Aunt Dora’s Box

What secrets would be revealed by a mother's hidden possessions? What terrible secrets?

(FF, etc.)

By: adorable_aurora -at- hotmail.com

Last December 26, my mother and twin brother were taken from me by a tsunami wave while they were vacationing in Thailand. My husband of 28 years and I were looking through Mom’s safety deposit box and I found this neatly-typed old letter amongst her personal documents. The following is what I read.

April 15, 1979

Congratulations my Sweets,

My brother and I are so proud that you and your twin brother have successfully earned your college degrees. Just in case your Mom has neglected to inform you about us, I am your biological aunt Aurora and my twin brother Michael is your biological father. Should this come as a complete surprise to you, continue reading what I wrote the afternoon I was fully introduced to our ancestry.

Aunt Dora's Box

With her shimmering lips pleasingly pursed, her cheeks rosily blushed and her long lashes fanned out gently from her exquisitely shaded eyelids, she seemed to be enjoying yet another of her secret little daydreams, there amongst the roses. She looked as cute and saucy as ever in her favorite little black cocktail dress. I waited patiently for her eyes to flutter open after I touched her cool folded hands. I had so many questions I needed answers for right then, from the sleeping lady I so closely resembled. To no avail, I stepped back and grabbed tightly onto my Dad’s arm as more tears welled up in my eyes. My twin brother Michael stepped up and held my hand just like my Dad held his twin sister’s as she lay there in her coffin.

Aunt Laura never married, couldn’t have children like me and was taken in late 1967, during her forty-fourth year, by the Cervical Cancer that spread through her malformed reproductive organs. She was shunned terribly by my Mom and all her family. Dad, Mike and myself were the only family members left to mourn her but she had many close friends. Sixty or more well-dressed men and women of all ages, shapes and sizes were being comforted by Althea, Laura’s faithful young caregiver. Tears rolled down from their reddened eyes as one by one, they stared at her serene face and touched her cool hands.

When the minister spoke of God’s house having many doors, my mind flashed back nine years, through the back door of Laura’s beach house. At that last visit, my Aunt and I walked down the stairs of her sundeck and went for a walk while my parents took my brother shopping. As we strolled along and gazed at the mansions that backed onto the sea, I saw Aunt Laura give flirty nods to several people smiling at her through their windows. Suddenly a giant wave caught me off guard and soaked me to the skin!

Back at her cottage, Althea washed and dried my fishy-smelling clothes while Laura drew me one of her wonderful bubble baths. It had been a ritual ever since Mike and I were little, for her to give us baths after she made sandcastles and mermaid sculptures with us on the beach out back. As in so many times before, she lathered up my hair but when she rinsed it, Laura remarked how much my body had blossomed. As she set out towels for me she asked me if I had my period yet, to which I shook my head, No!

After I dressed, she gave me the Nikon camera and some photography books she’d bought me and then showed me the transistor radio she’d bought for Mike for our thirteenth birthdays. As we drank the hot herbal tea Althea had steeped for us, we all talked of high school, college and career choices. When Mom returned, she wanted to know why my hair smelled of shampoo and my clothes of fabric softener. When I told she and Dad of Aunt Laura’s wonderful bubble bath, Dad raised his eyebrows, rolled his eyes up and flinched away from Mom, who immediately went ballistic. She screamed at her sister-in-law continuously for fifteen minutes, dragged me to our room and forbade me to ever see Laura again without supervision! Mom never relented in her views. Even at her funeral she went on about Laura’s lifestyle bringing on her demise. Dad spun around and told her in no uncertain terms, his sister died of Cancer and nothing more!

During our twenty-first birthday party wherein I had unequivocally become an adult, I finally found an opportunity to talk to Aunt Laura in private. In the seclusion of the garden-shed, we consumed the better part of a bottle of wine together, as we chatted. She queried me about my photographic arts courses, my future plans and my love life, of all things.

After a slight pause in the conversation, she looked me in the eye and said:

“We’re both the same, you and me, down to the minutest of details. Every female twin born into our family for as long as we know of inherited the same physical defects, the same physical appearance and the same damned diseases. There’s not much hope for me now, but a cure might come in time for you. Someday soon you’ll operate the business. It’s not a bad life for a woman, you know. Stayin’ cute all our lives, never getting’ all fat and motherly or loosing all that valuable time to the monthly curse. Just usin’ our good looks and bodily oddities for personal pleasure and financial gain and dyin’ young without regrets is a good way to go. Look after my clients, my sweet. The young ones represent three generations of Old Money now and they’re really counting on you.”

I was really confused by her words and scarcely three months later there at the funeral I was full of regrets for not questioning her further when I had the chance.

A couple of weeks later, a registered letter informed me that Aunt Laura had bequeathed Mike and I her substantial investment portfolio, her Corvette and the contents of her beach house, In addition, I inherited her business contacts and a conditional guaranteed income for the rest of my life. Three days later my Dad and Althea came up and asked me to meet them at the local Holiday Inn.

In the posh room, he presented me with a large trunk-sized rust-red wooden box strapped to a hand trolley. She sat quietly as he explained that the substantial guaranteed income would be mine if I take over Laura’s production company, retain her present client base and keep Althea in my employment as long as she wishes to stay on with me. He explained that Althea possessed many talents and that she would play a pivotal role in the operation of the business and maintenance of my welfare. He suggested that I stay at the hotel for as long as was necessary for Althea to help me understand the implications of what was contained in the box. As he excused himself to go inform Mike of his windfall, Dad reminded me to notify the clients as soon as possible and then abruptly left us alone.

I unlocked and opened the mystery box and inside found a photo album, a collection of still and movie cameras, tripods and accessories, a small projector, a bag of old lingerie and a box of unusual small objects and jewelry. On the album’s cover, “Adorable Productions Anthology” was printed in black marker. Inside, the first section was labeled, “The Twins”. On the first page was a faded and cracked sepia portrait entitled Charles and Elora, 1881. They didn’t look at all alike but she looked exactly like me! Overleaf, another faded black and white studio portrait showed Robert and Flora, 1900. Again, they had dissimilar faces but she certainly resembled me. Clarence and Dora, 1921 followed the same pattern.. A color print of my father, Douglas and my Aunt Laura in a 1943 portrait, as well as my brother Michael and I in 1965 completed the cycle. In every “twins” photo, the men looked nothing like the women, who except for hairstyles, all appeared eerily identical.

The next section was entitled “Seaside Social”. The first photo was a group portrait of the large Sicilian family at the estate adjacent to Laura’s beach house. Photos of women only, children only and finally men only followed. The second last portrait, “Seaside Salamis”, featured a group of nine baggy-pants wearing men toasting their wine glasses to the camera. The last photo, “Seaside Salute”, placed Dora in the center of the cluster of men. Under her floppy white hat, Dora’s impish face was flirting saucily at the camera. She’d hiked up one side of her white and black polka dot dress to show one leg from her white high heels, way up past her nylon stocking’s top. Slightly behind her and obviously unknown to her, the group had all unzipped their flies, pulled out their unusually large fat penises and were leering at her shapely behind!

“Seaside Salami Saga” was the title of the next section. Overleaf, one glossy black and white, 8 X 10 photo showed an intensely expressive, dark haired man in his mid-thirties reclined back in a sunlit bed, with his powerful hairy upper body propped up by pillows. Kneeling beside him was Dora, wearing a short black slip and holding a remote camera shutter release plunger in her left hand. The fingers of her right hand were clenched partially around the salami-sized penis protruding through the fly of his boxer shorts.

On the next page, a closer-up photo focused on her two bare buttocks. Below the slip’s lacy hem, her labia lips split over and were wet-kissing the tip of his penis’ bulbous corona. Overleaf, the left photo showed her elastic-band vulva stretched tightly around the short dark stump just protruding from his fly. Since she was turned around on him and facing the camera in the next picture, I couldn’t help but notice a little toe-sized clitoris, exactly like the one I’d been trying to hide for the last six years, protruding out from under her labia’s hood!

Overleaf, the first photo, taken from the side of the bed, showed her kneeling, straddling him with legs spread wide and spine arched backward. Her right arm was stretched back behind her for balance while her left hand squeezed the shutter plunger. Her well-rounded breasts splayed slightly outward, filling up the wispy thin bodice of her slip. Dora’s half-closed eyelids and parted lips showed undeniably impassioned lust on the face that was so startlingly similar to my own!

Subsequent pages showed a montage of increasingly artistic photographs showing them expanding their sexual repertoire and gracefully aging together. A short subsection in the binder profiled a much younger but similar-looking man equipped with an equally formidable penis engaged in torrid sex with Dora. Beyond that was another subsection showing that familiar young face kissing, caressing and fingering the vulva of another woman.

Following that was “Laura’s Legacy” which featured endless color photos of a young Laura having intensely erotic sex with a variety of large-penis men and lustful women. When I finished viewing the binder, Althea hooked up the projector and played a movie on the wall. As I watched countless film clips of Laura’s many male lovers filling her genitals with their huge penises and female lovers licking her swollen clitoris as they pushed their whole hands into her vagina!

Utterly confused at what I saw, I looked to Althea for answers. She read my eyes and said, “You have absolutely no idea of your family’s history, do you?” I shook my head and dredged up ten-year old memories of a huge argument between my Mom and Dad. The only thing that I remembered clearly was Mom calling it all “Nothing more than glorified prostitution and she’ll have no part of it!” and then dragging my brother and I from the seaside up to live here with her parents ever since.

Althea shook her head and began, “So your mother never told you she was Laura’s physiotherapist before me? And you have had no knowledge of Adorable Productions before now?”

Again I shook my head. She snickered, handed me a pen and some hotel stationary, told me to take notes then began the following recitation:

“Well my poor little innocent, your mother seems to have been quite successful in denying you your heritage. To make a long story short, your great Aunt Dora was a struggling young woman with an inherited genital abnormality. Aware her life would be short, Dora decided to live a fast life and chronicle it with photographs.

In 1945 her twin brother got her to photograph his Sicilian employer’s family picnic. The family patriarch, she nicknamed Sal, was so pleased with her photos and her free-spirited manner that he retained her to produce his company’s advertising photos. Within a year, she was Sal’s mistress and was living rent-free in his beach house. Located within a hundred yards of his seaside mansion, this allowed her to be readily available for whatever task was required of her. Sal was particularly amused by her artistically graphic portrayal of their steamy affair. This went along nicely for fifteen years or so until wild young Sal Jr. found his father’s private photo collection. With it he blackmailed Dora into producing a private album for himself.

Drunk and belligerent five years later, he bragged to his sister of his sexual adventures with their father’s mistress. Sophia was so thoroughly disillusioned by her brother’s, her father’s and her own husband’s philandering that she coerced Dora into doing a special collection for her. Dora recruited her young niece Laura, to star in this torrid lesbian romp. Vindictive Sophia showed off her album to her brother first. He was much more amused by it than her husband, who beat her up and promptly left her. Sal Sr. was so outraged after learning of the perverse arrogance of his offspring in despoiling his mistress that he suffered a massive disabling stoke! Sal Jr. took control of his father’s business interests but never his love interest, Dora.

The cancer growing in her womb took her in less than a year, but by then Dora had taught young Laura all the tricks of the trade. Laura assumed her all of her aunt’s duties and a new barrage of erotic art imagery began. The flame of love grew doubly for Laura as Sal Jr. and Sophia lusted for her sexual favors.

When 8 mm cameras became available in the 1960s she began experimenting in this new frontier. Over seventeen years she assembled enough films to produce this most impressive high art film collection. She was a stickler for authenticity in her artistry, always striving to capture expressions of true lust in her images. To achieve this, she placed four cameras around her bed to record different views of the proceedings. After, she would painstakingly edit the clips together, often splicing filmstrips to connect impassioned facial expressions directly to the actions that inspired them. She’d hide microphones in the headboard and footboard of her bed to record her breathing, passionate sighs, lusty moans and vaginal squawks.

In 1966, the film effects instructor who tutored her paid Laura very generously to produce a vanity erotic movie of them together, using her techniques. He convinced her there was a niche market for her to exploit, so she advertised her unique services in contact publications. One thing led to another and at the time of her death, “Adorable Productions” had a client base of over thirty-five immensely-hung narcissists willing to pay very generously to see themselves staring with her in stylishly erotic vanity movies.”

When I asked her what might happen if I chose not to take over the business, she replied as follows:

“I am obliged to inform you that you would undoubtedly break the hearts all of the mourners at your Aunt’s funeral. You’d throw away an established career and lifestyle of wealth and privilege that most people can only dream of. You’ll deny yourself all the love, passion and generosity that Laura’s lovers are prepared to lavish upon you and you will deny your father the two hundred thousand dollar a year income he gleans from distributing the videos you would independently produce.

Heredity has left your genitals barren and intimidating to many men, but your undeveloped uterus extends the usable length of your vagina. Two previous generations of Sicilian studs have showered affection on the only women able to accommodate their ten-inch penises. In addition to Laura’s twenty-eight generously adoring lovers, you would deny yourself my superlative services as your personal trainer, caregiver, fluffer and constant companion. However, before you sell your soul to the Devil and take over your Aunt’s business as it is, consider this: Your delightful father pimped out his ailing sister to over a hundred big dicks and rough lesbians through ads in adult publications last year.

Unknown to his clients, the telephoto cameras were filming and their performances were made into movies. They were edited and distributed to adult movie stores throughout the State to pay for the cocaine Sal Jr.’s son supplied them with. The Sicilians, as nice as they may seem, are still gangsters and not people to be messed with. I think we’d all be better off without your Dad. He’s an absolute sleaze and chased my ass constantly until I threatened to crush his nuts if he ever touched me again.”

I felt so inspired by what I’d learned that I wrote the prologue for my diary over the rest of the morning. During our room-service lunch Althea suddenly blurted out, “Over the ten years I’ve spent with your family, I developed a better game plan. I think you should continue on producing those vanity personal films Laura originated and I think we should promote your brother as a sperm donor.”

Her suggestion to have Mike impregnate as many women as possible, thereby allowing us to branch out our business into the next generation, just won her a nasty little nipple twist through her blouse. Her reaction wasn’t what I expected, so I gave her already erect other teat an even meaner pinch, stretch and wiggle. As her aloof dark corneas suddenly warmed golden brown, she spread her legs wide apart like she wanted something way up there under that short pleated skirt stretched and wiggled too! She jerked me back out of my trance into the reality of the situation with, “Before you close your mind to what’s being offered to you here, you should at least work with me for the day and see if you have the capacity to fill Laura’s shoes.

Althea sat beside me here, all prim and proper as she recited the sexual history of my Aunts but she’s still giving me Puppy Dog eyes and has decided to get a little more comfortable. She peeled down to her underwear then rummaged through her bags for some exercise equipment. She’s had me doing bouncy squats up and down on this huge inflated beach ball of hers ever since we finished lunch. I’m wearing Elora’s bracelet, Flora’s necklace and Laura’s teardrop earrings with Dora’s black slip and nylon stockings to feel what they felt and connect better with my predecessors.

After ten minutes, Althea makes me get off so she can attach a slightly thicker dildo to the connector on the top of the ball. She assures me that the slippery fat dildo I feel spreading my frightened vulva right now is virtually identical to the penis of Sal Jr. Althea’s strong little arms are wrapped tightly around me from behind, to slow the descent that my quivering thighs are no longer capable of controlling. I can tell the KY lubricant is working well, as the dildo sears through my vulva fills my vagina.

My pulse pounds up the back of my neck and my ears burn, as my bum tells me it’s touched down onto the slimy vinyl ball. I’m feeling quite uncomfortable but I know I must give this a good try. As my eyes drift from photo to photo, the challenge to be equal to my ancestors is clouding my judgment. Ever so gently, I’m flexing forward and back on the dildo. With each surge my pussy loosens just a little more and I’m starting to feel more in control of my impalement. As I rock back and forth, a juicy slurp emanates from between my legs. Strong thumps up into the cortex of my brain spur me on and I‘m bouncing modestly once more.

Lewd squawks accompanying each thrust have now caught Althea’s attention. Crouching beside me, her left hand rhythmically thrusts down on my shoulder and dribbles me like a basketball player. As my breasts surge up and down, they mercilessly drag my nipples raw along the inside of Aunt Dora’s silky slip bodice. Moderate thrusting has been bumping the tip of the long dildo against the back of my vagina, but now I feel sharp pain each lunge as her harder shoves punch the corona somewhere I don’t think it should be going. I complain that it feels really weird and kinda hurts. She stopped immediately but now she’s crouching down behind me.

The strong little fingers of Althea’s left hand reach around from behind and squeeze my tender nipple flat while the skilled fingers of her right hand reach down between my legs and milk my bloated clitoris ever so wonderfully! I’m trying my best to finish writing these last few words, but I’m loosing all self-control. From the tip of my fat clitoris, down through my quivering thighs, back up through the depths of my surging dank vagina and out through my ripe raspberry nipples, the most incredible orgasm has just ripped through my body!

I was initially drawn to the Sicilians’ employment offer, but it was obvious my Father was intent upon exploiting me the same way he did with his sister. Wishing to end his meddling, I carbon-copy typed a simple employment refusal to Sal jr. Althea got an envelope at the hotel desk and sealed everything in envelopes. The following week she contracted a moving company to clean out and store all of Aunt Laura’s family heirlooms and then left my employment refusal letter behind in the empty beach house. A week after the letter was received, my Father disappeared and hasn’t been heard of since. Apparently the Salamis were completely unaware of Laura’s extra-curricular activities and were not at all amused in finding out how many others they’d been sharing her vagina with. We traded Laura’s Corvette for a big motor home and fled for our lives. We’ve lived in it and worked out of it, footloose and fancy free ever since.

Althea’s clinical background has been a godsend. She collects Mike’s semen in condoms manually, (usually by jerking his penis off or having intercourse with him) and then artificially inseminates their client with his sperm. Their clients are mainly infertile couples, single women hesitant about conceiving children without knowing their father’s background and White Trash seeking lucrative income from their offspring. I produce vanity sex films for appreciative men with big penises and women with a passion for my big clitoris and an insatiable lust for vaginal fisting, who I contact through my men’s magazine advertisements. We coordinate our appointments to maximize our earnings and minimize our travel expenses. Althea licks and fluffs me up before each session and then lovingly massages my sore pussy happy again after it’s over. The three of us get along well together in business and in love.

And now, to my nieces and nephews, I pass on to you our family’s legacy. Althea, my brother and I have been toured the country now for twenty years in the motor home. We traveled the Franchise Seminar circuit throughout the south in the winter and the north in the summer, selling Mike’s sperm. To successfully keep in contact with his offspring, we invested the fees paid by your birth mothers and contributed all interest accrued into a college education fund for each set of twins.

On a sweep of Vermont and Upper New York State last year, we went up into Quebec, Canada to check out their porn film industry. On the way back to Ohio, we stopped in Toronto Ontario, where there’s a huge feature film industry and people of every nationality in the world. We stayed from spring to fall, made the rounds of their Film Festival and couldn’t help but notice the variety of different races living together there in apparent harmony.

Supposedly it is in the Canadian Constitution that the government has no place in the bedrooms of the nation. That, combined with an excellent Mother’s Allowance program within their Welfare system, which in effect, rewards single mothers for having illegitimate children, made us plan on a Canada-wide blitz of every ethnic group we contacted last summer. This spring, at least half of our eighty-eight second year graduates should start to take us abroad. We figure that by the time the twentieth year graduates have finished their hitch with us, you prodigies should have successfully taken our bloodline worldwide!

Again, we’d like to congratulate you girls on obtaining your Motion Picture Arts diplomas and you boys on obtaining your Marketing diplomas. This graduation present should explain any question you’ve ever had about your lineage. Your enclosed version of “Aunt Dora’s Box” contains copies of photos and films from the late 1880s up to the present that will introduce you to your predecessors and their passions.

According to our records, 34 pairs of you twins will graduate this spring. In return for funding your higher education, your Mothers signed an ironclad contract requiring you to complete a one-year apprenticeship program with us upon your graduation. So at this time, the people who are responsible for your existence invite you to the second annual Father’s Day get together.

After you arrive at Buffalo airport, motor homes bearing Adorable Productions logos will shuttle you to the Erie County Fairgrounds. There you’ll meet your 62 of your stepbrothers and 62 of your identical stepsisters, your biological father Michael, Althea and me, your adorable aunt Aurora. You’ll be evaluated by your own personal trainers then attend your introductory seminar. We were made painfully aware last year that not everyone had grown up with a determined physiotherapist for a mother. While the girls were all identical, a good number of them were not particularly adorable!

Between the recovery period from the girls’ surgeries plus the necessary dietary weight reduction and fitness training, it took nearly four months to make some of last year’s apprentices presentable enough for their new vocations. Without the minor surgery that was performed on me 10 years ago, you girls, sadly, will have the 45-year life expectancy of your predecessors. With the surgery, my talented surgeon promises an additional decade or more. He’ll enlarge the opening to your uterus and surgically remove out all those nasty little cancer-prone reproductive organs inside each of you girls. Once you’re all healed, you’ll be able to accommodate a ten-inch penis without undue discomfort. Your unique sexual capacity and your good looks will place you in great demand and will make us all healthy and wealthy and wise.

On our drive east to the Lake George retreat, we will pick up nine additional government surplus Winnebago’s that were originally used as mobile recruitment offices. With plain beige paint jobs, their rear bedroom/clinic/studio, their central bathroom/kitchen/office and their overhead front double bed, they have proven to be perfect for your purposes. You’ll bunk with last year’s teams during your four-week training program then after that they will be free to continue with the rest of their lives. At that time you 1978 apprentices, plus your personal assistant/trainer will take over the motor home and continue on where last year’s teams left off. Four 1977 teams have elected to return for a second year and will function as free-roving mentors, supplemental actresses and alternate sperm donors for your teams.

Now there’s no use in crying to your Mothers. They saw all the pictures before they agreed to conceive you and knew exactly what they were getting their children into. They chose, of their own free will, to give birth to a boy who resembles them and a girl that looks like me. It will be the duty of you and your 1,223 identical stepsisters over the next 20 years to motivate your brothers into at least equaling the insemination rate of the first year teams. The ability to manipulate men and please women is a part of the genetic code of all the women of our lineage, so use it wisely. It’s not such a bad life for a woman, you know. Stayin’ cute all your life, never getting’ old and fat and motherly or loosin’ all that valuable time to the monthly curse. Usin’ your bodily oddities for personal pleasure and financial gain and dyin’ young without regrets is a good way to go. Sometimes I don’t think there’s much hope for me now, but Althea promises me that because of the surgery, I’ll last long enough for all of my nieces and nephews to remember me sleeping amongst the roses.

Contact me at the enclosed address for further information.

Much Love,

Aurora, Michael, and Althea

I’ve read and re-read this letter countless times and everything in it applies to me! My mother moved us around all over the country right after we turned 21 and she always seemed to be looking over her shoulder. I’m absolutely devastated by all this. I’ve configured the company prefix into my email address. Can anyone out there verify any of this?

adorable_aurora -at- hotmail.com

All models are 18 years or older, regardless of the text.