Let me get the family lineage out of the way so you can understand this story to its fullest. My name is Harry. I was raised in a close, loving family atmosphere over a period of nineteen years. My dad, John, has a younger brother, Raymond, who is married to my Aunt Ellen. My Aunt Ellen's younger sister, Roxanne, brings us to the heart of this episode.
This all happened this past summer while I was at home between my sophomore and junior years at State University. It was Sunday morning, and I thought I was all alone in my parent's large two-story colonial house. That's why the bathroom door was open. I was preparing to shave when I noticed out of the corner of my eye a shadowy figure appear in the doorway.
Not being a person to alarm easily, I calmly turned to see what had darkened the doorway. As my eyes focused on the intruder, I saw that the shadowy figure had transformed into the image of my foxy young aunt, Roxanne. She was clad in a clinging, floor-length robe made of some shimmering fabric that added unnecessarily to her goddess-like frame.
I had completely forgotten that she was spending the weekend with us while she visited the rest of her family here in town. She did this frequently, however, this was the first time she and I were left alone in the big house. As I slowly scanned her loveliness I recalled some of the stories I had overheard while eavesdropping on hush-hush conversations at some of our family gatherings. It seems that she was alleged to have shared intimate times with both my father and with Uncle Ray.
My first instinct was to consider these stories as gossip. Why on Earth would a woman as pretty as Roxanne resort to hanky-panky with her own kin? With her looks she could pick and choose among the many hard legs chasing after her constantly.
"Good morning, Harry," purred the sultry voice that I had come to associate with Roxanne. "What 'cha doing?" "I was about to shave and shower," I stammered, "but if you need the bathroom . . ."
"Harry," she interrupted, "there are four bathrooms in this barn."
"Oh, yeah," I mumbled not having anything else stupid to say.
"I heard movement down in this direction, so I decided to come investigate. Okay?"
"Sure. I just thought I was alone," I said timidly pointing to the open door.
"Disappointed?" she asked demurely.
"Not at all," I said quickly. "Glad to have the company."
"Mind if I watch?" She paused briefly before adding, "Or would you like for me to shave you?"
"Do what?" I blurted out the question in surprise.
"Shave you," she answered in a calm voice. "You wouldn't be the first man I've shaved, you know."
"O . . Okay," I stammered at a loss for anything else to say.
She placed her long, slender fingers under the hot shave cream dispenser and collected an ample amount of the warm lather. Then she began to gently smooth the white goo on my cheeks and neck. She was standing closer now, and I could feel the warmth of her body radiating through her thin shiny robe.
"Feel good?" she asked.
I didn't know whether she was inquiring about the warm lather she was applying to my face, or about her warm body so near mine. I answered yes knowing I was honest regardless of what she meant. "I can do much better, Harry," she teased, "if you would turn and face me while I do my job." Her smile made me weak in the knees, but her nearness was causing another part of my anatomy to stiffen up.
When she raised the safety razor to begin her chore the motion caused her to move closer and touch my body along my right side. This contact made my erection spring to life. My cock burst through the fly of my pajama bottoms and gaze about the room.
"Oh my, Harry," Roxanne exclaimed, "I think you're getting excited. Very excited, indeed."
"Anytime a sexy woman rubs up against me the same thing happens. No telling what would happen if you weren't wearing that robe," I continued.
"Let's find out," she murmured and shed her shimmering bathrobe with a very practiced move. As her garment fell to the floor, my erection rose toward the ceiling.
"Harry," she whispered as she leaned against my excitement, "we're going to have to do something about your situation before I can continue as a barber, don't you think?
"Oh yes," I sighed as I watched her drop to her knees in front of me. She caught the elastic band of my pajama bottoms on the way down, and tugged them to the floor.
Without further ado, she clutched my aching shaft in her hand and covered the head with her mouth. She held her mouth in place momentarily as she massaged my balls. Then she began to move her mouth up and down the barrel of my cock.
It wasn't long until this heavenly creature brought me to a rapturous climax. My balls were jumping in their sack, and my cock was bucking in her mouth. Surprisingly to me, she remained engaged until my orgasm had subsided. I wanted to drop to my knees and take her naked body in my arms.
"Easy boy," she said softly. "We don't want the shaving cream to mix with yours now, do we?"
"I guess not," I said meekly as we rose to our feet, "but you can forget the shave if you want to."
