In my head I was rehearsing what I’d say to Kimberly once she walked through the doors of Stables Bar & Grill. I couldn’t believe I was this nervous about talking with a woman I had been intimate with during our final two years of high school. Yet for some reason the butterflies were swarming around my stomach. I breathed in as a portion of our graduating class started filling the bar. Some classmates came around my table to catch up; one of those was Paul Butler.

“How’s it hanging?” he asked as he sat down at my booth.

“Low,” I replied, laughing.

“Your hair’s gone a little grey,” he said. “Unlike me, you still look fit, and I bet your dick is still bigger than mine.”

“That would be a winning bet,” I replied.

I’ll spare you the ins and outs of our conversation and tell you about Paul Butler. He moved into my neighborhood in second grade. At that age, kids who lived on the same street usually played together. And it stayed that way until we started middle school. There he began to pursue football and wrestling, while I chose a different path. While he was tackling people and making his opponents tap out, my head was buried in books in hopes that I would get grades that would land me a scholarship to the University of Michigan.

By the time we reached high school, we stopped speaking to each other entirely. He was well-liked, whereas I was a plump child who tended to blend into the background. Even after I lost weight, I remained unnoticed, at least until Gary Mertz publicly humiliated me by pulling down my pants in Ms. Stalling’s public speaking class. My popularity with the ladies skyrocketed due to what I had between my legs. The guys, I guess, saw me as a threat and treated me with considerable animosity. Paul, however, was the exception. After many conversations in the hallway and lunchroom, we discovered that we had more in common than we realized.

We bonded over our mutual love of horror films. One Saturday night in mid-November 1985, he invited me over for a night of pizza, sleazy slashers, and supernatural shockers. He also invited quite a few of his jock friends, like Rob Reilly, Jacob Foster, Gary “The Gas Man” Berger, and Jamie Leslie. As we watched the films, we cracked jokes and roasted the gore that filled the screen. More importantly, the guys saw me as less of a threat and more as a friend by the time the night concluded.

Paul stood out as my closest friend among all the guys. He was also a complete and utter pervert. Cracking jokes and fucking were his two favorite things in the world, and usually he would do them simultaneously. Paul was also into many things, like golden showers, enemas, humiliation, and taking the virginity of girls as soon as they turned sixteen. While he had fun with many women, he did have a girlfriend named Kara LeBeau. I had no idea if she knew or didn’t know about his extracurricular liaisons, but she stayed ninety-nine percent faithful to him until they broke up after prom.

What do I mean by ninety-nine percent faithful? After all, you either are or you aren’t. In Kara’s case, I was Paul’s present to her for her seventeenth birthday on Friday, March 28th, 1985. It was the first time we double-teamed a woman. I will always remember the joyful expression on Kara's face as Paul and I showered her with affection. Doing that became a somewhat regular occurrence with me, my best friend, and the girl of the moment. That list included Kimberly, Nina, Jennifer Seward, Meikia, Nikki, and my Aunt Heather.

It was Friday, August 29th, 1986, the start of Labor Day weekend. I was pleased because I was not required to work at K-Mart until September 2nd at five o'clock in the evening. That also meant I only had four days left until the start of my senior year of school, and I couldn’t wait to go back. Two weeks earlier my dad’s trial had officially started. With the jury selected, the prosecution made their opening statements. The assistant district attorney portrayed my dad as a man addicted to alcohol and drugs. The assistant district attorney depicted my dad as someone who prioritized self-medication over the well-being of others.

After the prosecution made compelling opening arguments, my dad immediately fired his team in hopes it would delay the case. The judge squashed that by giving my Uncle Jason special permission to practice law in the state of Michigan. As an assistant district attorney for Los Angeles County, he would rather not be my father’s lawyer, but as someone who hated losing, he would do whatever it took to win. In his initial remarks, he depicted my father as a virtuous individual who became involved with a criminal group, particularly Ashley, his now deceased stripper girlfriend.

When the first week was over, the prosecution not only rested, but they also made my dad look even worse. My uncle, knowing that he had a tough road ahead to get a jury to determine his brother not guilty, turned to me and my sisters to help undo the damage delivered by the witnesses, especially the strippers my dad supposedly supplied an unlimited coke to. To counter the testimony of the "dirty whores" (his words, not mine), my uncle believed that my sisters and I would serve as compelling witnesses.

We refused to lie for our dad. Not only was perjury illegal, but the three of us had seen my dad drink heavily, and I had witnessed him use coke and give it to Ashley. I knew if I took the stand, the sexual escapade involving my dad, Jade Lin, his girlfriend, and myself would become public knowledge. When it came to Chinese culture, Jade’s parents were very traditional and only wanted her to date men of Chinese descent. To save their reputation, they would send her away to live with relatives and never talk to any of her friends from Livonia Stevenson again.

Upon hearing our refusal, Uncle Jason gave us a stern look as he said, “Family doesn’t turn their back on family. Since you’re not helping your father, I will not help any of you in the future unless you change your mind.”

We stood our ground, and our answer remained the same.

Paul knew the toll the trial was having on me, and on this Friday he was going to help me take my mind off of it. The plan was simple: he was going to pick me up at eleven-thirty to grab some lunch, get school supplies, and hopefully find some women to get in trouble with. Getting up that morning was rough. Kimberly and I were fucking in the basement for most of the night. By the time she left at three in the morning, I was drained. My mom's lips wrapped around my cock woke me up at seven-thirty, even though all I wanted to do was sleep. After my hot goo shot down her throat, I fell back asleep until I heard the constant ringing of the doorbell. I was hoping Annie would answer it, and after I yelled, asking her to get it, she yelled back, saying, “Your dumb friend is at the door; get it yourself.”

I begrudgingly got out of bed, put on my pajamas, and walked to the door. After letting Paul in, he took one look at me and said, “Looks like you had a hell of a night.”

“And morning,” I replied with a laugh. “Keep Annie company while I take a quick shower.”

“Sure thing,” he replied as he sat down next to her while she was watching the previous day's episode of “General Hospital” on VHS. Over the next fifteen minutes, I showered, deodorized, and dried my body and hair before putting on a black t-shirt and red shorts. By the time I returned, Annie was reading a piece of paper, and Paul looked annoyed. “What did the brat do now?” I asked.

“The brat,” she sarcastically replied, “was reviewing the reading list for senior literature and was quizzing Paul on how many of them he’s already read.”

How many?” I inquisitively asked.

“That would be a big fat zero,” he proudly replied. “In my opinion, the movie is always better than the book. So why read when you can wait for the movie?”

“Ugh,” she replied. “Tommy, your old friends were much smarter.”

“But they weren’t as fun,” he said as he jumped off the couch. “Let’s start hitting up bookstores and spend a small fortune buying books I’ll never read.”

“You’d spend less money if you went to Aunt Heather’s bookstore,” Annie said as she walked toward her room.

Who’s Aunt Heather?” Paul asked. “And is she hot?”

After leaving the house, I replied, “She’s my aunt, obviously, and yes, she is.”

“You ever fuck her?” Paul jokingly asked the question as we got into his car.

“Yes,” I replied a few minutes after he started driving to her store in Berkley, MI.

“Gross,” he replied, “you fucked your aunt. That’s incest, you sick freak. I bet it was hot.”

“She’s an aunt by marriage,” I replied.

“It would be a lot hotter if she was your mom’s sister,” he said with a smirk. “Incest is hot, and so is your mom.”

I ignored that remark and told him all about my Aunt Heather and how she married my Uncle Jerry in November 1976, a few months after he divorced my Aunt Cheryl and a month after she turned eighteen. And how, after my uncle lost his battle with cancer, she used the insurance money to buy the Book Nook, a used bookstore that she loved going to when she was in middle and high school. What I didn’t tell him was that shortly after my mom and I started having sex, my mom introduced Aunt Heather into our relationship. She fell in love with my cock instantly and once rode it so hard I thought it broke.

After grabbing a quick lunch at McDonald’s, we started driving towards my aunt’s bookstore. As we hit a red traffic light at Nine Mile and Telegraph, Paul said, “I can’t wait until Kimberly’s pool party on Sunday; I bet it’s going to be hotter than the birthday party she threw for you in July.”

“I’ll bet you that this party won’t involve an impromptu orgy,” I said in a smug tone.

“Why not?” he asked.

“This time her parents, aunt and uncle, little cousins, my mom, and half the neighborhood parents will be there,” I responded.

“That’s bullshit,” he replied. “What’s the point in going if I’m not going to get any action? Might as well just stay home and wank it.”

He had a point. Attending a pool party and witnessing girls our age in bikinis, while being unable to touch them, would be an excruciating experience. However, since Kimberly’s parents know and allow us to have sex in their home, there’s a one hundred percent chance that we’ll sneak away to have fun, just as long as we lock the door. I also believe that there’s a hundred percent chance that Paul will jerk off in the bathroom several times so he won’t explode.

“It would be hilarious if you exploded,” I said, laughing.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I’m a highly combustible cum bomb. I need to fuck.”

“Aren’t you going to fuck Kara tonight?” I asked.

“We don’t fuck,” he replied. “We make love. She enjoys playing terrible music, such as "Lady in Red," while we gaze into each other’s eyes and express sentiments like "I love you."

“Do you love her?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “I just love sticking my dick in her cunt. The day she stops letting me do that is the day I break up with her.”

Throughout the remainder of the thirty-minute drive, we engaged in more banal conversations about our upcoming senior year, our exciting spring break plans in Daytona Beach, our eagerness to see Alice Cooper at Joe Louis Arena on Devil's Night, and our eagerness to start our college careers. By the time we arrived at the Book Nook in Berkeley, we found the parking lot behind the store nearly empty.

As we walked inside, we found the store as empty as the parking lot. Aunt Heather was standing behind the counter with two stacks of books in front of her. She was wearing a long grey skirt and a red tank top. Her long brownish blonde hair flowed down toward the ass of her slim 117 lb, 5’10, 34C-23-36 body. As we walked in, she lifted her glasses and said, “Hello, favorite nephew.”

“I’m your only nephew,” I replied as I walked behind the counter to give her a hug.

Paul followed me behind the counter and gave her a hug after I finished. As he wrapped his arms around him, he said, “I’m Paul, your favorite nephew’s best friend.”

“Hello, Paul,” she said, “you are extremely forward.”

“I prefer to say I’m adorable,” he said as he freed my aunt from his embrace.

Heather then pushed two piles of paperback books toward us as she said, “I believe these are the books you’re looking for.”

Paul’s eyes widened as he said, “You told me that your aunt was hot, but you didn’t tell me she’s a psychic.”

“She’s not,” I replied. “Annie called her and told her what we needed.”

Heather then pointed at her nose before saying, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”

My friend appeared puzzled as he asked, “How the fuck did she memorize everything on the list?”

“She has a photographic memory,” I replied, laughing. “She might be a genius.”

“That totally explains why she’s tutoring some of the football team,” he stated.

“Let me guess, you’re one of those players,” Aunt Heather said while chuckling.

Paul's face turned bright red when he replied, "No, I have a solid 2.5 GPA." How much do we owe you for the books?”

“That’ll be twenty dollars for you, and nothing for my nephew,” she said as she reached out her hand.

“Not fair,” Paul exclaimed. “Why doesn’t Tommy have to pay?”

“He’s family,” Aunt Heather smiled. “And he’s a cutie pie.”

“What if I fuck you for them?” Paul asked in a serious tone.

“How dare you!” she exclaimed as she slapped him. “What makes you think I’m that type of woman?”

“Tommy told me,” he said as he placed his hand over the slap mark on his face.

“And what did he tell you?” she asked while glaring at me.

“That you two fucked,” he said, smiling.

She then walked around the counter and placed her hand on his jort-covered penis as she said, “Do you believe everything Tommy tells you?”

“Yes,” he said with a nervous stutter. “Tommy doesn’t have any reason to lie to me.”

“Tommy, lock the door and put up the closed sign,” she said. “I’m suddenly hungry, and you two are going to join me for lunch.

After doing what my aunt asked, she grabbed me and Paul by our right hands and led us into a small stockroom. Behind piles of books waiting to be sorted, there was a door that led into a tiny office, which contained a twin bed with sex toys scattered around it instead of a desk. Paul looked around and laughed as he said, “You must not get a lot of work done here.”

Immediately after she said that, she passionately kissed him before saying, “I get my best work done in here. Why don’t you show me what you got?”

Paul took that as a cue to get naked. Within seconds his white Ocean Pacific shirt, jorts, and briefs were on the floor, and he was lightly stroking his thin eight-inch cock with a thick mushroom head. Due to the girthiness of the head of his penis, he earned several nicknames, like Mushroom Man, Shroom, and MushMouth. My aunt looked pleased when she saw what was between his legs. She then told me to take my clothes off too. My black t-shirt, red shorts, socks, and briefs quickly joined Paul’s clothes on the floor.

Aunt Ashley immediately got on her knees, grabbed both of our dicks, and started slapping her face with them. Once she finished, she began to tickle Paul’'s cock with her tongue. A few minutes later she started doing the same to mine. Eventually she took turns sucking our individual cocks and licking our balls before deep-throating both of us. She then asked to do something none of the girls we’ve double-teamed had asked before. She wanted both of us to simultaneously put our cocks in her mouth. Both of us had trepidation. We both thought it was gay. But after she told us that if we didn’t honor her request, we wouldn’t be allowed to fuck her.

“I’m down,” Paul shouted nervously.

“Me too,” I replied in the same tone. I have to admit I did not feel 100% comfortable doing this. Sure, Paul and I had double-teamed chicks in the past; this would be the first time our dicks would touch. Until my encounter with Gary Mertz in May 1987, such an act would be the gayest thing I’d ever done. I had no problem with homosexuality; I was worried about the stigma of doing anything that appeared to be gay. Guys in the locker room would relentlessly tease you and call you immature names if they caught you looking at their dicks. Paul and I would undoubtedly face ostracism if any of the guys discovered this. Having endured constant ostracism since middle school, I had no desire to repeat the experience.

She grabbed both of our hard cocks and started stroking before stuffing them into her mouth. Heather gagged as she attempted to simultaneously deep-throat both of us. Immediately she started gagging, but she didn’t stop. She kept on sucking until tears of joy came out of our eyes. It felt strange when our penises touched inside her mouth. But the uncomfortableness of the situation quickly left my mind compared to the pleasure her tongue was bringing. I did wonder what my aunt thought about two different-sized cocks playing beyond her lips. Were they bringing her equal...