Incest/Taboo Connie and Clyde

I realized then that the cops were going to find out, one way or another, either by fingerprints on the bullet, or by this guy's testimony, that we were here. If he lived, they'd know sooner.

I wanted to kill him.

But if he didn't know, truly, what we drove, then I didn't have to. We'd still be invisible as we drove, and we'd have time to make it beyond a certain point, out of reach or out of sight. Maybe. But we were national-level criminals now. And if we were going to survive, we had to be as ruthless as them.

He didn't know, I finally accepted after long minutes of brutality. I left his face ruined and stuffed the cloth back in his bleeding mouth and then taped it over again. His head hung low.

And then I wondered to God if I should shoot him.

I wondered to God if him being dead would buy us more time.

But what would that make me? I was already a cruel man. My felony was evidence of that. This guy's broken face was also testimony. The broken people that I was forced to fight in prison were the same. I was a bad man, already. It was my role. And my fate.

But if I let him live, then maybe there was something good left in me.

Maybe.

Connie wouldn't have wanted me to kill him.

I went out the door, locked it with the key from the guy's pocket, and then hucked the key far into the dead grass.

I knew that the cops would be moving on us faster because of this. Because I was sparing him, and leaving him to be found. I drove us out of the lot, knowing I was a fool. I started onto the highway, only invisible for a time, knowing that if I had just killed him, it'd give us days more. It'd spare Connie and me.

But I was a fucking fool.

Connie and I drove wildly into the dark. The only question she asked me is if I killed him, and I only said no. We left that idea alone after that. Connie seemed to relax slightly, just barely once I had told her. I knew after that, that letting the guy live was the right thing to do, somewhere, deep down. Even if it would have helped us get away faster. Patches of lights clustered by highways and roads and signified gas stations. I didn't speed, but I kept the pace high and steady, and knew that time was running out before I collapsed. I was so goddamn tired. Connie was in no shape to drive either.

And the adrenaline from our time at the front desk had long run out.

We found a suburb. An ancient one. It was the kind that was built decades and decades ago and might have once held a lot of neighbors and families, but I guess it was the same out here as in Kentucky, where the economy had gone sour and lives were uprooted and left to rot. The lights were out in most of these houses. Only a couple had a room or two on, and it was still early enough in the evening to where most wouldn't have gone to bed. Most of these homes were abandoned. And if they were abandoned, and if we were sly, we could stay in one. Not for long. Just for a night.

I pulled up a driveway toward a house that was surrounded by overgrown weeds and trees, the last little lot that had green on it during the daytime. The house ahead was small. A single story, double wide, and the skirt that hid the frame was rotted to hell. But it had a roof that looked intact, based on what the headlights showed.

We parked in a spot behind the greenery that wouldn't be visible from the road, and waited in the car for a moment. Nobody came out. No movement, no activity. We got out, guns in tow, and I went up to the door, tried it and a bunch of windows. No dice in terms of anything being unlocked, so I grabbed a rock, and smashed out one of the windows in the back of the place, hoping that it really was abandoned and not just a neglected property that the neighbors really cared about. Once that was done, I knocked out the rest of the glass with my jacket wrapped tight around my hand, and then carefully climbed in. I pulled Connie up after me. She tried to mask a cry of pain that came from me pulling her up, and managed to tamp it down enough that she didn't scream. I handled her body as she ducked over the window ledge, trying not to feel her too closely, trying to be gentle. She whimpered as she got in but stood up once she had made it over.

"Oh god..." I heard her trying to breathe steady as she reeled from the pain. "Oh... oh god..."

Inside, it was quiet. The streetlights outside, the ones that were still lit anyway, made a warm angle of light in there, and we could see. Barely. We had landed in the kitchen.

I tested the tap.

There was a dry gurgle.

And then a sputter.

Water, discolored at first, shot out of the tap, and then it rapidly cleared.

"Looks like you'll get a shower today too," Connie joked quietly, as if she were afraid that there might be people in here.

I went through the rest of the place, clearing it room by room, revolver held in a tight grip. Connie was behind me, covering me, the shotgun pointed the opposite way. But the place was empty, truly. Nothing was left except bits of garbage and paper and a couple wood chairs. Nobody had been inside, based on the musty smell. At least with one window smashed out, the smell was going. When we had finally finished looking through, I leaned on a wall, trying to stay awake. Connie left to go to the living room area.

"There's blankets here!" I heard Connie say excitedly from the other end of the house. Her tone was like music as I slipped in and out sleep with my head pressed against the wall. I came back, closer, drawn to her voice. "Thank god. I was wondering almost if we should have taken some from the hotel--" She stopped talking, stopped her laugh before it began. She shook her head. I guessed neither of us were good after everything that had happened.

I finally got to shower, if you could call it that. There was no hot water, but I got to rinse off, the cold shocking me to the bone and surging up the little dot of wakefulness that was left. There was a brand new bar of soap that somebody had forgotten on the counter, and I got to use that. Thank goodness for it.

When I came back, hoping the fresh tee from the store and the rest of my cleaner clothes would dry me fully before I fell asleep, Connie had already put down the blankets into a duo of 'beds' on the floor. In the half-light, I could barely see her black eye. She tilted her head up and smiled at me as she painfully tried to settle onto the floor.

I collapsed onto the first bedroll, which was little more than two tiny blankets folded on top of each other. The floor was hard. Unbearably so. I guessed with the years that the place was abandoned, time didn't do any favors for the foam under the carpet. The blanket was thin. But even with this, I was falling asleep.

"CJ?" I heard.

"Yeah," I could only whisper.

"Can we sleep together?"

I opened my eyes. Connie was stirring next to me and her hand, pale and gentle, was on my shoulder, rubbing it. "I'm sorry," she explained. "It's... the floor's so hard. We can combine blankets. It'll give us just a little more cushion. And it'll be warmer."

I was so fucking tired that I think if it were any other girl, any other person, I would have said no and let myself fall asleep despite their protests. But the way Connie asked made my heart melt. I wasn't even thinking about the fact that we'd have to be pressed together on it. "Yeah. No problem."

I rolled over, and Connie assembled our new 'bed,' taking her top blanket and tucking it under us as well. It now had three folded layers of polyester between us and the ground, with one thin blanket to cover us, and as I laid down, I found that even that little bit of extra fabric beneath made it feel so much better. I sighed, and closed my eyes.

Connie slipped in next to me.

Her body was soft, and warm, and I felt the blanket stretching over us. As if by instinct, I wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her close.

She let go of her own breathing and relaxed into me, her soft body conforming to mine. Something flickered below my belt.

Sex is something that is a luxury--something for people who aren't dead-dog tired, or afraid for their lives. But I didn't think about sex. That wasn't what was important.

Connie was important.

Her body was bliss against me, and I couldn't help but pull her closer, to feel her warmth, her heart, her. My family. My real family. My heart suddenly felt like it was crying out for her, and at the same time, sighing in happiness, in relief, as I held her to me and as my whole body seemed to relax into the beautiful little home that I felt, for a moment, was ours.

I fell asleep, inexplicably happy.

I woke up soon after, feeling fire in me, and feeling my pulse racing. I didn't know where I was. The streetlights were still on out there; it was still dark, but there was a little crest of blue at the edge of the window. It was getting close to morning.

Aunt Connie was in my arms. She was snoring softly, barely a light breath of sound. Her hands were on my chest, splayed out. I didn't realize that she and I were holding each other, like lovers, or like something else. Her eyes were closed and while the bruise on her was still dark, the rest of her face was pale and freckled, detailed in the low light. She weight of her cheek on my chest immediately calmed me.

The smell of her hair was intoxicating. The hotel shampoo, as seedy as the place was, smelled amazing with it was on her.

I relaxed, realizing that we were in that abandoned house. There was no sound, except the gentle settling creak that came from the both of us, wrapped in the thin blankets, weighing on a floor that hadn't seen people in decades. My heart slowed again.

The fire didn't go away, however.

I looked down, as if it was necessary to find out what was going on. Aunt Connie was pressed to me, tight, and when a young man has a beautiful woman laying partially on him, one thigh tucked upward, her pelvis and her delicate softness between her legs resting on his hip, her breasts just below his gaze, things happen. My cock was achingly hard. It rubbed against the inside of my Aunt's thigh, and that explained the fire in me, the insane drive and need that had awakened me.

I hadn't fucked anyone in so long.

Ha.

If only I had somehow talked to that waitress, sweet talked her just a little, if only I had taken my only ridiculous chance before all of this went to hell. I knew it would have been impossible to get to know her, to get to know her biblically in the ten minute span I was there. But I wished it.

I bit down, hard, on the inside of my mouth, realizing what I wanted. God damn. If Connie were a girl my age, or Ally, or just not related to me, I would just roll closer. I'd just give her pants a little tug, kiss at her, nibble and touch until she felt the same as me, and then I'd pull down her pants completely. And enter her.

But this was my aunt, and...

I shook my head. She had been through so goddamn much. This wasn't any time to think about myself.

"Can't sleep?"

I didn't notice her waking up.

Connie pulled back slightly. She had noticed my cock pressed against the inside of her thigh. I closed my eyes in embarrassment. "Sorry."

My aunt made a long, slow breath.

Then her hand went to my cock and wrapped around it through my pants.

"Wha--"

"Hold still, CJ."

Her hand rubbed on me. My cock immediately flexed, hard, filling fully and throbbing. My balls suddenly ached, and my body went tense as I pushed against her hand reflexively. I tried to pull back. "Connie--what are you doing?"

"I just wanted to thank you. I didnt have a chance yesterday," She murmured, sleepy. Her gorgeous eyes batted at me. Her fingers played with my button.

I drew backward, and out of her grip, out of the bedspread. I looked at her, tried to understand. Tried to stop the horrible strength of the fire in my core, the one that made me want to roll over her, to pin her down, to love her and to love into her as any red-blooded man would.

But Connie was my aunt. And I was a dangerous guy. And she probably felt like she had to.

She leaned up on one arm. She winced slightly from the soreness.

"You don't have to do that," I said. "You don't have to do any of that anymore."

"I know." Connie's hand went to me. Her fingers brushed over mine.

There was a part of me that would have jumped at the chance. There was another part of me that knew that she was my family. And another that knew that she had given so much of herself to survive and that I didn't want to be another one who just took and took from her.

"You don't actually, Connie," I said to her, voice low.

"I want to, CJ."

I looked at her, dumbfounded.

"We might not make it to Mexico," she said, quietly. Connie's face was gentle. "We might not live through this. And you really want to tell me I can't give this to you?"

I started to get up. My aunt looked delicate, her form curved and lovely and soft at her hips and breasts. She looked incredible, even in the old jeans, even as we were rough and on the run.

"You got me out of there, CJ. If you didn't show up when you did..." She finally started to talk about when this all started. When she shot James. "You came when I needed you. It saved my life, I think. If you weren't around and taking his attention, if I didn't see you wanting to help, I don't know if I could have shot him, and I don't know what would have happened to me.

"And when I was panicking, you stepped in, and you drove us out. You kept us unnoticed. You kept us safe. You saved me, CJ. And at the hotel, you kept us safe again. That man could have turned us in and we'd be in a jail cell or worse right now."

She took a deep breath. She pulled closer, her breasts lowering as she crawled forward on her hands, coming close to me, to my legs. Her palm ran up my thigh. She came closer, kneeling under me, pressing her breasts against my legs, resting her face against my core. My cock throbbed by her face.

"I don't know if we're going to survive, CJ. But I know we can. I know we can make it out of all this, but I don't know if I can go another hour without showing you how much I appreciate it. And how much you deserve it. It's the least I can do."

Her fingers went to my button.

And undid it.

In the delirium of my tiredness, and in the shaking disbelief that my Aunt was the one undoing my pants, and in the explosive, hungry need, I surrendered.

She pulled down. My pants lowered. My cock stretched my boxers in front of me, tenting, and her hand went over the cotton and wrapped tight and squeezed. Connie looked up at me, hesitant.

"Thank you," I whispered. She smiled, relieved that I was taking it. The freckles danced over her nose.

And then she pulled down my boxers, took my cock in her gorgeous, pale hand. She squeezed, making me moan as it throbbed in her palm. And she looked. I could hear the tempo of her breath change. I wondered if she had been with anyone except for James. How I compared. Based on the stare, looking almost hungry at it, and based on Connie's little throat clearing as she shifted, as the morning light started to come through and lit us up a little more and she looked at my shaft while biting her lip, I figured I didn't compare too badly. I was more overawed by my aunt, looking at my cock and not immediately retreating.

My heart pounded a mile a minute. My cock pulsed in her hand.

I heard a little breath from her. It almost sounded like a wow, or a huh, tinged with appreciation.

Her hand started to move. I could only groan as my hips pushed forward into her hand. Connie made a slow pump with her arm. "It's okay, CJ... Relax... I want you to have this..."

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

Right as her mouth sucked my cock down.

My knees buckled. I groaned, unable to keep quiet from the surprise and the overwhelm of her beautiful, beautiful mouth. Her mouth was hot, so fucking hot, so wet and she immediately began to moan, her mouth was filling with hot saliva, and in seconds, I could hear slurping and feel glory rocking through me. Fuck, it had been so goddamn long...

I felt downward, put my hands on her shoulders. I felt a flutter of excitement, of insanity, knowing that my dad's sister was pleasuring me, and in a way, it was the fulfillment of my wildest, craziest dreams and fantasies--and her mouth was beautiful, and experienced, her full lips were dragging up and down my shaft.

She pulled back, breathing hard, but immediately sucked me down again. Connie was trying. God damn. She was trying so fucking hard to make this the best blowjob she had ever given in her life.

Her tongue licked around the head of my cock. She jerked me off at the base of it, and kissed and licked, her eyelashes fluttering upwards. Her mouth bobbed forward, and she made a slow, wet slurp.

And then her hands went to the collar of her shirt. It was one of the new ones, just a white tee, thin, and as she pulled down, it stretched.

She wasn't wearing her bra underneath. She tugged, hard, pulled one breast out, stretching the shirt open further, and then another. I could look down, watch my gorgeous Aunt pleasure me, watch her beautiful tits swinging back and forth, stretching out the collar. Her nipples looked so sharp, so stiff.

I wanted so badly to reach down. To hold them. To grab them--

Connie's hands went to mine, taking them off her shoulders, and sliding them down, over the smooth and cool flesh at the top of her chest, and down, to where her pink nipples swung. My fingers made electric contact with them. Connie closed her eyes. I squeezed, my fingers closing over the pert stiffness of pink, my palms going over her breasts and kneading in.

My aunt moaned underneath me. My heart was pulsing and exploding through my chest. Her hands returned to my cock. One cradled my balls, just holding them gently, while the other squeezed down on my shaft and seemed to milk me. I was struggling. To keep composure. To breathe. To deal with the incredible pleasure, to deal with the fact that in all my time with Allie, that she hadn't ever blown me like this, ever made my knees buckle like this--

Connie whimpered, her mouth slipping in a fast motion over my cock. I could tell that she was still sore, and trying, so I put my hands on her head, and slowed her. My fingers went through her locks. My thumbs brushed her cheeks, traced freckles. She slowed, looking upward.

Her mouth opened and she sank down on my cock farther.

I couldn't help but stifle a grunt as she opened her throat.

And then she took my cock all the way down, her lips moving so far that they kissed my pelvis, her tongue making it all the way to my sack, and she groaned, my cock swollen in her throat.

And then she pulled back. Gasping. Looking up. Not minding the drool that settled down, crystalline and shining over her breasts, dripping from the sides of her mouth. She tried to catch her breath while I regained my composure.

"I trust you, CJ," she said, breathing heavily. Her eyes were in a mix of haze, eyelids heavy, her chest heaving. Her nipples lifted, and fell, and lifted, and fell. "And when I do this, I want you to trust me too."

Connie suddenly opened her mouth again, and made a slow, deep suck that pulled my cock all the way back in again. My hands went into her hair again and gripped it tight as I staggered. And then Connie went to work.

She moved fast, plunging her face down and over my cock. Her tongue was swirling, licking from side to side under the base. She sucked hard, her cheeks pulling in, her spit loose and dripping from her chin. Her hands went to my waist, to hold it.

And she fucked her face on my cock, fast, wet, hot and slurping and slipping, and in the fast and frantic minutes, I could feel it coming closer, I could feel her fingers holding my waistband tight. I could feel her moaning ricochet from her throat and buzz against my tip.

"Connie--" I stammered. "Holy fuck--"

I could feel her beautiful tits, bumping against my thighs, over and over. My fingers, running through her hair, holding her by the back of her neck, the sweat of her exertion, the moaning want that signaled to me that I could cum, I could do it--

"Are you gonna--" I choked. "Are you gonna let me--"

She pulled off for only one second. She looked up with electric blues.

"Give it to me in my mouth, CJ."

She sucked down, hard. I rocked forward, thrusting, gripping her hair, her face, and in the savagery that had pent up in me, in the bliss of her hot, dripping mouth, I felt it uncoil, unlock, and then break.

My cock suddenly shot a fountain of semen into her mouth. Connie groaned, sucked harder, closed her eyes as I thrust hard, shaking, pumping, her lips and cheeks slick and glorious and filling--

"Ack--" Connie's mouth slipped off me, and her head leaned back, and she gripped the base of my cock and squeezed and pumped and I groaned as my orgasm didn't stop--it just kept going and my balls suddenly went tight.

And I came, more, my cock squirting cum over her lips, up and over the freckles over her nose. Connie opened her mouth and made an open 'hahn' whine, and her eyes glittered at me as white dripped against her cheeks. The pulses from my cock slowed, and I let go of a deep breath.

Connie settled back, and then stood. Her hand covered her mouth. It was a little dark, and so I couldn't see her expression. She went to the bathroom. I heard her spit. I heard the faucet turn on.

I just about fell to the floor by that point. Exhaustion returned. I settled onto our bed and collapsed, staring at the ceiling, not processing what had just happened. I heard her spit again. And again.

Connie came back. The morning light was just barely bright enough and Connie was angled so that I could see her, see her expression.

She was smiling. Not grandly. But softly, shyly.

"Thank you," I said again.

"I guess the news was right about one thing," she joked. "You and me. Partners in crime. Partners in other ways."

I could only laugh at that. The risks, the terror, all that disappeared for a brief moment.

It was strange to me that I wasn't at all eaten up by this by this point. It was as if Connie and me really did belong together. Like we really were partners. In crime. In other ways.

"What are we going to do?" She asked. Connie settled down next to me, into the makeshift bed, and came up close. "We still have some money, but there's no way they didn't find the desk guy by now. The police are gonna be swarming the state. And I think he was right about the FBI. It's a national search now, over state lines."

She was right.

Even though the sleep we got was necessary, and even though we had spared the guy at the front desk, the truth was that we were outgunned, outmatched, and practically surrounded by the law, no matter what direction we went. It was going to be a manhunt. No telling what the news would say, what cops would do if they saw us. No telling if we'd get shot on sight.

But maybe that was the trick. I looked at the gorgeous red of my Aunt Connie's hair.

"You ever consider going brunette?"​