Chapter 8

Everybody had left the next morning by the time I got up. I heard Dad leave early and after that Uncle Tom and Aunt Beth argued for a while. It sounded quite tense so I stayed upstairs until I was sure they had both left. I expected to see Mom downstairs but she was gone too so I couldn’t ask her what was going on.

Wanting to know what had happened, I arrived home early that afternoon to ask Mom

just as Aunt Beth pulled into the driveway in Mom’s car. The door opened and Aunt Beth swung her legs out, clad in the same long boots she had worn the day before. A different pleated black skirt adorned her hips and the same blazer covered her shoulders but underneath it, instead of a white blouse, Aunt Beth wore a delicately woven white sweater.

I was relieved to see she was genuinely pleased to see me. I had been worrying all day that I was part of the reason she had been arguing with Uncle Tom—aren’t we all self-centered sometimes? It seemed that the interview must have gone well, so I asked, but regretted it when the pleasure drained from her face.

“Marginally better,” was all she said.

Mom read Aunt Beth’s mood as soon as she saw her. She had already made tea and snacks—biscuits, smoked salmon and sandwiches sliced into fingers—that were set out and waiting on the coffee table. Aunt Beth didn’t say anything but the depth of appreciation conveyed in the look my aunt directed at Mom was considerable. These two women, once estranged, had quickly become good friends. My own relationship with my aunt had changed markedly in a short period of time—I guess I should say it had sprung into being since I one hadn’t really existed before—strange though it was, and its destination yet unknown. But that between Mom and Aunt Beth was obviously more advanced.

I wasn’t so rattled not to notice that when Aunt Beth removed her blazer before sitting down, she paused with outstretched arms as she struggled to retrieve her hands from the sleeves. These inadvertent poses show-cased my aunt’s sexy upper body clad in the fine-mesh sweater. And that made it hard to comply with my twenty-four-hour-old resolution not to mess things up any more than I already had. But boy, if I was in a position to hire someone that looked like that, there wouldn’t be a need for further interviews.

We sat in our previous positions on the couch with me on one end, Aunt Beth in the middle, and Mom on the other. Mom sat so close to Aunt Beth there was room for a fourth person on her other side. Still wearing her knee-length black boots, Aunt Beth put her feet up on the edge of the coffee table and Mom didn’t even flinch. The pleated skirt slid a ways down my aunt’s legs but not enough to reveal any bare thigh because she was wearing her signature black stockings. I thanked the Lord above for that because my conviction to be good was definitely waning.

Mom started a movie she had saved earlier on the PVR. During a particularly exciting scene, Mom put her arm around Aunt Beth’s shoulders, and she slouched down to make it less awkward for Mom to keep it there, thus triggering a further slip of the pleated skirt sufficient to bare a sliver of thigh above the lacy band at the top of her stockings. When the commercials started Mom commented on the stockings.

“Those are pretty. Do you always wear such pretty ones?”

“Not always,” Aunt Beth replied. “I just felt like it today for some reason.”

I was going to fast-forward through the commercials but didn’t when Aunt Beth lifted the hem of her skirt to examine the lacy borders of the stockings. Instead, I let them run so I could inspect Aunt Beth’s thighs in detail. Mom had made them the topic of discussion, so why shouldn’t I look too? With an extended index finger, Aunt Beth traced the lacy band as it curled around one sexy upper thigh, her flesh depressing as the finger dragged along.

“They are pretty, aren’t they?”

“Have you ever tried different colors?” Mom asked.

I could have kissed Mom for dragging this out.

“Not really. I like white and black.”

I pictured Aunt Beth’s thighs encased in white stockings and almost groaned. My resolution was barely afloat and I didn’t care much for saving it at that moment.

“What colors do you have in mind?”

“Oh, a nice, silky blue, maybe,” Mom mused.

“Yeah, that would probably look nice.”

“The movie’s started,” Mom announced.

Aunt Beth dropped the hem of her skirt and it landed closer to her knees, completely covering the black band of lace and the sliver of bare skin. I concentrated on the screen but, as before, my attention soon strayed from the movie to focus on Aunt Beth’s legs. Gradually, slight movements caused the skirt to recede, at first re-exposing part of the lacy band and then more and more, until the full width was revealed on each thigh and a narrow slice of bare leg to boot.

Aunt Beth leaned toward Mom. As she cradled my aunt close, Mom’s hand dangled over Aunt Beth’s shoulder and her fingers grazed the upper right arm near the side of my aunt’s breast.

“You had a hard morning, didn’t you?” Mom asked quietly.

Aunt Beth nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Just relax, sweetie. You’re with your family now.”

As if she had been awaiting permission, Aunt Beth closed her eyes, sighed, and sank deeper into the couch, despite the fact that the movie was far from finished. As the fingers on Mom’s right hand brushed back and forth across Aunt Beth’s upper arm, she squirmed and made herself more comfortable within Mom’s embrace. The skirt slid farther up her thighs.

“Why don’t you take your aunt’s boots off for her?” Mom whispered, as if Aunt Beth was almost asleep and shouldn’t be disturbed.

After all her warnings, Mom was sure making it hard for me to maintain a platonic perspective. Whatever. I found the zipper on the inside of Aunt Beth’s left boot and dragged it down. Lifting her foot from the edge of the table, I removed the boot in one careful, smooth motion so as not to ‘awaken’ my aunt. As soon as I started to undo the zipper on the right boot, which was closest to me, I noted that the pressure pushed her leg toward me. I paused halfway down, realizing that the same thing had happened with the other leg.

Aunt Beth’s knees had been close together but were now parted, forcing the pleated skirt to pile up on her upper thighs. Between them, I could see a hint of black panties within the shadow of the remaining skirt covering her legs. I jerked my eyes away, it suddenly dawning on me that while Aunt Beth had closed her eyes, Mom hadn’t. She was looking right at me with the same smoldering eyes I had first witnessed in her bedroom during the early days of our affair, just scant weeks ago.

Disconcerted, I looked away and my eyes landed between Aunt Beth’s legs again. It’s amazing how captivating a pair of parted female thighs can be, especially when the sweet spot is just out of sight, concealed in shadows, yet framed by a pair of sexy, lace-topped stockings. I knew what was under there, just out of view, and imagined it pulsing, eagerly waiting for me.

Mom broke my reverie. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

I re-started the zipper on its downward track but didn’t watch its progress. Instead, I shifted my gaze to Mom and kept it there except for a single glance back into Aunt Beth’s skirt. That was interrupted when, out of the corner of my eye, I noted that Mom’s dangling fingers had failed to return along the two-way path they were grazing across Aunt Beth’s upper arm. I found Mom’s fingers reaching around to the inside of my aunt’s upper arm, which was squeezed against her side, next to the side of the muted mound under her sweater. My eyes widened and my hand halted, stuck holding the zipper on the inside of Aunt Beth’s ankle, while I watched Moms fingers rub back and forth several more times before scraping onto the top of my Aunt Beth’s sweater, just above her right breast.

I looked into Mom’s coal-black eyes. Slowly, my eyes never leaving Mom’s, I pulled off the right boot and placed Aunt Beth’s foot back on the edge of the coffee table, for some reason became fascinated by the way her foot curled to fit over the edge. I kept her knee close to me and looked deep into her skirt.

“Why don’t you take your aunt’s stockings off for her?” Mom whispered.

I stared at Mom, seeking more than oral confirmation that this was really what she wanted me to do, but I found no answer in her expressionless face or those unfathomable eyes. My fingertips found the lacy band atop Aunt Beth’s left thigh, trailed along its edge a ways, and then dug underneath so I could peel it off her leg.

“Gently,” Mom whispered. “Don’t wake her.”

As if she was actually asleep.

Very slowly, I tugged the stocking down Aunt Beth’s leg, afraid that she might open her eyes to accuse me of an outrageous transgression despite the permission granted by my mother sitting next to her. The bare skin on her left thigh was incredibly soft and my cock lurched in my pants as the tactile sensations shivered up my arms into my brain.

It seemed like I was in a wonderful dream and, at the same time, enduring an ordeal. The thrill of discovery as Aunt Beth’s bare flesh was revealed amid the fear of retribution that would follow if she opened her eyes and saw how much I wanted to fuck her. My cock was rock hard and I found it hard to breathe normally.

Mom’s fingers continued to trail back and forth on the sweater above Aunt Beth’s right breast and the hard nub that had arisen on top was witness to the effectiveness of the caress. Mom’s left hand curled around Aunt Beth’s other upper arm and the back of her fingers flicked out to press directly against the side of that breast. Mom watched Aunt Beth’s face closely, seeking a reaction.

The stocking was down to Aunt Beth’s knee. I peeled it to her ankle, gently lifted her foot from the edge of the coffee table, and slipped it off. Replacing her foot, I paused for a minute to seek Mom’s permission to continue with the right leg nearest me. However, she was too busy watching Aunt Beth’s face, her fingers barely grazing the sweater, one set caressing the right breast and the other flicking out to press into the side of the left.

Mom closed her eyes and started to hum a lullaby.

I nudged the hem of Aunt Beth’s skirt back to make it easier to grasp the lacy band around the top of the stocking. The skin at the top of her inner thigh was also incredibly soft and I couldn’t resist exploring it with my fingertips even before removing the stocking. I was much closer to Aunt Beth’s panties and she became restless.

“Shhhhh,” Mom whispered. “It’s alright.”

As Aunt Beth relaxed, the memory of the first brief encounter with Mom’s panties that night in the car popped into my head. The next thing I knew the back of my knuckles were brushing against my aunt’s panties but I quickly withdrew as soon as I realized what I had done. Luckily, neither woman seemed to have noticed the transgression.

I dug my fingers under Aunt Beth’s stocking and drew it down her right leg. This time, I let the fingertips of my right hand splay out and dragged them all along the underside of her tender inner thigh. I reached the knee and proceeded down to her foot where I paused to let the stocking bunch up around my aunt’s ankle. Gently, I raised her foot and slipped the stocking off, then dropped it to the floor.

I wasn’t sure about what to do next. I waited, watching Mom hum the lullaby, and was surprised a moment or two later to see that I was still holding my aunt’s right ankle. I set her foot on the edge of the coffee table and slid my hand up the underside of her calf, crossed over to the top of her knee, and continued along the inside of her thigh, as if refreshing the skin the way I had seen her do in the laundry room.

I reached the hem of the skirt but Mom’s eyes were still closed so I carried on inside the skirt and didn’t stop until I started refreshing the tender skin where the top of the stocking had been. A moment later, I moved on even higher, until the edge of my index finger made contact with Aunt Beth’s panties and, for a second time, she drew in her breath, became restless, and started to mumble.

“Oh, no ... the movie, I don’t...”

“Shhhhh,” Mom whispered. “Just lie still.”

I pressed the edge of my finger onto Aunt Beth’s panties where it found a compatible topological feature to lodge into. Aunt Beth became more restless and, incredibly, Mom twisted toward her, shushed her, and then brushed her lips against my aunt’s cheek, whispering to calm her down, but couldn’t until Mom’s mouth slid to the corner of my aunt’s mouth.

Aunt Beth sucked in her breath and went very still. Mom’s mouth moved right onto her lips and my aunt’s thighs tensed up and her calf muscles became rigid. I stared, fascinated that my two favorite women, lips pressed together but unmoving, were on the verge of a taboo new beginning, or ending, of their recently evolving relationship. The moment hung in the air for several tense seconds, then Aunt Beth relaxed, and Mom’s lips pressed more firmly against hers. They kissed.

I waited several more long seconds until I knew the kiss wasn’t going to end quickly, then wiggled my finger within its lodging. As the kiss continued I rubbed the finger, now securely embedded, up and down—more an intention than a real move but Aunt Beth responded nevertheless. She moaned and sighed into Mom’s mouth which energized the meshing of their lips.

Mom’s left hand moved from the side onto Aunt Beth’s breast and closed over it. Her fingers squeezed and her palm pressed in before rotating back and forth in a twisting motion over the nipple. When Mom withdrew her hand briefly, I witnessed the rapid response and put my own left hand underneath the shallow rise of the other breast that Mom’s dangling fingers were still teasing. I lifted the small mound of flesh until the bump under the sweater came into direct contact with Mom’s fingers and watched it react in the same manner as the other had done.

Fucking awesome!