crowd, "Steven, don't ever argue with hecklers in New York. Ever!"

"Sorry."

The train started again. She fumed quietly, lurching against the center post and turning to eye someone behind her who bumped her. She looked up and saw me staring at her. She chided me, "It's dangerous to do that. Don't do that."

"Okay." I looked at her for a moment. "Sorry I snapped at you back here."

"You had such a mean look in your eyes. I was just trying to help. I never saw you look like that."

I sighed. "I'm just adapting to the local mannerisms. So they won't think I'm from out of town."

She settled down, not speaking.

I said, "This morning you were going to tell me something. You said it could wait."

"It's still waiting."

I kept my eyes on her patiently.

Finally she looked at me. "Why did it take you nine years to get so hot and excited with me? And then you give us only five days to enjoy it."

I smiled. I said, "I guess I'm slow to arouse."

She wagged her head a couple of times and said, "I was just cranky, I guess."

I moved my head slowly to and fro. I said softly, "Fine, fine, fine."

She smirked and made a little fist and gave me a tap on the arm.

After the dinner we returned home too late for any lovemaking. We crawled into bed naked and embraced each other and, as we had done earlier that week, we fell asleep touching and caressing.

Friday night in Ronnie's candlelit bedroom, Martha lay beside Ronnie watching wild eyed as I neared an orgasm inside Ronnie's cunt. Martha grinned at me as I trembled on my arms, my hips starting to slow for the long slide into a climax that Ronnie had been building up in me for several minutes. Martha's fingers pressed enticingly into the muscles behind my sack as I labored. I huffed and puffed and was as taut as a cable, on the very edge of cumming. I had held my breath for so long I couldn't talk.

Martha teased me, "You close? Hon?"

They were both driving me out of my mind. I wondered if my brain would burst before my balls did. The preliminary, stiffening surges started in my dick. I slid in and out of Ronnie's cunt between the two soft fingers that held my root and looked for signals.

Ronnie leered up at me while I fucked her, her eyes taunting. "Little Steven's a-a-almost there, aren't ya baby? Yeah, Aunt Ronnie can feel him pulsing in there. Cummin', baby? Gonna cum in Aunt Ronnie?" She lowered her voice to a tempting whisper. "Gonna fill up Aunt Ronnie's pussy? Hm? Gonna feel good, huh? Gonna feel sooo gooood." Ronnie started writhing her hips gently, the mouth of her cervix slithering around my tip. I grit my teeth and yelped "Uh!" Ronnie hissed salaciously, her eyes sparkling, "Yeah, he likes that. Stevie-boy likes that, likes to feel Aunt Ronnie's pussy movin' on 'im. Likes it nasty like that. Likes fuckin' Aunt Ronnie. Likes to fuck. Ffffuck."

I grunted, cumming deliriously, and my dick went insane, spewing cum. I went blind.

Her eyes narrowed. She whispered excitedly, lewdly. "Yyyeahhh, baby. Yeah! Cum in Aunt Ronnie. Ahhh. OH! Oh, YEAH! Oh, Stevie, baby, that was -- Oh! Mmmm. Honey! Ohhh, sweetheart! Mmm. Mmmmmm. Slo-o-ow down, now. Yeah, nice and slow, get it all in, a-a-all in there. Yyeeahh. All in Aunt Ronnie's pussy. Thaaat's right. Ah. Ah. Get in deep, honey. Mmm, deep. Whew! God, we wore us both out, huh? Hm? Yeah, settle in deep, sweetheart. Take a little rest, now. Whhh! A little rest, baby." I relaxed and Ronnie relaxed, and she sighed wearily, "Oh! Good lord."

I had to drop to my elbows. I couldn't move any more. During the winding down, Martha chuckled near me, her hand massaging the aching, weakly throbbing muscles under my balls, and Ronnie's pussy churned and milked gently, contentedly. Ronnie whispered, "Mmm, he liked fuckin' Aunt Ronnie. He likes it naughty. Hm? Didja like it naughty like that?"

I groaned, "Yes!" Not only was I drained, I felt like a thoroughly drained savage.

Ronnie stroked my neck and back. She said in her normal voice, "Martha, you puritanical Southerners can get so dirty! I've never done it like that. God, I've *never*. Didn't know I could."

Martha stopped rubbing my muscle and started caressing my butt. "Ronnie, I always knew you had it in you."

"Oh, I've got it in me, I've got it all in me!" She chuckled. "I learned from watching you." She kissed my neck. "Mmmm."

Martha blushed. She kissed my shoulder. She smiled at me. "Hon, I thought you were going to faint. I won't bother to ask if you liked it."

I couldn't have answered her anyway. In every respect, I was done in.

Ronnie used one hand to brush sweaty hair from her face. She grinned and laughed. "Whew! I was really sounding filthy. I can't believe it. I even embarrassed myself! Good lord! So surreal!"

While I lay like a corpse they went into the bathroom. I struggled to my feet and stumbled into the kitchen shower. I kept it on the cold side, but it didn't help that much. I got back into bed.

The two women returned from the bathroom and sat up smoking cigarettes, saying I looked as if I needed a long break. When they finally got to work on me again they spent more than half an hour trying to get me up, but even Martha's wonderful mouth couldn't get a strong boner going. I was just too damn contented and sapped.

Finally I put my arms around Martha and rolled her onto her back and cradled an arm around her head and spoke softly to her, "Let's don't leave Mama Martha unattended. Let's be nice to her." I stroked the back of my hand across her cheek and looked into her eyes. I said, "Let's be nice to Mama Martha's wicked little girl." As soon as I said it I saw a sweltering dampness glaze her eyes. I let my fingers glide across her breasts and down her tummy and down her thighs and then back up to her pussy. I kissed her lips, and with my mouth hovering near hers I teased, "Want to make Mama's wicked girl feel good?"

She whispered a soft but excited, "Yes."

I lifted my face and looked into her eyes. They were like hazel turned liquid. I smiled at her. I brushed hair away from her forehead. I teased gently, "Are you a wicked little girl?"

Her eyes smoldered. "Yes!"

"Does our wicked little girl want her wicked boy to make her feel nasty?"

Her eyes closed. She had the look of a deep, dizzying swoon on her face. Her hand gripped my shoulder. "Oh, Steven. Oh."

I gave her a soft kiss while my hand cruised over her breasts and I let a finger trail around and around a jutting nipple.

I raised my head and looked down at Martha's naked, spread body. Her right arm gripped my shoulder and her left hand lay beside her head. I rolled her nipple between my fingers, and my eyes glanced up at Ronnie lying on her tummy beside Martha, and Ronnie grinned at me, then she watched Martha's face.

For several minutes I licked and caressed Martha's torso, reaching down now and then to fondle her pussy briefly, but never letting her get very far along, not fingering her, finding something she enjoyed immensely and then leaving it for something else before returning. Ronnie watched me, watched everything I did, and then she did the same thing behind me. When I sucked Martha's breast and then moved my mouth elsewhere, Ronnie took the same breast and nursed and licked and sucked. Then both of us were sucking a nipple and Martha arched her head back and seemed to float far, far away, leaving us back on earth with her nipples jutting up for more pleasure, and she shivered a little and seemed to have a kind of quiet, pleasurable internal climax, her open mouth uttering a long, long, almost inaudible ahh, and then she relaxed, and we kept sucking and licking. She whispered, "So nice. So wicked. So nice." I loosed her nipple and kissed her shoulders, and then I started downward along her waist. Ronnie lifted her head and brought her face near Martha's. She kissed Martha's closed eyes. She held a palm against Martha's cheek and whispered, "Martha. My little girl's so excited. So dark. I want to make it wicked and dark for you. Very dark." Martha whispered distantly "Yes" and Ronnie gave Martha's cheek a soft, lingering kiss, and then another on Martha's neck, and another on Martha's shoulder, and she moved slowly toward Martha's breast. I kissed Martha's tummy and then lifted my head to watch her as my hand crept downward to her tuft, and my fingers played there. Martha's legs moved apart a little.

I watched her closed eyes and her blissful face. Her lips parted a little, giving a constant stream of soft ah's while she breathed, and I moved my palm down the soft but taut flesh of her smoothly muscled left thigh, slowly, and then slowly up, and I repeated that caress along the inside of her thigh, creeping toward her pelvis. Ronnie watched my hands on Martha, and then she leaned up on one elbow and she watched Martha's face and she let her hand repeat my motion, caressing downward along Martha's tummy to her tuft and toying with the short auburn curls there, and then she watched her hand glide softly down the top of Martha's other thigh. Then she watched Martha's face while her hand stroked inside Martha's thigh as mine did. As we caressed Martha's thighs Ronnie glanced at me, and she smiled intimately, naughtily. I thought they both looked and behaved as if slightly possessed; I wondered if I looked the same way. Martha's breathing gradually became deeper, more irregular. My fingers crept up her thigh and then I stroked her wet cuntlips, and she gave a soft sigh, and Ronnie kept watching my hand. I let my hand cup Martha's pussy and I made slow circles on her. Her hips rose briefly and I felt her wetness smear across my palm. I bent two fingers and found her clit and began to circle, slowly, and Martha sighed "Mmm. Yes." I circled and circled and her pussy was soon drippy, so I slid my finger inside. Martha's legs slid wider apart. The tendons spreading from her center pulsed in time with my slow fingerfucking. Then I paused. Inside her, I let my middle finger massage the secret, internal spot, the rough bundle on her upper wall, and she moaned and turned her face to its other side and she winced a little. She smiled and breathed loudly, and after a minute she had the little internal orgasm that she liked to have, clinching her jaw for a few seconds and then relaxing, panting. I let my finger stay in her a moment and I bent to kiss her neck. Her hand on my shoulder squeezed.