On Thursday, December 3, 2020 at 5:56:04 PM UTC-6, Hank Rogers wrote:
>
> >
> Popeye is mostly an expert on sex stuff. He don't know shit about
> anything other than giant titties and incest.
>
> You couldn't ever understand him unless you ****ed your aunt,
> mother, or daughter.

I never had a hot aunt who hit on me. I never had a hot aunt at all.
My only aunt was at least 40 years older than me. It is obviously
****ed up to have sex with one's mother or daughter, but if the aunt
were physically attractive to me and single, I imagine that when I
was 13-16, I'd have been totally on board. Heck, after a couple of
times I'd have had her in a situation where she'd kind of have had
little choice to continue to give me as much as I wanted, which
would have been a lot.

There is a big *if* there, though. I can imagine not being sexually
attracted to a close blood, no matter how pretty I found her, not for
moral reasons, but I think that humans are kind of wired that way.
OTOH, if it had been an older cousin, even a 1st cousin, I doubt I'd
have had those sort of reservations. She would have to have been
older, and would have had to be the initiator, as I did have moral
objections to guys being cads.

This reminded me of a sequence in *Winter's Present*, but one that
doesn't really have the right effect out of context with a longer
excerpt.

****************
Ian answered Ann, "I don't need to cry."
"For a change, I don't either."
They looked at each other lovingly, studying each others faces, both with measured smiles. Ian gently held her head in his hands and kissed her forehead, knowing intellectually that directly behind was the part of her brain that contained her mind. He wanted so much to kiss there, and tarried there for a long time, while Ann relaxed in his arms, and then moved on to other parts of her face. All of the parts of women's bodies fascinated him, but faces, he knew were almost fetishistic to him, and Winter had noticed that right away. He could have kissed her face for far longer, but, there was that mouth. He knew he was being given free rein to Ann's body, but mouth kissing was something special.
Ann had said, "Just let go," but he wasn't going to push that. However much time she perceived they'd have before they tired, Winter returned, or they merely gave into genital gratification, he wasn't going to selfishly focus on his oral fixations, and he left her mouth far sooner than he'd wished to.
There was her neck. Girls washed their bodies so thoroughly, and they shampooed their hair, but they so often overlooked their necks, and being kissed there made them swoon. Next were the shoulders. Ann was so slightly built that he again thought, "Gracile," but there were breasts to be entertained. They looked into each others eyes as he felt them, wanting to delve in, feel any and all aspects of their inner structure through her soft skin.
"They're for giving milk to babies."
It had been years, decades, since any woman had said words that had excited him that much. He needed to calm down. All he said was, "Back rubs," and helped turn Ann over. As he started massaging her shoulders, he kissed her cheek. As his fingers moved on her shoulders, he heard a peep that indicated that he wasn't operating too slowly, and that was a relief. When he pushed his thumbs into what he knew were the right places, just to the sides of the vertebrae, the pitch went down a few octaves. He had to be careful, he thought, because Ann, despite her protests, really was more physically fragile than any girl he'd touched since he was what? Fourteen? Thirteen?
That girl had caught his eye. She was younger, almost too young and underdeveloped to be sexually interesting, but she had a softness that Ian couldn't resist. He'd taken her home, kissed her sweet mouth, and gently touched her breasts. He'd given her flowers, gone to her house, and smoked weed with her older brothers, but had concluded that she was too young, not necessarily chronologically, but she wasn't sexually mature, or maybe she was, but she wasn't cognitively mature. She'd enjoyed the touching, but Ian felt like he would have been using a child for sexual gratification, and found that disturbing.
One thing that Ian took pride in was that he'd never taken sexual exploitation very far, had always put the brakes on. It wasn't until he was much older that he really thought about why. When he'd first analyzed it, he thought that it might be because he'd loved his mother, and disliked his father, but as he aged, he thought about his relationships with women, the loving ones and the ones that were merely sharing bodies.
Ian realized that he wasn't paying attention. He was reliving a past that however memorable, shouldn't be distracting him from the now. Ian moved his hands down, and pushed with his fingertips in the places he knew worked, then reached over high, leaned back and brought her leg over his head, his face falling upon soft fur with joy. He had her legs pushed up by the thighs, gripping her with his hands, but then lowered them slowly, and held them around the sides, gripping them close to his chest.
Ann remembered what Winter had said, "He's like a metronome, and somehow he never misses a beat." The little touches of his tongue were a perfect, unwavering andantino. She could feel the ever so slight addition of saliva to her own increasing wetness as his hands moved up the sides of her body, then closed on her breasts. After a while, his left hand moved down, over her ribs, the right side of her tummy, and into her hair. His finger, she thought the middle one, was moving closer to his tongue, as his hand applied gentle pressure, while the other hand, which had been tickling her nipple, moved to the center of her chest. Her hips began to heave upward in rhythm. She was crushing his nose into her; what she wanted was his tongue, hard on her, but he wasn't altering the pressure, however hard she ground into his face. It wasn't until the contractions started that he licked harder. She was convulsing, and before she knew it was happening, he was already inside her, and she felt her right leg pulled up forcefully, while she was being lifted by a hand in the small of her back. He was trying to kiss her mouth, but she turned her face to the right, and felt his warm breath in her ear. He was trying to get as far in as he could, but there was no room until something in her body shifted in a way she'd never felt, then another sensation. His hands had moved with lightning speed to her shoulders. Her mind raced to one of Winter's words, "ejaculate." He was pulling her body down while she was feeling herself being injected, filled. Ann could feel herself grinning, as Ian's body became heavy.
Ian took several deep breaths, and smiled softly, "Sorry that was so, you know, fast."
Ann could feel him going soft inside her. "It was perfect, Ian."
"That makes me so happy."
"I can feel it getting little. 'Big, Little.'"
Ian told her that right after; that was when it was smallest.
"Can I play with it when it's little?"
Ian rolled off of her, and lay on his back, "You can, but if you play with it, it won't stay little for long."
She did, and it didn't. The second go lasted far longer, and there were not only kisses, but eye contact. Ian stroked her arms and shoulders. He touched her breasts briefly before running his hands down the length of her sides, and onto her legs, where he massaged her thighs before moving on to her knees, banking knowledge of her body against what he assumed was finite.
When Winter returned, the two retired to their room, and Ann shared what had happened in her absence, Winter wanted details. Ann gave her a play-by-play of the physical aspects, but shied away from speaking of love. She'd been correct. Winter was happy for them. €œIt's like a symphony, Ann. The first movement...€�
****************

Before anyone suggests that it seems that I have started on the beer early,
it's true. Work was tough this week, especially physically. Boxes of books
are heavy, and I'm not young. I'm physically sore all over. Even my hands
hurt. The workload was probably a hundred hours. They scheduled me
for 40, and I only made it to about 39 before I cut out for the week. My wife
and son will be getting takeout tonight.

--Bryan