Bryce Connor's Humiliating Payback

Bryce Connor was restless.

He was down the beach on the usual family summer vacation, in the cottage by the ocean his parents rented. Various family members would stop in for a night or two, a grandmother, uncle, cousin. This year it was Aunt Margaret, aka Auntie Mags, who was there the whole week.

When he was a kid, it was fun. But now at 18, with far better things to do with his time than hang out with his parents, and domineering older sister, it sucked. It sucked big. It sucked worse than anything else had sucked up to this point in his young life.

He swam, played Frisbee with some kids on the beach, fucked around with his phone, texting friends at home about how dreadful his life was at the moment, how bored out of his fucking mind he was.

He tried hanging out with his older sister, Brie, a name he never forgave his parents for laying on her because who the fuck wants to be named after a cheese, but mostly because he detested being part of what relatives would call 'The B&B Kids.' Pissed him off no end.

Auntie Mags was a nice enough lady, loving, caring, doting even. But boring. She was 68, widowed, her own kids and grandkids living on the other coast, so this time with the family meant a lot to her.

Bryce went along, enduring her pinches on the cheek as if he were still five, and her kisses and hugs, but it was wearing on him. It couldn't be a hot cousin cozying up to him, and he had a few and always felt guilty about leering at them and jacking off to the image of them bouncing their tits all over the beach, no, it had to be ancient Auntie Mags.

She had short-cropped gray hair, dyke like, a thick-built body, freckled and tanned, which for some reason she insisted on stuffing into a too-small one piece, her fleshy boobs erupting from wrinkled cleavage, and a shapely but rather large ass pushing the boundaries of her suit bottom.

They were the second day into their vacation and Bryce was going out of his mind. His parents, Lindsay and Bob, had taken off for the day, shopping, antiquing, doing whatever it is that boring parents do when they have their kids with them.

"Want to go with us, hon?" his mom asked at breakfast that day as Bryce sat morosely on the cottage sofa, playing with his cell phone, texting misery to his buddies back home.

"Fuck no," he said in a whisper, shaking his head at his mother without looking at her.

Brie bounced by, in her snow-white tiny bikini, and busting his balls.

"S'matter, Brycie Wycie, don't wanna go shopping with Mommy and Daddy?"

"Fuck off, bitch," he snarled.

She laughed and walked away, their mom scolding the boy for language. He let it ride. He knew better than to pick a fight with Brie. For one thing, she was much bigger than he was, and stronger, standing nearly six-feet tall and lean and muscular, a college long-distance running star. He was a scant five-foot-six, skinny and weak, having no interest in sports that couldn't be played on a computer screen or cell phone, and as kids, she'd constantly beat him up and pin him down, laughing in his face.

For another, there was that time she caught him whacking off a few months ago.

She'd come early from soccer practice and found him on the living room couch watching porn, jacking away and even snapping a few cell photos before he knew she was there. She constantly held that over his head, threatening to show her friends his "needle dick," as she laughingly called it, if he gave her too much shit. Worse, she started calling him "Short Stack," which friends thought had to do with his height.

So he gave the bitch a lot of leeway.

The morning droned on at the beach, Bryce going out of his mind trying to think of something, anything to do. There was no one in the cottage now, so he toyed with the idea of going back up to tug one off. He hadn't for days. There was always someone in the cottage, it seemed, a place of no insulation and very thin walls. Even the gentle squishing of lubed dick in the bathroom would be heard in the adjacent rooms.

So he thought better of it, not wanting to take the chance of going at it and having his fucking sister walk in. Again.

And not making it any easier were the Delaney twins from the cottage down the beach, Laura and Cassandra, two identical and stunningly beautiful blondes who loved parading up and down the sand driving all men crazy. Every time they strolled by, giggling, waving, those luscious young, 19-year-old tits bouncing, Bryce's cock would go rock hard, not that it took much to make an 18-year-old boy's dick stiff.

And now they went by again, stopping and playing paddleball, all long legs and bouncing tits making Bryce seriously reconsider his jerk-off options.

"I think I'll go make lunch," Auntie Mags announced around noon, picking her fleshy body up off her blanket and brushing the sand from her thighs, the meat of them quivering. "Anyone want anything? I'll be happy to bring something back, or would you like to join me?"

Great, Bryce thought. There goes that plan.

"No, all set, thanks," Brie said as she sat in a lounge chair, reading. "Go, relax, enjoy, you should get out of the sun for awhile anyway."

"What about you, honey?" Auntie Mags asked Bryce.

"No, thanks," he said softly, hardly paying her any mind as he looked into his phone at some porn he called up, praying he'd just cum in his trunks and get it over with.

She left and Bryce turned just in time to watch her plucking the fabric that had crept up her ass, the flesh there dimpled and white. He gagged and looked back at his phone.

"Talk about a boner killer," he growled to himself, switching to a video game.

He was bored, even more than before, and after 10 or so minutes, started to get hungry.

"Gonna go get some food," he told his sister.

"OK, Short Stack," she said with a laugh, not looking at him. "Don't go whacking off with Auntie Mags in the house, you fucking perve."

"Oh, go fuck..." He started to say.

She just smiled, held up her cell phone and waved it at him. He shut up and stormed away, walking up the curving path through the prickly rosa rugosa beach bushes that led to the family rental, about 50 yards back, nestled amid other similar hovels.

He walked up the planked walkway to the cottage and heard moaning.

"What the fuck?" he thought.

He stopped, hand on the stair railing. More moaning. At first he thought Auntie Mags had fallen, busted a hip or whatever it is old people break, and was about to rush up to help her.

Then he heard a soft, urgent, "Oh...oh..God..."

He froze. The sound was coming from Auntie Mags bedroom, which was right next to the porch. The old bitch was playing with herself, he realized, blanching at the thought, and jealous that it wasn't him alone taking care of business.

He weighed his options. Go back to the beach, hungry, waiting for her to finish, or go in, make some noise, she'll stop, he'll eat and look at her funny as he did.

The third option didn't really enter his mind until he realized her moaning was making his dick move in his bathing suit.

"What the fuck?" he thought.

He hadn't cum for days and was horny as shit. In an almost out-of-body sort of way, he watched himself now slowly, stealthily, creep up the stairs.

He looked around furtively to make sure no one in the other houses was watching him, or worse, his bitch sister wasn't coming up behind him. The coast was clear. He made his way to Auntie Mag's window, back to the wall, breath coming in short pants. Wondering what the fuck he was doing.

'Fuck it', he thought, this has been a kill-myself-it's-so-fucking-boring vacation, may as well get a laugh out of seeing old Auntie Mags ripping one off, and tugging one off himself in the process. Any mastubatory fodder was better than none, he figured.

He carefully peered around the window frame, listening to her increasing moans - and the grotesque squishing sounds.

He was at that fine line, that blurry juncture of being grossed out and being intrigued.

He looked in, peering every so carefully into the open window, covered by a screen that waved gently in the slight breeze.

She was on her bed by the window, suit off, pulling one of her massive, white titties up to suck the nipple, slobbering over it, the other hand between her spread, chunky thighs, ramming her unbelievably hairy old cunt with four fingers, the thumb rubbing the clit like a lizard tongue.

He stared. Then pulled back, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, again looking at the other houses to see if anyone was looking. They weren't. He gulped. And then realized his dick fully erect, hard as a rock.

He stared out at the ocean visible past the short bushes and sand dunes. He listened to her groans, more fervent, getting a bit louder. And the squishing sound was driving him crazy.

He looked back again. She was still at it. She was now grunting instead of moaning, those pudgy fingers flashing in and out like four juicy pistons. She tucked her head down to suckle that big fat tit, her neck wattle pressing out in a meaty, wrinkly flare of flesh.

He felt his cock twitch.

'No...no...no...' he thought.

The cottage was quite old, and so were the screens, there for decades, the old thick-mesh kind that had oxidized, all making it hard to see with any clarity. He squinted, trying hard to make out what he knew he shouldn't be seeing. He couldn't, and he was frustrated, so he shuffled along the wall, palming the screen door handle, and very slowly pulling it open. It creaked, everything fucking creaked in the old building, and the creaking door sounded to him like a crack of thunder. He stopped, waiting.

The grunting and squishing continued.

He very, very slowly opened the door, slipping inside, heart pounding, cock aching, mind racing, and just as slowly pulling it shut as gently as he could.

He walked carefully, on tip toes like a burglar in a cartoon, down a short hall that led to a longer hall. To the left of the long hall was Auntie Mag's room, where the grunting, squishing sounds grew louder. To the right was the back door. He peeked around the corner, eyes wide, cock threatening explosion in his baggy bathing suit.

She'd left her door open, to catch the breeze coming through the house on this hot day. He couldn't see her face. It was hidden by the right side of the door frame to her room, so all that was showing was her lower face, which was madly suckling her big titties, slightly puffy white belly, her fleshy thighs spread wide, the meaty interiors quaking as those fingers flashed in and out of her insanely hairy, wet cunt.

Her entire fleshy body was coated with sweat, glistening, gleaming, glowing.

He couldn't look away. It was like a bad accident, a bloody scene in a horror movie, like watching a kid on a skateboard falling balls first onto a handrail he was trying to slide down. It was gruesome, it was gross, it was ghastly.

But he couldn't look away. Worse, he now tugged his cock out of his suit, and was jerking off watching his aunt pretty much doing the same thing in her room.

He stepped into the long hall, leaning against the wall, hidden from her view, and groaned as quietly as she was grunting loudly, tugging his little cock harder, faster, feeling his balls knot, aching for release. He looked around frantically for something to catch his load in, his mind presenting a disquieting image of it being there on the floor when she walked out, slipping in his spew and breaking a hip or whatever it is old people break when they fall.

There on the floor was a hat. Brie's hat. Brie's college hat with her school's emblem on it.

'Oh fuck', he thought, bending to pick it up, trying to not think he was about to spew his wad in his sister's hat while jacking off watching his aunt finger her cunt like a jackhammer 10 feet away, praying with as much intensity as he used whacking off that Auntie Mags wouldn't look up, catch him and fuck up his life forever.

He knew he should stop. But he was too far gone, his balls achingly close to blowing. Suddenly, this vacation was anything but boring. Now it was scary, so fucking scary as he jacked harder, and faster, and now perversely realized he was trying to time his cum to his aunt's.

Mutual orgasm. With his aunt. His mom's sister. What the fuck.

He was there, so close, so close, and she was, too, her grunts getting lower, growly, animalistic, that arm plunging between swaying thighs, fingers sawing, thumb cruising the clit on its relentless mission to completion.

And then it all went to shit.

Brie had come back to the cottage to grab a bite, and instead of coming in the front door, which would have made noise, alerted him so he could somehow put his cock away, and drop the hat - her hat - he was about to spooge in, and hide, instead of all that, she had to come in the back door. Because by the back door was a big bucket of water everyone was supposed to use to wash their feet clean of sand before entering. As Brie always did because Brie always played by the fucking rules.

The back door opened. Creaking. For a nanosecond, Bryce thought it may have been the wind, the same nanosecond it took to turn his head and look right into his sister's startled eyes.

She looked at him, then past him to Auntie Mags attacking her cunt like a madwoman, unseeing, unhearing, caught up in the deafening low growl of impending orgasm.

Brie screamed. Now Auntie Mags' eyes joined Bryce's as she sat up, looking down the hall at her niece and nephew.

"BRYCE WHAT THE FUCK!" Brie roared, hands on hips.

"BRIE WHAT THE FUCK!" Bryce roared, frozen, dick in hand in hat.

"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!" Auntie Mags roared, sitting up against the wall, shaking and holding bunched-up sheets around her.

There are moments frozen in time. There are moments to never be forgotten. There are moments, the JFK assassination, John Lennon's murder, the Challenger explosion, Kurt Cobain blowing his head off, moments etched in the memory no matter how you wish they weren't.

This was one of them.

No one moved for what seemed hours but was actually a split second. Auntie Mags stared at Bryce, Bryce stared at Brie, and Brie stared at them both.

"My fucking hat, Bryce? Really?" Brie growled, eyeing his hand around his cock aimed in her hat. "My fucking hat!"

She marched past Bryce, elbowing him aside, and raced to Auntie Mugs' side, sitting on the bed, putting a comforting arm around him as she sobbed under the bunched-up sheets she held around her sweaty, shaking body.

"It's OK, Auntie Mags, it's OK," she said, soothingly, eyeing with disgust her wide-eyed little brother standing in the hall, a frozen figures with now-soft cock drooping in his hand. "You, go wait in the living room."

He did, dropping the hat on the floor, trudging to the living room, waiting for what he did not know. But it couldn't be good.

He heard comforting cadence, quieting his disconsolate aunt, calming her down, telling her that masturbation at any age is perfectly acceptable, even her age, especially Bryce's age when boys are in the forming stages of being the total pigs they'd be for life, evidenced by him jacking off at the sight of her and ejaculating into his sister's hat, which thankfully she'd stopped in time.

"You better now, Auntie, you OK?" she said in a soft, gentle voice that Bryce never heard used on him.

"Yes, Brie, thanks...for understanding...it's just so...so..."

"Yes, humiliating, I know, I know, what can you do, Bryce is a pig, pure and simple," Brie said. "And he must be punished."

"Punished?" Mags asked, voice clearer. "But how..why..."

"Yes, punished," Brie continued. "You let me handle this, Auntie Mags. Bryce! Get your sorry ass in here! Now!"

Bryce gulped. He was screwed, he knew it. She'd tell mom and dad for sure, maybe show him the pictures of when she'd caught him before, maybe they'd ship him off for sexual counseling, a center for kids who jack off too much, who the fuck knew.

He shambled into the room, Auntie Mag's eyes soft and forgiving, Brie's hard and anything but forgiving.

"You humiliated our aunt, Bryce," she snapped.

"Yeah, I know, but...but hell, it was pretty humiliating for me, too, ya know," he said weakly in what he knew was a pretty fucking weak defense for jacking off to his aunt doing the same thing.

"No, you weren't, SHE was," Brie growled. "She had no idea you were there, you perve, YOU knew exactly what you were doing."

He stood, shoulders slumped, head down. She was right. The bitch was always fucking right.

"So now you have to pay. YOU have to be humiliated," she said.

She leaned to Auntie Mags, whispering in her ear. Auntie Mugs' eyes widened.

"Really?" she said, astonished, but clearly smitten with whatever it was Brie had said.

"Really," Brie sighed. "It's the only way. An eye for an eye, tit for tat, quid pro quo..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Bryce said, annoyed at her metaphors for whatever the fuck she was talking about that he couldn't figure out.

"Finish," Brie said, a sly smile on her face, Auntie Mags giggling, covering her mouth, part of her sheet falling to expose one thick, white tittie that Bryce couldn't help looking at.

"Finish? Finish what?"

"Take your shrimp dick out, Short Stack, and finish. Right here. Right now," Brie smiled, genuinely happy in what she'd said.

He blinked in disbelief.

"You cannot be fucking serious, Brie, you cannot be serious!"

She smiled - and quickly leaned over to yank his shorts down, pulling them away before he could react. He stood, shriveled dick and all, which he covered quickly with his hands.

"Do it, Bryce, or I'll tell Mom and Dad," she said simply, effectively, and smiled as he slowly circled his tiny cock with his fingers.

He tried, he tried hard, standing there and stroking but there was nothing to stroke. He had a tiny dick anyway, Brie was right, and this small, this shriveled, this humiliated, it wasn't going anywhere but backwards, and seemed to shrink in his usually reliable grip.

"Really, Bryce, you're 18, 18 year old boys get hard at a warm breeze, and that's the best you can do?" Brie said dryly.

"Can't..can't get it...Jesus, Brie, I just can't, OK!" he whined, face sweaty, hand working nothing but a nub of small flesh as she and his aunt watched, Brie with disgust, Auntie Mags with leering fascination.

"Fuck, Bryce, you want ME to do it?"

"Christ, Brie, no!" he squealed, trying harder to get harder and failing.

Brie again whispered into a hand cupped over Auntie Mag's ear, both women giggling.

"Really?" Auntie Mags said. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Auntie Mags, give him a little show," Brie shrugged. "Seemed to work before when he was jacking..."

She glared at Bryce, adding, "into my FUCKING hat!"

Auntie Mags slowly, shyly dropped her sheets. And spread her chunky thighs. Exposing that glistening, huge bush. Bryce blinked, hand falling from his dick, watching her hand enter that copiously vegetated old snatch and start her business again.

She grunted. She made squishing sounds. And Bryce's cock, untouched, suddenly rose to full, if not pathetically small form.

"You are SUCH a perve, Bryce," Brie snarled, watching as she sat back and let Auntie Mags have some room to finish herself off. "God! Now jerk it, before it goes back into its tiny cave."

He did, stroking madly, eyes fixed on Auntie Mag's furiously fidgeting hand, the other one pulling up that same tit she sucked on before, sucking away, eyes fixed on Bryce's cock.

She came with a thunderclap of smashing, thick thighs together, the meat shaking and quaking, soaking her hand. She slowed, pulled it away, relaxed. She and Brie looked at Bryce. Who was frantically tugging his tiny pecker, no end in sight.

"I can't...I can't cum...this is too..."