"You really fucked Bill?" she asked. I nodded, proudly. Why shouldn't I be proud? He was a good fuck, and I'd given him a dandy lay. I'd shaken his rocks around and given them the release they needed. Aunt Cheryl took her head. For a moment I considered telling her about me and Daddy, but it didn't seem the proper time. She hardly knew Daddy, for one thing, and she couldn't understand the relationship, not so soon. There was time enough later. Right now I was stroking her tits and playing with her nipples, so sweetly reluctant to retract. She'd moan a little when I toyed with her tits, and she'd lean down and kiss my wrists. Our bodies were entwined, one of her legs between mine, one of my legs between hers, and sometime she'd managed to get me completely out of the bandeau tube that had been my last remaining garment, little as it covered.
"I've been a bitch to him," she sighed. "He doesn't know why, does he? Doesn't even suspect?" I shook my head. If I read him right, he was simply baffled. Aunt Cheryl sat up. Her tits jiggled softly, and the nipples were still rigid, a filmy sheen of sweat coating her large areolas. She smelled of sweat and pussy, and there was nothing like that aroma. No, both of us smelled of sweat and pussy. The room reeked with our juicy cuntal odors. I loved it. I sat up too, slipped my arm around her thin waist, reached up with my other hand and started to play with her tits again.
"It goes back a long way," she said. "Back to Berkeley. Long before I met Bill. In fact, I kinda got him on the rebound, if you know what I mean. I had some sex in high school, nothing spectacular, just same nervous teenaged fucking. After I came to Berkeley, well, I got into different things. I met a girl there. She was a freshman too, but she had been around, more than I could believe, and we were sharing a room. She had ideas about sex that didn't match anything I'd ever run into, growing up in Napa Valley. It's hard to talk about, even now, but we became lovers, Melissa and I. It was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to me, that first time we got into bed together and I just lay there and let her show me what she'd been talking about for a couple of months. She ate me inside out, showed me how to do it to her. I got hooked, Elizabeth, really hooked."
"And from there I drifted into a whole lesbian subculture. There's a strong one at Berkeley, women who love women and don't feel that they have to cover it up. I did a lot of things that still make me shivery when I remember them. But it all went sour. Melissa dropped out of school and just vanished, I still have no idea what ever happened to her. She always talked about Mexico and Kashmir and faraway places. I hope she went there and found what she was looking for. Without her, well, I was lost, for such a long time. But I was in my paramedic training, and I could concentrate on that, and sometimes I used to cruise the places where my kind of women hung out. I'd always been shy and let Melissa take the lead. Without her, it wasn't the same. I tried it with men again, and sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. And then I met your Uncle Bill. He was the sweetest, most gentle man I'd ever encountered, and the first time we made love I was positive I could be cured of whatever sickness had taken hold of me when I was with Melissa. Bill and I lived together for almost a year, and we were so happy, so satisfied, sexually, personally. It was like a storybook romance. And finally, we decided that we should be married, because we were so much in love, and we got our degrees and moved out here. He had his printing business, and I got involved in the women's clinic, and – it happened."
"What happened?"
"A woman," she said. "She comes down from Boulder three days a week. A doctor. Her name is Karen and she – well, being around her at the clinic, just being near her, I felt the old desires returning to life inside me. Slow days, we'd drink coffee and talk, and all the while I'd be looking at her, wondering if her cunt would taste like honey, the way Melissa's did. It tore me apart, Elizabeth. I wanted her, and I knew I wanted her, and nothing seemed to matter except that lust, that desire."
I sighed. "I think I know how it feels," I offered. My hand settled on her sweat-moist thigh, squeezed reassuringly. "So you've been doing it with her, and that's…"
She shook her head. "No. No! I didn't. Not ever. God, I offered. I threw myself at her. But she's straight. Straight as can be. She was kind, yes, told me that she respected the offer but it just wasn't her scene. The only thing was, I couldn't get it out of my head. And everytime Bill offered to touch me, I just turned cold from head to foot and I – well, I think you know the rest."
"Yeah," I said. "Valiums put you to sleep and you can pretend there's no one else in bed with you, no one who has needs and desires of his own. It isn't fair to him, though, and I think you know it. He's a nice guy and a tremendous fuck, and you've hurt him a lot, Aunt Cheryl. Sorry I have to say it that way, but that's the truth of it, and I think you're as aware as I am."
Her eyes misted over and she nodded softly. I leaned in, kissed her lips.
"God," I added, "this is 1978! It isn't the middle ages! And we're all reasonably adult. Doesn't it seem to you that we could make some kind of arrangement?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked, but I didn't get a chance to answer. From outside, someone was calling my name. I slid off the bed and went to the window.
Kim was in the backyard, riding old Sorrel and leading old Duke. I'd almost forgotten that she was coming over today. Little things can slip past your memory when you're having fun. And I'd been having a lot of fun.
"Kim!" I called, leaning out the open window. I was naked to the ankles, though she could only see my tits hanging out the window. Her eyes lit up. "Come on in. First door on the right, top of the stairs. And hurry. I think you'll like what's waiting."
Aunt Cheryl got up. "What is this?" she said, grabbing for her shirt and slacks.
"Put them down," I said. "It's only Kim. And you should be grateful to Kim, because she's the one who showed me the ins and outs of what we just did."
"Kim?" Aunt Cheryl said. "Kim Barton? From the other side of the ridge?" About four heartbeats later the bedroom door opened and there stood Kim, Kim Barton, from the other side of the ridge, Colorado by adoption and totally feminine in her snug-fitting shirt and tight-ass jeans.
"Oh," said Aunt Cheryl, sitting back down on the bed.
"Hi," I told Kim. "I'm sure you know my Aunt Cheryl, but did you know that she seems to enjoy some of the same kind of fun we do?"
Aunt Cheryl's head was turned away. "You're kidding?" Kim said, closing the door behind her. I leaned against the wall, my nipples still rigid, my body glistening from the sex my aunt and I had shared. "You're not kidding," Kim said. "I can smell it."
"This," I told Aunt Cheryl, "is what you've been missing. All the time she's been across the ridge and ready to play. Shall we make up for some lost time, or is the guilt complex starting to work on you again?" Aunt Cheryl looked at me, then at Kim. She sighed. And then she smiled. It was a hopeful smile, and a damned good sign. "Let's play," I added.
If there was one thing you could say for Kim Barton, or Khiehm Bao Thung, it was that her slender, lithe body didn't need the slightest support of underwear. If there was a second thing you could say for, her, it was that she never bothered with the stuff. She unbuttoned her shirt, standing by the closed bedroom door, and I heard Aunt Cheryl sigh throatily at the first sight of Kim's apple-sized tits and their dark, stiff nipples. The door was a very symbolic touch, as touches went. We were locked into our own private world, behind that closed door, just the three of us now, where it had been the two of us, and I couldn't think of anyone better suited to be part of what Aunt Cheryl and I had begun.