Chapter 4

"It's true, you know," Mom said, as we waited for the elevator.

"What's true?" Kristin asked.

"My son is a motherfucker." Mom's tone was flat and unreadable. "No matter what happens, now. It doesn't matter if you send copies of what we did to everybody I know or destroy every second of video and leave us in peace - my son will always be a mother fucker."

"That's very true." Kristin sounded serious but was grinning from ear to ear. "Now, give the motherfucker a kiss and let's have lunch."

Mom looked almost sad, as she put her arms around the back of my neck. But she pressed her scantily clad body against mine, when she pulled me in to kiss her. It didn't last ling, just two or three seconds. But it was warm and soft and, somehow, just as erotic as the tongue dueling and spit swapping we had done, earlier. It was enough to make my dick, which should have been worn out, by now, jump to attention.

"Mother fucker," Mom whispered, slowly and deliberately, her lips brushing mine and her pubic bone crushing my dick.

"Oh, go ahead."

Kristin's tone of exasperation made me tear my eyes away from Mom's. Aunt Karen, licking her lips and watching me through half lidded eyes. I didn't really understand what Kristin had meant until my aunt gently pushed my mother aside and took her place.

Aunt Karen's kiss wasn't as passionate as Mom's, but there was something in the brief, delicate pressure and the way she sighed, when she stepped back, that helped me achieve a new level of diamond hard rigidity.

Kristin rolled her eyes, as if exasperated, but it was clear that she was pleased by the intimacy that was developing between my mother, my aunt and me. She elbowed me in the ribs, as she pushed by, and pressed the elevator call button.

It was between the usual lunch and dinner crowds and the restaurant was fairly empty. We were seated at an isolated table, next to a window looking out over the ocean, where Kristin ensured that my erection, which was somewhat painful, did not abate.

"So, let's see a show of hands. Who here has taken it up the ass?"

She grinned at Mom, who glared back, and Aunt Karen, who was looking around to see if anybody had heard.

"Nobody? What a coincidence, me neither. Now, I have had a man or two come in my mouth. Anybody else?"

Mom silently shook her head and Aunt Karen whispered, "No."

"How about a woman? Have any of you ever made a woman come with your mouth?" She grinned at me. "Put your hand up, Danny boy. I know you have."

I raised my hand, a bit, keeping my elbow on the table.

"Anybody else?"

Kristin gave Mom and Aunt Lisa a second or two, although neither one of them was going to raise her hand, then lifted her own, over her head.

"Looks like we have something in common." Kristin beamed brightly at me, as if she had just realized that we had the same birthday.

"Yes, Madame?" The waitress was suddenly standing behind Kristin, who laughed.

"I think we're ready to order."

Kristin seemed to be familiar with the menu. She ordered soup and sandwiches for the four of us, without looking at the menu.

When the waitress was gone, she continued her survey.

"Have either of you ever had your tits fucked? I mean, really fucked, good and hard, until he came. Really? Never. Me either." She looked down at her peach sized breasts. "Not that I have a choice. But, holy Christ! If I was stacked like you, I'd sure want to give it a go."

Kristin shook her head, sadly.

"You ever give anybody a rim job?"

Mom shook her head, but Aunt Karen looked confused, until Mom leaned over to whisper in her ear. Then her eyes went wide and she shook her head.

"How about you, kiddo? Ever had a tongue up your ass?"

I admit it, up until that moment, I didn't know what I rim job was. I had heard the expression, and had a pretty good guess, but now I knew that my guess was wrong.

"Well, I have," Kristin said, when I shook my head. "Just last night, as a matter of fact. I highly recommend it. The lad, here, has a very talented tongue, as you both should know."

As the waitress was putting plates and bowels on the table, Kristin said, "Well, well. I can see were going to be very busy for a while." It seemed like a perfectly innocent statement but, given the context, we all knew it was actually pretty nasty.

But the waitress, a Panamanian woman who looked like she was in her thirties, either didn't understand, didn't care, or was good at acting that way.

We ate our lunch without any more explicit questions, although Kristin did mutter things like, "So much to do, so little time," several times.

And then, when we were sharing a piece of cheesecake, Kristin dropped one last bombshell.

"Tell me, Karen. What exactly have you done?"

I expected Aunt Karen to dither and, in all likelihood, ask what Kristin meant. And she did open her mouth. But, despite the crimson blush that spread up her chest to her face, she closed it and, straightening her back and looking Kristin in the eyes, said a single word.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Kristin's laughter just made Aunt Karen stiffen and sit up even more ramrod-straight.

"Nothing, until this trip. Nothing that you haven't seen. I never even kissed anybody until..." She glanced at me and her blush deepened. "Until today."

"How old are you?"

"Forty-three," Aunt Karen said, defiantly.

"There is so much to do! But this has priority." Kristin took out her phone. "The kinky stiff might have to wait. For now, let's plan on a good, old-fashioned, missionary-style defloration tomorrow, after our morning beach session. Let's say noon. Does that work for you?"

Aunt Karen looked at me, some of the color draining from her face, and nodded.

"Danny? Are you free, or should we look for somebody else?"

The last of Aunt Karen's color instantly disappeared and, for the first time since Kristin had last pointed a gun at us, she looked really frightened.

It was starting to seem like, every time I thought I couldn't get any harder, I found out I was wrong. The gratified look that my aunt gave me, when I snapped, "No! I'll do it," was just the latest trigger for an even more painfully rigid dick.

Our trip to the beach, that afternoon, was different from the morning's. We took a cab to the same spot, but it was no longer isolated. The entire beach was covered with oily tourists, ranging from pale, to tan, to bronze with more than a little pink and red scattered around.