Kissing Sharon was a beautiful experience. She was a lovely, shapely girl, good looking, with long, straight, shiny black hair and full lips. She was warm and womanly, loving, affectionate and passionate at the same time. She kissed tenderly and hungrily, happy to be playing tonguies with a man she liked. And she did like him. Always had. They had known each other most of their lives and she had been having sexual fantasies about him since before she even knew they were sexual fantasies. That heavy feeling deep inside her. That longing for... she didn't know what.

And now they were together in the back seat of his car, parked on a clifftop where young couples went for the sole purpose of kissing frantically, feeling each other up and maybe having awkward, cramped, thrilling sex. The car park was dotted with vehicles with steamed-up windows, but none of the occupants were interested in what was going on a few yards away. They were all in their own little erotic paradise. Nowhere else to go, but their little metal box was fine. It was decadent, alive with sexual energy. It was private and intimate, dirty as hell and it was nobody else's business. Sharon's body was a raging torrent of sexuality.

As for Ben, he too had been thinking about this kind of thing, specifically featuring Sharon, since the first time he had an erection. He had been thinking about feeling her breasts and sucking her nipples, and now he had done that. Her bright red woolen jumper was somewhere in the car, along with the black bra that her tits had been packed into before he released them and claimed his prize, her magnificent, twenty-two carat fleshy bazookas, those strangely magnetic appendages that girls had, apparently for the main purpose of attracting men. They were there to be admired, ogled, brushed against and glimpsed, the top parts anyway, where they joined the chest, while the nipples were reserved for some glorious occasion when they were a prelude to something even more exciting: the incredible playground between her legs.

Finally today, tonight, he and Sharon had been thrown together in favourable circumstances. Sharon's sister's wedding dance at a west coast restaurant. There were five of them, the girls in her family, and she was the star. He had danced with each of them in turn, careful to play it by the book, and leaving Sharon till last. He was still with her when the smooch came, and although they made sure they didn't look too intimate, they were hatching the plan to go to the car park for an unspecified reason.

Now Ben's hand was in Sharon's knickers and she was squirming, partly with dirty delight and partly to enable him to get in deeper.

When he brought his hot, anointed digit out and put it into his mouth, she extracted it quickly and put it in her own mouth.

"Is this wrong?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Me and you doing this."

"Doing what?" she teased.

He pulled his finger out of her mouth and plunged it back into her knickers and up the hot, snaking path into her hole, then swiftly brought it up again and held it under her nose.

"This," he said.

"There is no law against smelling someone's fingers," she said lightly.

"Even when they've been in someone's minge?"

"Even when they've been up my hole," she said.

"Even when they've been up my cousin's hole?" he said, not completely joking. He wasn't 100% sure this was okay.

"Granddaughter, daughter, sister or mother are illegal," Sharon said confidently. "That means they specifically allow cousins to do it."

"In that case," Ben said, "you can suck me off."

Sharon immediately moved her right hand from squeezing his cock outside his jeans to rummaging inside his underpants. She was very good at this, Ben thought. And cool as a cucumber, to use a strangely inappropriate phrase. He was the cucumber, and he didn't feel cool. She was as cool as a mango, as fragrant as a mango, as slippery as a mango, except that she wasn't cool either. She was like a mango in the tropical sun, fresh from the tree. He was going to lick her. He was going to slurp Sharon's juices, get them all over his face. It was high time he did this.

As he thought about what he was going to do, Sharon firmly held his erection at the base and popped her mouth over his knob.

"Not illegal," he said. "But your Mum and Dad wouldn't like it."

"Nor would yours," she replied, briefly taking leave from his penis. "Can you imagine your Dad? he'd go ballistic."

"He's frustrated," Ben replied. "Never had enough sex."

"What about your Mum?" Sharon asked. Ben didn't want to think about it. He banished the thought from his mind, but thought about her Mum, his Auntie Dee. According to his father, she was a loose woman who had had at least one affair during her marriage and countless men in her youth. Maybe that was where Sharon got her natural sex skills from. Maybe he should try it on with her, the aunt, some time.

For now, though, he had enough on his plate with a woman of his own generation.

The car was restrictive, uncomfortable, inconvenient, but he liked it. It was full of the smells of young sex. They were two humans in their sexual prime, doing what came naturally, and the more spartan, the less sophisticated the surroundings, the more primal and exciting it was.

"Kneel up there," he urged Sharon, and she obligingly put her forearms on the back of the back seat, her head bowed beneath the roof. She was doing her best to present her crotch to him backwards, but she was no gymnast and couldn't achieve the optimum angle. What was looking at him was her arsehole. it was a nice arsehole. A blank one. Just a smooth, tight aperture like a camera, efficiently sprung shut when not in use.

Ben kissed his cousin's anus. She gave a slightly self-conscious "Oooh!", which he interpreted as permission to dive in, so he did. He licked her determinedly, strongly, keeping his tongue flat to her valley. She was like a wonderful sexual taco, savoury and spicy and appetising. She groaned beneath him, feeling herself taken by someone with a real hunger for her body. She felt she might cave in completely, wrecked like a wooden shack by the hurricane of his lust.

Never mind what the parents would say if they heard the two of them were fucking, Ben and Sharon thought in unison. If they could see this bit, this unspeakable, unmentionable act of animal savagery, the two headstrong lovers would be banished, ostracised. Except they both knew Auntie Dee would want some of this action.

Sharon shook her head to get rid of her mother, while Ben ramped up the intensity, pouring lust through his tongue into her crack. She came to a shuddering, squealing climax and they somehow found themselves in a loving embrace, kissing lustily, enjoying the fruits of the past few minutes.

Then Sharon went down on Ben again and quickly brought him off, her expert right hand and beautiful, welcoming lips and tongue combining to suck the cum out of his balls, through his tubes and into her mouth.

This felt like the end of something, perhaps the culmination of a courtship. They were now forever linked, bound together by a crude yet beautiful ceremony of utter physical depravity.

One month later an invitation arrived in Ben's inbox: his cousins were having a get-together - that was how it was phrased - and they would like him to attend. There was no explanation, no reason given, but his social diary was pretty empty, so he agreed. He arrived at 8pm at the family home to find all five of the sisters in the sitting room, dressed to kill with short skirts and urgent cleavages. Sharon took responsibility for him as soon as he walked him, getting him a drink and a bowl of cashews and making him comfortable in a leather armchair. There was a lot of giggling and preening; Ben had a strange feeling he was being set up, but he didn't know for what.

Auntie Dee appeared and beckoned him, so he followed her into the kitchen. She was wearing a tight black dress, lacy above the waist and opaque below. Black stockings. Red lipstick. It was a timeless rig, the kind of thing she might have worn in her heyday but which still looked killer now.

His job was to open a bottle of champagne, which he did with aplomb and followed her back into the front room, where Dee distributed tulip glasses and he poured the Veuve Cliquot like the wine waiter he had once been in a posh hotel.

"The girls can only stay for one," Dee announced. "They're going to an engagement do. All except Sharon. So it will just be the three of us for dinner." So he had been set up, but he still didn't know what the plan was. THis "get-together" could now mean anything. He and Sharon made awkward conversation until her four sisters stood up as one and made their twittering exit amid much tittering and good wishes.

With the house suddenly quiet, Sharon ushered Ben onto the settee and, as Dee watched, she enveloped him in a hot kissing cuddle. During a brief break for air he looked over at his aunt and she smiled and nodded to him to continue. Sharon was all over him and he was fabulously turned on. When she unzipped him he again flicked a glance at the matriarch, who looked at him with a strange defiance in her eyes. Sharon sucked him briefly before neatly tucking him away, standing up and quickly leaving the room.

"Back in a tick," she said, patting him on the head. The door closed behind her and he heard her footsteps on the stairs.

"Don't look so nervous, Ben," Dee said smoothly. "I hear you can be quite naughty. Surprisingly rude, Sharon says. Yes, we talk about things like that. I've always encouraged my girls to confide in me. For safety's sake. Plus, since I'm not getting much myself anymore, at least I can get some vicarious excitement." She glanced at him almost accusingly. "You didn't think I'd know a word like that, did you?"

Ben gathered this was going to be a monologue to which he wasn't expected to contribute, so he attempted a smile but said nothing.

"You learn words like vicarious when they apply to yourself," Dee continued. This line of thought was a veiled reference to the fact that he had had a good education but Dee had had none and her daughters had drifted through school without touching the sides. She wasn't resentful, but keen to demonstrate she had a brain and so did the girls.

"There's another word that not everybody knows," she said with a half smile. "Rimming. But you know that one. Oh, and another one: incest." She paused to let it sink in, before continuing. "People seem to find the thought of that exciting these days. Do you?" She was staring hard at him now.

"If you're referring to what I think you mean," he stammered, "it isn't..."

"Granddaughter, daughter, sister or mother are illegal," Dee said, exactly as Sharon had. "Sex between cousins is okay."

Ben breathed out with relief. But she wasn't finished.

"There's another combination that's not on the banned list," she said, and he could have sworn her legs parted a little. "Aunt and nephew."

Again she waited for the message to penetrate Ben's brain.

"As long as the male is of age," she clarified. "The law talks about child family members. I don't think most young men of legal age would be traumatised by sex with their auntie. Do you?" Ben had no idea how he was supposed to respond. "And anyway," she continued, "We're not related by blood. The blood is on my husband's side. He is your mother's brother. I'm just someone he married." Ben was both surprised and somewhat relieved to be given the benefit of this older woman's care and wisdom.

"A man of your age," Dee continued. "Hard to imagine you being damaged by a bit of harmless sex." Her eyes bored into his. "Say something."

"I like you a lot," were the words that came out of his mouth, apparently without having been vetted by his brain.

"I know you do," Dee replied. "You have always been very polite and friendly. Not like your father. He thinks he knows me from the old days. But we all do a bit of experimenting in our... youth. He got around a bit too, but of course that's all right because he's a man."

Dee stood up and walked over to the settee, where she sat down close to Ben. She put a hand on his leg.

"I have never been rimmed," she said in a confidential and, he thought, slightly sad tone. "But I think it's about time."

Ben was trying to clear his mind and get back in control, of himself if not the situation. There was the matter of Sharon being somewhere in the house and liable to reappear at any moment. How would she react if she found him with his tongue in her mother's musky crevice? And there had been no explanation of his uncle's absence. If he showed up, back from the pub or whatever, there would be no flippant banter and permission to carry on.

At that moment, Sharon did reappear. They heard her on the stairs and were sitting chastely together, friendly but not touching, when she popped her head around the door.

"Got to go out," she said to her mother, and they had a bit of a perfectly normal exchange of good wishes. Then Sharon looked at Ben and said, "Don't worry. Call me some time." And then she was gone and Dee put the security chain on the front door.

She led him up the stairs and into one of the girls' rooms. He gathered that, because the door to what looked like the master bedroom was open and he saw the double bed, where Dee must have lain naked countless times and all those girls might have been conceived

The room they were in was small but neat and the bed was a small double with just enough room for two. Dee turned away from him and asked him to unzip her dress. There was an unmistakable air of Mrs Robinson in The Graduate, and Dee was every bit as sexy as Anne Bancroft in the film. He kissed her back and she resisted the urge to turn around, wordlessly encouraging him to remove her bra and kiss her back. He found himself descending her spine and becoming ever more excited as he smelled her skin and finally, on his knees, he took her black satin panties in both hands and pulled them down. She stepped out of them.

As if reading his mind, she said, "You can kiss me afterwards." With that she leaned forward to steady herself with her hands on the bed, and the warm, subtle, animal smell of her drifted up his nostrils. He put his face to her cleft, her vagina not having a role in the current plan, although its salty aroma was in the mix and its majestic presence very much part of the honour he was being awarded. Drawing on previous experience, and with Dee having already declared she had none in this area, Ben licked her arsehole gently and then with increasing intensity and ardour.

Dee made noises that rose from humorously appreciative to thoroughly engaged and up to out-of-control simmering point. She was trembling with the intensity of it, her knees shaking and her hands gripping the duvet to maintain her position. Then she began to wail, a strangely tuneful note that rose in pitch and grew louder until she seemed to be making an announcement. Her orgasm had arrived, it was glorious and she was ecstatic.

But Ben wasn't finished. Standing up shakily, he masturbated behind her. He realised now that she had been watching the performance in a full length mirror, and they both enjoyed the sight of him wanking. And then he was coming too, shooting bursts of semen into her crack. She collapsed forwards, somehow maintaining her equilibrium and grabbing a handful of tissues to wipe herself up.

Then, as promised, they kissed, and it was an education for him. This was a mature woman, a solid gold older woman of experience and benign intent, sucking his tongue and touching him with hers, electrifying him at the same time as she bathed him in the untouchable unction of femininity.