The Phantom Foot


The Phantom Foot:

A Sister Sherlock Mystery

Turkey is supposed to make you sleepy, but it nearly killed me. No, it was not poisoned–or booby-trapped, and while I am at it, how is it that the word booby can be associated with anything bad?

Anyway, I had just taken a big bite of dark meat, when suddenly I felt a foot on my crotch. It felt good–very good, in fact. The only problem was that I nearly choked to death.

When I had sufficiently recovered myself, I tried to figure out who the perp was.

The way I figured it, there were three main suspects: my mother, sitting directly across from me; to her right, my cousin; and, to my mother’s left, my aunt. A frontal attack seemed most likely, but a diagonal one was certainly not out of the question. My father’s family was tall and lithe, after all.

My beautiful mother was sitting opposite me. Blond and in her early forties, she had aged well–incredibly well, considering she was the mother of two. She was dressed well too, in a green, silky number that showed her double D breasts–not only their size but, also, a lot of cleavage, not to mention the barest hint of her nipples.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced down the table at my father. He was sitting near the end, between his parents–my grandparents, carousing with his older brother–my uncle.

My parents were not estranged or anything. In fact it was by mutual consent that they spaced themselves out at holiday gatherings. Partly, it was so that they could fraternize with relatives they did not get to see often. Another reason was that my mother disliked my grandma. I guess even women dislike their mother-in-laws.

I looked back at my dear mother–at her tits. Logically, they were more mine than fathers. I had suckled on them–teethed on them too. They were the source of my first food; I had been nourished on them. My mother had even cradled me in her arms while I bit her nips–certainly my father could not claim that.

I felt the foot again fleetingly.

Okay, so I had an Oedipus complex–well, at least half of one. I did not want to kill my father, except occasionally when he had the Sports Illustrated or was eating last pork chop, but those were only fleeting thoughts. On the whole, I respected him–he was a good provider and role model.

Yet somehow, I did not feel bad about the idea of fucking his wife–my mother. Why? Well, firstly I would just be following his example. Secondly, I had come out of my mother’s vagina, so I felt by natural rights I had a sort of passkey.

There were other mitigating factors too. I would not even be going fully back into it, just part of me–parts of me, I mean. For starters, I would say my cock, fingers and tongue, although if you included her mouth, my balls would make the list as well.

Honestly, I had never been in her mouth before, but she had kissed me a couple of hundred times. Whether I was wrong or right, I don’t know, but it seemed proper justification for her to lick my balls. Similarly, I had once drank her milk, now I felt it would only be polite for me to offer her mine.

In the womb, there had been an umbilical cord connecting us. Technically, it was not part of her, or, for that matter, me. I seized on that precedent. Granted, I’m no legal expert, but I figured it opened a loophole. Theoretically, one could exploit it to insert objects. Battery-operated dildos, for instance.

I groaned because the foot-rubbing had suddenly become more vigorous. My pants were already unbuttoned when I sat down. I had done it in order to eat as much as I could. But now the toes put pressure on the material, and the zipper was giving. In fact, before long, it was all the way down.

My mother was chatting amiably with my cousin, and the back and forth was pretty quick. It seemed extraordinary that either of them could be massaging my cock with her foot.

Out of a sudden suspicion, I looked to my right, to my sexy sister, who had come on to me last winter break, when she had discovered how perverted I was. We had lost our virginity together. (See “Sister Sherlock: Case of the Perverted Brother.”) But, her hands were visible and though she was certainly flexible, I knew it was impossible for her to align her foot from that angle.

My sister noticed my look and smiled at me shyly. Of course, she had a legitimate claim on my mother’s jugs too–in some legal systems, at least. But, by the rules of primogeniture, our mother’s hooters were rightfully mine. I was the son, and my sister was the daughter–she had her own boobs.

Don’t get me wrong. My sister was a good kid. I would be willing to provide for her–to share my mother’s boobs with her. There were two of them, and we got along together well, after all. Besides, they were big.

We could even come to a legal agreement. I would be generous and take the lesser terms: alternating weekends and the summer. Why? My college was far away. Also, I felt the whole thing would be just a formality, anyway. Much gaziantep bayan escort ilanları of the time the three of us would be together–really closely together.

I looked across the table from my golden-haired sister–to my mother’s right.

My cousin was a high school senior and brunette. Though she was an “A” student, she had B-cups. Unfortunately, she was wearing a bra–unlike my mother or sister, both currently pointing. Probably, her mother–my non-blood aunt–had made her shackle her twins. The nerve of that woman! This was a day set aside to eat breasts! A national holiday–no less!

Well, I suppose there was one thing I could thank my uncle’s wife for: giving birth to a hot blood relative–my sexy cousin.

Although she was Caucasian and roughly of the same mix of nationalities her looks were somehow exotic. They were not as familiar as my sister’s. Perhaps, it was the dilution of the family blood, or, perhaps, it was just that I did not get a chance to see her as often.

Her face was pretty, but her expression was wooden–frigid, even. It could not have been her!

I groaned again. The boxers I was wearing were designed without a button. Sometimes, when I slept in them I woke up with my cock sticking out. Now it had come out again, and I felt the toes drawing back my foreskin, titillating the nerves of my engorged head.

“Good, huh?” asked my sister.

“I’m certainly enjoying it.”

“Sort of on the dry side.” said my mother.

“No, mine is very moist.” said my aunt.

Ah, ha! That was a double entendre, if I ever heard one.

I focused by attention on my aunt. She was a red-haired dynamo with perky C-cups, surprisingly young for an aunt–only thirty, in fact. She taught English at the local high school, and, from what I understood, all the guys wanted to fuck her, but, though she was not married, she was definitely too professional and straight-laced too do that. Heck, her dress was even more conservative than my grandma’s.

She noticed me admiring her and smiled at me.

Suddenly, I became entranced with her, even more so than I was with my mother or sister Perhaps, it was because she had red-hair like me, or, perhaps, it was because she dressed conservatively. I would have said that it was because she was not married to my father, but, then gain, like I explained earlier, I did not see that as much of an objection.

My aunt and I continued to stare at each other. I venerated her flaming red bangs, the subtle curve of her light eyebrows–they were almost blond. I drank in the lovelight of her grey eyes. Between us was the cornucopia centerpiece and its mouth was wide open to me.

The Freudian imagery was too much for me. Suddenly, I came.


My aunt smiled at me and then reached below the level of the table with her monogrammed napkin. While she wiped, she continued to smile at me, and I smiled back at her knowingly. Obviously, she was wiping the cum off her foot–my cum.

I decided to follow her example, taking my own monogrammed napkin below the table. Fortunately, my pants were stain-proof, and my crotch was not very wet. My excitement had been so high that I had really sprayed far.

My orgasm had been really good, and I wanted to give back. But there were currently too many eyes for me to slip under the table and service my aunt, so I waited patiently for the opportunity I knew was coming.

One by one, the men started leaving to watch football. I would be expected to go to, but probably they would be so immersed in the game that they would not notice if I were missing. The women, on the other hand, were staying to chat and play cards.

I turned to my sister and quietly whispered my desires. I was even so forward as to be specific about my aunt: my sister liked fucking me but was not that possessive. In fact, as if to illustrate the fact, she squeezed my hand under the table and nodded her agreement with a big smile; I knew I could count on her.

My sister had an IQ of 160, but she settled for a time-tested expression:

“Look at me!”

For a distraction, she chose to do cartwheels. It worked pretty well. All the women’s eyes were upon her. Heck, I was so interested, I even stayed to see if her skirt would fall down; in fact, she had to make a second pass doing flips. I didn’t know what she could do for the third act, so I quickly slipped under the table.

The vibrations in the floor ended. My sister started breathing heavily, and soon there was applause.

When things quieted down, I became very tense, however, the seconds went by and no one said anything. Still, I continued to hold my breath, that is until my sister slipped back into my seat and began gently rubbing her nylon-encased foot against my face. She had done a good job; I licked the sole in appreciation.

When her old seat was filled by my grandma, I felt home free.

I turned around. gaziantep escort bayan ilanları My first thought was to look up my mother’s dress. She was the closest, after all, and I saw her the most of the three, so it stood to reason that I had the most opportunity to desire her. The hemline was pretty high, but, as luck would have it, her legs were tightly crossed. Oh, well, I guess I could still eat out her sister-in-law, my own blood-aunt. Pretty good consolation prize, eh?

Not to mention the fact that I could get a free cousin up-skirt. You did not think I would pass that opportunity up, did you?

I blinked in preparation to stare, but turning my head, I noticed her nubile legs were also crossed–too bad.

My aunt’s legs, on the other hand, were wide open. But was she the one?

The dangers were great, but so were the rewards. Besides, I felt pretty safe. The proof was nearly incontrovertible. What’s more, I considered myself an expert at reading body language: she definitely wanted me. Anyway, I was just too perverted to turn back now; I needed to give it the old college try.

I began to creep closer.

Suddenly, my mother uncrossed her legs. I had to lean back quickly. Otherwise she would have hit me.

My mother’s crotch was open now, and I decided to take a quick look, however the light was not so good close in. The best parts were in shadow; it made me wish I had brought a flashlight.

They say that mother is the necessity of all inventions–well, I wanted to sneak a look at my mother panties, so I had to think of something. Not having the materials to create a MacGyverism on hand, I decided to use the nighttime feature of my wristwatch. With the press of a tiny button, a dim blue light came to my aid. It was enough; now I was able to voyeur my mother.

The view was pretty good. She was wearing a Thanksgiving-themed thong–on top of her tights. Probably it was meant for my father’s eyes only, but I enjoyed it too. For a moment, I forgot about my aunt and was sucked back into mother-loyalism. More than anything else on the menu today, I specifically wanted to eat out her gibblets.

The light died, and I pressed the button again.

This time, to my horror, I noticed something glistening on her dark tights. The light was not good, but I knew immediately that it was my cum, from the footjob my aunt had given me. I nearly had a heart attack–if she got up, I was doomed. In fact, I was surprised that she had not noticed it already. Perhaps, she thought it was the grease from some tidbit that had dropped from her plate.

Right now the tablecloth was protecting me, but I knew if she got up, my jism would not stand close scrutiny. Someone would say something, even if she did not personally take notice. She might reach down and swab her finger over it–put it in her mouth, just to be sure.

When she tasted my cum, surely, she would not forget that her only son had been sitting directly opposite her. Sure, I could lie to her; after all, loving mothers can gullible. But my mother was almost as smart as my sister–a doctor, in fact. Likely she would remember there had been no other males in range, and that left only me.

Heck, knowing my uncle, he probably would be able to offer the latest version of “Guinness Book of World Records” to prove the fact beyond any shadow of doubt.

I might be disowned in front of half my relatives–with proof–and my mother was my connection to the other half of my relatives. I would become a black sheep, an orphan. Would my sister still stick by me then? Better yet, would she still let me stick her?

I could not reach up and get a napkin–someone would notice my disembodied hand. For a moment, I considered pulling off my sister’s panties–I knew she would not mind. But then I remembered she was not wearing any, just fall themed tights–the color yellow.

I could take them off, but they would just spread the cum around, and, likewise, I thought my own sleeves. I was in deep, deep trouble–or soon would be.

But I had a few minutes, and I might as well live them up–by eating my aunt’s pussy.

My eye’s fixed on my aunt’s amazingly feminine toes and rose up her incredibly smooth ankles. Her dress was long, but it had a slit in it.

This was the moment of truth: now I would discover if I was right about my aunt–if she had given me the footjob. Or, perhaps, she would stab my eye with a fork. You know, before, she realized it was her devoted nephew and not some escaped criminal nibbling on her clit.

I licked her big toe. She squirmed very slightly but basically stayed still. She had passed the first test, but she may have thought that I was the dog, so I decided to subject her to the second. I stuck the toe in my mouth and sucked on it. Again, she squirmed a little but did not move very much–less than the first time, in fact. I was confident now, but that did not stop me from licking escort gaziantep ilanları her calf, just for fun. And this time she did not so much as flinch.

Now it was time for the best part.

I reached up and grabbed my aunt’s thighs. Then I slowly but forcibly pushed the material of her skirt backwards, revealing more and more leg. Eventually, I uncovered her crotch and made a startling discovery. She was wearing a white thong–my favorite combination: the color of innocence, the panties of a slut. Well, I suppose she had planned ahead; my grandparents did like to turn the heat up pretty high.

I pushed the tiny material of the crotch aside and began licking–my aunt tasted surprisingly good, sort of like sour apple. I stuck my tongue in further and was met with more wetness. The taste became slightly more salty.

“Oooh!” came the sound from above me.

Suddenly, despite the cum on my mom’s legs, I achieved a nirvana like state of calmness. I’m not sure if it was my aunt’s exclamation or her pussy-pheromones.

I kept licking, and my aunt got wetter and wetter. Eventually, I decided it was wet enough to stick my finger in. Unfortunately, my aunt was wearing tights, under her panties. Fortunately, I brought along my knife–part of the silverware. I was afraid the ripping noise would be heard, but the sound of the ladies conversation covered it up.

I stuck my finger in and drew it up and down slowly, hoping the sound of the ladies’ conversation would cover the slurping sound. No worries–it did. There was a reason why the men had left. Eventually, I stuck two fingers in.

“Oh, yes!” my aunt exclaimed.

“Someone must have a good hand.” said my sister, and I began to think that she had a sixth-sense.

“I could use another card.” said my aunt.

She was using code, and I got the message. Now it was time for three fingers. It was sort of tight but very wet.

My head nearly hit the table–suddenly, I felt a foot gently caressing my back. I ignored it. It was my sister, I knew. I could hear her speaking–there was just the slightest idiosyncrasy in tone, certain words seemed to be emphasized, as if she wanted to get my attention, very badly. Yet still, I ignored her, and continued to lick my aunt’s tasty pussy.

My sister was insistent. She started using both feet, pinching the back of my shirt. Surprisingly, after just a few tries, she managed to pull it out of the back of my pants. After that was done, I waited, but nothing happened. I guess she was only being playful.

Without warning, I felt a woolen sock on my back. First, it rubbed against me–caressed me. For one horrible moment I thought it was a man, but then, it tapped me on the side–the right side–repeatedly.

I looked back: my sister was wearing a woolen sock over her tights–on her right foot–and she was pointing with the toe! To my right! To my cousin’s wet camel-toe–for she had now uncrossed her legs!

Immediately, I knew it all–the whole story. I had been duped, or, rather, my cousin had. She had been fooled into thinking that I had played footsy with her–by my sister–no less. Then she had decided to give me return gratification: a footjob. Well, I’m not sure. Maybe, she only intended to excite me at first, but, when she felt my naked cock, she had become excited and gotten carried away. Well, we both had.

I had made the natural mistake of supposing that it was my young and beautiful, unmarried aunt who was playing with me, and now I was playing with her. Oh, well–no harm, no foul!

I continued to thrust, this time faster, and I let the slopping sound get louder.

“Do you want some pie?” asked my Grandma.

“No” said my aunt. “I’m stuffed.”

To my surprise, she grabbed my head and thrust it into her open legs so far that my nose was tickled by her red landing strip. I got the message and began licking her clit, while continuing to thrust.

She groaned, and I felt one of her legs move. I did not have to look back to know that her toes were curling.

Female orgasms can last awhile, so I continued thrusting and giving cunnilingus. I knew I had done a good job when she pinched my cheek, like she was sometimes in the habit of doing. I decided to rely on her kindness–I reached up and pulled down her thong. She assisted me by lifting her rear up slightly.

Finally, I had her panties free. They were more than a little wet, but the top was sort of dry. I had a use for them in mind–two, in fact.

I moved towards my lovely mom.

Very gently–with the touch of an angel–I brushed my aunt’s panties against my mother’s leg–just one swipe. Unfortunately, they only spread the cum. The thong was of no immediate use, so I put it in my pocket–I would use it later.

I saw the old girl sitting under the end of the table. I called to her very lowly and made hand gestures, but she did not move, except to scratch herself. I guess she was either too lazy or too deaf. The dog was out!

As for now, there was only one option. Admittedly, I was pretty reluctant, but there was nothing else to do because I had failed to convince the bitch. And I had to act quickly. My mother was sitting still now, but, at any moment, she might swing her feet out and discover me.

With a lightning motion, I leaned forward and licked the cum off my mother’s nylon encased leg.

To my shock, my mother reached down and patted me on the head.

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