Chapter 8

When we got back, the atmosphere was decidedly different. Wine had been opened, and tippled. Lots of wine. Women had changed into sleep wear. Mostly scanty sleep wear. My grandmother ... my fifty-four-year-old grandmother ... was wearing a T shirt that she’d obviously gotten from Randi, with the logo “College girls do it after studying how” on the front. Her legs were bare, where the shirt stopped about mid thighs.

None of them were wearing bras. Tabby had on her fricking thong! I found that out when she bent over to pick something up, and I saw bare buttocks, split by that cord.

“We,” said my grandmother, dramatically, “have solved the problem!”

Danny was his old, unflappable self. His wife, who had decided they were staying for the night after all, and had also borrowed one of my mother’s nightgowns. She almost crawled up onto him when we came in. Only the cold bags of ice cream in his hands, which he pressed against her back, got her off of him.

“Behave yourself!” he ordered.

“I don’t want to!” she whined.

“And what problem have you solved?” Danny asked, ignoring his wife. He started handing out ice cream.

“Pat’s project has been saved,” said my mother. “In fact, it has been improved immeasurably. It may go down in history as the best project ever done!”

My mother had obviously been drinking some of that wine. She was a little flushed and her nipples were rock hard under her shirt.

“It was my idea!” proclaimed Aunt Vanessa, importantly. She had obviously been helping my mother with the wine.

“Hey!” I objected. “This is my project!”

“Of course it is, Darling,” said my mother, coming to give me a hug. She had a wine glass in one hand. I felt wetness on my back, as she spilled wine there, and luscious, soft, unfettered breasts on my front.

“Don’t waste it!” said Grandma, taking the wine glass from my mother’s hand, and drinking from it. That just let my mother hug me tighter.

I still had the boner that had developed when I imagined Danny, fucking my mother.

I don’t know what she’d been imagining, but whatever it was, with the wine added to it, allowed her to press her loins against mine when she felt that boner. She rubbed her loins back and forth.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned softly into my ear. “You feel good.”

“Mom!” I whispered hoarsely.

She pulled back, and blinked at me.

“Pat!” she said, as if she had just realized it was me. Who did she think she was hugging?

Everybody else was chattering, and getting into the ice cream, so nobody noticed my mother molest me, or almost molest me. They were all trying at once to talk about the solution to the problem with the pictures. Finally Randi, who was the least drunk of them all, except for Tabby, who was only allowed a few sips, grabbed my shirt and pulled.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you.”

She pulled me to the computer, which was set up in one corner of the dining room. The screen was dark, but when she pushed a button, it lit up to display an internet page.

It took a minute, because I had to scroll up and down. The pictures didn’t make any sense, at first, but then became clear as I realized what I was looking at.

It was the web site of a company called “Proud Body”, and the page they had pulled up was describing what they called their Pregnancy Belly Cast Kit. Basically, it was a kit that had rolls of cloth, with powdered plaster in them, sort of like what a doctor would use to make a cast on a broken bone. Of course this company said their cloth and their plaster was much better quality than mere medical plaster. Anyway, what you did with this cloth was get it wet, or something, and then lay strips of it all over a pregnant woman’s belly and breasts. When it dried, and was pulled off, you had an exact, anatomically correct copy of the woman’s pregnant belly and breasts. The pictures were of how a bunch of these casts had been decorated.

The whole idea was to preserve the look of a woman’s pregnant belly, and the breasts that went with that belly. It was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. It was also really detailed. On some of those casts, you could even see the nipples ... on the outside of the cast... through all that cloth!

Of course, the outside of the cast was a lot less detailed than the inside of the cast. The Turner women had thought of that, though. Their idea was to cast only the breasts, and then pour plaster into that negative impression. What would result would be a bust ... of a bust.

The kits only cost about thirty bucks apiece. If you didn’t use all that cloth to cover a bulging belly, a kit might do three pairs of breasts. They had even tried to calculate how much plaster would be needed, and the cost of that. They had been talking about the thorny issue of their luscious, soft breasts being portrayed in dead white plaster, and about whether you could paint plaster, or color it to look like flesh, when we came in.

Anyway, what they’d already calculated came to way less than two thousand dollars.

Of course, it also resulted in having to carry my project around in a truck, instead of a briefcase, but then they didn’t worry about that. All they thought about was that the breasts ... their breasts ... would be rendered in life-size, three dimensional, perfect copies, which, when appropriately painted, would be the next best thing to seeing the real McCoy.

They had actually discussed trying to do that, by the way. You know. Lining up behind a board, with a hole or a slit cut in it, for their breasts to stick through. Then the men could look at real breasts, and make their choice.

They went through a lot of wine that night.

I was still looking at the gallery of photos of casts that had been made, and decorated, when Randi’s voice broke into my consciousness. She was saying something about how, if my original sample wasn’t big enough, I could recruit other women to do busts like these, in the privacy of their own homes. I wouldn’t even have to be there. It could be expanded until I had a whole room full of plaster breasts, if need be.

I turned to look at her. Her nipples, poking through her T shirt, were right in my face. It was like an omen. I could have a copy of those breasts, that I could look at ... and maybe even fondle ... any time I wanted. I’d have the rest of them too.

I was sold.

It was a party atmosphere the rest of the night. On the other hand, with the women being tipsy, they were ready for bed fairly early. It was midnight, when they started divvying up the bedrooms.

The first problem was Danny and Christy. It was assumed they’d take up one bed.

“I don’t have to have sex every night!” said aunt Christy, slurring a little. Her mouth went into a little ‘o’. She didn’t usually talk quite that openly. The rest of them did, but not Christy. Knowing what I now knew about her, I thought that was kind of odd. Danny had told me nobody else knew ... that I was the first one in the family to know that all that kidding about borrowing Danny wasn’t being blown off by Christy nearly as much as they all thought it was. She was the stable one, with the good marriage, and the common sense approach to things. So her bald comment was not what everybody expected from her. They all stared.

“Maybe every other night,” she suddenly giggled. She wobbled over and sat on his lap. The nightgown she’d borrowed from Mom did nothing whatsoever to keep those hard breasts from wobbling in counterpoint to her feet, as she wobbled. When she plopped down on Danny’s lap, so much of her legs showed that I could tell what color her panties were. “Kiss me, baby,” she sighed.

“That’s just not fair!” moaned Aunt Vanessa. She had brought her own nightgown, which was what I’ve heard called a Teddy. It showed a lot of leg too. A lot.

“He can kiss you later,” said Christy, completely unaware that she was completely out of character. Apparently, what had happened between us, mixed with the wine, had unglued her fantasies. She kissed her husband, long, deep, and continuous. There were more stares.

“Grandma can sleep in my room,” said Tabby brightly. She was the only one, besides Danny and me, who hadn’t really had anything to drink.

Mona lurched to her feet and held out her hand to her granddaughter. Tabby helped her climb the stairs.

“I’ll give up my bed,” sighed Randi. She looked at Mom. “Your bed’s plenty big enough for two, if you won’t flop all over it.” My mother was known to take up the whole bed.

“Okay,” said my mother, her voice muzzy.

The two of them left.

That left Randi’s bed, and mine.

“I like the boy,” said Danny, “but not enough to sleep with him.”

“My bed’s not really big enough for two, comfortably,” I suggested. I had this horrible ... but fascinated feeling, that if I ended up sharing a bed with a female ... well ... I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep.

“I’ll take the couch,” said Danny. “You two girls can relive old memories in Randi’s bed.” He looked at Christy, and then Vanessa.

“That’s not so bad,” said Aunt Vanessa. “At least I won’t have to lie there and imagine the two of you in bed together.” She brightened.

Aunt Christy kissed Danny again, one of those kisses a boy like me wishes for all the world he might get to experience some day.

“Night, honey,” she said into his lips. “You know I love you more than anything in the world.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I love you too.”

“I know you do,” she said, standing up. “And it means everything to me.”

“Knock it off, you two, I’m horny enough as it is!” groaned Vanessa.

The two women wandered, more or less, arm in arm, up the stairs.

Danny looked at me.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

“She’s horny, and it’s that time of month.”

“Aunt Christy?” I asked, nasty thoughts chasing each other around in my mind.

“Yup,” he said. “I’d have felt a lot better if she’d have insisted on sleeping with me.”

“What could happen?” I asked.

“Who knows?” he said, standing up to take his pants off. He wore jockeys, like me.

I went to the linen closet and got him a sheet, so the rough fabric of the couch wouldn’t scratch him all night. By the time I got back, he’d taken his shirt off. He put his clothes right by the couch, on the floor, so he could get into them again, in the morning.

I went to my room in the dark. As I passed Tabby’s room, I heard snoring. I knew it wasn’t Tabby. Apparently, Grandma snored. I passed my room, and listened at the door of Randi’s room. I heard female voices talking softly. I guessed my aunts were catching up on stuff, or talking about old times.

I went back to my room and lay on my bed. I thought about what Danny had told me. The erection that caused was a doozy. I pushed my jockeys down to my thighs. It was so hard, and felt so good to stroke, that I didn’t want it to be over, so I just stroked slowly, and thought about things. I had a tissue handy for when I needed it, but for now, it just lay there.

I have to warn you about something, for just a second. From this point on, you need to understand that, while I’m telling the story, I wasn’t actually there for all of it. Some of what happened I learned fairly soon, and some of it was years later, but it will make a lot more sense if I just tell it like I was there. I was there for the parts that involved me, of course. I just didn’t want you to get confused, as you read on.

I was just thinking about getting serious about milking my prick, when my door creaked open. I don’t know for sure, but it was probably half an hour or so after I got into bed. I’d worked myself up pretty well, by then, but couldn’t concentrate on any one fantasy for longer than a minute or two, without cumming. It was so fun to just feel good, that I kept changing fantasies ... just so I wouldn’t cum.

“Pat?”

My eyes were used to the moonlight, coming in the window. The short hair told me it was Aunt Christy.

“Aunt Christy?” I whispered.

“Shhhh.”

She came over to the bed. I suspect her eyes were adjusted too, and saw me holding my bone.

“I think I had too much to drink,” she said softly. “I got up to go to the bathroom, but I must have gotten lost.”

I thought of two things immediately. First, aunt Christy had been in our house, and used every bathroom in it lots of times. There was no way she could get lost. Second, she had called my name, like she was trying to see if I was awake or not.

She also didn’t sound nearly as drunk as she had when she went to bed. In fact, she sounded suspiciously sober.

That led me to think about why she wanted me to think she was drunk. What burst into my mind then was what Danny had told me about how she felt about me, and how he felt about that.

Now I don’t know about your life experiences, or how you lost your virginity. Maybe it was a surprise, and maybe you planned it out in fine detail. I had dreamed about it a zillion times, but I wasn’t exactly prepared for it to actually happen.

On the other hand, I was a genius, and I had thought long and hard about what Danny said in describing what my aunt wanted. More than that ... how she wanted it.

“You’re not lost,” I said. “You came here on purpose.”

She knelt beside me. Her face was pointed toward my boner, which still had my hand wrapped around it.

“I know,” she said softly. Then “No! I’m lost!” Her face leaned closer to my hand, and the stiff prick in it. “What are you doing?”

She knew what I was doing.

“I was thinking,” I said, thinking furiously. “I was thinking about you, in fact.”

“You shouldn’t do something like that while you’re thinking about me,” she said, proving that she knew exactly what I was doing.

“I was thinking about you helping me do this,” I said. I had no idea how to play this game, but I was trying to learn fast.

“I could never do that,” she sighed.

“Take off your nightgown,” I ordered.

Her head swiveled to look toward my face. There was just the briefest hesitation. Then she stood, and slipped out of it. She was wearing panties. It was dark, but I knew what color they were. That made me even harder, for some reason.

“Take your panties off too.”

“Pat...” she said, her voice tense.

“Take them off, Aunt Christy. I won’t hurt you. I just want to see you.”

She bent, and skinned them down. She had dark hair on her head. All I saw between her legs was pale white.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered back.

“Lie down with me,” I said.

She knelt again, and leaned close. I could feel her breath on my face, and smell the lingering odor of wine.

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