Aunt Char And The Secret Photos Pt 01

Sam, an attorney, about to make partner, returns to his hometown to help celebrate the accomplishments of a dear uncle. When he arrives, his Aunt Char surprises him with some secret photos. She makes him a fair offer in return for a pledge of loyalty. Would the lawyer conclude it was blackmail?

All characters in this work of fiction are adults, 18 years or older, and able to consent to activities. It is incestuous, but loving and mutual.

When his Uncle Marvin died, he left a lot of money to the community foundation to build a nature park, walking trail, and skate board park, all connected together on a piece of land where a former tire factory had been. Now two years after his death, the city was going to honor Marvin by naming the park after him. So, Sam made the trip back to his hometown to be there for the ceremony. He was about to make law partner, and a few days away from the firm were no problem to arrange.

It was important for him to be there for his Aunt Char. Aunt Char and Uncle Marvin were more like parents to Sam than his own mom and dad. They were smart, educated, and successful. By that, he meant Uncle Marvin was good at business, and they had more money than anyone Sam knew. Certainly more than his dad did.

In short, they took him in as one of their own. In Sam's mind, Aunt Char and Uncle Marv were, like, normal.

Normal. Now there is a word for you. His mom and Aunt Char could not have been more different. Where Sam's mom was strait-laced and private, Aunt Char was open, free, and unashamed of who she was.

Sam had several images fixed in his mind that have, on more than one occasion, served as masturbation material. He was home from college on Spring break, and just dropped by to see Aunt Char and Uncle Marv. He did not announce he was going to visit, but then he had no-knock privileges. He looked around and thought he heard someone in the den.

He stood in the hallway and saw Aunt Char sitting at her desk writing a note. She was in the process of dressing, apparently, and stopped to write something. Her blouse was open to her navel. She had no bra on, and her crossed legs were bare. He guessed she was wearing panties, but could not see. And she had on a hat!

It was all perfectly explainable: she was preparing for a summer party and was trying on her lightest outfits, considering what hat to wear, when she suddenly remembered to write out a birthday card. He knew it was a birthday card because he saw the dollar bill sitting on the desk. She always put a dollar bill in her cards.

She looked up and smiled, "Well, Hi, Sam! I didn't hear you come in. I'll be only a moment longer, then I want to hear all about this semester!" And she went back to her writing. He stared at her breasts, covered only partially by the open blouse. Her breasts were full and sagged delightfully in a rounded arc, swaying slightly as she tapped her foot absent-mindedly. He was hard as a hammer and made an excuse to leave and visit later.

"Oh no need to leave, darling. Just finishing up here. Say, can you drive me?" She said ever so teasingly and smiled up at him. That smile was both kind and tempting. She knew Sam was staring at her breasts and could surmise that he was erecting under his shorts. Sophomore hormones were rampaging in his body. Even if she was innocent of any other meaning, Sam responded stiffly.

Stammering, he said, "Sure, I'd love to drive you." His heart was furiously beating now and his cock was getting sore pushing against the material in his shorts. A fleeting thought: "Would I ever be able to drive her like I want to? Deep in her cunt, filling her with my cock and..." She interrupted the burgeoning idea.

"Good! I'll be ready shortly. Want to get the car? I'll meet you downstairs. Just a few errands around town."

Sam, obeyed and brought the car around. He had nothing better to do that day. When she came down, she was in that same blouse. No bra, just a camisole underneath, just enough cover to be polite, yet alluring. Her nipples were prominent under the silky material. He could just imagine the stares she got from envious, petty women and horny, appreciative men. Aunt Char was so unassuming, though, he was sure they just accepted her as free, or even a bit eccentric. Besides, when most of the town was employed by his Uncle Marv, she was given room to be a tad eccentric.

The second powerful memory was when he was a junior in college. His aunt and uncle had invited him to join them on vacation. After a long day at the beach, he and his cousin Russ and he were in their beds, listening to a ball game on the radio. It was a hot night, and they just had sheets covering them. Aunt Char came in to kiss them goodnight, something she still does even now when Sam visits. She was just doing her mom duty, even if they were approaching 21

She sat on Russ's bed and leaned down to kiss him first. Her nightie was about as thin as an angel's wing and hid nothing at all. Sam followed the course of her nipples as she leaned over until they brushed against the sheet. Her breasts hung down in slow curves, rounding at the bottom, suspended from her shoulders. As she rose from her kiss, they swayed heavily and flattened again against her chest, nipples pressing outward. Russ merely grunted a g'night, having long ago tired of his mother tucking him in.

"You're next, Sam." She squared her shoulders so that her nipples pointed toward him, leading her in his direction. He tried—he really did—to look her in the eyes, but it was really hard. And so was he by this time. When she sat on Sam's bed, she lay her hand on his upper thigh. Nothing aggressive, but it was high enough to be only inches away from his stiff cock.

"So, what's the score?" she purred softly. Again, a double entendre for him to interpret. Sam stammered incoherently. Over in his bed, Russ said, "4-3, bottom of eight. Molton on the mound. We have two on."

Aunt Char shifted her position, pulling one knee onto the bed in a figure-four manner, causing her hand to press down on Sam's thigh, pulling the sheet tighter across his straining erection. "Now there is a funny thing," she said, looking at him.

"What's that, Aunt Char?" Worried she was talking about his rampant cock.

"The mound. We always make sure and talk about who's on the mound. Like the mound is the most important thing. It's so... I don't know...bush league." She gave a little laugh. "Bush league. Now there is another funny term."

Did Sam, smell her womanly aroma or was it his imagination when she started talking about the mound? Sam knew Aunt Char's mound was directly in front of him. He could not see it because of the shadows, but he was sure she had a full bush down there. It was not the fashion then for women to shave themselves bald. It would have been, well, bush league.

Sam was speechless. His mouth was dry and he was sweating. His cock was surely leaking. His beautiful, loving aunt was sitting on his bed letting him fill his eyes, teasing him with her wordplay. And her hand was so close to his hard cock. The slightest move and he would explode.. Maybe she knew that and was teasing him all the more, therefore.

Aunt Char leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. That caused her breasts to sink on to his body and her wrist to lie across his cock. Her hand remained motionless on Sam's thigh for a moment longer. She rose slightly looking at him directly and let her hand drift upward completely covering his swollen manhood. Sam felt the warm pressure she applied with her palm on the shaft and her fingers deftly splayed around his balls.

"Sam, I am so happy you are with us. You are so special to me. (she squeezed him for emphasis) And to our whole family. Isn't that right Russ?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess."

Russ could not see her hand lying atop Sam's cock, nor the fact that his mother's breasts hung just inches from Sam's face. She hid that movement from him. It was just Sam and Aunt Char in a moment of intimacy that did not go any further, though, God, how he wanted it to.

It did not take Sam long, after she left, to explode warm cum into his pajamas. He knew when Aunt Char did the laundry later in the week, she would recognize stains and suspect when they were made. He hoped so, at least.

On the long drive back to his hometown, those memories had his cock at full stand, leaking, and needing to be stroked. Sam unbuckled and pulled his pants down slightly, fishing his cock out of his underwear. In full view, but perhaps only to a passing truck, Sam contented himself with stroking enough to keep his erection firm. He liked to edge to the point of cumming and then relax a bit, letting his self-arousal last as long as possible. When he did ejaculate at last, it would be forceful and plentiful.

Sam, like many men, indulged in watching porn. Often. Whenever he did, and happened across images of women who reminded him of Aunt Char, he downloaded them, keeping them in a separate, secret file. He took a risk naming the file "Aunt Char" knowing that if anyone found the file, they would immediately see a history of lust in those pictures. A history because he had images of women at various ages forming a treasury of pictures reminding Sam of Aunt Char. What he did not have was any actual images of her. That would change.

Sam soon crossed into very familiar surroundings and was pleasantly surprised to see the place had undergone something of a rebirth. The park complex Uncle Marv had made possible was attracting younger families and entrepreneurs who saw the quality of life as a recruitment plus. Uncle Marv had done so much - such a shame that he was no longer around to see the fruits of his labors. It made Sam sad, but proud that his uncle was being honored by the city with the naming ceremony - honoring him in his absence.

Making the turn onto Aunt Char's street was nearly automatic, having made the trip so many times over the years. He could likely have found it in his sleep. And lucky for him, because I was terribly sleepy after a long drive. He stowed his cock and balls, pulled his pants back up and tried to arrange himself to be presentable.

At last he pulled in the drive and took the walkway to the house. He was about to knock when the door flew open. Standing there in a swimsuit and cover-up was his aunt. "Oh, Sam! You're here! Are you hungry? Did you stop along the way? What time did you leave? Want a drink? You look sleepy. Need a nap?" Then she chuckled softly, realizing she had been peppering him with questions.

Aunt Char threw her arms around him and hung on. At the natural time to break a hug, even with close family, Sam tried to relax a bit so she would let go, but she held on. So, he hung on as well. The erection he had been stroking, returned quickly and boldly.

With his arms around her back Sam felt how trim she was. His arms were long enough around her back he could almost feel the swell of her breasts at his fingertips. Though she had a swimsuit cover-up on, it was clear her two-piece was just large enough to be considered decent. Not that anyone would see her at the pool. The house sat on a large lot and was well landscaped for privacy.

When she finally let go from her hug, she stood back and looked at him, first down at the bulge she had felt in his trousers. Then into his eyes. "YOU are so handsome! I am going to be the talk of the town with you as my escort." What Sam saw was a beautiful woman in her 60s who took very good care of herself. She was toned and tanned. Her demure breasts had sagged some over the years, but she had refused to have them surgically altered. Her hair was cut short and highlighted enough to give her a blond appearance though there was silver in there as well. Her eyes were as ice blue, as ever. She was just lovely. His cock responded to her beauty and to the memories he had of her.

Sam stammered, "What about Russ and Audrey? Won't they be here?"

"No, your cousins each begged off with family obligations: Little league, soccer, drama camp. Kids are so scheduled these days. No time to relax and enjoy family, like we did when you were all kids."

"That just seems wrong Aunt Char. It's their dad who is being honored." Sam shook his head in disbelief, then realized his good fortune. "Well, so, it's just you and me, then. I can't think of a better way to spend an evening than on a date with you."

Patting his cheek, she cooed, "Dear Sam, you look tired. Why not go upstairs and take a nap? You're in the big room." Sam knew the room. It was next to Aunt Char and Uncle Marv's room. They were connected through a bathroom whose doors sometimes did not close well. Sam had, over the years, stolen glimpses of her through the opening in that bathroom.

He hauled his gear up the stairs and saw on the bed were a pile of half dozen or so magazines. Laying his suit-case down, he picked up a stack of old Playboy and Penthouse magazines. They sure did not get there on their own. Aunt Char had placed them there for him.

The sight of those magazines brought a flood of memories. Uncle Marv had the best collection of men's magazines. He kept them in the basement den on shelves, arranged by year and publication. In their plastic half-boxes lining the shelves were Playboys from the 60s until 2017 when he died. There were old magazines like Gent and Nugget, valuable to collectors maybe, but not to a serious masturbator like himself. But there were also plenty of Penthouse magazines, Sam's favorite, because they had proudly showed women's bushes and nether lips.

Only after Rus and Audrey had gone to college did the magazines appear openly. No telling where Uncle Marv stashed them for years. It was an unspoken acceptance that anyone could peruse Uncle Marv's collection. On Summer breaks, when Sam and Russ said they were going downstairs to watch a ball game on TV, Aunt Char never interrupted them, never said anything. But she knew. Of course, she knew.

It is why she was so successful in arousing and teasing Sam by her dress and manner with him. Every time she kissed him goodnight, and bent down in a way that let him see her breasts, or sat on the bed with her legs crossed, she was teasing and teaching, letting him see how a real woman looked and moved. She was showing Sam the reality of a real woman to balance the fantasy images he jerked off to.

Sam got out of his clothes down to his t-shirt and boxers and lay back on the bed. As tired as he was, he could not fall asleep, so he picked up one of the old Playboys and flipped through it. The smell of musty paper fired his memory as he looked at the pictures and then smiled at the sight of the familiar staples holding the pages together at the centerfold. Sam unfolded it and smiled at the sight of the woman so naughty in her pose yet, by comparison to today, so innocent and charming. Sight and smell and memories combined to make his cock stir again. Like a starving man at a buffet who wants to savor tastes, but rushes to fill himself, Sam flipped through the pages quickly looking for the "one" photo of a woman that he would cum for.

His cock stirred in his boxers and soon slid itself to fully erect beneath the silky material of the loose drawers.

Light tapping at the door caught his attention and he dropped the magazine to his lap in time to Aunt Char coming in. She was now in a terry robe, apparently getting ready to shower. "I see you found my little surprise," pointing to the magazine. "I wanted to make you feel welcome, like the old days when you are Russ were so close."

"May I?" She wanted to sit on the bed next to him. She scooted a bit and she sat, crossed her right ankle over her left knee and put her hand on Sam's thigh. It was a practiced move.

With her left hand she pulled on the belt of her robe and tugged the robe so it was less tight around her body. In another setting, it would have looked completely innocent. Sam recognized she was letting him see more of herself. She had done that same move plenty of times before.

"I know you want to sleep, but I need to ask you something very important." His erection began to flag despite being able to see the entirety of Aunt Char's right breast. She shifted her weight and the robe parted enough to allow a tantalizing glimpse of her pussy. She looked down at her open robe and then back at him, smiling warmly.

"Sam, I need your help." He tried to concentrate on her voice and to make eye contact, but was distracted by the view of her body. "I have something I need to keep safe with someone I trust."

"What is it?"

"Well, I need to be sure no one will find it accidentally"

Sam's lawyerly mind engaged. "Well, why not lock it in your safe or a bank vault?"

"No, I need to know it will be kept in perpetuity and respected for its value, even if it is only sentimental."

"Aunt Char, I don't know what this thing is, but, of course, I would gladly see that it is safe. Is it and heirloom like family jewelry?"

"It's a flash drive with pictures on it. Very special, private photographs. You are the only one I can think of who would take care of it. I want you to have it. I need you to have it."

That was not at all the answer Sam thought he'd hear and he tried to recover. He looked at her very seriously now. "Of course, Aunt Char. I promise to keep everything safe for as long as you need me to. And to tell no one about it. I promise."

She breathed deeply, then let out a long, ragged breath. She shifted again, letting her robe slip open exposing more of herself to him. She pulled at the belt opening her robe farther, spreading its folds around her.

There was no way this was an accidental exposure to tease him. Revealing her body to him this way signaled something more. She was taking an enormous risk revealing herself physically and emotionally. In the same moment, Aunt Char was both terribly attractive and arousing to Sam yet so vulnerable and needy. Sam's cock responded to the excitement while his mind tried to respond to the seriousness.

She broke the awkwardness, "It will require some token of trust from you. It will be worth it, I can assure you. But we will be in this together up to our eyes. I can't give away more without knowing you will risk yourself as well."

"My God, Aunt Char, it sounds ominous."

She shook her shoulders, chuckled, and raised her head and chirped, "Oh no, you silly thing. It's nothing like that. It's more a matter of privacy. Something to be shared intimately. I have no husband, now, and no one to share things with intimately. I just need to know I can trust you intimately and that you will trust me."

Her open robe pooled around her body. She looked deeply into Sam's eyes and held them. She was being as deeply intimate as she had ever been with him. She shifted her weight and lifted her right hand, sliding it under the magazine, placing it on Sam's cock. Sam jumped at the feeling and his cock throbbed under her warm palm. There was only the thin material of his boxers separating her hand from his flesh. It is amazing he did not shoot a load right then, having stroked and edged himself for so long during the drive.

Sliding her hand down then, she felt for the gap where his boxers met his thigh and slid her hand up to feel for his balls. She cupped them gently and rolled them in her fingers. Then grasping them firmly, she said, "You swear I can trust you? That the things we say and do and share are between you and me and no one else? Swear it." She squeezed his balls tightly, beyond merely arousal, to the point of pain that from his groin into his stomach and to his throat.

He could not tell a lie in this situation because she would feel the change from the truthfulness of the moment to an attempt to escape. She had him by the balls, making him swear to keep her secret.

It was a very effective way to gauge the sincerity of a promise. Sam had learned in law school that an ancient tradition—described politely when a person would slide a "hand under the thigh—but more accurately, when one grabbed another man by the balls would confirm the sincerity of the thing promised. The word testify comes from the word testes, after all. Aunt Char had him by the balls and was asking Sam to testify truthfully.