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My thanks to Robbie for the first edit pass and Bill Morgan for the excellent second edit, true OediPals both. God and my regular readers know I can always use it!
WARNING: Negative annoying-mouse comments
will be exterminated with extreme preditorial!
The Risqué Writer’s Rule
Some may decry the confections,
That are my tales for heads and hearts;
Yet despite their imperfections,
They also affect the lower parts;
Remember it’s just erotica,
Never meant to be fine arts!
8==3~ [Have you read my thread?]
His two aunts discovered his big tool, and he drilled mom too!
The Sisters Savoy they were known as, when they had their nightclub act. They sang and danced and told funny stories about growing up triplets. They were each as beautiful as the other, even though they were never that famous. I broke up the act you see, when mom became pregnant with me. That bulging belly broke the symmetry of the three and they never got back into show biz after that. Susan, my mother, married my dad, a local hardware store owner. Shortly after, Aunt Sylvia wed a rich man, who died when his private plane went down, a few years back. Aunt Sally hitched her wagon to a long distance truck driver, who was seldom in town.
Dad worked day and night to make the family business profitable. So often, I was the only fella available when any of the three women needed a man, even when I was just a youngster in his teens. By the time I was out of high school, a tall muscular youth of nineteen, I was helping pop at the shop. The family in-joke was that the kid (me) had a ‘big tool’. I mean, I knew I was fair sized, from the locker room at school. But I didn’t realize that this had been the source of chuckles ever since I was born, until I overheard the three sisters talking one day in late spring.
Sally: My, Susan, your boy is getting so big; he’s taller than his dad.
Sylvia: Well, he’s got more muscles than even your spouse, Sally.
Mom: He used to work out at school, with all the heavy lifting down at the store, he needs those strong arms.
Sylvia: I bet another of his muscles is nice size too!
Sally: You mean his calves? I’ve seen him in shorts. Great buns! (She giggled.)
Sylvia: NO, I mean . . . you know what I mean, you used to change his diapers as well, Sally.
Mom: Girls; that is my son you are talking about!
Sylvia: So have you gotten a peek when he comes out of the shower?
Sally: Tell, how long is he now?
Mom: Sal! I’m not going to…
Sylvia: Oh! Come on Sue, we all did his diapering and noted how well endowed he was compared to other infants, so I’m sure that holds true still. How long?
Sally: Wouldn’t you have to see it hard, to tell the important measurement? (She giggled again.)
Sylvia: Yes! Have you seen him hard, how big was it?
Mom: I never…
Sylvia: You always were peaking at dad’s. I bet you did.
Sally: You sure got a gander at our hubbies’ at the lake, when we all went skinny dipping that time. You like to look at dicks, don’t you Susan! Don’t deny it!
Mom: He’s my boy…
Sylvia: A man now and you’re evading the question, which means that you know the answer. Tell!
Mom: It has to be over seven, maybe eight inches. (They all broke-up into shrieks of laughter.)
For the record it’s eight and a quarter, when I am my hardest, but I was born with it so I don’t brag, just a fact, like my brown hair and hazel eyes. My other muscles took work to develop and I am proud of them. They continued the conversation on the topic of my equipment.
Sylvia: Well, I guess that he has the biggest tool in the whole store then!
Sally: When did you get to view the boner of your ‘big boy’?
Mom: I accidentally started to go in his room when I thought he was out. He normally has music or the TV on. The computer was on, but muted and he was looking at porn. He didn’t realize I was there, but I could see a side view and God; was he beautiful and such a hunk. He takes after daddy.
Sylvia: Daddy took after you, did he ever corner you?
Sally: He had me in the tool shed once. I had to try that stick of beef once, just to see. You know how curious I am about sex.
Mom: You and Daddy? In the tool shed?
Sylvia: Oh! Don’t be so shocked, I tried him down in the basement, when mom was gone on that trip out West. Dad always wanted to have us three girls. So he got two out of three, twice with me and once with Sally. That’s three times for the triplets, he averaged it out.
Sally: I knew it! I knew the horniest of us couldn’t resist letting daddy into her pants once!
Mom: Three times, truth be told. (Now she giggled.)
Sylvia: So that makes, let’s see, three into seven…
Sally: Well if you want to do the math, I’ll make it easier and throw in the two times we did it in Oldsmobile’s back seat. Didn’t you ever wonder why the ice cream was melted when casino siteleri dad and I went to fetch it?
Sylvia: And none of ever knew about the others until now. We were supposed to share everything, no secrets among the triplets. Remember?
Mom: We did share, daddy that is, only one at a time. I was scared mama would find out, so I didn’t dare let on.
Sally: Me too.
Sylvia: She knew, and was glad that the horny old bastard was letting her off the hook sometimes. She got tired by the time we had turned 18 and started to mess around with our father.
Mom: When did she tell you that?
Sylvia: At his funeral. We were sitting together alone when you both were looking at him in the coffin.
Sally: That all ended when we were twenty-one and they let us go on the road with the act.
Mom: Then mama had to put up with the old goat once more. I hope she liked big cock. I sure did! (She giggled.)
Sally: Me too.
Sylvia: Me three.
Mom: Well you girls keep our hands off my son then!
Sylvia: Who us?
Sally: Going to keep him to yourself? I thought we three Savoy sisters shared and shared alike. Isn’t that our rule?
Mom: So are you saying that your husband is available?
Sylvia: Never around enough for Sal, much less anyone else. How about the hardware king?
Mom: The hammer in his pants is a ball-peen, round at one end and flat at the other, not much good for getting nailed I’m afraid.
They all went into hysterics then and the party broke up. But it was a very illuminating conversation. It turned out that their chat had unexpected consequences subsequently, as I will relate how I got to use my ‘tool’, just like grandpa managed to do.
Aunt Sally like to garden. She ordered some seed and fertilizer and a hoe that I delivered. Working with Aunt Sally in her flower bed turned out to be a dirty job indeed!
Aunt Sylvia liked to go to charity events. She requested that I go with her to a society fund raising soiree. Accompanying Aunt Sylvia and dancing with her turned out to be a ball doing escort service!
Mom was outraged when she found out. But the other two convinced her that just like with grandpa, she could have her share too!
Comparing mom to her sisters was a study in contrasts, despite the fact they were triplets.
I don’t blame Grandpa for desiring his daughters, for years I have had a yearning for my mother. By proxy, that yen extended to my aunts since they were all but clones of mom. However, while when younger – especially for their act – they deliberately tried to be as identical as possible, now days though they were less concerned about triplication, as they termed it. Sally wore her hair in a short page-boy or variant, Sylvia went to the hairdresser’s once a week and always had had coif of one sort of another. Mom wore her chestnut brown hair long and straight, like when she had been my age, or sometimes in a ponytail.
I discovered other variations of their hair styles in more private places, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I was a little stunned by the revelations of what my inadvertent ease dropping had divulged. Not so much shocked as bemused and enlightened to the workings of the inner circle of the threesome. Who knew that they were such naughty nymphs in their younger years? Clearly they were still rather saucy in their mature stage as well. I had had no inkling as to their familiarity with my ‘tool’, much less mom having had a peek when I was pumping my prick. I wondered if any or all three had any ideas about trying out my love muscle.
I wasn’t a virgin. The locker-room scuttlebutt had gone from the guys’ envy to the girls’ ears, the way high school gossip spreads across a campus. I had no trouble getting dates. Particularly the gals, who were looser with their charms, and morals, were eager to go out with me. I tended to have steady girlfriends though, where our relationship went for long months. While at the moment, I was between ladies; my last sweetheart was with me for over a year, until she left for college. Now, between working at the store and most of my buddies either off to school or having jobs, my social life was pretty much in hiatus. I was getting horny, since I was not getting any lately.
My thoughts returned to that raunchy chat. Jeez! What was that about the three couples skinny-dipping at the family cabin at the lake? Had they done more than that? I couldn’t conceive that they had, though at the moment new scandalous information would not be surprising in light of the incestuous trysts the trio had with their dad. Grandpa Savoy had long ago bought a fair size stretch of lake-shore some hundred miles north of the town we live in. He had a lodge built for the family to enjoy summer stays at and for hunting during the season, a retreat we still had for our extended family use. That the privacy of its isolation allowed for some sort of hanky-panky was not unknown, even I had taken some girlfriends up there. But the six; aunts, uncles and parents, naked and splashing – and canlı casino did any swapping go on? It was not like I could ask.
So for a few days I had the chance to mull over this new and salacious information, and contemplate the auspicious insights to my closest female relatives. Then Aunt Sally dropped by the store and put in an order for her spring planting needs. Her garden was her pride and she loved working to raise flowers and a few vegetables and herbs for her home. Since her husband, the trucker, was away often, this kept her occupied during the warmer months. In winter she sewed, knitted, crocheted, did hook rugs, and any other hobby with fabrics or yarn you could think of. She wasn’t lonely, since there were garden clubs and sewing circles. But she sometimes could use a man around the house. Dad learned early on to avoid that trap; he was busy enough with the store. But he had no problem in sparing me to help.
Thus I found myself pulling into her driveway with a load in the back of the pickup; sacks of fertilizer, packets of seed, and boxes of seedlings and a new hoe. Dad was wise to her schemes. So when she said she needed to do the rototilling of her garden, I was the handiest man to be enlisted, to be the Mr. Muscles of the moment. I didn’t mind though, Sally was perky and funny and always provided plenty of beer and homemade snacks to feed a hungry helper. Now though, I saw her with a fresh perspective. Those loose blouses that were never buttoned up all that high, so that you could look at the ‘buttons’ inside, from the side, as she never wore a bra for gardening. The view of her firm and fair breasts was titillating, and while I would never get fresh with her, those yams were yummy to glimpse.
As well, while we worked in the soil, she would bend down, even get on her hands and knees to weed or plant. The baggy shorts she wore were providing a gander at her thighs and hips, the pale skin of her rear was quite on display from the angle I had. Her ass was quite attractive, and now that I had been cued-in to her curiosity about things sexual, it was arousing to think about her and grandpa ‘in the tool shed’. In fact, I developed a nice boner from such contemplation. Thank God I had the rototiller to hide my erection, or so I thought. But once or twice I thought Sal was peering sideways at me with a little smirk of a smile. I wasn’t sure, but if we had been contemporaries, I would have suspected she was flaunting her charms and flirting.
The plot she was working was finished for the day, after we had spread a couple bags of ‘all-natural fertilizer’, i.e. sanitized manure, over it. I had not expected to be drafted into service, and while I was in work clothes, I had not brought a change of shirt and jeans. Sally insisted that she run my duds in the laundry machines in her basement, while I relaxed afterwards with a beer, even take a shower. She was quite firm that I get cleaned up there at her place, since she did not want me going home smelling like ‘shit’, her word. I was glad for the break from the store and chores at home, even though I probably worked harder at Sally’s. But she made it seem like fun.
She brought me a beer to drink before I went in, and that got chugged. Then she followed me upstairs to the bathroom with two more and told me to strip, hand her out all my clothes, underwear also. “Enjoy your suds while you suds-up!” she spoke to me through the door, as I hid behind it giving her my smelly apparel. I got the impression she wouldn’t have minded peeking in. I downed half a brew and jumped in the shower and lathered up. I was just doing my hair with shampoo, eyes shut, when I heard the door open. It never occurred to me to lock it. I thought that perhaps she was bringing me a fresh towel. Then I sensed another body in the spray with me. My aunt giggled that same girlish giggle she had given, when speaking about my buns.
Speaking of which, she was now grasping as she clutched me in an intimate naked hug. I rinsed to clear my vision and beheld the tan and fit form of my mother’s sister. I put my arms down around her waist, but then thought ‘what the hell’, and lowered them to her haunches as well. She tilted her face to mine and the look in her eyes said plain as day, “Kiss me”. So I did, and her tongue wiggled in between my lips and Frenched me. Her nipples scraped their hard points against my chest. She was not shy, as she reached for my growing stalk. The gardener knew where she wanted that planted, in her bush and wanted my seed. “Hoe, hoe, hoe!” said the rakish fellow, as he squeezed her melons.
Sally handed me the soap and I understood that she wanted me to be dirty and wash her too. All over. What a delightful handful that squirming female proved to be, as I slipped my palms over her skin. I touch everywhere, including the mons and the clit and even her anus. She squealed as I discovered ticklish spots and gasped as I groped her gash. She got in the act and lathered my length of manhood even as I was fingering her hole. Then I inserted a second digit and began to move them back and forth within her kaçak casino vagina, front to back, with them as deep as I could stick them up and in. This resulted in my aunt rolling her eyes back and open-mouthed cumming at least twice.
She recovered while I held her up to keep her from falling, as her knees had gone weak. She dragged me out of the stall, so fast I hardly had time to shut the water off. Sal, took the half beer, giving me the full one, as we stood dripping and nude on the carpeted floor. I was still hard as oak. She drank the half in quick gulps as I popped the other and quenched my thirst, but we were both hungry for what was next. In all this, not a word had been said, now Sal spoke, “Ready?” I nodded. She got down on her hands and knees, like she was weeding, with her ass pushed out at me. She wanted it from behind that was clear. I knelt between her legs and looked at her hips. Two little roses, one tattooed on each bun were there.
My gorgeous and steamy aunt looked back over her shoulder; she knew what I had espied. “Rosy cheeks!” she explained. I chuckled at the in-joke. Mom always had said that Sally had a good complexion and ‘rosy cheeks’ from working in her flower garden. But I now knew that mother was referring to more than her sis’s face, when she quipped the phrase. Well, it was time to plow. I took my instrument and slowly pushed into the furrow that was presented to me. Then I slipped my cock back and forth as I gave Sal what she needed. Her husband was hardly home, and she got too little physical loving from the trucker, that was obvious.
What a sight, her butt being on the skewer of my lance, like some lamb being roasted. How so right it felt to be lunging in her cavity and showing her my ardor. Mighty tight, the twat that thrust back at my prick, her pussy seemed a perfect fit as it automatically adjusted to my measurements. This was good, this was hot, this was my aunt and she was a great lay. If I was her husband I would find work closer to home and have this woman fucking me every day! I gave her the best I had, I worked that cunt with my spear for I don’t know how long, but finally she was cumming and cumming. I reached around and held her tits as I drove hard into her to allow my own release.
I felt my balls literally jumping as they swayed and thumped on her pudendum, while the stream of semen flowed like a garden hose within the humid haven of her hole. Her own emulsions frothed out too, like some sort of milky sap, then my spume back-flowed and dribbled out. We slowly settled to the rug and tried to catch our breath. “Don’t you dare tell your mom, or Sylvie, about this! And for being such a good nephew, I’m going to have you over for some nice eggplant parmesan and to ‘water my roses’ when you’re here.” She giggled; then paused. “I think that your clothes need to go in the dryer by now. Get a few more beers and meet me in my bedroom.” Her mattress linens were floral prints, and we lay in her ‘flower bed’ and made love again.
When I got home, dinner was just being set out by mom; dad was already at the table. Mom asked where I had been. Dad answered for me and said he had sent me over to Sally’s with the stuff she had ordered. Mom raised an eyebrow and commented that it didn’t take all afternoon to make one delivery. I explained that I had been drafted into service to do the rototilling.
“Oh ‘drafted into service ‘?” Asked dad with clearly a double entendre intended. Mom shot him a look, that meant ‘don’t you dare spill the beans about my sister, mister!!’
Mom then commented, “There was quite a bit of sun today, I hope you didn’t burn, Honey.”
Dad, still with the gleam of deviltry in his eyes, said with a straight face (but his tone indicated that he was still having amusement by sniping about his sister-in-law) wisecracked, “Well, as you always say, gardening flowers made Sally’s ‘cheeks rosy’.” I remembered that dad had seen Sally (and Sylvia too for that matter) in the altogether. Had that been during the day or night? He must have known about the tattoos! That’s why he was making with the smart-mouthing!
That realization struck me and I felt my throat choke a chuckle back down. If I hadn’t just finished my swallow of soda I would have sprayed it out, like the comedians do when they make the gag to show a big surprise. As it was, an odd little sound escaped; just enough that my mother looked at me askance; but said nothing. I did catch her out of the corner of my eye making a ‘cut it’ gesture to pop with the flat of her hand drawing across her neck. I excused myself for a moment and made my escape on the pretense of having to wash my hands. I got control of myself and came back.
I spoke in a normal tone, I wanted to insure that my folks knew that I might return to offer more help to my green-thumbed aunt. “Aunt Sally said she wouldn’t mind if I was to work for her some more, now and then. She said I could water her roses.” It just slipped out of my mouth, like soap in wet hands. I didn’t think about what I had just said, until I saw that mom was doing a slow burn. Then she threw down the towel she was holding, and stormed out of the dining room. I looked at my father and frowned. I still didn’t directly connect the phrase that Sal had used to the previous conversations, but then dad spoke again.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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