As she bit her fist to prevent her ecstasy being shared with the rest of the family downstairs, her culmination reached a taboo new height as a guttural groan preceded her nephew’s load splashing across her stomach, breasts, and neck.
As she revelled in the sensation of each hot rope, the fear of God was put into her by the sound of footfalls on the stairs.
‘We’re coming now,’ Tom called out, overcoming his breathless state to sound almost normal.
The steps faded, and she breathed a sigh of relief, perishing the thought of her sister walking in to catch her painted with her son’s cum. She stretched her legs out on the bed as her heartrate returned to normal. He slowly removed the soaked dildo from her pussy while she stroked him down, her fingers gooey with the dregs of his seed.
‘We’d better go,’ Tom said, ‘Your sister’s a stickler for family dinners.’
Your sister. Not my mum. Holly knew his choice of words had been deliberate; he was reinforcing the gravity of what they’d done. But whereas in most, she thought, such words would inspire guilt, all she felt was exhilaration as she looked down at her cum-covered body.
Holly wiped herself clean with a towel Julie had left for her on the dresser, then put on fresh clothes. As they stepped out onto the landing, Tom hovered over her shoulder so she could feel the heat of his breath on her ear.
‘That was amazing, Aunt Holly,’ he whispered.
His words sent a shudder through her core, the remnants of which stayed with her as they went downstairs. As they neared the dining room door, he gave her a playful pat on the bum, earning him a look of reproach that did nothing to convince him it was sincere.
Indeed, it wasn’t. The last thing Holly wanted to be doing right now was eating Christmas pudding while making small talk with family. What she wanted, she was loath to admit, was the events of upstairs to continue. Instead of a gentle pat on her denim, she wanted Tom to rip off her jeans and take her.
‘Finally,’ Bill said as they appeared through the door. ‘What took you so long?’
‘Aunt Holly found some of my baby photos,’ Tom replied without hesitation, ‘She was saying she can’t believe how much I’ve grown.’
Although not looking at his face, Holly could feel Tom’s grin directed at her. She could only hope that nothing in her face betrayed her embarrassment.
‘They grow up so fast don’t they,’ Julie said to her sister. ‘Do you remember when you used to read him bedtime stories?’
‘Of course,’ Holly said, forcing a smile. ‘He always wanted more. Never took no for an answer.’
Such innocent words in any other context now made her admonish her loose tongue. Paranoia was setting in, as though everything she did would reveal her new secret.
‘I just couldn’t get enough,’ Tom said.
They sat down, and Julie brought in the Christmas pudding, placing it at the centre of the table next to a saucepan of hot brandy.
‘Here we go,’ Bill said. He scooped some of the Brandy into a ladle and ignited it with a stove lighter. He poured it over the pudding, and the once-a-year spectacle of blue flames dancing over the raisin-filled mound drew looks of appreciation from around the table.