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  • Incestory: Reunions

Incestory: Reunions

123

She was standing on the edge of Hilton's pond, a figure caught in a sunbeam - her form illuminated by a single ray of sunlight that broke through the branches of the towering Oak that seemed to loom over her.

She gently swayed back and forth beneath it, clinging onto the ropes of a swing someone had hung from the lowest branches many years ago.

He didn't need to see her face to know who she was - the long thick red hair cascading down her bare lightly-freckled shoulders was a dead giveaway - his mother had the same rich shade of Auburn.

As he approached, he boggled at the magnificence of her thin body outlined by the sun through the delicate material of the long sundress she wore.

When he was close enough, he could hear her whistling a tune that he recognized over the soft murmur of the late summer forest ... an old Irish Jig his Grandfather liked.

"Hello, Aunt Mary," he called to her when he was a few paces away.

She didn't startle as he'd expected but turned her head and showered him with a bright smile over her shoulder instead.

"Hello, Charlie!"

Her makeup was very fashionable.

Her lips were bright scarlet but her eyeliner and mascara were dark shades of purple, giving her a sultry and exotic cast, like a movie star.

His Mother considered the look garish but it was all the rage in the cities like Manchester and London.

She was tall and extremely thin, compared to most women Charlie knew, but her exotic thick sultry lips and full breasts evoked the countenance of Bardot more than Twiggy.

"I was expecting you," she informed him.

"You were?"

He hadn't expected to see her.

She'd run off to London a few years ago for reasons unknown ... at least for reasons unknown to him. She hadn't been seen by anyone in the family for quite a long time.

"Aye, as a matter of fact," she turned entirely towards him, "I knew that you'd find your way here eventually."

Seeing her now made his head swim with a strange excitement that he didn't quite understand.

"This was your favourite place to hide from the old mothers and the barmy old da's... here with me and this old spirit."

She reached out and touched the ancient gnarled Oak and fixed him with a look meant to taunt, "All ye all ye outs in free, all ye, all ye, in come free!"

"I'm grown now!" Charlie informed her, pulling himself up straight to show her how tall he was.

"You're but a babe!" Mary laughed.

His fondest memories were of playing with his aunts and uncles in this wood ... this tree and the swing had been their meeting place every year.

It was the only place the younger generation of their giant clan could find any solitude in the entire park.

Mary was closest to him in age ... and always his favourite.

"You're not much older than I am," he chided her, "You weren't so mature then either!"

"Charmer!" she grabbed the ropes of the swing and allowed herself to spin a few times, the dress flared around her, exposing her long lovely legs to the knee ... her calves were sleek and muscular, her ankles were thin and delicate.

"Mind you, you are never too old to play!" "

She was the youngest of seven, his mother being the eldest. Mary could only be ten years older than he was at the most - still, she'd become as beautiful as any woman Charlie'd ever seen regardless of age.

She was a long way from the gaunt, freckled, and akward girl he remembered.

"It's been too long; really ... it's good to see you!" Charlie offered, at a loss as to what to say next and too awestruck by the form revealed to him to think clearly.

She tilted her head and smiled. He held her gaze but visibly blushed. She had to know he could see her figure with the sun at her back.

"Did you really miss me so?" she asked as if surprised and swished her hips side to side nervously.

The material of her dress clung to her hips and the movement provide him with another chance to see her legs.

"That is a lovely dress!"

She laughed an amused little laugh and brushed a fringe from her brow.

"I'm happy you think so," she stated.

"How long are you staying this year?" Charlie asked, attempting to regain his composure to a degree, suddenly concerned that he must truly appear quite childish to her after all.

"Only for the party," she glanced back the way he had come. "I'm expected in London tonight."

"They said you'd been swanning about 'Swinging London' these days - a fashion magazine, isn't it?"

"Very fashionable!" she insisted.

"Join us at the party?"

"I'm afraid not," she turned her back to him again. "Next year, perhaps."

"Why not?" he asked surprised. "You haven't visited for a long time."

She wrapped her arms defensively around herself, her hands on her shoulders, as if she'd suddenly caught a chill.

"I can't, Charlie."

"Will you come again next year then?" he asked hopefully.

The glade fell silent, as if every cricket and frog in the wood reached a pause in their song at the same exact moment ... almost as if awaiting her answer as well.

"If I do," she announced, and looked around quizzically, noting the sudden silence, "It shall only be to not disappoint my charming Nephew."

The forest song resumed.

"I shall wait for you then!" he promised like a love struck crooner, "At the rope swing."

"A rendezvous is it?" she asked tilting her head quizzically.

Charlie cringed in another pang of teenaged awkwardness. He stiffened in his trousers and had to reach in his pocket to make sure she didn't notice.

"Why not?" he managed.

The last rays of the sun fell below the trees on the other side of the pond just then - casting them both in shadow; no longer revealing her body to him.

"Run along!" she cried. "It's getting dark - and the forest is haunted!"

"Leprechauns and fairies, is it?" he teased.

His Mother shared the same folksy Irish superstitiousness and he'd always found it amusing - although occasionally he'd find himself avoiding cats and absently looking for Shamrocks himself.

"Don't invite their attention, Charlie, even in jest!" she warned.

"Then I suppose you'll be in need of a courageous escort!" he held out his hand with a gleam in his eye, "I am prepared to duel any unruly gnome who dares to cross your path!"

"Aye!" She fanned her face mockingly, "You have grown!"

He stepped forward still holding out his hand.

"Wait!" She cried, "I nearly forgot!"

She ran to the swing and grabbed the ropes for balance as she bent over to retrieve something from behind the Oak.

Charlie literally drooled as his entire mind focused on the contours of his Aunt's magnificent long legs and her soft round bottom as she bent and twisted.

She turned around swiftly, with a guilty look on her face, the dress swirling around her body, unable to hide the large wine bottle she held behind her back.

"Good as drink is, it ends in thirst!" she giggled.

"You're pissed!" he accused.

She nodded and uncorked the bottle.

"To yer health!" she toasted and drank.

"Can I get a taste?" he asked, smiling. "It's rather warm this evening."

"Aaaah, Little Vagabond!" she giggled, "Tis your new name ... Little Vagabond ... and no you may not!"

"I should have known better than to try to separate an Irish lass from her bottle!"

She strolled across the grass and held out her long dainty hand like a proper Lady.

"I was going to make a present of it," she looked down guiltily and admired the label, "It is a rather good year and a superb vintage as well. Alas, I waivered for just a moment and gave in to the temptation! "

"Temptation," he echoed her and took the proffered hand, "I can understand that."

She beamed at him and he felt his heart race again.

"You may escort me to my car now, my Little Vagabond!"

*****************************

"Why is it that Aunt Mary never visits us anymore?" Charlie asked his parents as they drove home that evening.

His parents looked at each other for a moment and Charlie surmised they knew something they were sure he shouldn't know.

They always shared that look whenever he asked troublesome questions.

His mother turned around in her seat and put on a smile.

She was an older version of Mary and he felt his heart beat erratically for a moment. Their similarity was beyond obvious and he imagined she must've been as beautiful as Mary once - though now that he'd let the thought cross his mind - he realized that his Mother was fairly attractive still.

It suddenly seemed odd to him that he'd never noticed how pretty she was, not until this very moment. Then another thought crossed his mind; maybe it was odd that he was noticing it now.

"Your Aunt has decided on a career that some might think is improper," she stated.

His Father harrumphed loudly in agreement.

"I think it's so modern of her to be a working woman - she even drives her own car!" Charlie announced, knowing his Father would disapprove.

The freedom being demanded by the youth of his generation was still only a dream compared to the reality of the conservative folk in his county.

His father "harrumphed" again: "She's consorting with longhairs and hippies and the like!"

Charlie's Father obviously didn't appreciate his generation's tastes in fashion either.

"Free love and the Beatles, not to mention all of that American ... what do they call that rubbish?"

"Rock 'n' Roll?" Charlie offered.

"Right! That bloody nonsense," his Father bellowed. "Rock 'n' Roll means 'to shag' does it not?"

"Henry!" his mother gasped, neither of them had ever heard that sort of language from Charlie's borish father before, "Shame!"

She turned in her seat to look back at him. He could read her face, she knew now that he'd seen Mary and obviously wasn't pleased about it.

She could see the effect his Aunt had on him.

"You best avoid her if you spy her, Charlie," his Mother warned quietly, slipping unconsciously into her Irish lilt, "Mind you, there's things more treacherous than Unseelie in the wood at twilight."

"Sound advice, Lad!" Charlie's Father chuckled looking sideways at his wife. "I believe that's how I found myself ensnared!"

"Henry!"

Charlie suddenly found himself admiring his Mother a bit more than he had in the past. She had a quality very much like her Sister's ... maybe his Father couldn't see it ... but he could.

*****************************

Charlie lay as still as he could manage, his only movement the slow steady squeezing and tugging of his hand and the rhythmic rising and falling of the sheets between his legs as he daydreamed of his Aunt Mary.

He imagined her in the pond with him, naked, embracing him, her thin arms wrapped around his shoulders as he lifted and lowered her body onto his rigid knob as he sucked on her soft white tits.

Just as he'd found his pace, his Mother's footsteps resounded down the hall.

He had plenty of warning and rolled over onto his side with his back to the door just as she entered.

"Lazy Bones!" she chided.

"Its summer!" he whined.

She didn't continue to nag him and remained silent, standing behind him just inside the doorway.

"What?" he asked, rising up on an elbow to look over his shoulder.

His Mother was dressed for a social event. He gasped at how elegant she looked.

Normally she wore baggy and comfortable clothes; apparently they did much to hide her pleasant hourglass shape. She was a fuller and more robust version of Mary but the foundation of beauty the sister's shared obviously wouldn't allow her to age badly.

The knee length, one piece, silver satin dress she wore hugged her thighs and wide hips, outlined her curvy waist and pushed her large soft breasts up, emphasizing their generous proportions.

Her hair was done up in bun and she wore modest diamond and sapphire earrings and a matching necklace. Charlie realized that her full thick hair did her a disservice when she let it down - it hid her pleasant face and high cheekbones.

She looked gorgeous and he imagined that if he was his Father ... he might be a little uncomfortable around other men tonight.

"You're Father and I are to attend a dreadfully boring garden party this evening and I expect you to be up and about before we leave."

Something shifted in his mind at the moment.

He realized very suddenly that his mother was a woman ... not the woman that a boy imagines his mother is - a sexless drone that caters to her children and her husband's needs - but a woman with breasts and a vagina. A woman who had sex - and possibly liked it.

He stiffened so quickly at the thought that he had to lift his hip a bit from the mattress to make room for his cock to grow.

"I will, Mum!" he promised, hoping she'd leave before she figured out what he'd been up to.

She spun on her long heels and sauntered out of the room, her aspect and walk a bit more ladylike and sensual than usual.

Charlie gasped when he saw that her back was exposed nearly to her wide generous bottom. Charlie was sure that it was an extremely risqué dress to wear out, at least for his parent's circle of friends and social acquaintances.

It was bound to be a scandal.

She must have sensed his gaze and stopped.

"Get out of bed, Charlie!" she ordered before pulling his door shut behind her.

Charlie rolled onto his back and wanked on himself furiously ... Aunt Mary and his own Mother, on their knees before him, hungrily kissing each other and twirling their tongues together - like the girls in the French movies would do, giggling in pleasure and moaning as he ejaculated on their faces.

*****************************

"Hello, Little Vagabond," Mary called to him from the tree line.

He turned and smiled widely, absently dropping the flat round rocks he'd selected to skip across the pond as he waited to see if she'd actually keep their arrangement.

She smiled and Charlie gaped at her.

Her hair was a bit shorter this year. She wore it with whispy fringes framing her face. Her outfit was a cream two piece skirt and knee-high leather boots. The loose thin-strapped top was barely material and the skirt almost too short to qualify as mini. The boots were very Mod and Charlie loved the affect.

"Hello, Aunt Mary," he exclaimed, "I've been looking for you!"

"You have?" she asked incredulously, taunting him again.

"It's good to see you!" Charlie offered, "I mean - you look fantastic, magnificent, amazing ...!"

"Well, I'm so very glad you approve," she smiled her wide pretty smile and curtsied dramatically.

He smiled daftly and let his eyes roam over the exposed parts of her body as she bowed before him...

"Don't catch flies!" she warned him, her pale eyes glinting up at him from behind her auburn fringes.

He snapped his mouth shut and grinned impishly in embarrassment at being caught leering at her.

"How long are you staying this year?" he asked.

"Only for the party," she glanced back the way she had come as if someone might have followed her.

"Can't you stay another day?" He whined.

"Come, come, give us a kiss," she mocked, deflecting his question, holding her arms out.

He rushed to her and hugged her tightly, taking the opportunity to press her body into his. She laughed at his exuberance and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

"You've grown even taller!"

"I am a man, now," he informed her.

"Quite so!" she acknowledged.

They stepped back from each other politely.

"How is 'Swinging London'?"

"I've been on a lot of projects ... I work with a magazine as you are aware."

"You're so lovely, you should be on that new dance show!" he suggested.

"Are you leading me a dance?" she asked, smiling at her own wit.

Charlie took her thin hands in his, spun her, and caught her in his arms so that the skirt rose up her thighs to expose her exquisitely long legs again.

She giggled and relaxed into his arms before she could stop herself.

"Let me go you big ape!" Mary cried, though she didn't make any effort to extricate herself from him.

"Only if you promise to join us at the party," he challenged her.

"I'd rather not," she stiffened in his arms and Charlie chastised himself internally for ruining the moment.

He reluctantly turned her loose.

"Alright," he said, "Then I'll have to miss the party as well."

"Wait!" She pulled him towards the rope swing by his hand, "I've an idea!"

She let him go, ran behind the tree, and pulled a giant bottle of foreign wine from the edge of the water.

"I can't believe I didn't see that there!" he exclaimed.

"I was going to give it to your Mum," she held it out so he could admire it although she knew that he wouldn't have a clue as to what its value was, "But you're so charming I'd rather share it with you this evening!"

*****************************

They sat and listened to the crickets and frogs who sang around the edges of the pond, his back to the Oak, Mary nestled under his arm, the bottle between his legs.

A buzzing sound began as a low chorus in the woods and gradually rose to a deafening cacophony before fading away again to a low murmur.

"Cicadas!" she squealed, "I can't believe it!"

She sat up and grabbed his arm.

"Do you realize how rare they are? I thought they were extinct in the Isles!"

"Good riddance!" Charlie laughed.

"Honor the muse," she warned, "The Cicadas are watching."

"I fear I will never understand you!"

She shut her eyes and reveled in the insect song. She hummed as if imitating them.

He let his eyes wander over the contours of her profile: the button nose; the high cheekbones kissed with light freckles; big pale brown eyes that seemed Amber in the evening sunlight; thin delicate patrician jaw line; full lips formed perfectly into a bright pink cupid's bow; a tangible hint of savage Hibernian beauty - all framed magnificently by her lush fiery red mane.

"I can't believe you're not married," he said, sipping the half empty bottle.

She looked at him quizzically.

"You need more practice." She slid her leg overtop of his pressing her soft breasts into his chest and forcing the skirt to rise accordingly, baring her long sexy legs nearly to the hip. "Tell me how much you like my ensemble again!"

"No!" he laughed, "I meant that ... it's just that you're so posh!"

"Well," she sighed, "You can't marry me for my money, so don't ask."

He jerked as if a load of bricks had suddenly fallen on his chest. With a start, she realized the effect her taunts must have had on him this time.

"I didn't mean to imply ..." he stammered.

"Would you?" she asked curiously, "If you could?"

"Marry you?" he asked, momentary confusion gripping him.

"Aye," she giggled nervously.

"I think my father would disown me if I married another Irish lass into the family!"

"Stop it! He adores your Mother ... God bless him!"

He sucked in his chin and puffed out his chest in imitation of his Father: "You can't kiss an Irish girl unexpectedly, Lad, You can only kiss her sooner than she thought you would!"

She chuckled and smacked his chest playfully. He gripped her hand and held it so she couldn't pull away.

"We could elope!" he offered, "I could marry you ... in Egypt ... I'm sure of it!"

"'To-night I go to Egypt,' said the Swallow," she sighed into his shoulder, "The perfect honeymoon."

"I can assure you it wouldn't be for your money," he said sincerely and pinched her bottom playfully.

"That's better!" she took the wine from him and moved his hand from her bum to her hip, "but I think you've had enough."

He grabbed the bottle back.

"Not nearly!"

She pulled the bottle back away from him again.

"I've been around enough bladdered lads in my life to know where you're going with all of this sweet talk."

He arched an eyebrow at her; she was being naughty.

123
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