Aunt Jane Ch 02

When I awoke the next morning, I lay there for several minutes recapturing the experience of the previous evening. I had to think it through more than once to convince myself that it had really happened – or my imagination at work in some other way. The air was full of the smell of coffee and bacon, and though this would normally stir my appetite, I was completely distracted by my thoughts.

My reverie was dispelled by a sharp yell from Uncle Dick, warning me to get myself downstairs for breakfast or he would throw it out. I brushed my teeth quickly, pulled on my usual shorts and t-shirt, and started down the stairs. I was in agony with every step. I could not imagine how to face Aunt Jane. In retrospect, I seemed to have no problem in facing Uncle Dick, I was just unsure of how to retain my composure with my aunt.

I rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, relieved to see Aunt Jane at the range with her back to me. As I slipped quietly into my chair, Uncle Dick moaned about a baseball score in the sports pages he was reading. I was briefly startled when Aunt Jane slipped a full plate in front of me and gave me a peck on the cheek with a cheerful "good morning!" I smiled weakly without looking at her, said "thank you" and picked up my fork. I ate quietly, saying nothing until Uncle Dick jumped up, grabbed his lunch sack, and barked his typical farewell. I said "See ya tonight," glancing up from my plate to make eye contact with him while avoiding Aunt Jane's eyes.

Shortly after the door slammed, Aunt Jane pulled a chair up beside mine and slid into it. She put her arm around my shoulders and pulled my head close to hers, nuzzling me in a way that was more sympathetic than affectionate. I continued to avoid her eyes and said nothing, but she broke the silence. "Honey," she spoke in a near whisper, "there's no need to be embarrassed about last night. What happened was perfectly natural, and I'm glad I was able to help you."

I said nothing in reply, and she squeezed me closer and asked, "Did you like it?" I nodded a very meek but affirmative reply. "Good," she said. I want you to tell me whenever you would like me to help you." She paused quietly for more than minute, then whispered, "Would you like me to help you now?"

Though I can't say for certain how I reacted or that I reacted, she just might have perceived a very subtle nod of my head. In any event, she slipped her hand into my lap and began caressing my cock through the fabric of my shorts. She stroked over it with the backs of her fingers and her nails, and the effect was almost electric. My cock responded quickly, and I know that she could see, as I could feel, its rapid growth. As it became increasingly hard, her fingertips stroked up one side and down the other.

After only a minute or so, Aunt Jane put her hands at the waistband of my shorts and pushed downward, urging me to raise my hips. I did so, and she slipped the shorts beneath my hips, along with my briefs, exposing my fully erect cock. "Oh yes," she whispered, as she wrapped her fingers around it and began to stroke up and down its length. She moved her hand away briefly, and I panicked – thinking she was going to stop. But she paused only to rub her fingers across the cube of butter in the butter dish on the table, then wrapped them back around my cock and resumed stroking – only now with a motion that was even more fluid.

Now each of her strokes brought increasing urgency to my brain and body. She alternated the grip of her fingers on my cock, sometimes stroking the shaft with the tips of her fingernails, other times gripping it firmly with her fingers wrapped around it. I began making involuntary upward thrusts of my pelvis, rocking up to meet the downward stroke of her hand on the shaft of my cock. When her fingers reached the head of my cock, she would rub her thumb lightly across the tip and stroke the sensitive spot beneath the head with the tips of her fingernails.

"Unnnnnhhhhh," I moaned, almost caveman-like. My hips moved with even greater urgency now, my pelvic thrusts becoming more pronounced. Aunt Jane sensed an approaching climax, and her hand moved more rapidly. She tightened her grip around my cock and held her lips close to my ear.

"Yes, baby, cum for me!" she whispered, urging me onward. "Shoot that big load for me." Her thumb rubbed across the head with each stroke of her hand, and I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. "Let's milk your balls dry, honey!" she whispered hoarsely.

My hips literally lifted off the seat as her hand flew up and down my shaft. She sensed my imminent orgasm and snatched a paper napkin off the table. "Aaaahhhhhhhhh, " I groaned, as the first burst of cum shot up the length of my shaft. Aunt Jane slipped the napkin over the head of my cock as she continued to stroke the shaft.

"Yesssss, sweetie, shoot your load for me!" I responded with another sharp upward thrust of my hips as a second burst of cum streamed from the shaft of my cock, then a third, and maybe a fourth. This may well have been the most dramatic orgasm of my life to that point in time. A warm glow radiated outward from my balls, moving down my thighs and up my torso simultaneously. My hips dropped onto the seat of my chair, as my heart raced as though I had just run 100 yards.

Aunt Jane didn't wait for any "after-glow," getting up quickly from her chair as she squeezed the napkin around the head of my cock and kissed me again, lightly on the cheek. She simply took two steps toward the kitchen sink and began rinsing the breakfast dishes, her back to me. Though I didn't read it at the time, this was clearly a measure to minimize my embarrassment. I stared at her for a few seconds, still struggling to believe that this mature beauty was doing this to me. Her small round ass was poured into a pair of very tight, short shorts. A t-shirt hugged her torso, and as her hands moved in the sink, I could easily see the outer profile of her large, round breasts on either side of her ribcage. I snapped out of it, tugged my shorts up, grabbed my lunch from the counter, and slipped out the back door – being careful not to let the door slam -- and off to school, smiling broadly all the way.

To Be Continued...