Aunt Anne And Her Friends Ch 07

1 Thanks for the positive feedback -- I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint those who have enjoyed the earlier ones. However...

2 This chapter is a teasing lead-in to the next. It was impossible to combine James' anticipation of the way things developed with a description of the events themselves in sufficient detail for a single chapter.

If you don't like this sort of approach, I have forewarned you so please bear this in mind if you read and especially if posting a comment.

If you haven't read any other chapters you should at least read chapter one.

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Despite my best efforts, it was hard not to gaze at Aunt Anne as she drove us both home that momentous Saturday morning. It had been difficult enough on the journey to her friends' home the previous evening (hard to imagine it had been less than twenty hours ago given all that had happened!) but now it was harder still. Her flame-red dress was itself eye-catching; as well as the colour, its figure-hugging fit caused it to stretch and crease deliciously.

The previous evening I had tried to imagine her naked body. Now I had seen it -- and touched, kissed, and even entered it. Then my desire for her had seemed an unattainable aspiration, a pipedream. Now, that desire had been consummated -- but fuelled further and not extinguished.

An accusing voice in my head reminded me that this woman was my own dad's sister. I felt depraved as I recalled our passion on the sofa-bed, watched by our female host and accompanied by her self-pleasuring. A louder voice in my head shouted in protest that this had been entirely consensual on my aunt's part, and in fact she had initiated it.

One big question kept recurring through the journey. Had it just been a one-off, or would she be willing to have sex with me again, in the privacy of her home and away from her hedonistic friends?

Other questions flooded my mind in the wake of that one. How should I behave towards her? Pretend nothing had happened, and wait for her to make the first move? What if she didn't? Would this indicate that she didn't want to repeat our performance? Or just that she was as eager as I was, but was confused how to act and was waiting to see if I took the lead? What if both of us wanted to, but waited in vain for the other to start things off? The tension -- and my mixed emotions of guilt, happiness and doubt -- caused perspiration to break out on my brow.

A few times Aunt Anne seemed to catch me gazing at her lap or at her little breasts. Reassuringly, she smiled and made no protest at my doing so. But she gave no evidence of welcoming my glances, either.

"Are you okay, James?" she asked as we were neared the outskirts of her hometown.

"Yes," I replied (though it was barely true). "Yes, thanks, Auntie. Why?"

"You just seem... a bit... quiet..." she added.

"Er, no... just, er, a little... tired," I replied. I gave a little laugh, and wished I hadn't. It had just been nerves, but I feared that it might have sounded smutty.

But my aunt smiled back. "Me too, love. Me too. Listen.... I... I'm really sorry about springing last night on you. I know it must have been a hell of a shock. I... I just hope it wasn't TOO bad a shock? And I thought, having caught you with that DVD... of older women, that is, that..."

Earlier that week she had gone to bed early and come down for something, and surprised me watching a porn movie in the lounge, in the early stages of jacking off to it.

Her mention of the incident unsettled me. It's difficult to know whether speaking about what had happened was more awkward to deal with than pretending that nothing had. I resolved to answer slowly, thoughtfully, in case I should inadvertently spoil everything.

"And I... I'm sorry about you catching me out with that DVD," I replied, scared about how best to proceed.

"But you like older women?"

"I... well I've never... until last night... but... yes!"

I changed the subject from being caught masturbating and back to the situation in which she had played such a prominent part. I suppose in part it was a way of offsetting her naughtiness against mine.

"You're not kidding when you say that last night was a shock though, Auntie. I couldn't believe it was happening. I mean, Lucy and Jack, and Caroline, and..."

"And...?" she questioned.

"And... and you, of course, Aunt Anne. That was the biggest shock of all. But... but it WAS also the nicest..." I added lamely. I was amazed how nervous and coy I felt given that we had had sex less than twelve hours earlier and slept naked together for several hours afterwards.

"James?" Her voice tremored slightly. "What we did... it was very wrong. It should never, EVER have happened. Should it?"

My heart sank. My worst fears were being confirmed.

"I know, Aunt Anne. I must admit, I feel really bad about it. Ashamed and... well, kind of dirty, to be honest," I said, trying to sound steady.

"Me too, love," she replied. "And... and we damn well SHOULD feel like that, too. But..."

My heart skipped a beat. A ray of hope was piercing my gathering gloom. I was anxious to play it cool, though, and not put pressure on her.

"Go on, Auntie..."

I tried to sound fairly calm, as I glanced at her little breasts, with the red fabric clinging to them, and to the alluring stretches and creases of her dress over her midriff and lap. I thought of her puffy nipples, her tattoo of the butterfly and flower, her hairless pussy, and the feel of being on top of her and inside her. I was half-hard and getting harder by the moment.

I looked at her mouth and yearned to kiss her as I had done in the night, ardently and eagerly as I spent myself inside her. I looked into her eyes. She averted them back to the road ahead.

"I... if you wanted, James... I mean, if you don't, I understand, I shouldn't have made advances on you, but if you DID want to... you know... again, while you're with me... I'd be very happy to let you... if..."

Her faltering encouraged me. It made me feel less stupid, but also it was clear that, like me, Aunt Anne was being pulled both ways. Most satisfying of all, though, was that, also like me, she seemed drawn more firmly to having sex with me again than to rebuffing me. And she was becoming increasingly nervous and reticent. I had to intervene.

"I... I DO, Auntie. I was... hoping you would... want to..." I stumbled. And, becoming bolder, I placed my hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle stroke through the warm, thin fabric of her dress. A swell of assent surged inside my jeans. Her eyes dropped to my lap, she gave a soft sigh, and, to my delight, left my hand where it was.

I had no intention of overdoing my caresses whilst Aunt Anne was driving, but contented myself with allowing my hand to remain fairly still, and every few minutes just gave it the lightest squeeze or stroke.

The tension was broken. Although one or other of us (I can't remember which) changed the direction of the conversation to everyday matters ("At least that rain has stopped -- did you hear it in the night?"), we relaxed, and laughed naturally and spontaneously. We also exchanged eye contact and hearty smiles.

With a shudder it occurred to me that we were acting almost like lovers, and not even just as aunt and nephew who had stumbled into having sex.

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When we arrived home I helped her unload the carrier bags that contained what she had taken to the "party". In the top of one was the white doctor's coat and the stethoscope that had belonged to her late father. I felt a twinge of delight as I recalled the brief sight of my aunt from the "room with a view's" spy-hole. She had been wearing that coat and had examined Jack's erection in a feigned medical way. And in those fateful moments I had seen the coat opened and had been treated to my first view of my own aunt's naked little breasts and her pink, cone-like nipples.

At the top of another bag were my pyjama trousers. Aunt Anne had secretly planned the whole trip, including the overnight stay at her swinging friends' house. And she had allowed me to spy on her and Jack, even if just for a few minutes. Then hours later, she and our host Lucy had conspired for me to be led downstairs in the middle of the night to find my aunt waiting, naked, for me.

An image came back to my mind: she was lying on the sofa bed, naked except for a sheet that was draped, not over her breasts or crotch, but ridiculously and seductively just over her midriff. My heart was pounding with desire at the memory and with longing to see her naked again, but I was determined to treat my aunt considerately and respectfully, and not to make a move right away, whether sudden or subtle.

My eyes locked onto the sensual stretching and creasing of her dress as she walked ahead of me to open the front door. I stared at her shapely bum and at her long, well toned legs below her modest hem. I followed her into the hall. I confess I couldn't take my eyes off the slinky stretching and creasing of her dress, nor off her legs and bum as I followed her into the kitchen. Part of me felt thoroughly ashamed of myself. But a greater part of me wanted her again. Desperately.

She smiled as I put the carrier bags down, and caressed my neck. She leaned her face to mine and kissed me, but after a few delicious seconds she withdrew.

"There are things I need to do today, love. I really MUST start sorting out the garage. When I moved I dumped far too much stuff in there instead of putting it away properly," she said softly.

Seeing my disappointment she broke into a big grin, kissed me again, and added, "Besides, you must be near-spent..."

I watched, spellbound, as her hand reached to my crotch. She squeezed my rising erection and balls gently.

"Down here I mean. You'll function better and it will feel more intense on two full tanks rather than on near-empty..."

I stared down at the hand of my dad's sister as it kneaded my genitals.

"Two full tanks and a big hard pump to empty them -- that's what you need!" she murmured, still fondling me. "It'll take a few hours, so you'll be able to help me... and then..."

Her crude suggestiveness and the momentary, suspenseful pause excited me. She kissed me, then placed her mouth to my ear.

"And then tonight, love, we'll have sex. As many times as we like. You can spend the whole night in Auntie's bed. And this time there will be just the two of us to explore each other, learn what we each like, without the distraction of a voyeur..."

Although we were alone, she whispered these words into my ear. It lent a very illicit, secret feel to what she said, though to hear such words form my own aunt was itself more than illicit and arousing enough.

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Aunt Anne changed into a loose-fitting cream vest top and a pair of denim shorts. To my slight disappointment she did so upstairs and in private, and when she came back down she was clearly wearing a bra under her top, though it was nice to see a hint of her very shallow cleft. As if to compensate, the gap between her shorts and her thighs held some promise of little glimpses up and inside. Besides, I had to admit that as we would probably be going in and out of the house several times, we did need to be discreet and not draw attention to ourselves should any neighbours see us.

We spent the rest of the morning in the garage sorting through boxes of stuff.

We went in through the solid wooden side door and made our way to the boxes at the rear. There was a small, very opaque window in one side wall, but it was partly screened outside by a tall evergreen bush. Aunt Anne pulled the door until it was almost closed, then stood and faced me. I watched her hands go behind her back and realised that she was unclipping her bra through her vest top. She slid each strap off her arms slowly and teasingly, and finally tugged her unhooked bra out through one armhole of her top. She draped it over a box of books. My pulse raced.

She stepped back to the door and wedged it open again

I re-lived her hoarsely-whispered taboo promise, "you can spend the whole night in Auntie's bed... just the two of us to explore each other and learn what we each like, without the distraction of a voyeur..." My thoughts drifted to Lucy, and to Caroline, and to the new boundaries I had crossed in the last fifteen or twenty hours. But my thoughts -- and my eager gaze -- turned back to Aunt Anne, the forbidden sex and the intimacy of sleeping side by side afterwards, and the naughty delights that still lay in store.

Of course, there were frequent and fleeting -- but deliberately offered -- views of my aunt's naked little breasts and enthralling, cone-like nipples inside her top as she leaned forward and squatted on her haunches. There were spellbinding views of the slight swaying of her little breasts under her top as she moved around. I was mesmerised. I had never found small breasts appealing. But I did now. Maybe it was because they were my aunt's and the taboo was itself a major force.

Aunt Anne also presented me with some lovely, teasing views up her shorts of her creamy thighs. I thought of her hairless pussy inside and longed to see and touch it again. Our eyes often met, and we exchanged beams and smiles; my aunt was clearly enjoying her lusty nephew's attention.

Her eyes frequently ran up and down me, too, though I am pretty average in height and build, and certainly no muscle-bound gym fanatic. The eagerness and overtness of her gaze aroused me greatly. No doubt the illicitness of our desire made us both seem sexier to each other.

Once she had decided which boxes to take inside, she pulled the garage door closed once more and pulled off her top. I stood gawping stupidly at her naked breasts and puffy pink nipples, but she smiled, put on her bra and pulled on the vest top again. Now presentable again to any neighbours who might see us, she opened the side door of the garage once more and we traipsed to the house and back several times with boxes of her clutter.

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I did a few odd jobs around the house in the afternoon while she continued to sort through her boxes, then I showered, and we ate. I tried not to keep looking at my watch. It wasn't easy. Any anticipation I ever had as a child awaiting my birthday or Christmas morning paled into insignificance compared to this day. Never had time dragged so slowly either.

She had changed her clothes while I was in the shower. She now wore a slightly closer fitting (though not tight) vest top. And she was not wearing a bra again. The shape and size of her breasts were half-discernible and half to be guessed at. It was just as enticing as if her top hugged them closely. And instead of shorts she was wearing a knee-length loose-fitting skirt. It was made of cotton and had a bold floral print design. We chit-chatted easily enough and I kept shooting glances at her breasts as we ate. She caught me looking several times and smiled approvingly.

As we washed the pots I was longing to touch her or kiss her, but refrained.

We watched a film on DVD for part of the evening. Although the sun was getting lower in the sky, its light fell across our faces. Aunt Anne got up and pulled the vertical blinds closed. I tried to make out the share of her backside through her skirt, but couldn't. Her legs looked lovely below her hem, though.

The closing of the blinds had another advantage than shielding our faces from the sun, however. When my aunt sat beside me again she took my arm, placed it over her shoulder and snuggled up against me. She allowed me to caress her shoulder -- naked save for the thin strap of her top -- and the top of her bare arm.

Her skin was smooth and warm. I tried to caress the top of her little breast through her soft, cotton vest top, but she nudged my hand away, giving a soft laugh and a "Not yet, love!" I felt as if I was on a second date at the cinema, trying to suss out how to make a move on some shy girl my age.

The dreadful reality hit me hard, almost with a physical jerk. I wasn't at the cinema hoping to make out with a girl my own age. I was anticipating sex with a woman old enough to be my mother. Worse still, she was my aunt. And she was anything but shy.

The movie contained some erotic (as opposed to pornographic) scenes, and Aunt Anne made suggestive faces to me when they occurred. Several times her gaze rested on my groin. She studied the bulge in my jeans and it rose in greeting involuntarily. She gave a soft chuckle.

At last the closing credits began to roll and Aunt Anne kissed me. We exchanged a few slow, lingering kisses. Then she broke away gently.

"I think we both need an early night, James," she said softly. I glanced at my watch. It was just after nine forty five. It had been a long time since I had gone to bed at that time on a Saturday night. But my habit wouldn't be hard to break tonight.

"I'm going to have a bath. Maybe you could just wash the few pots and swill out the cafetiere before you come up..." she said. She stood up and added, a little tentatively, "Do you like a bit of role-play, love?"

I shrugged my shoulders trying to imply "I'd love to if that's what you want", but in fact I dreaded having to dress up or act out some corny part.

"Oh, I don't mean anything over the top, James," she replied. I just mean do you fancy a little scenario -- just to get us going? You know, kind of break the ice. After all, it's our first time alone together. Last night we had Lucy to help us over our embarrassment -- and feelings of guilt..."

"Yes, fine, Auntie," I responded.

I watched her get up and go into the kitchen. I removed the DVD and put it away. I heard Aunt Anne leave the kitchen and head upstairs. I went through to wash our coffee mugs. I could hear the sound of the bath water being run above me. I tried to picture her stripping off to get into the water and wished I was there to see her, and to join her or at least assist as she bathed herself.

Then I noticed three cards on the worksurface. They were roughly bout postcard sized and bore typed text. I picked them up, intrigued.

I guessed that they were used at Bill and Lucy's "parties". They each contained an outline scenario for sex. I was relieved to see that they didn't contain a script to follow, or anything, just a few lines of a suggested scenario and the beginnings of a plot -- which, presumably, could then head in whatever direction the participants wished. I shook my head in disbelief as I thought of my aunt, whom I had always considered conservative and respectable, indulging in this kind of fantasy.

I preferred the suggestion on the second card, and headed up the stairs. The sound of water gently swishing and splashing came from the bathroom. I gave my erection a rub through my trousers. Aunt Anne would know from my footsteps and from where I headed which I had opted for.

The bathroom door was ajar and I peered through the crack, then sank to my knees on the landing carpet...

TO BE CONTINUED