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From
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Date: 10 May 2000 02:31:37 GMT
From: Charlene <
falcons87@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: ASS Story -- Aunt Betty (F/m)
I am not the author or the original poster. All the credits
I know of are still attached. I am reposting this because
right now I am enjoying this theme and wondering if others
are also.
A college kid lives with his aunt. I love the way she
flirts, controls, and brings her nephew along.
From: "Mush" <
mush97@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: AUNT BETTY
Date: Sun, 10 May 1998 22:49:05 +0500
Lines: 862
Mush's DISCLAIMER.
THIS STORY IS NOT WRITTEN BY ME. THE POSTING IS FOR
RECREATION ONLY AND NOT MEANT FOR ANY COMMERCIAL
PURPOSE.
ANY VIOLATION OF THE COPYRIGHT SHALL BE DEEPLY
REGRETTED.
NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS. THE OTHER STORIES SHALL BE
POSTED
ON READER'S REQUEST. THANK YOU.....
AUNT BETTY (part 1
by Septimus
fvj@world.std.com
In the year 196x I was a shy but oversexed 18 year-old
college
freshman,
and I had just moved into my Aunt Betty's compact single
family house
in
Southern California. Actually, she isn't my aunt exactly,
but my father's
younger cousin, but to me and my kid brother she was always
Aunt
Betty.
I'll describe her in just a bit, but first let me tell you
how this
situation arose. I got a full-tuition scholarship at a
"good" science and
engineering university, but no help with the room and board.
We could
barely afford transport to and from my native Ohio, let
alone a dorm
room
and meal plan. It was my father's idea to have me rent a
room with his
37 year-old cousin, whose much older husband had died a
couple of
years
before, leaving her with a small house and not a heck of a
lot else.
Dad's plan was for me to do a host of chores around the
house and
pool
and yard in exchange for my room and board. Plus I think he
wrote
some
checks to Aunt Betty, otherwise the exchange would have been
too
uneven.
I had always remembered Aunt Betty as a chunky lady with
delicate
features, a double chin, short dark hair and a sweet, low,
soothing
voice. The last time I saw her, she actually baby-sat for me
and my
younger brother, when she was still living in Ohio. I guess
I was
around
10 and she was almost 30, still unmarried.
When I arrived at her house on an unseasonably hot September
day,
with my
old suitcase and a big nylon duffle bag, I was in for a
shock which
literally took my breath away. Aunt Betty waved me over to
the
modest-sized swimming pool, where she was sitting and
reading a
novel.
She had lost considerable weight, but her short white
terry-cloth robe
revealed that she was phenomenally curvaceous. I could
scarcely tear
my
gaze away from her high, tan cleavage, slightly sweaty from
the sun.
She
had nice, slender ankles, too, although her thighs were a
bit plump.
Aunt Betty jumped right up and, like a good hostess, showed
me
around my
new home. I tried very hard not to stare at her spectacular
shape or to
make excessive eye contact, either. It was really tough,
because Aunt
Betty was precisely the physical type I conjured up in my
masturbatory
fantasies: a pretty, but not glamorous face, with
understated makeup,
and really voluptuous form. I estimate she was about
five-five or
five-six tall and maybe 145 pounds, distributed nicely all
around. She
must have traded in her thick glasses for contact lenses.
Instead of
looking like a plain, dumpy woman who had shed a few pounds,
she
gave me the impression of a stroke magazine centerfold who
had .
gotten pleasingly plump.
As the first weeks of the semester passed, I got into a
routine of
classes, labs, study in the library until about 9, then a
brisk walk
home. I was too tired to think about dating and girls. I
noticed, too,
that my aunt would also come home late from her office job,
rush
through
a salad-bar salad and quickly turn in, quite fatigued. I
gathered from
our few conversations that the small manufacturing business
she was
in
was understaffed; hence the long hours, and the lack of
energy for a
social life.
As the weeks wore on, our respective workloads got slightly
heavier,
not
lighter, and we rarely ventured beyond the confines of her
house.
Although our schedules did not allow us to take meals
together, we
started watching the tv news together at the end of the day.
Aunt Betty
always wore loose-fitting, modest clothing, but some times
she sat
close
enough so that our thighs touched with quite a bit of
pressure, which
alone was enough to give me a semi-erection. At other times,
without
making any suggestive remarks or looks, she leaned her head
on my
shoulders, as if she were nodding off from fatigue.
Sometimes I
suspected she was not really sleeping on such occasions, but
was
enjoying the closeness.
Week by week I was getting hornier and hornier, and I
suspected that
Aunt
Betty also was getting aroused by having me in close
proximity.
Although
we spoke freely on any number of subjects, I naturally
hesitated to ask
her about her love life after widowhood.
Finally, around mid-October, things began to heat up.
"Oh, Brad, would be a dear and help me so I don't fall off
the
step stool?" She was rearranging some crockery on a high
shelf in the
kitchen. Her cotton skirt was very short, and her
loose-fitting top
didn't quite reach to the waist of the skirt, so I could see
a nice
expanse of soft creamy flesh around her middle. It seemed
logical to
support her at the waist, so I got to touch her bare skin,
which thrilled
me intensely.
"A little tighter, Brad, I'd hate to have a fall."
"With pleasure, Aunt Betty" I said, as I gave her waist
a gentle
squeeze.
Since she didn't seem to be in any hurry to complete her
chore, I held
her bare waist and leisurely admired her full, curved
thighs.
Not long after that episode, out of the blue, she remarked,
"I've been
noticing that you look at me...a bit...longingly, Brad. Is
that possible,
or is it my imagination?"
I knew enough even then not to refer to my own loneliness
and
extreme
horniness, so I replied: "It's just that you're a hell of an
attractive
woman, Aunt Betty." "I hope I'm not sounding too forward."
"Brad, I promised your Dad I'd look after you, but I'm
sure he
didn't mean that way." She laughed, a deep, throaty, sexy
laugh.
From then on she would favor me with glimpses of her
lush curves,
but
they were glimpses only, which inflamed my interest in her
to an
incestuous obsession.
Finally, she broke the ice, and in response to one of my
longing looks,
put a hand on my shoulder, and asked, "You do find me
attractive,
don't
you?...as a woman...really, now, Brad."
"Aunt Betty, if only you knew how much you affect me,
there wouldn't
be any doubt in your mind at all."
"How do I affect you, Brad," she asked, her hand still
on my
shoulder.
"I know it isn't what's supposed to happen, but being
close to you
arouses me powerfully...there, I've said it. It had to be
said." At this,
I covered her hand with my own and dared to give it a little
squeeze. My
heart was racing.
"We musn't touch-ever," she said, as she withdrew her
hand from
mine. "But, Lord help me, I need to feel attractive
again....you'd really
like to see my naked body wouldn't you ,Brad? Even though it
would
make
your father very angry?"
I think she mentioned my father because she wanted to
emphasize
the
incestuous aspect of our situation. To her I think it added
a definite
extra measure of spice. With her shape, I would have died
for her had
she
been a perfect stranger.
"Yes I really, really would, Aunt Betty."
"If you're a good boy, Brad, and show me an "A" exam
paper, I might
just let you have a look, but only under certain
conditions."
"Any conditions you say, Aunt Betty!" I could barely
get the words
out, my mouth was suddenly so dry.
Needless to say I buckled down even harder on my courses. In
those
days,
in competitive colleges, the profs didn't hand out A's just
for showing
up for all the classes. And in the engineering courses I
took that year,
a B-plus was considered a really desirable grade.
When I got a solid "A"in a tough American History mid-term,
I was
thrilled beyond belief, for more reasons than one! On the
way home, I
spent the last of my weekly cash on half a dozen roses for
my aunt, to
underline my devotion and affection. I tidied up the kitchen
extra well,
and left the precious "A" exam booklet on the corner of the
table, with
the flowers. I was half aroused for what seemed like hours.
"Oh you're a dear, Brad, I love roses" said Aunt Betty
effusively.
"And I promised your Dad I'd make sure you buckled down to
study
hard, so
now I can tell him you're getting an "A" in History. She
made no
mention
of her promise to me, and I was naturally hesitant to push
her.
She made no further mention of the exam grade, sat well
apart from
me
while watching the tv news. I was crushed and highly strung
out with
sexual tension. When she headed for her room I gathered up
all my
courage
and somehow mentioned that I had had a "special reason" to
show
her the
"A" paper.
"Oh, Brad, dear, can you ever forgive me, I'm just so
tired tonight,
I just can't do justice to your History "A" and those lovely
roses! But
tomorrow, I promise to make it up to you. Will you think
about me
tonight
and tomorrow?"
"Aunt Betty, you know I won't think of anything else!"
The next night was Saturday night. True to my parting word
to Aunt
Betty,
I could think of nothing all day but her promise. And her
bod. To keep
a semblance of sanity, I walked for two hours along the
bland,
palm-shaded streets of the nondescript California suburb.
Saturday, night, bedtime. Betty wearing her usual loose
printed dress
for
the late news. Her hair freshly brushed, a new perfume, a
bit deeper
lipstick shade than usual. In accordance with Aunt Betty's
explicit
instructions, I stood in the passageway, five feet from her
bedroom
door,
which on this special night was wide open. With the electric
lights out,
she set a lighted candle down on her bedside table and stood
facing
me so
the candlelight shone from her left side. I was not to utter
a sound, nor
touch myself 'down there'.
She slowly unbuttoned her dress from top to bottom, and let
it drop
to the floor. Tonight she had omitted wearing a bra, so I
could
see everything not covered by her low-cut satiny white
briefs. Aunt Betty's thighs glistened full, smooth and
beautifully
curved. Her belly, partly encased by the panties, was also
somewhat
full,
but completely smooth, with a deep navel. Her Earth-Mother
bosom
covered
almost all of the front of her ribcage. The deep shadows
cast by the
lone
candle accentuated her incredibly lush curves, exciting me
beyond
endurance. Still, it was too dark to discern many details,
so even
afterwards, her body retained an aura of mystery. After
standing still as
a statue for a minute or so, she gracefully turned to face
directly away
from me, toward a mirror over the dresser. And as she
brushed her
hair,
her bent, raised arms allowed me to see the side curves of
both
breasts
at the same time, an astonishing sight. Then she turned to
the side
and
blew out the candle. I could hear the faint rustle as she
slipped under
the covers.
I felt as if steam from my superheated blood would blow out
of my
ears
from the excitement, from the two or three minutes of
forbidden
intimacy.
No way I could have fallen asleep after that, except by
masturbating to
the candle-lit images I had just witnessed.
**********
Sunday morning, I awakened with a hard-on which would not go
away.
I
forced myself out of bed, shaved and then walked almost two
miles to
get
Aunt Betty's favorite newspaper. She made me leave the paper
outside
her
bedroom door, now closed. We shared breakfast, but she
seemed
slightly
distant and made no mention of the incredible events of the
night
before...
Imagine this if you will. The living room is in nearly total
darkness,
the house is silent in the wee hours. My aunt had rushed to
the tv set
fresh from her bath around eleven and helped me to finish a
half-bottle
of Italian red; we fell asleep on the living room sofa. She
is sleeping-I
think- nearly upright, the bottom two-thirds of her robe
completely
open!
My face is buried against her shoulder, somehow my bare arm
is
resting
on her lap, hand curled around her soft flank, the middle of
my forearm
in contact with-could it be actually-her pubic bush! I dare
not even
breath aloud for fear of startling her out of her sleep. I
know that if
she awakes, she will break off this forbidden contact. The
thought of
touching the gateway to her intimate parts excites me to the
very core
and I start to shake with tension. Although it is too dark
to see, I try
to imagine Aunt Betty in my minds eye totally naked from the
waist
down,
as she is in fact. My erection threatens to burst the fabric
of my
pyjamas.
I cannot tear myself away although nothing can come of
this, tonight at
any rate. Her regular breathing tells me she is truly
asleep, her falling
asleep with the robe open an accident. After what seems like
two
hours I
gradually draw away from contact, close her robe and cover
her with a
blanket from her bedroom. My balls ache from the prolonged
congestion,
it's almost impossible to sleep without stroking my member
but
somehow I
muster the self-discipline to hold off, in anticipation of a
breakthrough
in the next few days.
That was on the Saturday night of a three-day weekend. What
happened the
very next night was ten times as exciting.
"Brad, dear, I think it's time we had a little talk; could
you
get us a couple of beers from the fridge?"
"Sure, Aunt Betty." We settled down on the living room
sofa. After
downing half the can, she took my hand and placed it firmly
on her
mid-thigh, holding it there for emphasis. Were things going
to get
steamy
at last?
"Look, Brad, it's time for a little honesty and
openness around
here. I'll just bet you've been wondering about my love
life-or lack of
it." Here I nodded assent.
"I had two brief flings about four-five months after
your Uncle
Woody passed on, with guys who sell stuff to my company, but
frankly
they treated me like dirt. And for me that's worse than
being lonely-or
horny. I'm just not about to go looking around for a man now
or
probably
any time soon...but I have needs...I was thinking you and
I...oh, hell!
Get me another beer, will you?"
"Anything for my favorite aunt!" was my attempt to be
lighthearted,
but I was getting all of a sudden very tense as I sensed the
direction
we
were headed for.
"Brad, I remember every flattering thing you ever said
about me, and
all those looks you've been giving me...and I don't think
you'd ever
treat me like dirt."
"Of course not, Aunt Betty." I placed my hand back on
her thigh,
but higher up. She responded by covering my hand with her
own.
"A nice-looking broad-shouldered young fella like you,
not going out
with girls, I couldn't help wondering...hoping, you
know...that had
something to do with your feelings about me." At this I
almost was
tempted to answer by taking her in my arms and kissing her,
but I was
still a little shy. Instead I meekly nodded, avoiding eye
contact.
"The time is ripe for us to see how we respond to each
other, as
equal adults, Brad. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Brad."
"Oh God, yes, YES!"
"It has to done just right, making sure that neither
one of us is
disappointed, and that it's what we both truly are ready
for."
"Uh, what are you driving at, Aunt Betty?"
"I mean, Brad, that I'm sure you masturbate, if you're
like all
other young men, and that it's got to stop right now, so you
can give ME
your all. And I'll stop, too, as of this moment."
I tried not to look shocked, but this was back in the 1960s,
when we
didn't talk much about masturbation and boys were totally
ignorant on
the
subject of female masturbation.
******
The air was warm for November, even for a Southern
California
autumn. A
thin crescent moon hung in the night sky. As instructed by
Betty, I
heated up her small pool and hung a bunch of towels on a
lattice-work
fence to secure our privacy from the eyes of neighbors. I
got into the
pool and faced away from the house. Aunt Betty liked to give
surprises.
After a few agonizingly slow minutes, I heard her slip into
the water
behind me. With pent-up passion she hugged me from the back,
rubbing and
then pinching my nipples. No high-school girlfriend had ever
done
anything like that! She nuzzled my neck and shoulder, and
then
squeezed
my nipples 'til they hurt. As previously instructed I stood
still and
straight.
"Now, Brad, turn around and look at me." She was
wearing a one-
piece
swimsuit which concealed only the lower 60% of her full
bosom. I
gasped
at her awesome cleavage; somehow the effect was all the
greater as I
had
to strain my eyesight to the utmost in the scanty moonlight.
"Now let's move to the deeper part of the pool, I want
to show you
something." I willingly obeyed.
"How long can you hold your breath under water, Brad?"
"Don't know, Aunt Betty." Not even at a moment like
this was I
permitted to call her simply by her first name.
"You'd like me to drop the top of my swimsuit, wouldn't
you, you
sweet boy?" I nodded vigorously. "Well, you can see my
breasts as
long as
you can hold your breath under water...starting...now!"
I took two or three deep breaths and dropped under the
surface.
There,
not two feet away was a sight to behold. No doubt Aunt Betty
was a
natural DD-cupper, and although her boobs probably sagged
quite a
bit
under their weight in air, under water they seemed to float
and sway,
weightless yet undeniably massive in their shadowed
roundness. She
placed
her hands on her hips, arched her back and twisted back and
forth to
accentuate the wonderful jiggling motions. I tried to
memorize the
sight
of those great round masses of tit-flesh until my eyes stung
fiercely
from the pool chemicals. I passionately wanted to hold Aunt
Betty's
breasts and suck on them, and would have died happily for
one
minute of
such unimagined pleasure. What did happen is that, my lungs
bursting, I
surfaced, and mumbled, between gasps of air: "Incredible,
Aunt
Betty...you are just so sexy and beautiful...I just...have
never seen
anything like that...anywhere(what I meant was, in stroke
magazines)
"Oh you dear, lovely boy, give us a kiss," she said, as
she bent
forward, tilted her head toward me and kissed me deeply, so
our teeth
ground together for an instant.
"Now I'm sure, dear Brad, of my feelings, but tonight
is not the
right night...don't ask...turn around right now, Brad."
As ever I obeyed her instantly, shaking with passion and
disappointment
at the same time. I heard her climb out of the pool and
disappear
behind
me into the house.
I lay down on the poolside lounger in confusion until the
air turned
colder and caused a shivering fit. Back in the house, Aunt
Betty's
bedroom door was closed. The house was silent. I felt almost
sure
she was
as drawn to me as I to her, and that we would soon
consummate our
incest,
but maybe she enjoyed teasing me...maybe it would never
happen.
With the
greatest difficulty, I remembered my promise to avoid
masturbation
completely. I read myself to sleep with a materials science
textbook.
----------AUNT BETTY 2 -----------
--------by Septimus (
fvj@world.std.com)-------
SUMMARY: horny male college student lives with his widowed,
equally
horny
and voluptuous 37 year-old aunt. The sexual ardor between
them has
smoldered for weeks, but thus far no action.
--------------------
After the moonlight swimming pool incident I was extremely
edgy for
days.
It was a wonder I was able to take notes in class. I looked
at Aunt Betty
with an acute longing. The English have a (to me)
funny-sounding
expression, "keen as mustard." I'm not sure how the
expression is
supposed to be used, but I suppose if you fail to feed a
dog for a
couple of days and then hold a nicely broiled lamb chop a
couple of
inches from its snout for a few long minutes--well that dog
will be
"keen
as mustard." I was keen as mustard for my voluptuous aunt.
I hung on
her
every word and gesture, trying to sense when she would
finally invite
me
to share her bed. My devotion to her was totally
transparent.
There was no more physical contact between us for a few
days. But,
twice
she walked around the house immodestly wearing just her
bra and
briefs.
Somehow I knew not to approach her on those occasions; I
sensed
she
wanted me to be a voyeur, not a lover. On a third such
occasion Aunt
Betty invited me to stand in the passageway near her bedroom
and
watch
her undress, down to her underwear. Everything she wore was
just
little
snug for her buxom figure, and showed a little bulge of
extra flesh at
the upper and lower edges of her lingerie. How I longed to
squeeze
those
sexy, adorable little bulges. She had left the room lights
on, and
posed lasciviously for the mirror, cupping her full breasts
and then
slowly running her delicate hands down her rounded belly and
stopping at
her upper thighs. Unlike the models who pose for stroke
magazines,
who
generally put on exaggerated facial expressions of supposed
"sexiness,"
Betty had no expression except a subtle smile of
satisfaction at what
she saw in her mirror. As usual, I was totally mesmerized by
what I
saw.
I said nothing, knowing from past experience to keep a
silent
voyeuristic
vigil.
When the night of consummation came, it was a total surprise
to me.
As
usual, Aunt Betty was in total control of the situation. She
invited me
to have Saturday night dinner with her (I think it was the
weekend
before
Thanksgiving) and I remember well that the dinner consisted
of a
green
salad, a small serving of leftover pasta, a single glass of
California
Riesling wine for her, a single glass of ice water for me.
After
clearing the table, I absentmindedly looked in the
refrigerator for a
dessert; Aunt Betty observed my search, closed the 'fridge
door and
put
both hands on my shoulders.
"My sweet child, tonight you'll sleep in my bed. You won't
be wanting
any
rich desserts just now." You can imagine how stunned I was
by this
sudden, yet long-expected invitation.
"Yes, Aunt Betty, I look forward to...to being with
you...more than
I can say." The sharp lust in my eyes was utterly genuine
and
transparent, and must have more than compensated for my
stiff,
unromantic
words, for Aunt Betty smiled and said, simply, "Come to my
room at
eleven."
Eleven P.M. was about two hours off, plenty of time to
shower
thoroughly,
brush the teeth, gargle mouthwash. I softened my 18 year old
whiskers
with the hottest water possible and took the slowest, most
deliberate
shave of my life. Partly to look and feel perfect for my
adorable Betty,
and partly to make the time pass. I sat in my room and
solved some
routine physics problems, then picked up the sports section.
The
Browns
were seven-and-two; if they beat Dallas tomorrow, they were
a cinch
for
the conference championship. I paced the room, then read an
article
about
the escalation of U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia. My
mind drifted to
war, to the R.O.T.C., which I was thinking of joining to
ease the family
finances. I calculated my chances of surviving combat as a
second
lieutenant of infantry. What IS the half-life of a second
lieutenant in
combat? Hours? Days? Morbid thoughts crept into my head. I
wondered if I
could even get it up later tonight.
With a final splash of "4711" cologne on my cheeks and neck
and
chest, I
nervously padded down the passageway to her bedroom. Polite
as
always, I
knocked. "Come in, dear" was her reply.
O.K., now it's time for the obligatory seduction scene,
right? With the
heroine prancing around wearing two hundred dollars worth of
lacy,
silky,
underthings from Victoria's Secret, right? WRONG. Aunt
Betty, as
usual,
had her own ideas. First of all, Victoria's Secret didn't
exist at that
time. But mainly, she didn't intend to parade around in
newly
purchased
exotic lingerie, because she damn well didn't have to. She
had already
seduced me, many times over. I was ready, had been for
weeks. Keen
as
mustard, your hero, Brad.
What happened was this. She came out of the bathroom with
freshly
brushed
hair and perfume, but a perfectly mundane, loose cotton
nightgown
which
revealed nothing but her nicely turned ankles. She read my
puzzlement
and
disappointment in an instant, and said, "Brad, tonight we
are going to
have a cozy, domestic night...domestic as in husband and
wife. In real
life, husbands and wives don't automatically make love
before going to
sleep."
Well, I was still confused, as you may imagine, but by now
well trained
to obey her, so I said, "Sure, Aunt Betty" and leaned over
to sniff her
shampooed hair. "You really smell great."
Later, much later, Aunt Betty told me that in her
experience, most men
are sexually stronger in the morning than at bedtime, and
that's why
she
insisted on turning in that first night without making
love. She had
everything figured out!
In her teasing seduction of me, Aunt Betty had one more card
to play: I
slept under the bedsheet while she slept between the sheet
and the
blanket. To the very last, I was in some slight doubt about
her
intentions. Was this the ultimate tease, or did she just
enjoy control
over the situation, over me? So, with many layers of cloth
between us
we
kissed goodnight, at first chastely, then with more urgency.
"Oh Brad,
dear boy, give me a kiss that I'll remember in the morning!"
We kissed
with mouths open, she grasped my upper, then lower lips
with both
her
lips, then let me do the same for her. I kissed her nose,
then licked her
eyebrows, then licked just below and behind her ear, right
and left.
Hell, I didn't know what I was doing, but I sure was
enthusiastic!
"Oh Brad, are you glad to be here with me?" Her question put
an end
to
our passionate kissing.
At this point I had the nerve to say, "I'd rather you be all
the way
under the sheets with me." "Just wait," was her reply. "And,
Brad
dear?--if you get up in the middle of the night, remember to
empty your
bladder, and the mouthwash is right on the sink." From then
on I
always
tried to stay a little dehydrated before sexual relations in
order to
avoid a semi-full bladder at the wrong time. And I always
remembered
that
Aunt Betty served me one glass of water and no tea or coffee
that
night.
My stiff cock finally wilted and let me sleep.
The house was totally silent. I awakened, but it wasn't due
to any
discomfort. The tabletop alarm clock read 2:30, but all my
senses
were
alert as they had been that night in front of the tv. Oh,
God, she was
actually under the sheet with me, holding my left arm across
her
naked
thighs! I reached higher, holding her soft waist, with my
arm grazing
her
pubic hair. I nuzzled her neck, then her ear. She murmured a
soft
sound
of pleasure. Then I remembered her last minute instruction.
"Please
excuse me for a moment" I went to the bathroom for a splash
of
mouthwash,
didn't have to void because of my dehydration, and had the
presence
of
mind to shed my pyjamas on the way back to bed. I purposely
left the
bathroom light on to illuminate Betty's opulent curves.
"Oh, it's wonderful being so close to you at last, Aunt
Betty"
"Don't say anything now, Brad, just touch me."
She was on her back, one knee gracefully bent. I started
where I had
left
off, at the waist and hips and for the first time explored
her breasts. I
tore the covers off us and straddled her waist, kneading her
massive
breasts, each of which was almost two hand-fulls, then
bending over
to
lick her nipples with circular and back and forth motions.
I was so
aroused I felt like the top of my head would blow off. Was
this what
high
blood pressure felt like? Aunt Betty squirmed with pleasure,
cradled
her
boobs in her arms to keep them from sagging against her
sides and
offered them to me. "Now suck on me hard, Brad!" With a good
will I
set
to the task until the pink areolas puckered and her nips
stood up a
good
half-inch.
The actual massiveness and roundness of her boobs in my
hands
surpassed
all imagination. Pushing them from the side in a rhythm set
up fluid
wave-like motions. After about ten astonishingly exciting
minutes
fondling her boobs every way, I knelt at her side and
gently stroked the
outermost portion of her pubic bush, where it met the creamy
white
hairless thigh. A minute later, under Aunt Betty's expert
guidance, I
stimulated her clit, watching her pull strongly upwards on
the skin just
above the clit. I think what this accomplished was to put
the nerve
endings on stretch and make the clit itself extra sensitive.
Learning
quickly, I pulled the mons skin taut and tried different
motions on her
clit, being guided by her audible murmurs and moans of
pleasure.
Later
she told me that she actually came after a couple of minutes
of clitoral
stroking, but I kept it up much longer.
"Come closer, let me admire you, Brad. What a fine,
strong-looking
member you have."
None of the furtive fumblings in the back seats of cars
with teenage
girlfriends had prepared me for that kind of talk. She
rubbed the
glistening bead of pre-cum over the head of my cock until I
gasped
with
pleasure. I dared to hope she would now take me in her
mouth, and I
pushed my cock toward her mouth. But she was as always in
control
of
the action. She grasped my shaft, which was about as stiff
as a birch
dowel, and pulled gently backwards on the skin, stretching
the nerve
endings on head and making it incredibly sensitive. Now she
rubbed
the
lubricated head and glans with a gentle rotary motion which
drove me
out
of my mind. "Ohh...oooh, YES, yesss, that's perfect, oooh,
I've never
felt anything like that before."
"Now, Brad, settle down a bit and stroke me down there,
as I
showed
you." She stopped stimulating me and although I was ready to
collapse
with the intensity of the pleasure, I mustered enough
concentration to
stroke the folds where her thighs met the pubic bush, then
gradually
moving closer and closer to the midline, where her inner
pussy lips
were
swollen and protruding. I tried pulling on the inner lips
and elicited a
few gasps of pleasure from Aunt Betty.
"Oh, dear Brad, my Brad, touch my clit NOW."
Aunt Betty was making slight rocking motions with her hips
to help me
out. I tautened her skin just north of the clit, and
moistened my
fingertip with saliva and touched her lightly right in the
center. She
pushed up against my finger, and I backed off teasingly. She
pushed
her
hips higher, seeking my finger, and I gave her clit some
nice rotating
motions at medium pressure.
"Brad, come inside me NOW."
The moment of truth had arrived. It was actually my first
time with a
totally naked woman in the privacy of a bedroom, and the
thrill of that
moment beggars my powers of description. Aunt Betty was a
snug fit
for
me, as her tight muscles and prolonged engorgement made for
a
narrow
entry, but the lubrication was copious, and as I glided into
her slowly,
we groaned together with a pleasure intensified by our
abstinence
from
"self-abuse." I kept up a very slow rhythm at first because
I wanted to
savor every moment and not come too quickly, but soon Aunt
Betty
pressed
me with a barely audible command "Deeper, deeper, faster
now, Brad,
yes,
yesss."
[continued in next message]
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