Last Days of Walter : Part 5 – Family Ties

Author: Frank “Blue Moon” Berry

Walter had just arrived at the old farmhouse his aunt had called home for more than ten years. She had been surprised to hear from him when he had called the night before and immediately invited him to visit when he offered. But now, walking the perimeter of the house, no one answered the door. With the exception of a couple of barn cats, there wasn’t a living being in sight.

Then he saw her. She was jogging up the road, little puffs of air escaping her mouth each time she exhaled into the cool evening air. She waved when she saw him and he met her at the door. Freshly exercised muscles rippled in her lithe body as she embraced him.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” she said, entering the screen porch. “You should have just let yourself in. We don’t lock the doors around here.” Walter followed her in as she removed her stocking cap and sweatshirt. “Have a seat. I’ll grab a shower and then make you some dinner. Help yourself to some apple wine from the fridge. One of my neighbors makes it.”

Walter realized he hadn’t said a word as she blew past him. He’d forgotten what a force of nature his Aunt Charlotte could be. As he settled into an overstuffed chair with a glass of wine, he studied the surroundings. Each thing in the room seemed to scream “Charlotte”: attractive, practical and warm. Pictures lined the walls, and Walter found himself at various ages in several frames. He was startled when she appeared at his side toweling her hair.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’ve missed you,” he replied. She walked back towards the bathroom, the light from the mirror silhouetting her hard body through her sheer dressing gown.

“Damn, boy, I’m 46 years old. I’m glad you didn’t wait much longer to start missing me.” Her saying her age, although he’d always known she was five years older than he when they were growing up, had startled him. She sure didn’t look it, with just traces of gray in her long tresses. She reminded Walter more than a little of the singer, Emmylou Harris, for while her dimples had become creases and laugh lines added character around her eyes, her skin was flawless and her body…oh, her body.

Her smallish tits were firm from work and exercise, her legs long and trim, meeting in an upturned ass that seemed to have gotten only better in the years since he’d seen her. Walter would have guessed that no more than a few years had passed since he had glimpsed her changing out of her swimsuit twenty-seven years ago. His dick began to harden at the memory as she flicked on the hair dryer and shouted, “You still like cornmeal chicken?”

Walter nodded and helped himself to another glass of wine.

They talked in the kitchen about the people they had known and the places they had been while she prepared a huge dinner. They ate ravenously, while finishing the jug of apple wine. Walter felt strange, eating food prepared from recipes his mother had used, knowing the reason he had come here was to commit a carnal family sin.

Charlotte noticed the look on his face and asked him what was wrong. Walter only shook his head, but she was insistent, placing her hand over his. “We were always close, and we could always tell each other anything. Now, what is it?”

“There have been some changes in my life lately,” he understated. “I’ve become a person that seizes opportunities, often ruthlessly. I’m not really sure I like the person I’ve become.”

“You’ve always seized opportunities,” she said. “You wouldn’t have become the successful man you are if you hadn’t. Perhaps you weren’t ruthless, but it’s a tough world out there. As a woman living on her own by her own rules, I’ve learned it’s true you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.” The heat of her hand went all the way to his core.

They sat in front of the stone fireplace after dinner and opened another bottle of wine. The smell of her skin was as intoxicating as the wine. Walter felt somewhat relieved when she announced she had to get to bed. “Are you sure you’ll be all right out here?” she asked.

“I can’t think of a better end to the day than sleeping on the sofa in front of a fireplace.” She bid him good night and disappeared into the bedroom. He sighed with relief. He couldn’t remember now how he thought he was going to proposition her. She was his aunt, for God’s sake! His mother’s baby sister! Stripping off his clothes and climbing under a blanket, his mind returned to that long-ago day when he had seen her undressed. While he could recall every detail about her body, the first thing that always occurred to him was her eyes. She could say hundreds, perhaps thousands of words with just one look. In her absence, he felt his dick begin to swell beneath the blanket. He knew he would polish himself off again to this old memory.

“You came here to fuck me, didn’t you?” she asked, again appearing suddenly beside him. Walter could only stammer. “You did. You came here to fuck me. But you started thinking about right and wrong and between that and the wine, everything got fuzzy, right? Tell me.”

“I wanted to make love to you.”

“You can’t make love to me. We love each other, but we don’t have love between us. What we have is curiosity, which is okay. I’m not one to give advice. But if you want to know what I think about right and wrong, I’d tell you the thing that would be the most wrong, would be if you left here in the morning without fucking me first.”

Walter put his palm on her cheek as she placed her hand upon his. He pulled her to him and gently kissed her, her soft lips parting to accept his tongue. The taste of apples made him light headed as she placed his other hand on her breast. He kneaded the flesh, lightly fingering the nipple in circles. Charlotte slowly lowered herself on top of him, her hair cascading off of her shoulders, creating a tent of darkness around their faces. She reached down and opened the tie to her gown, allowing it to open around them, as Walter pulled the blanket off of his body.

The delicious feel of her flesh on his had stiffened his prick and she wriggled downward until it nestled between the moist lips of her pussy. She rocked gently, rubbing her clit against his member, before rising up and feeding him her tits. He rose up to suck the nipples, but she forced his head and shoulders back to the floor. “We’ve waited a lot of years for this,” she whispered, “let’s not rush it.” Sitting up astride him, she slipped the gown off. The crackling fire glowed oranges and yellows on her skin as she smiled at him.

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