Aunt Anne And Her Friends Ch 08

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

The bathroom was quite wide, with the bath to the left of the door, so the angle at which I was peering offered a reasonably good view. I half-wished that the door was open an inch wider, but the restricted view between the edge of the door and its frame was a key element of the secret voyeur scenario.

Aunt Anne was sitting in the bath with her back toward me. Her knees jutted up and well clear of the bubbles that peppered the water. She was soaping her shoulders and her long arms. The evening light in the room was soft, and a roller blind covered just the top third or so of the window.

I craned and twisted my neck. I gazed hungrily at her small right breast. Aunt Anne reached forward for the sponge, baring more of her back. It was fairly narrow, (I recalled from my secret examination of her clothes that she was a dress size 14) and her wet, shiny skin looked look very soft and enticing.

Her shoulder blades stood out against her pale, damp skin. She sat up straight once more and squeezed the sponge gently against each of her shoulders. Rivulets of water snaked lazily down her back and over her breast, caressing her skin.

Her puffy nipple was very pink and looked soft and enticing. Her breast was mounted high and barely sagged. She dropped the sponge back into the bath and soaped her hands, then rubbed her palms over her breasts. I could only see the right one, but its smallness meant that it moved slightly and understatedly to her tender touch. The tone of her pale skin and the pinkness of her cone-like nipple contrasted subtly with the film of soap and bubbles that adorned her.

Although the whole scene had been set up, my supposedly secret peeping thrilled me immensely. I rubbed my hardness through my jeans. And, of course, adding to the arousal was the doubly illicit element that the woman whom I was spying on was my father's sister.

Aunt Anne rinsed her gorgeous little breast with water from the sponge and I watched the sensual trickles of water running over her, tracing their path downwards on a journey that I hoped my fingers and tongue would soon follow.

She raised her long, wet legs and rested her feet one on each side of the bath taps. I twisted my neck to take in a series of confined, partial views. Her legs had doubtless once been shapelier, but they were fleshy rather than skinny, and well toned rather than fat. I guessed that it was partly down to her hobby of horse riding.

I watched, spellbound, as my aunt soaped her glistening long legs and rinsed them with gentle streams of water from the sponge. Her thigh muscles tautened and relaxed as she leaned forward to wash her ankles and calves, then she straightened a little more to wash her knees and firm, shiny thighs. My erection was straining against my jeans.

I tried to imagine her tattoo and her hairless pussy, hidden from my view by her facing away from me, and by the rim of the bath. I had seen them the previous night, but my desire for her had been kindled to a flame that I knew sooner or later and somehow would have to be extinguished. But not yet. Not till it had run its full course. I rubbed myself again. My heartbeat quickened with anticipation. I had read the role-play card and had a fair idea what was to happen next.

Aunt Anne stood slowly up. Her back was still towards me and remained so, despite my will beating upon her and urging her to turn and expose her front to me, her lust-lorn nephew. Her bum was delightfully curved, and a crease in her flesh punctuated the undercurve of each, as if underlining it for emphasis. The water trickled sensuously down her back, her buttocks, and the backs of her thighs. I twisted my neck to optimise the view.

She leaned down and sideways to reach for a white towel on the floor, and her little breast swung slightly forward into a near-pyramid shape. I realised that what she had picked up was in fact a towelling dressing robe. With her back still to me she slid it over her shoulders, tugged it into place and the movement of her hands showed that she was tying its belt. She knew full well that I was there watching her, of course, but it was fun to pretend otherwise.

Aunt Anne stepped out of the bath. The door now hid her from sight. Moments passed. I was becoming impatient.

Then a foot appeared on the edge of the bath and I saw the muscle of her leg flex where her robe slid open. Her face came into view as she leaned forward to examine her toenails. She exchanged the position of her feet and examined her other foot. I sensed the eagerly anticipated moment was imminent, and felt oddly nervous as well as excited.

She spoke while still looking at her feet.

"I hope you've been enjoying spying on your aunt, James!" Her tone was aloof and sardonic.

I said nothing. It wasn't as if we were following a set script. It was simply that role-play was uncharted territory for me.

"Keep quiet if you wish!" she called out in a chiding tone. "I know you're bloody well there -- and I know full well you've been peeping at me! Now get yourself in here!"

She did not raise her voice, but her tone was commanding.

I rose to my feet and stepped around the open door and into the bathroom. The soft, late-evening light and the steam in the air gave a slightly unreal, soft-focus appearance to the room -- and to my sexy aunt.

She was still standing with one foot on the edge of the bath, but she turned her head to face me. Her towelling robe was parted and I could see her creamy, soft-looking inner thigh. At the neckline of her robe I could just make out the top of her shallow cleft.

She ran her eyes up and down me.

"So -- as I asked before -- did you enjoy spying on your aunt, James?" she asked, gazing straight into my eyes.

"I... I'm sorry, Auntie... I didn't mean..." I blustered, eager to go along with the role-play.

"I didn't ask if you were sorry!" she snapped. Then her tone softened. "I asked whether you'd enjoyed it."

"Yes," I muttered.

"I see. And if I asked you to dry me off -- I suppose you'd enjoy that, too?" she asked in a calm but firm voice.

"Ye-yes, Auntie."

I saw her fingers playing with the bow in her towelling belt. Her movements were intended to look like a nervous playing with it, but I knew it was a sham.

"What -- you would stand there shamelessly towelling down your own aunt and getting an eyeful of her?" she accused.

"N-not shamelessly, Aunt Anne. No, I w-would feel very ashamed as I did it..." I stuttered, trying to think of a suitable response. I was warming to the role-play.

"But... but you wouldn't be ashamed enough to decline?" she persisted.

"No. Not... not if my auntie felt shameless enough to ask..." I countered. I was pleased to have thought up this assertive response.

"I see. I SEE..." she replied.

And her hands moved, and the belt slid open, and so did her white towelling robe. Slowly it parted, still covering her breasts. But her navel was revealed, and so was her pussy, unashamedly hairless, as if imploring attention. I stared at the pouting mound and pinkish labia. As I did so I saw the robe slide from her arms and nestle around her ankles on the bathroom carpet.

"You'd better do it then, hadn't you?" she gasped.

I turned to the towel rail and picked up the lemon bath towel. It was very soft and deep-piled. I stepped towards my aunt. She had pulled the roller blind right down now, hiding from any potential observer outside that we were both in the bathroom together. She braced herself subtly as I held a corner of the towel. She was trembling slightly. So was I.

I stroked her prominent collarbone and her shoulders with the towel. I gently rubbed the soft cotton fabric over her skin. I inched down to her breasts and dabbed the towel against each in turn, pressing down against her small orbs and feeling for her puffy nipples. I caressed them through the cotton.

I slid the towel underneath and pushed her breasts up, watching the slight and subtle rise of her modest flesh. I ran the towel lightly over her belly and her sides, fixing my eyes on her tattoo, the flower and butterfly above and to one side of her pussy.

I rubbed the towel lightly over her outer thighs and their fronts, but avoided her sensitive inner thighs for now. I knelt and stared at her pale, wet legs and, as I ran the towel down the sides of her legs and gently rubbed it against the backs of her calves I leaned forward and planted a kiss on her left thigh just above her knee.

She tensed and gave a sharp intake of breath. For an anxious moment I thought that even now she might change her mind and pull away. I brushed my lips against her soft inner thigh. I could taste traces of soap on her skin. I felt her fingers on the back of my neck. She caressed me. I rubbed the towel against her bum cheeks and, reassured now of her wishes, I fondled them through the fluffy cotton.

I stood up and rubbed the towel over her back. She almost matched my height and our lips met. I dropped the towel on the floor and we kissed. She pressed her soft, yielding crotch against my erection through my trousers. I caressed her back as we continued to kiss, snogging and smooching. To her soft whimpers of pleasure I added grunts of delight. Her hand slid up my tee shirt and stroked my back with her soft fingertips and with her nails.

I cupped her right breast with my left hand and rolled it tenderly, I cupped her left bum cheek with my right hand and rolled that, too. And still we smooched, moulding our lips against each other's. Her soft lips parted. Tentatively and briefly our tongues met, and parted, and returned for another little but slightly longer meeting until they were pushing and swirling together.

Aunt Anne turned slowly round. Stepping awkwardly backwards and still embracing and kissing me, she led me out of the bathroom and into her room. She felt behind her for the bed and sat down on its edge.

She had prepared the room already. The curtains were closed and on the bedside cabinet was the now familiar condom pack. One lay unwrapped but still seated on its foil cover. The bedside lamp was on. It was on the side of the bed closest to the window so would not cast any shadows to betray our intimate and taboo secret.

The radio was on for background noise -- presumably to prevent our being overheard by the neighbours. Obviously, as she lived alone, it would not do for any neighbour to overhear any other voice than hers from her room at night. The need to be quiet and secretive was even more deliciously taboo than at Bill and Lucy's; it was an actual, nor pretended need, with huge and long-term risks if not maintained.

I sat beside her, hardly breaking our ardent kissing. My mind went back twenty-four hours or so and I thought of the kissing that I had shared with Lucy. But this was in a different league altogether.

When Lucy and I had kissed and snogged, it was as two strangers brought together for no-strings, swinging sex. Now I was kissing a woman whom I had known all my life, of whom I was genuinely fond, yet whom I had just discovered sexually. It was a heady mix of familiarity and uncertainty, of guilt, shame and the defiance to go ahead despite the protests of conscience fuelled our kissing.

The fact that she was my aunt and that, whilst not illegal, what we were doing was most certainly taboo was, I freely admit, a potent element in the strength of our ardour.

Aunt Anne tugged my tee shirt and I obligingly removed it. She swept her lithe fingers over my chest then caressed my back as we continued to mould our lips together.

I kissed her neck and throat and planted kisses on her collarbone. Traces of soap still coated her skin, and I savoured the taste and the sweet fragrance. My aunt's fingertips and nails grazed my back. I kissed her on the mouth once more. For a few more delicious minutes we contented ourselves with lip kissing. Then Aunt Anne parted her lips and our tongues met briefly, withdrew, and rejoined, each time playing with its companion a little longer. We were both sighing and groaning softly.

I tried to caress her back with the same touch as hers on mine. She whimpered with pleasure. Our tongues were now pushing and pressing against each other. Then I inched my mouth over her chin and kissed her throat and inched slowly lower. My mouth followed the small crease that separated her breasts and I ran my lips across to tease the top of each in turn. I pressed my mouth against them, thrilling in their smallness, their firmness, the slight yieldingness.

Aunt Anne gave a nervous laugh.

"I sometimes wish they were a bit bigger, love..." she apologised.

I looked up into her face. Her gaze was intense yet tender.

"Don't say that, Auntie. I love them..." I replied.

And I meant it. Until now I had only ever liked breasts of at least B-cup size, but my aunt's breasts -- a mere A-cup -- and nipples captivated me. Their shape and size, their consistency and the slight way in which they moved were a new and delightful discovery to me. And I had never seen nipples like hers for real -- the areola and the point all merged into one cone-like, pink, round-tipped point. I kissed and stroked them. As with her collarbone, they were subtly but sweetly scented from the soap, and I relished its residual taste.

I planted a kiss on her puffy nipple and stretched her breast away, then released it. I planted a succession of little kisses around the cone-like tip.

"They're so firm... and so in proportion to your tall, slim frame, Auntie..."

Despite the radio I was still conscious of the need to keep my voice low.

I continued to kiss one little breast and cupped my hand over her other, then swapped over. Then I knelt on the floor before her. I nudged her statuesque legs slightly apart, and stared at her tattoo and shaved pussy. I rested my other hand on her thigh. It was warm and firm to my touch.

I fixed my gaze on her breasts again and renewed my pleasuring of them with my mouth and hand.

I heard Aunt Anne coo with pleasure and she caressed the back of my neck. The tenderness of her touch aroused me greatly. She murmured how nice a touch I had, how nice my kisses and caresses felt.

She raised her knees and rested the backs of them on my shoulders as I continued to kiss and toy with her little, protruding breasts. The backs of her legs were still moist from her bath and felt soft on my back. She braced one hand on the bed. Her ankles tapped against my back as she did so.

I drew her breast into my mouth, feeling its softness and the now tauter consistency of her nipple. It thrilled me to be able to take her entire orb into my mouth. I flicked my tongue over her nipple as my mouth engulfed it, and sucked slowly and gently, more firmly, then more softly once more.

Aunt Anne gave a low moan. So did I. And, very gently but with a slow, definite rhythm, she squeezed her strong thighs against my neck. I grunted with delight and, taking her cue, she squeezed my neck a little harder and a little faster. The backs of her legs and her ankles felt sensual against my back. I ran my hand over her thigh, savouring the softness of her skin and the firmness of her flesh. I sucked her breasts harder. She crooned her pleasure.

All the time I was painfully aware that the breasts I was sucking and the thighs clasping my neck belonged to my aunt. I blushed with shame and guilt, but the illicitness of what we were doing inflamed my passion rather than quenched it.

I stared down at her thigh. I withdrew my face from her little breasts and angled my cheek and face to her thigh that she was still working against my neck. I looked back up at my aunt's face; her eyes were half-closed in her bliss. I looked at her breasts. They glistened lewdly a little with a film of her nephew's saliva.

I kissed her thigh slowly and softly, slowly drawing my lips away. It gave a low slurping sound. I licked her soft skin gently, then more firmly. And I dug my hand under her fleshy thigh. Encouraged by my aunt's whimpers and croons I kissed her inner thigh, again taking in the slight soapy taste of her still-moist skin.

I looked up at Aunt Anne's face again. Her eyes were still half-closed but she was looking down at me and smiling blissfully. Her little breasts surged subtly as she continued to pump my neck with her fabulous thighs.

She leaned back, reclining half upright, propped up by her elbows. She parted her thighs wider, giving me a clear view of her hairless mound and of her pouting lips.

"Kiss Auntie's pussy, James!" she murmured softly. "Let Auntie feel your hard, wet tongue on her shaved twat and her juicy slit!"

My aunt's unaccustomed coarseness excited me. I groaned at the words and at the enthralling sight before me. I could make out the scent of her arousal. I wanted her badly but this was our first time alone together and I wanted both of us to savour every moment and was anxious to prolong things as long as I could.

Still kneeling before her, I worked along one inner thigh, working gently up and down, and alternately licking and kissing her sensitive skin, then, as I neared her pussy, I moved instead to her other thigh. I swept my lips and tongue around the edge of her slit, then swept my tongue lightly along its folds.

Aunt Anne gasped and again hooked her legs over my shoulders. I pushed my tongue slowly and firmly from side to side and watched her spongy flesh give way to it. She tasted sweetly musky. I chewed on her lips and stretched them away from her, then let them go again, watching them retract back into shape. Then I sucked on her hood and rubbed my tongue against her hard, sticky button. Aunt Anne groaned softly. I felt her fingers massaging my scalp.

After a few minutes she shuffled away and reclined higher up the bed.

"I think you need to take the rest of your clothes off, young man!" she murmured. "It's time for you to get your hard young cock out for Auntie!"

I stood up and pulled off my socks first, then my jeans and boxers. I saw my aunt's hungry gaze latch onto my erection. I clambered onto the bed beside her. We kissed again, eagerly and passionately. With one hand I fondled her little breasts and with the other I stroked her shaved pussy. Her slit was now moist.

I watched her hand -- my own aunt's hand -- engage my throbbing length, watched and felt her encircle it and squeeze it gently. She let go and made gentle but rapid scratching movements of her fingertips against my balls. And still we kissed, our tongues dancing and swirling against each other.

Aunt Anne began to rock her hand up and down my shaft but after a few moments I had to nudge her hand away. For several more minutes I ensured that it did not come into contact with her hand or her thigh, as I was concerned that I would come immediately if it did. I felt the peak of my arousal subside a little, but I did not want to wait too much longer now.

My aunt either sensed it or felt the same way herself. She gently rolled me onto my back.

"Me on top this time, I think!" she whispered.

I lay passively and watched as she knelt up. Although she was slim she was not skinny, and an alluring crease appeared across her belly. She took the condom from the cupboard and slid it onto me. She swung one leg and straddled me, facing me. Her little, pink-cone tipped breasts swung slightly as she did so.

She reached down and took my pulsing erection in her hand and, to my delight, she slapped it gently against her slit. It made a lewd sound, and her turgid flesh quivered in response. She pressed my tip against her pouting lips and rubbed it against them. I looked into her face, but she was gazing down at the swollen manhood -- her nephew's -- that was throbbing in her hand and rubbing her dank gash.