Taboo: Generations Bk. 02-12

Once my mouth touched her labia, my body was wracked with a fresh wave of great sobs. What I did to her in the beginning wasn't eating her pussy at all, but blubbering and slobbering all over something that deserved better reverence than I was immediately able to supply. She faked an orgasm for my benefit—that is, I'm pretty sure she did as there was no way I could have gotten her off, unless watching a grown man cry between her legs was her fetish—but it emboldened me to do better, and I did. She finally had a legit orgasm, and as I lapped up her cum she asked, "Feeling better?"

"A little," I responded honestly.

She turned to her side and said, "Come on. Make love to Auntie." I got behind her and carefully inserted my dick into her sweet, tight pussy. She nestled back as she said, "Let Auntie do all the work," and then she began to slowly rock back and forth.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. "I love you, Aunt Linda. Always, and all ways." She said nothing, just continued to rock back and forth at a snail's pace. I cupped a breast and felt her nipple grow rigid. She came, and I kissed her neck when she did. I wasn't in a hurry to cum, though. I just wanted to continue to revel in this feeling of oneness with Aunt Linda that I would never again be able to share with Gram. I did eventually cum, though, and it felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from me when I did.

Aunt Linda and I lay there together and talked for about an hour after, then we decided we should get back home before Ma and Dad came looking and found us.

TABOO: GENERATIONS

Book VII: Revelations

I awoke the following morning to delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. I was suddenly transported back to Gram's house, then reality set in. The thought of her death depressed me, but I was more in control of my emotions this morning than I had been last night. I entered to find Ma cooking breakfast, though with all the food people had brought over I couldn't see why. I suppose it had something to do with just a need to busy herself.

I walked into the kitchen to find that Dad had replaced the cabinet door, but the chair was beyond repair. He and Aunt Linda were already eating. When I announced my "good morning" to everyone, Ma smiled, told me to have a seat, and two minutes later she was serving me one of my all-time favorites: One huge waffle, two eggs over easy, the centers of both popped so that the yolks filled the tiny cells of the waffle, and four pieces of bacon crumbled atop that. No syrup for this meal. I liked it just the way it was.

"You still eat those?" Aunt Linda asked with a laugh.

"It's my second favorite thing to eat," I answered with a sly wink. She smiled.

"Oh, really?" Ma called from the stove. "And what is your first?"

"Whatever makes its way from your creative mind to my plate," I answered quickly.

She looked back at me, smiled, then asked, "So, how are you feeling today?"

"Still hurts," I answered honestly, "but I'm okay. Really."

"Your father, Aunt Linda, and I are going out to Mama's place today to go through things and make sure everything is in order," she informed me.

"You're not selling her stuff," I dictated, but she took it more as a question.

"No, of course not," she reassured me. "We're just going to clean it up. Do you feel like coming along?"

"I can't, Ma. It's too soon."

"I understand. Take what time you need, Jason."

"Hopefully, we can knock it all out in one day," Dad said. "Of course, that yard is going to need professional service. I'll call the Foy brothers and have them get right on it."

"We should be home by six," Ma said to me as Dad dialed the number. "Why don't you heat up a little of everything that was brought to us? It will be like a buffet."

"Yeah, sure thing, Ma."

After breakfast, Ma loaded the dishwasher, then she, Dad, and Aunt Linda left for Gram's house. Nothing I set my mind to could hold my attention for very long. At one point, I even tried to jerk off as I fantasized about Aunt Linda sitting on my face, Ma with my dick up her ass, fucking me while she cussed me out, and in between all that, she and Aunt Linda getting it on with each other, but even that wasn't enough to get me off after twenty minutes of hard stroking. I watched TV, went for a drive, came home, liberated a bottle of tequila from Aunt Linda's suitcase, and drank a good third of it, and around two o'clock I dozed off.

I slept till five, and at five-thirty I loaded all the casserole dishes into the oven so dinner would be ready by six. Ma, Dad, and Aunt Linda arrived at five-fifty. My parents went to the bathroom in their room to wash up while Aunt Linda made her way to the bathroom closest to my room. She motioned for me to follow her, then guided me into my room. We stood there in silence for endless seconds until she finally pulled something from her purse and whispered, "Are these yours?" It was a pair of my underwear.

I said nothing; I just stared at her, wide-eyed.

"I found them under your grandmother's bed," she reported to me. I reached for them, but she did not immediately release them to my custody. As she held me in check, she whispered, "Oh, Jason, what have you done?" Tears filled my eyes, and I immediately began to tremble. I slowly shook my head as the tears spilled over my cheeks and onto the floor. Aunt Linda took me into her arms and said, "Shhhh. It's alright. Nobody will ever know. I promise."

She bid me go straighten myself out. I entered the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, over and over again. I felt a little better, if for no other reason than the burden of the secret was no longer mine alone to bear. As I exited the bathroom, Aunt Linda entered. She met us a few minutes later in the kitchen and we all enjoyed the foodstuffs prepared by Ma and Dad's colleagues, friends, and neighbors.

As we ate, Dad said to me, "We found a pair of tickets for a Carnivale cruise. You know if Minnie was planning a trip?"

"She must have," Ma said. "That was quite the engagement ring she was wearing."

"Then how come no one's stepped forward?" Aunt Linda asked. Was it my imagination, or had she cut her eyes toward me when saying that?

"She told me that she bought the ring on a whim," I interjected. "As for the tickets, they are for your upcoming anniversary. She wanted to surprise you with them."

"Well, I'm definitely surprised," Dad said, "but two whole months? I can't take off work for that long, and neither can your mother. What was Minnie thinking?"

"Maybe we can trade them in for something less lengthy," Ma suggested.

"I'll call tomorrow and see what our options are," Dad told us all.

"So, the reading of the will is tomorrow at four p.m.," Ma reminded everyone. "The lawyer is kind enough to come here to do it. Be presentable. You know, casual dress. You can sit in if you like, Linda, just no short-shorts."

"Girl, you know if I put my Daisy Dukes on that lawyer'll end up giving you half the state." Aunt Linda and Ma laughed. It even got a chuckle out of me as well."

"You stay here, then, and get the house ready," Dad said to Ma. "Linda and I will go back out and finish up where we left off tonight. Foys will be there at seven. They think they can do the overhaul in one day."

"God, I hope so," Ma said. "Too much overgrowth for my taste."

"She was old," I said a bit defensively when reminding Ma of why Gram's place looked as it did. "She couldn't do much, and I did what I could when I was there."

"No. Honey," Ma began. "I wasn't throwing off on her. You know that. Your grandma liked things ... shall we say, 'rustic?' Your father and I are just use to a more manicured appearance, is all."

"I know," I said, ashamed I had snapped at her like I did. "I'm sorry, Ma."

"It's okay," she assured me. "We're all still on pins and needles."

After dinner, I offered to wash dishes—by hand, no less. Ma said she would help, and the majority of the time we spent at the sink was in silence. As we were washing the last casserole dish she said, "We need to talk. Not now, but tomorrow, after your father and Aunt Linda have left." I couldn't possibly fathom what we could discuss, or if "talk" was code for "sex." Either way, it was but one more thing weighing on my mind as I fell asleep.

I awoke at eight to find Dad and Aunt Linda had already left for Gram's house. Ma was putting the finishing touches on the living room and walked in on me in the kitchen eating cold succotash from a container. "At least heat it up," she said with a laugh.

"I like it like this," I said through a mouthful of food. I took a few more spoonfuls before returning the container to the fridge and washing the spoon and placing it in the dish drainer. I then departed to brush my teeth, wash my face, do my hair, and get dressed. I found Ma in her room and told her I was ready whenever she wanted to have that talk.

"It looks to be such a nice day out," she said. "Why don't we go out to the gazebo?" She grabbed a couple of items from her purse—her cell phone, a book—and we did, and it was perfect weather: Low humidity, light wind. It set the mood for what was to come. At least, I was hoping it did.

"We're going to talk about a lot today," Ma began. "Some of what I say may shock you, some of it may anger you, but after what I found yesterday ... Let me stop there. I'm getting ahead of myself."

Almost a minute of silence, which prompted me to say, "What is it, Ma?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She then took my hands into hers as she said, "I owe you an apology."

"What for?" I asked.

"That day your father and I returned from picking up your aunt Linda? When Mama said you were accosted by two hoodlums?" I nodded my understanding. "I didn't say anything to James, but I knew what really happened—and don't ask me how I knew, I just knew."

Silence, then, "Uh, what, exactly, is it you think really happened, Ma?"

She looked me dead in the eyes and said, "I think Mama bushwhacked you, beat you down, and forced you to eat her pussy."

I burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?"

As my laughter subsided, "You're right. She did. That woman beat me down three days in a row and ..."

"And made you suck that damned horse clit of hers," Ma finished for me.

"Horse clit?" I asked with a laugh, but the analogy seemed apropos. Then, "But how could you have possibly known that?"

"You think you were the only one?"

I thought about that a moment, then asked, "Ma, are you saying that Gram—"

"Raped me as well, yes," she said in substantiation of her decree. "You asked me once if Mama resented me going to college. I told you then that I think she resented the fact that I was leaving the farm, never to return."

"So, this never happened in your youth, but after you went to college?"

"I'll say this about Mama: If a person was under eighteen years of age, she protected that person with a vengeance, even if she knew he or she had done something wrong, but someone eighteen or older? An adult? If they crossed her, it was open season as far as she was concerned. Let me give you an example:

"One day—I'm pretty sure I was around nine at this time—our neighbor, Mr. Johnson, was slapping the hell out of his son, Jeb, for some reason I can't remember anymore. The Johnson's were racists, pure and simple. In fact, Jeb had called us things that we had never even heard before. Anyway, Mama saw this and told Mr. Johnson that if he laid one more finger on that boy that she would hop the fence and whup his ass. Mr. Johnson said something like, 'He turns eighteen tomorrow. I'll just give him an adult-sized ass-whupping then.' Ma told him, 'Don't give a damn what you do to him tomorrow, but today you'd best leave him be.' She then said to Jeb, 'Go on home to your mama now, boy,' and Jeb said something like, 'I don't need no nigger sticking up for me,' before running off. The next day I was walking with Mama to check the mail and we saw Jeb walking to check his family's mail. Mama said to him, 'Your daddy giving you anymore trouble, Jeb?' to which he responded, "Told you yesterday I don't need no porch monkey looking out for me.' Mama smiled as she said, 'Did I understand your daddy correctly yesterday when he said you would be eighteen today?' Jeb said, 'Yeah, what of it?' You want to talk about fast? One second she was standing next to me, and the next she had tackled Jeb and was punching him as hard as she could, putting her weight into every shot she landed. She sent Jeb home with a bloody nose and a busted lip." She paused a moment, then reiterated, "She never touched me when I was a minor."

"So ... Before you went away to college?" I asked. "After?"

"I sat out Fall semester to help with harvest," Ma explained to me. "I entered during the Spring. When I came home during Spring break ... That's when it began."

"How did she—or you, for that matter—justify your bruises to Granddaddy? As far as that goes, did he know about Gram sexually abusing you?"

"Oh, she'd punch me where she knew he'd never see; you know, my breasts? My buttocks?" I nodded. "If Daddy saw me wince in pain and asked me what was wrong, Mama would always say something to the effect that college life was making me soft. If I didn't agree with her ... Let's just say things were bad enough as they were. Would you believe she had this ... this ... It was a three-foot pole with a dog collar on one end and straps on—"

"Oh, my God!" I interrupted. "She used that on me as well." We laughed, dark humor over a shared, darker experience.

"The only person Mama never talked back to was Daddy. As far as she was concerned, whatever he said was Gospel."

"Did you ever ..." I stopped long enough to find the right words. "Did you ever acquiesce to her?"

Ma gave a light laugh. "Stockholm Syndrome, yes. There at the end, I did, but it was more out of self-preservation, I think. I'd go tell her something like, 'Daddy's going into town to get supplies,' or 'Daddy's going to Mr. Miller's to help him fix that hole in the barn,' and that was pretty much letting Mama know that she had a few hours without the threat of Daddy walking in and catching her ... us. Anyway, she wasn't as abrasive then. She was still abrasive, mind you, just not as much."

Apparently, my words weren't chosen carefully enough, which prompted me to say, "What I am asking is, did you find that you wanted to ... you know, go down on her."

After some silence she breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly before saying, "I never would have admitted it to myself, but yes." She stopped then, looked at me intently, and said, "This conversation stays between us, right?"

"Of course," I assured her.

"I guess we did it a total of nine or ten times—who's to say anymore? By the fourth or fifth time, however ... Her clit was just so damned enormous! I'd get wet just thinking about it. I'd masturbate while ... servicing her. She caught me once, there at the end, and watched me finish. She then slapped the shit out of me and ..." She took a deep breath here, "She stuck her clit inside of me, inside my vagina. I tried to pull away and she rammed it into my ass. She held me on the bed and fucked me in the ass with her fucking horse clit." She paused just long enough to take a breath, then said, "I remember that I had an orgasm as she did it, and I hated her for that. That was the last time, though. When I got off that bed, I told her if she ever touched me again I'd tell Daddy, and she knew I meant it. She never touched me again."

I just stared at her. She bowed her head, ashamed. She then looked up and very meekly asked, "What?"

"Don't you get it?" I asked her. She lightly shook her head. "This is the reason you are so fixated on anal sex." I thought about that for a moment, then amended my statement: "This is the reason you are fixated on angry anal sex."

She took her time processing this information, then, as realization dawned on her, said, "I never associated the two, even after all these years, but you're right." She shook her head. "Boy, Freud would have a field day with this, wouldn't he?"

"I think that by the time we're finished here, even Freud would need a psychologist," I said with a weak smile. Ma just sat there, neither of us knowing in which direction the next round of conversation should go. I finally said, "I need to ask a question."

"I'm an open book for you today, Jason," she responded. "Anything and everything; no holds barred."

I took a deep breath, then said, "Did you consider yourself to be a lesbian before meeting Aunt Linda, or...?"

She looked up at me, her eyes as big around as silver dollars, and said, "Wh—What makes you think—?"

"Blame it on a whole bottle of tequila on a cold night in Greenland," I told her. Ma shook her head in denial, forcing me to say, "She told me the whole story—the true story—of how you and Dad met: You weren't just roommates, but lovers; you saved her from some jerk at a party; she moved to FAMU to give you and Dad a chance to make this work ..."

"Oh, what you must think of me," Ma said as she buried her face in her hands.

I removed them and lifted her face toward mine with a forefinger under her chin. I then took her hands in mine and said, "There is absolutely nothing you can tell me that would disgust me, make me think ill of you, or make me hate you. You are my mother, and I will always love you, unconditionally, for as long as I live."

She brought my hands to her lips and kissed them. "Thank you, Jason. I really needed to hear that, especially in light of everything we've discussed this morning." She took a calming breath, wiped mist from her eyes, then continued:

"I never thought about being with another woman. I suppose it's safe to say that, if anything, Mama is the reason I did what I did with Linda. I don't know how else to phrase it but to say that my experiences with Mama gave me a taste for it."

I wanted to chuckle or smile ... something, but I didn't. Instead I offered, "She loved you, you know. Aunt Linda told me that the first time you kissed her, it was the first kiss that ever felt right. She also said that letting you go was the hardest thing she ever had to do."

"But she did it," Ma said after some time.

"Ma, she's still in love with you," I told her. "She told me so herself. Now, I'm not saying you and Dad should get a divorce, but I am saying that you and Aunt Linda need to address the feelings she has for you, and you still have for her, if I may be so bold."

"I'd ask you how you got so smart, but you're a genius." She nodded her head then. "Yeah, sure; I'll talk to her. Why not?" She lowered her head, smiled, then looked back up at me. "Is there anything else we need to address? If so, now would be the perfect time."

I thought about that. Aunt Linda finding out about Gram and I released a lot of anxiety, and even though I loved the woman dearly, I think there was a lot of guilt underneath that love. "Remember me saying that I love you unconditionally and could never hate you?" Ma nodded. "I hope the same holds true for you toward me."

"Jason, why in the world wouldn't it?"

"Because when you hear what I have to say, you'll question just how much of a genius I really am, meaning not at all." I took a deep breath. "Okay, let me start by saying that Gram really mellowed out in the end."

"I could tell," Ma said. "It's like, up until Thanksgiving she was just a miserable bitch, God forgive me, but afterward? I don't know what could have happened to change her."