Aunt
by MicaMeesha
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
Incest Sex Story: He goes to visit his Mum's twin sister and they end up being intimate. Then as they are recovering his aunt enters the room, wtf?
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Son Aunt Nephew .
“Auntie Belle would like to see you.” Mum said as I settled down for my morning Weetabix.
“Oh, well, I am doing nothing today; I suppose I could pop over for lunch.”
“She would like that. I will let her know sometime just after eleven?”
“Fine.”
At least Mum had bought proper Weetabix this time, not the cheap supermarket copies; they just turned to mush, not worth the cost saving, in my opinion. Belle is Mum’s sister, her twin actually. They are pretty much identical, and I think most people would not be able to tell them apart. Mum tends to wear dresses, and Belle prefers skirts, and that is about it; they both hate trousers, and I don’t think either of them possess any jeans.
I always kind of wondered if they played games on Dad when he called to take them out when they were courting; the one could easily have pretended to be the other, and Dad, not the brightest penny, would probably never have known. Did they laugh about it in their bedroom when Belle had gone out with Dad pretending to be Ariadne, my mum? Ariadne and Arabella, my goodness, how did Nan and Gramp come up with those names? Mum became Rene, and Aunt became Belle. Nan and Gramp are now sadly gone, but I had fun staying with them when I was younger, and boy, they spoilt me rotten.
Mum said that she was going out this morning, and would I be alright getting a bus to Aunties? Yup, no problem, student travel card; it is easy. One bus into town, another out to Aunties. Mum said she would pick me up at about four from Aunties. I showered and sprayed and then put on a clean white polo shirt and some tighty-whities and cargo shorts and sliders, and I was done. Just managed to catch the bus to town, and then a short walk to the bus stop for Aunties, not a long journey; I just sat in one of the sideways seats by the luggage rack. A girl got on and sat opposite; her skirt had rucked up, and she was wearing red knickers. I looked, but all I could do was fantasise until it was time to get off the bus. The girl scowled at me as I walked by; perhaps she had seen me perving at her knickers.
I knocked on Auntie’s door as I opened it. “Only me, Auntie,” I shouted as I slipped my sliders off.
“In the kitchen, sweetie,” she called.
I walked through to the kitchen, and she turned from the sink, and we hugged. I loved how her boobs squashed against me; my dick began to show signs of interest. I tried to tell it to hush and calm down; I am pretty sure she would have felt that stir as we pressed against each other.
“Now then, cold coke in the fridge, you grab that, and we can go and sit in the conservatory and catch up.”
“Okay, Auntie,” and I took the silver canned diet coke from the fridge and wandered through to the conservatory, sitting in the single chair. Auntie soon came in and sat in the sofa chair opposite, and oh my God, it was a bus moment; I could see her knickers as she sat. Red, like the girl on the bus, Oh Jesus, my dick was going crazy. Should I say something? She was my auntie after all, and you’re not supposed to be a perv after your relatives, are you?
I looked up. Auntie was wearing a blouse that I could sort of see through, no bra. Oh my God, there was nowhere I could look. I just tried to think of fruit jelly and cold cream, the textures, anything but focus on her boobs.
“So, how are things at home? Is Dad treating you good?”
“Yeah, he’s okay actually.”
“Good, and my sister – is she being good?”
“Heck yeah, she’s cool, you know?”
“Yes, but is she treating you real good?”
What was she going on about?
“Not sure what you mean, Auntie.”
“Does she, you know, tuck you in at night?”
“Crikey, Auntie, I am a bit old to be tucked in at night; no, she doesn’t.”
“Well now, if you stayed here, I would for sure tuck you in at night.”
“Er, okay.” What was she on about? Was she hinting at something? I had no idea.
“Would you like that, James? Would you like your auntie to tuck you in, or would you prefer your mum’s hands?”
I was pretty sure I was squirming in my chair. I took a sip of coke.
“Well, Mum, I suppose I don’t know, or you, but I don’t live here, so Mum, I guess.”
“And how would you like her to tuck you in, James? Where would her hands be?”
By now I was sure that she was teasing me, just having a bit of fun at my expense.
“You’re teasing me, Auntie, funny ha ha.”
She laughed loudly and rocked back, giving me an even more expansive view of her kickers-covered crotch. Red. I knew Mum usually wore white; I had managed to catch a glimpse of them often enough, and sometimes without knickers, but those glimpses were brief and infrequent. But she sounded like Mum; it was surreal.
“Do you ever think of your mum like that, James, you know?”
“Like what, Auntie? She is my mum; how am I supposed to think about her?”
“She may be your mum, James, but she is also a woman, and you’re in your prime, in your peak; you must surely have sexual thoughts. Have you seen her naked?”
“Auntie!”
“Come on, James, it is just us; you can tell me, have you, seen her naked?”
“Bloody hell, Auntie.” I didn’t want to talk about this; it was personal, I mean really personal. I had imagined shagging Mum so many times, but I didn’t want to admit it. I mean, it was just a fantasy.
“Well, have you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“When?”
“Well, she doesn’t always shut her bedroom door, and I can see her reflected in her mirrors.”
“And?”
“And what, Auntie?”
“And how did it make you feel? Did you get a stiffy? Did you want to go and touch her, taste her?”
“Shit, yes, okay. Bloody hell, Auntie.”
“Okay. We are twins, you know.”
“Yes.”
“So, I look like her; she looks like me. Seeing her naked is like seeing me naked, isn’t it?”
Oh God, my dick had already made that connection. I was as hard as I ever was. I had already imagined Auntie naked; she was just the same as Mum.
“Well, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So if you wanted to touch your mum when she was naked, I guess that means that you would want to touch me?”
“Er, well, I guess.”
Then she blew my mind. I mean, I was not expecting this; I just thought I was being teased. She stood up and undid the buttons on her blouse, slowly, one at a time, flattening the buttonhole after each button had been removed. She then peeled it back over her arms and dropped it on the sofa. She was topless, in her conservatory, looking me in the eyes. Her boobs were just identical to Mum’s; I mean the nipples, they looked the same, and I had memorised the look of Mum’s boobs; they were the subject of many of my fantasies. The way they lay on her chest, drooping a little, with a little crease underneath, a darkness of shadow, but round, oh so inviting.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think they are fabulous,” and I meant it; they were, like mums only in close-up, tangible, not a fantasy derived from stolen glances in Mirrors.
She put her hands to her side, and I realised that she was undoing her skirt. The button, and then I heard the sound of a zip. She took her hands away, and her skirt fell, and I almost creamed on the spot. Her knickers were really tiny; they only just covered her fanny.
“And now James, what do you think now?”
“Jesus, Auntie, you look fab; I mean it.”
“Do you think your mum looks like this?”
“Yes, yes, I do, exactly like that.”
“And how do you know?”
“I have seen her in her knickers in her bedroom.”
“And how does this make you feel?”
“Hot, my breath seems to catch in my throat.”
“Hard?”
I looked down and said quietly, “Yes, Auntie.”
“And how would you feel if this were your mum here rather than me?”
“The same.”
“And what would you want to do?”
“Shag her.” Why did I say that? Why can’t I just sit in silence and embarrassment?
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