This Gender Reversed World Ain’t for Me (RSM)

Freya

"Yeah, come in."

Damien's voice was muffled by the closed door, but he sounded a little confused.

Freya bit her bottom lip, pushed it open and sneaked inside the donation room.

Damien was sitting on the couch, still dressed, staring at her in mild astonishment. "What's up, Aunt? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, honey." Freya flashed him a comforting smile as she leaned against the door, closing it with a soft click. With her hands behind her back, she discreetly locked it too. "I just, well, wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm... fine." He said slowly, looking at her with those big, silver eyes. "I haven't started yet."

Yeah, she could see that.

Freya chuckled softly, slowly crossing the room towards him. "That's okay. No rush, right?"

"Right..."

He followed her with his gaze as she sat on the couch next to him.

Freya tilted her head at him, suavely running her hands through her hair and tossing them a bit up; a peacock-like posturing to catch his attention. "Are you nervous?"

"Not really, just... a bit weirded out. I wish I could've done this without so much fanfare." He admitted, then frowned. "What was it you were supposed to give me?" He looked around, seeing if Freya was hiding anything. "Or was that just an excuse to get in here?"

Freya laughed, doing that guilty, playful shrug. "Well, I did lie a little... but I'm not here to just check up on you, Damien." She placed a hand on his knee. "I actually wanted to give you some assistance."

Damien's silver eyes widened. "Assistance?" He gawked at her. "Aunt, what kind of assistance are we talking about exactly?"

A blush crept up her face, matching the coloration of her hair.

She had an admittedly short but profound conversation with herself before Damien allowed her entry in. She was a good woman. An upstanding citizen. A dependable friend, a loving and loyal sister, and a cherished aunt.

She took good care of Damien, and that was how she'd continue doing.

And... despite the sordid nature of their blood relation, well, Freya wouldn't say she'd regret or apologize for this action. Damien was her precious nephew, and if helping him 'relax' made her a bad person, so be it.

'To hell with what others will think, I am simply looking after my little nephew.' Freya nodded mentally.

Yet she had to take that tight window Willow had left, a mere fifteen minutes, to accomplish the task before anyone got wise of it.

Willow would've never approved. The other nurses would've never approved, even if they were well within the bounds of legality, as inside the clinic, ironically enough, incest was permissible and actually encouraged. It was all about the mindset, as there was nothing legal in Freya's mind at the moment.

Now that she was in front of him, his disarmingly beautiful face gazing into her eyes, she could hardly blame herself for losing control over the situation.

'If anyone should be blamed, then, that'd be Damien's fault, really. If he didn't look like such a prince, then maybe I wouldn't have acted up.'

Of course, deep down, Freya knew it was more of a conscious decision, a calculated choice, one of great deviance, rather than a simple error in judgment.

The snake would gladly eat the fruit it tempted another into biting, regardless of the enviroment.

"Aunt...?"

“Well, the material they gave you must be boring.” She gestured lightly towards the TV, where the catalogue of videos was left unselected.

Damien made a grunting sound that sounded vaguely like approval.

“You’re not exactly wrong there… not exactly what I'm into."

He said, eventually.

Freya was absolutely pleased, because it meant her involvement was quite crucial. “Then, perhaps you need… umh… someone close to you… someone who isn’t a stranger… you understand what I’m saying, Damien?”

She was fidgeting, her voice not quite as confident as her words.

“You… are you really suggesting what I think you are suggesting?”

"......"

Freya didn't immediately answer; instead, she slipped her hand up, slowly, sensually, higher up on his thigh until her hand was only a hair away from his crotch, which was, admittedly, already showing some promising signs of reaction.

She looked away, because all of that radiating confidence had now evaporated once reality, of Damien staring, wide-eyed, at her, was unavoidable. "I can... help you. In fact, you know... I should."

"Should?"

Freya hesitated a beat. "... It's a normal thing to do, I assure you." Her face was flushed, but she couldn't bring herself to meet Damien's gaze again. "Very normal to l-let a person of trusted relations lend a hand and bring you the required... relief for this task." She paused again. "Damien?"

"......"

He continued staring at her with that same wide-eyed look of disbelief.

"We don't have much time before Wil—I mean, before someone gets suspicious and comes knocking." She took a breath. Her hand was shaking. Adrenaline pumping. A carousel of images and scenery she had fed herself every step of the way here.

"Do... do you trust me, Damien?"

Freya didn't dare move until he answered.

"I do, of course I do... but—"

There was probably a fallacy in her logic that he was hoping to poke through, but arousal was a fog that could haze the mind as easily as it could haze one's reasoning.

"But what, honey?" She swallowed the knot in her throat, and slid her hand up, touching Damien's rapidly swelling bulge. An inappropriate touch that could've easily seen her ass thrown into a jail cell for not asking permission, for making moves when she could be seen as taking advantage of her position. "Let me help you, Damien."

Freya was sure he was uncomfortable. Hell, she was too. She knew most men weren't exactly comfortable with being 'helped' out in this way. It was too intrusive, too personal. But, she was banking it all on Damien's progressive mentality and open mind to get her through it.

"Please?"

She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Aunt... I..."

His thighs tensed under her touch, his fingers curling into the cushions of the couch, pupils blown wide.

"Shhh!" Freya hissed as she made short work of his zipper, settling herself fully on the couch and slouching over him. She briefly glanced back, as if to make sure there was no one behind the door, no one who could hear the obscene sounds of her unzipping her nephew's pants in the middle of a donation room—certainly not Willow—before her hand dove inside and Damien all but clenched and went as stiff as a statue. "It's going to be fine, Damien. I promise."

She felt him shudder as her fingers found their way inside the waistband of his underwear, feeling the thick and heavy length of his erection for the first time.

'Oh my...'

Damien hissed sharply. "Shit."

Freya was in a daze as she took a firm grasp of his cock, pulling it out and into the open.

Her mouth hung wide open. She was the one shuddering now. "Wow... you're... so..."

This was the first time she held a cock that wasn't a dildo. A real, live, warm, pulsating piece of a man's masculinity in her hand. Not even the VR porn she watched could've prepared her for the sensation of his hard length in her palm, the velvety skin, the heat, the weight of it.

It was so big.

Too big to be true.

Freya looked at his face; he was flushed, a little sweaty, his lips slightly parted.

She then looked down at her hand, stroking his cock slowly, up and down. She had no prior experience, but figured it was for the most part instinctual. "I'm helping you." She murmured as she leaned—or, more like, collapsed—into him, her face burying into the crook of his neck. "I'm just helping, that's it, Damien. That's it, sweetheart. I'm just helping you."

"H-haa... a-ah..."

'He's definitely aroused.' She thought, delightfully.

The stiffening and jerking motions of his hips and his length, plus the rising volume and pitch in his moans, were proof enough.

Freya kept her face buried in his neck. Her breathing came out uneven and in bursts of heat against his skin.

'Am I... really doing this?'

She was flushed. She was burning up. A self-induced heatstroke. Lightheaded. She felt so weak she wouldn't be surprised if she keeled over from the sheer excitement of it all.

Her hand was moving on pure instinct. Up. Down. Slow. Her own thighs pressed together without her thinking about it. Shit, she was getting wet already. Wet from giving handjob of all things.

"Hmm!"

Her neck was ticklish, a result from Damien's head turning towards her own, his mouth closer. She moaned into his neck as she began jacking him off even faster.

She looked up, only to see him looking down.

Their mouths were so close, recycling the same breath between themselves, lips only inches apart.

Eye to eye.

Mouth to mouth.

Yet there was no contact.

It wouldn't be weird if it happened, not with Damien's cock snug in Freya's hand.

It took considerable self-control to keep herself from leaning in that last inch to slam her lips against Damien's.

Drool pooled up in her mouth continuously, ready to fall from her slackened jaw, so she kept her mouth closed to ensure it wouldn't drip everywhere. 'The fuck do I want to do? Kiss my own nephew?'

She had come to help him out, that was all. Nothing less, nothing more.

Self-awareness was key here. Her eyes were fixed on that mushroom tip of the prize as she desperately tried to make herself believe that she wasn't getting her kicks over jerking off her nephew.

That was definitely, irrevocably wrong. But not when his expression was so erotic, his entire body responsive, hips pressing and thrusting forward to her hand, desperate and eager for pleasure.

She wanted more of it.

All of it.

The wickedness, the deviant, twisted side of the fantasy.

Aunt helping her little, delicate boy to cum and ease the burden.

"That's it, Damien. You're... such a good boy."

She gritted her teeth, fighting off her own inner demons—who were all having a meeting to celebrate the decimation of her conscience—right in her pussy.

"Ugh, Aunt... too tight."

Freya froze, her grip on his length subconsciously going a bit too harsh. "Fuck, sorry, sorry... uh..." She forced a smile, easing back on her stranglehold of a death grip. She was quickly moving from virgin handjobber to homicidal virgin handjobber.

She was about to murder her very first cock.

"Don't worry..." Damien panted, a faint groan escaping him. He was nudging her hand with his hips. "Haah, faster."

"R-Right."

She obeyed. The palm of her hand was quickly coated in thick layers of his natural lubrication, a sticky and slippery mess, that she decided to add upon by leaning in ever so slightly, unfurling her tongue, and waterfalling the excess saliva of her gaping mouth straight onto the upper side of his shaft, further lubricating it.

"Ah, fuck..."

"Hmm~"

Freya's moan joined Damien's own cry of ecstasy. He was a sight to behold in this very moment of madness. His beautiful face flushed in a brilliant red hue. His silver eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted as he surrendered himself to the pleasure she was giving him. She was giving him.

It was all her.

All his.

His cock was hot, throbbing in her grasp, the smooth head slick with precum, a liquid she recognized by the way her mouth suddenly flooded.

She wanted nothing more than to lick it.

Her eyes snapped wide open as she felt Damien's hand settle on her thigh. She looked up at him, her mind in a haze. His hand slid upwards slowly, then hooked under her skirt, finding its way in her wetness, right through her already ruined underwear.

Freya whimpered.

She was a lost cause now.

"Unn, Damien—"

“......”

“D-Damien…”

"......"

"Oh, Damien~"

She gritted her teeth, eyelids feeling quite heavy, as she leaned her forehead into his own.

A light touch.

They were holding onto each other for support, a raft lost in a storm of their own making.

He seemed content in remaining in silence, letting his eyes, half-lidded as they were, to absorb her every expression, taking her in, observing her just as she did to him.

It felt... so intimate, it was driving Freya insane.

His fingers, an unexpected duo—or triumvirate, considering his palm was grinding against her engorged clitoris—were quite a surprise. A man's hand was truly different.

To think her dear, naive, oblivious nephew could not only tolerate toying with the devil's gates of another woman, but actively insert his digits right through them to no longer toy, but ravish, and try and force her pussy's seal to break open for entry.

"Ohhh~"

It was so shocking, all because of her nephew's dirty fingering job on her cunt.

Damien was such a young, innocent thing, but she never pegged him to be... well, what was happening right then!

She didn't know! He wasn't supposed to know this stuff! But now, her nephew, with his silver eyes and handsome face, was finger-fucking her quite expertly, and all the while she was still jacking him off.

And they were still staring at each other.

Still breathing in what the other breathed out.

A self-sustaining cycle of oxygen that ran from one’s mouth to the other.

His eyes, gleaming with arousal, dared her.

Wanted her to come first.

“Come on, Auntie. Don’t hold back…”

And Freya was very clearly losing all resistance.