Chapter 1

"You know what to do?"

Mom glared at the small, blond woman. She glanced at Aunt Karen, who sighed and, gravely, nodded, once.

The blond was named Stacy. I had never seen her before but, apparently, she used to work for my mother.

That's not too surprising; my mother worked as the head of human resources for a medium-sized company, back in Des Moines, where we were from. She hired, fired and laid people off all the time. It was part of her job. And, in the case of Stacy, Aunt Karen had gotten involved, as well. My aunt was a partner in the law firm that Mom's company kept on retainer.

Susan and Karen Cooper, my mother and my aunt, made a pretty intimidating pair. Both well over 6 feet tall with straight, dark hair, high cheekbones, and long, angular faces. They were the sort of faces you see on fashion runways, except that the Cooper sisters were far too curvy to be models.

I did not have fantasies about my mother, because that would be sick, but I was a red blooded, 15 year old boy; my aunt featured regularly. Although, since I was jerking off 2 to 5 times a day, pretty much any girl I met who was my age or older, had made at least one guest appearance.

And now, thanks to a 25, or so, year old woman with a vindictive streak, it looked like some of my fantasies were about to come true.

Mom had been planning the trip to Panama for almost a year. We did not take vacations, as a rule; Mom generally preferred to use her four weeks a year of paid leave to do projects, around the house. We had done more renovations than I cared to think about and moved, twice, since I was eight, mostly to get a house that needed more work.

But Mom saw a TV show about this luxury resort and, for some reason, decided we needed to stay here. I certainly was not going to argue, especially since the TV special had briefly mentioned that some of the nearby beaches were clothing optional - not that I ever expected actually visit, but just knowing one was nearby could fuel many fantasies.

Mom invited Aunt Karen to come along. They reserved a two bedroom suite and I spent a long, cold, Iowa winter dreaming about bronze skinned, Panamanian women.

After literally months of waiting, the departure date, in the middle of July, finally arrived. We spent all day on planes or in airports, on our way from Des Moines to Panama City with stops in Chicago and Miami. And then we still had one more flight to the island in the Bay of Panama, where our resort was.

So we were pretty beat, when we checked in to our hotel. Fortunately, there were no problems with Mom's reservation and we soon had key cards and a someone to help us take our bags to our room. The first clue we had that something was wrong was when the bellhop, having laid our suitcases in a neat row in the sitting room of the suite, was leaving, with a crisp $20 bill in his hand.

"Your daughter arrived some time ago," he said, in immaculate English. "She is probably sleeping."

"Daughter?" Mom asked.

"So, I lied."

The door to one of the bedrooms opened and a very small blonde woman with a small, but deadly looking, handgun, stepped out into the sitting room.

Neither Mom nor Aunt Karen recognized her, until the woman, who introduced herself as Kristin, refreshed their memory.

She then proceeded to tell us that we would either follow her instructions, precisely, or take our chances with a .38 special.

My mother and aunt, being successful business women, were far too pragmatic to be heroes. And, to be completely honest, any thoughts I had of over powering the woman, who I outweighed by at least 20 pounds, despite my almost complete lack of muscle, were pushed to the side as she explained exactly what she expected us to do.

"And then you will let us go," Mom said.

"And then we will start our vacation," Kristin replied.

"How far is this going to go?" Aunt Karen asked.

"I haven't decided. If you cooperate, not too very far."

"Fine!" Mom snarled.

"You know what to do?"

Mom glared at the small, blond woman. She glanced at Aunt Karen, who sighed and, gravely, nodded, once.

Kristin tucked her gun into the waistband of her shorts and picked up the professional looking video camera she had shown us, as she was explaining her expectations.

"Remember," she reminded us, "do not look at the camera and speak only to each other. Act naturally."

Mom snorted, derisively. "Naturally? How are we supposed to act naturally?"

Kristin shrugged. "Do your best. You know what I want."

Rolling her eyes, Mom shrugged and nodded.

"Well, then, let's get started." Kristin raised the camera and, looking through the viewfinder, said, "Action."

Mom and Aunt Karen exchanged glances, and Mom's eyes flicked briefly towards me, then she said, "What a flight, I am beat."

"Yes. Me too." Aunt Karen sounded like a woman who was trying to act naturally.

"I can't wait to get to bed, but I want to hit the beach, first thing in the morning. So we should probably get tidied up, first."

"Yes. You are right."

Their dialogue sounded stilted and unnatural, but Kristin didn't seem to mind.

"Danny," Mom said, looking at me, as Kristin stepped back and turned to bring me into range of the camera lens, "could you give us a hand?"

"Um, okay."

I did not sound any more natural.

"Thank you. Give us a couple of minutes to get ready."

They turned to face each other and, although Aunt Karen looked pretty pale, Mom blushed a warm pink color.

And then my aunt and my mother reached out and started to unbutton each others blouses.

They went slowly, with obvious reluctance. But it did not take long before they were pushing the white cotton they had both worn off of each other's shoulders.

They took turns with their bottom halves, Aunt Karen unzipping Mom's skirt, and letting it drop to the floor, first, before Mom did the same for the Capri pants that Aunt Karen was wearing, dropping to one knee to tug them down over her hips.

While Mom was on the floor, she unbuckled Aunt Karen's sandals, and then, standing, slid her own, black flat shoes off.

Again, they stood facing each other, each dressed in a bra and panties.

Mom swallowed, nervously, and, reaching out them, released the hook between Aunt Karen's breasts which dropped into the open. Mom pushed her straps down her arms and my aunt's bra fell to the floor.

I knew my aunt and my mother were both fairly full figured; they both liked to wear well tailored clothes that accentuated their curves. But I was still impressed by the size and obvious weight of Aunt Karen's tits, bouncing and swaying as she walked around my mother to release the bra hooks in the middle of her back.

Mom's breasts were slightly smaller than Aunt Karen's, which is to say each was about the size of a cantaloupe half. Her areolae were slightly larger, though, and darker; and her nipples were fatter and longer.

When they were both topless, they stood facing each other for a moment or two, each starting and stopping once or twice before Aunt Karen finally took the initiative and, dropping to her knees, reached up for the waistband of Mom's panties.

When Mom had done the same, they turned to face me.

"We don't want your clothes to get dirty," Mom said, as the two of them took the three or four steps required to close the distance between us.

My instructions, at this point, were to act as if I was fascinated by their naked bodies. I managed to pull that off, without too much difficulty. I didn't have to be Al Pacino to stare, mouth open, at their pale, ponderous breasts.

Acting in unison, Mom and Aunt Karen grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head.

When they dropped to their knees, to untie my shoes, I became painfully aware that it would not be long before there would be no way to hide the fact that, despite the duress of our situation, my body was reacting to their nudity. And, sure enough, when they pulled down my jeans, my underwear was straining. And when they pulled down my briefs, my rock hard dick bounced, right in front of their faces.

For the first time since they had started the little act that Kristin had scripted for us, both Mom and Aunt Karen glanced towards her.

Kristin raised an eyebrow and, looking at my bouncing erection, gave a meaningful nod.

Following the directions they had been given, Aunt Karen, first, and then my mother, leaned forward to kiss my balls.

All three of us were blushing, when Mom and Aunt Karen stood up.

"I'll," Aunt Karen's voice cracked and, swallowing, she started again. "I'll go first. Okay, Susan?"

Mom nodded and, as my naked aunt spread a towel on the oversized ottoman in the middle of the room, went to the sink to fill the ice bucket with warm water. Aunt Karen was on her back, with her but perched on the very edge of the ottoman, her knees bent, and her feet flat on the floor, when Mom put the water on the coffee table, nearby, and went back to the sink for the other supplies that Kristin had already laid out.

And then, Mom knelt near Aunt Karen's head, and, after my aunt spread her legs to make room, I knelt between her naked thighs.

I had to concentrate on the task at hand, or risk injuring my aunt. But it was not easy, since, as I was using scissors, and then water, shaving cream, and the first of a collection of disposable razors, to shave away my aunt's thick, curly mass of pubic hair, my mother was leaning down to kiss and suck her nipples. It took about 15 minutes before she was completely hairless and then, as if she weren't already humiliated enough, Aunt Karen raised her legs, Mom grabbed her ankles and pulled back until she was pretty much folded in half, so that I could shave away the last few stragglers around her pink, delicate little ass-hole.

I was a complete and utter virgin. Totally inexperienced, I had never even held a girls hand, let alone kissed one.

And there I was, on my knees, naked, facing a real live, hairless pussy, spread open and presented to me like an oyster. The position of Aunt Karen's legs had pulled the lips of her pussy apart. Her pink, inner flesh was glistening and her small citrus was visible, right there where every picture and article I had read told me it would be.

And it was time for my starring role. I glanced up at Mom, who was watching me, and Aunt Karen, whose eyes were closed. Mom gave me a solemn nod and, leaning forward, I swiped my tongue from the top of Karen's anus, through her labia, and across her clit.

Aunt Karen was supposed to act like she was enjoying herself but I thought she was overdoing it a little, as she panted, "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, my fucking God!" I was lapping at her pussy enthusiastically, but she was more than a little over the top.

Or so I thought, until, just two or three minutes after I tasted my very first pussy, she screamed, until her voice faded as her lungs emptied, and, shaking like a leaf, flooded my face with a rush of musky fluid.

She had actually come. Despite the danger and the completely inappropriateness of our situation, my forty-two year old aunt, the buttoned-down, always professional lawyer, had just had a screaming orgasm with my face between her thighs and my tongue between her lips.

I rocked back on my heels and stored the scene in my memory, forever.

Aunt Karen's legs were pulled back and spread wide. Her hairless pussy and inner thighs glistened with her moisture and my saliva. Her tight, pink anus was clenching, spasmodically, and her breasts, flopped to the sides of her chest, were heaving and jiggling as she gasped for breath.

She stared at me, wide eyed, from between her gyrating nipples, having raised her head until the top of it grazed my mother's bare tits as she, also staring at me, held Aunt Karen's ankles.

Chapter 2 »