Summer of Sin

The summer after my eighteenth birthday was supposed to be mundane—a tedious waiting period before I escaped to college and finally lost my virginity. I had spent four years of high school as the invisible guy, the quiet observer who watched from the sidelines while other guys dated, partied, and fucked their way through adolescence. My name is Ethan, and I had become an expert at one thing and one thing only: masturbation.

I jerked off constantly. Three, sometimes four times a day. My fantasies had evolved over the years from generic porn scenarios to something far more dangerous and intoxicating—my own mother. Sarah was thirty-nine, a blonde bombshell with an hourglass figure that defied logic and gravity. Her 38G breasts were legendary in our neighborhood, the kind of massive natural tits that made grown men stutter and lose their train of thought. She had short, styled blonde hair, a tiny waist from her yoga obsession, and hips that flared out into a perfect pear shape. Every morning, she'd walk around the house in skimpy sports bras and yoga pants that left nothing to the imagination, her huge melons bouncing with every step.

I knew it was wrong to fantasize about my own mother, but I couldn't help it. Every night, I'd lie in bed listening to the rhythmic thumping of my parents' bedframe down the hall, my mother's muffled moans filtering through the walls as my father fucked her. I'd stroke my thick, virgin cock under the covers, imagining it was me pounding into her, me making those tits bounce, me shooting my load deep inside her fertile cunt.

The day everything changed started innocently enough. I was doing laundry in the basement, my cock already half-hard from the knowledge that I'd soon be handling my mother's dirty underwear. I fished through the basket until I found what I was looking for—a satin bra, 38G, the cups still warm from her body. I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my rigid shaft, wrapping the silky fabric around my length and stroking slowly, imagining those massive tits enveloping my cock in a tight titfuck.

I was so lost in the fantasy that I didn't hear the basement door open.

"Ethan? Are you down there?" My mother's voice called out, sweet and melodic.

I nearly had a heart attack. I shoved the bra back into the laundry and tried to stuff my throbbing erection into my pants, but it was no use—it wouldn't go down. "Yeah! Just doing laundry!" I called back, my voice cracking.

"Come upstairs, honey. Your father and I need to talk to you."

My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for my cock to soften. When I finally walked into the living room, my parents were sitting on the couch. Mom was wearing a white tank top that showed off her deep cleavage, her nipples slightly visible through the thin fabric. Dad looked serious, which made my stomach drop.

"Ethan," Mom began, her blue eyes sparkling, "your father has a business conference in London, and I'm going with him. We'll be gone for three weeks."

My mind immediately went to the possibilities—three weeks alone in the house, jerking off in every room, using Mom's bras and panties to my heart's content. But Dad's next words shattered that dream.

"You're going to stay with your Aunt Victoria while we're away," he said firmly. "She's your mother's twin sister, and you haven't seen her since you were a toddler. It's time you two bonded."

Aunt Victoria. I had heard her name mentioned in passing over the years, seen a few old photos in albums. She lived in Florida, a world away from our quiet suburban life in Oregon. The thought of leaving my sanctuary of sin for three weeks filled me with dread, but I had no choice.

A week later, I was on a plane to Tampa, my cock aching with unfulfilled need and my mind racing with anxiety. What if Aunt Victoria was strict? What if she had a house full of rules? What if I couldn't find any privacy to relieve myself?

The Tampa airport was humid and bustling. I stood in the arrivals area, scanning the crowd for a woman who looked like my mother. Instead, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find a vision that made my jaw drop.

"Ethan?" The young woman smiled, her blonde curls framing a heart-shaped face that was the picture of youthful innocence—except for her body. She wore a cropped tank top that barely contained her massive breasts—easily double-Ds, maybe larger—and a micro-skirt that showed off tanned, toned legs. "I'm Bridgette. Aunt Victoria's daughter. Mom sent me to pick you up."

My cousin. I hadn't even known Aunt Victoria had a daughter. Bridgette couldn't have been older than twenty-one, and she was stunning—like a younger, sluttier version of my mother. Her nipples were hard and visible through the thin cotton of her top, and as we walked to her car, I couldn't stop staring at the way her ass swayed in that tiny skirt.

The drive to their house was torture. Bridgette drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on her thigh, her skirt riding up to reveal she wasn't wearing any panties. I kept my backpack in my lap to hide my raging erection, but I was certain she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

"So," she said, glancing at me with a mischievous smile, "Mom told me you're going to college in the fall. Excited to finally get laid?"

I nearly choked. "What? I mean, yeah, I guess. I haven't really had a girlfriend or anything."

Bridgette laughed, a sound like bells. "Poor baby. Don't worry, college girls love virgins. They get to teach you everything exactly how they like it." She paused, her eyes dropping to my lap. "Or maybe you'll find someone to teach you before then."

I was saved from responding by our arrival at a beautiful beach house. As we pulled into the driveway, my mouth went dry. Standing on the porch was a woman who looked exactly like my mother—same face, same age, same everything—except her hair was long and flowing down her back, and she wore a sheer sundress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her 38G breasts strained against the fabric, her nipples dark and prominent, and I could see the outline of her shaved pussy through the thin material.

"Ethan!" Aunt Victoria—Aunt Vicky, as she insisted I call her—rushed forward and enveloped me in a hug that crushed her massive tits against my chest. I felt my cock twitch against her stomach, and I prayed she didn't notice. "Oh my goodness, look at you! All grown up!"

She held me at arm's length, her eyes scanning my body with an intensity that made me blush. "My, my. You've certainly filled out. I bet the girls at school are just lining up for you, aren't they?"

"Not really," I mumbled, my face burning.

Vicky's eyes softened, and she reached out to cup my cheek. "Well, that's their loss, sweetheart. Come inside, I've made us a lovely dinner. Bridgette, be a dear and help Ethan with his bags."

Dinner was a blur of sensation and arousal. Vicky had changed into an even more revealing outfit—a bikini top and cutoff shorts that rode up her ass. Bridgette had changed into a similar ensemble, and I found myself seated between them at the small kitchen table, my cock throbbing painfully in my jeans as their massive breasts brushed against my arms with every movement.

"So, Ethan," Vicky said, leaning forward to give me an unobstructed view of her cleavage, "your mother tells me you're quite the studious young man. Spends a lot of time in his room, if you know what I mean." She winked, and I felt my face flush crimson.

"Mom!" Bridgette laughed. "Don't embarrass him."

"I'm not embarrassed," Vicky purred, her eyes locked on mine. "I think it's healthy for a young man to explore his body. In fact, I encourage it."

The rest of dinner passed in a haze of sexual tension. Afterward, Vicky showed me to my room—a cozy guest room with a view of the ocean. "Get settled in, sweetheart. I'm going to take a shower. Bridgette is going out with friends, so it'll just be us tonight."

Just us. Alone in the house. With my cock hard enough to hammer nails.

I waited until I heard the shower running, then crept down the hall like a thief. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, steam billowing out, and I could hear the sound of water hitting tile. My heart raced as I peeked inside. The shower door was frosted, obscuring Vicky's body, but I could make out her silhouette—those wide hips, those massive breasts, the curve of her ass.

On the floor, discarded in a heap, were her clothes. I spotted her bra immediately—a lacy red number that looked expensive. Without thinking, I snatched it up and hurried back to my room, my cock already out and throbbing.

I lay on the bed, wrapping the warm, silky bra around my shaft. It still smelled like her—like vanilla and something darker, more primal. I stroked slowly, imagining Vicky's huge tits wrapped around my cock, her tongue licking the tip as she titfucked me. I imagined shooting my load all over her face, marking her as mine, claiming my aunt in the most depraved way possible.

I was so lost in the fantasy, so close to orgasm, that I didn't hear the door open.

"What in heaven's name are you doing?"

I froze, my cock still wrapped in her bra, precum leaking onto the lace. Vicky stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel, her hair wet and dripping, her massive breasts heaving with each breath. She looked from my face to my cock, then back to my face, and slowly, a smile spread across her lips.

"Is that my bra, Ethan?" she asked softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

"I... I can explain," I stammered, trying to cover myself, but she was already at the edge of the bed.

"Shh," she whispered, sitting down and reaching out to gently pull the bra from my cock. She examined it, noting the wet spot where my precum had soaked into the lace. "You've been a naughty boy, haven't you? Using your aunt's underwear to pleasure yourself."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, mortified.

"Don't be sorry," she said, her voice dropping to a husky purr. She wrapped her delicate fingers around my throbbing shaft, and I gasped at the contact. "I know exactly what you need, sweetheart. I know exactly what you've been craving."

She began to stroke me slowly, her hand gliding up and down my length with expert precision. "Your mother told me about your... fixation. She said you've been lusting after her for years. Can't say I blame you—we are identical twins, after all. And these?" She used her free hand to untuck the towel, letting it fall away and reveal her naked, glorious body. Her tits were even more magnificent than I imagined—huge, firm, with dark pink nipples that were already hard. "These are the same tits you dream about, aren't they?"

"Yes," I groaned, unable to lie. "God, yes."

"Good boy," she purred, climbing onto the bed and kneeling between my legs. She leaned forward, her massive breasts pressing against my thighs, and I felt her warm breath on my cockhead. "Mommy's going to take care of you, Ethan. Mommy's going to teach you everything you need to know."

She opened her mouth and took me inside, and I thought I might die from pleasure. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around my shaft as she sucked me deeper. She didn't just suck—she worshipped. Her cheeks hollowed out as she applied suction, her head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm that had my hips bucking off the bed.

"Oh fuck, Aunt Vicky," I moaned, my hands finding her wet hair. "That feels so fucking good."

She pulled back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to my cock. "Call me Mommy," she commanded. "I want to hear you say it while I suck your virgin cock."

"Mommy," I gasped, and she rewarded me by taking me deep into her throat, her nose pressing against my pubic hair. She held me there, swallowing around my shaft, before pulling back and gasping for air.

"You're so big, baby," she cooed, stroking me with both hands now, her spit making me slick and shiny. "So much bigger than your uncle was. I bet you've been dying to cum, haven't you? Dying to empty these heavy balls?"

"Yes, Mommy, please," I begged, my orgasm building rapidly.

"Not yet," she teased, releasing my cock and climbing up my body. She positioned herself above me, her shaved pussy hovering over my shaft. I could see how wet she was—her lips were swollen and glistening, a thin strip of blonde hair above her slit. "First, Mommy needs to feel you inside her. First, I'm going to take your virginity."

She reached down and guided my cock to her entrance, then slowly, torturously, lowered herself onto me. I groaned as I felt her tight heat envelop me inch by inch, her walls gripping me like a velvet vice. She was so wet that I slid in easily, but so tight that I could feel every ridge, every flutter of her muscles.

"Oh god, Ethan," she moaned, her head falling back as she settled fully onto me, my cock buried to the hilt inside her. "You fill me up so perfectly. Mommy's going to ride you now, baby. Mommy's going to make you a man."

She began to move, her hips rolling in circles as she rode me. Her massive tits bounced with every motion, and I reached up to grab them, finally getting to feel their weight in my hands. They were heavy and firm, the skin like silk, and her nipples were like pebbles against my palms.

"That's it, baby," she encouraged, grinding down harder. "Play with Mommy's tits. You've wanted to do this for so long, haven't you? Wanted to fuck your mother's tits? Well, here they are. Here I am."

I lost myself in the sensation, my hips thrusting up to meet her downward strokes. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, her wet pussy squelching around my cock, her moans mixing with my grunts.

"Mommy, I'm going to cum," I warned, my balls tightening.

"Not inside," she gasped, though she didn't stop riding me. "Pull out and cum on Mommy's tits. Mark me, baby. Show me who I belong to."

With a roar, I lifted her off me and scrambled to my knees. She lay back on the bed, presenting her heaving breasts to me, and I stroked my cock furiously, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave.

The first spurt hit her neck, thick and white. The second and third coated her left breast, pooling in her cleavage. I kept cumming, more than I ever had before, painting her tits, her stomach, her face with my seed. By the time I finished, she was covered in my cum, her eyes glazed with lust, her tongue darting out to lick a stray drop from her lips.

"Good boy," she purred, scooping up some of my cum with her fingers and sucking them clean. "Such a good boy. Now, how would you like to learn how to make a woman cum?"

Over the next two weeks, Aunt Vicky became my personal sex tutor. She taught me everything—how to eat pussy, how to find the clitoris, how to make a woman squirt with my fingers. She taught me how to last longer, how to control my orgasm, how to fuck in every position imaginable. We fucked in her bed, in the shower, on the kitchen counter, by the pool. She taught me the art of the titfuck, oiling up her massive breasts and sandwiching my cock between them until I shot ropes of cum across her face.

But it wasn't just Vicky. Bridgette had returned home early from her night out, apparently having forgotten her keys, and had witnessed her mother riding my cock by the pool. Instead of being shocked or disgusted, she had joined us.