Just A Cumrag Ch 04

My sister called me late Saturday night: one of her best friends' husband had been in a car accident and she wanted to drive over, to provide some moral support. As she didn't want to leave her husband Jason and her son alone for too long, she asked if I could 'babysit' Malcolm. I thought it was odd for a 19-year old boy to have a sleepover at his aunt's house, but I knew Malcolm and his father didn't see eye to eye, to say the least. Besides, it was none of my business. I was single, so I didn't have anything that I couldn't get out of; I agreed to pick up Malcolm Sunday morning and promised that he could stay as long as necessary. When I got there around 9am, Malcolm was all set to go; my sister had already left, so it was just him and his dad. Out of courtesy, Jason invited me in for a minute, but since I could feel the tension between them, I decided against it. After quick goodbye, Malcolm put his luggage in the trunk and we drove off. Although there was room next to me in the passenger seat, he apparently preferred to sit in the back seat, so I let him. He looked like your typical teenager: baggy clothes, iPod in his ears and silent as the dead. It was a long drive back to my house, so I welcomed the initial peace and quiet.

There was very little traffic and the car stereo wasn't on, so except for the humming of the engine, the car was pretty quiet. Suddenly I heard a familiar whooshing sound, like skin rubbing against skin. I looked back in the mirror, but all I could see was Malcolm staring out of his window, at first. Upon closer examination I noticed that his whole body was gently rocking back and forth. At the same moment, I heard his breathing getting louder and more erratic. Surely he wasn't... I thought to myself as I quickly glanced at the back seat – after making sure the road was clear. What I saw left no room for interpretation: Malcolm had taken his huge, swollen cock out and was wanking it in a steady pace.

Oh my god, I thought, as I faced forward again, fighting a smile. His iPod prevented me from making a calm, gentle remark, and I sure wasn't going to make a scene over this. I simply put on some music to zone out his rubbing noises, figuring the less awkwardness the better. A few minutes later, I heard him panting and wheezing – loud enough to surpass the car stereo; I knew very well what was happening, but looked back anyway. With his head tilted back and his eyes closed, Malcolm furiously jacked his massively swollen cock until it exploded. To my surprise he did nothing to contain his sperm, quite the contrary actually: he purposely wobbled his ejaculating cock around loosely in his fist, sending drops of cum flying in all directions. He just didn't care: his clothes, the back of the seat in front of him, the door, the window, the floor... virtually everything got plastered in his thick cum. When he was done, I quickly faced forward again, pretending I hadn't seen a thing. In retrospect, that might not have been the smartest thing to do, but what else could I do: make a scene? Kick him out of the car for rubbing one off? I figured it was best to ignore the whole thing. About half an hour later we stopped for gas; Malcolm had stepped out of the car and was stretching his legs by walking around.

As I got back in the car, he opened the passenger door and asked. "Is it okay if I sit here?" briefly taking out his iPod to wait for my reply.

"Sure." I replied. That way you can't get any more cum on the backseat, I thought to myself.

We fastened our seatbelts and I drove off.

Nearly an hour later, I quickly glanced over at him – as I did every couple of minutes; I couldn't believe it: he was at it again! His right hand was pumping up and down his hard shaft as he was gazing out of his window. Surely, he had to realize that I would notice; I guess he simply didn't care. Annoyed, I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't find the right words to express my indignity; besides his iPod would require me to either shout or touch him, neither of which seemed like the right thing to do. As I was weighing my options, he suddenly turned his head, briefly looked at me and then turned back. Now he knew I had been watching. God, how did this become so complicated so fast. By not speaking up as soon as I had the chance and now getting caught watching him, it was as if I was complicit. So, once again, I just focused on the road and tried not to look at the masturbating that was going on right next to me, which I noticed from the corner of my eye anyway. For minutes on end, I kept staring in front of me as Malcolm kept pumping that big dick of his relentlessly, probably working up another big load. Although I was a bit curious to see him cum again, I was also hoping he wouldn't blast all over my car again. Unfortunately, I got my wish: when we were about ten minutes from the house, Malcolm suddenly undid his seat belt and got on his knees on his seat, facing me. Surely, he wasn't going to... I thought as he leaned forward, putting his free hand against my head rest for support and furiously pumping his dick with the other. Just over a second later, his cock juice started squirting out: all over my right arm, the steering wheel, my blouse, my skirt... some of it even splattered against the right side of my face! I hit the brakes and swerved off the road, but by the time I had pulled over safely, his balls were empty and he was getting back in his seat.

Nevertheless, I yanked at his iPod, pulling the earplugs from his ears and shouted:"What the fuck Malcolm? I may have been willing to overlook the fact that you came all over the backseat but this is inexcusable... look at me, I am a mess; there's cum everywhere: the steering wheel, my clothes, there is cum ON MY FACE for Christ sake, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I am sorry." he said. "I thought you'd be cool with it."

As I took some tissues from my purse and started cleaning his cum off my face, I said:"What on Earth could make you think that I would be okay with something like that, for fuck's sake!"

"Sorry aunt Erin, it won't happen again." he said, as if he was apologizing for leaving the water running. Although I was still very angry, I decided not to pursue the matter any further; I had said my peace and he had apologized; as far as I was concerned that was the end of it!

When we got to the house, he took his suitcase and went up to the guestroom to unpack. I had calmed down in the meantime and decided to order some pizza. About an hour later, we were at the dinner table, eating pizza and talking, catching up on what he'd been up too lately – which wasn't much. Towards the end of dinner, my boss called, enquiring about some big project I had been working on. I had barely been talking on the phone for half a minute, when I noticed Malcolm's right hand disappearing under the table. After a few seconds I noticed his arm starting to make familiar movements; I couldn't believe: he was whacking off again! I gave him a stern look – it was all I could do without interrupting my conversation with my boss – but he simply stared back, unimpressed. After about five seconds, his gaze lowered to my cleavage and my breasts. Disgusted with his behavior, I got up and walked into the living room, while I continued listening and talking to my boss. After sitting on the couch for about three more minutes, I was baffled to see Malcolm suddenly walk up to me with his cock in his hand, still jacking it. He stopped right in front of the couch, aiming his big dick at me and started ejaculating thick, fat cum ropes onto my clothes: my skirt and blouse, which already had some dried up cum on them, now received a full cum shower. I tried to get up and move out of his line of fire, but he was standing so close to the couch that I couldn't; at least not without a fight, and that would surely have alerted my boss. After spewing some additional cum on my arms, my skirt and my bare legs, he shook his cock around a bit and then walked back into the kitchen.

He did not just do that! I said to myself as I jumped up and looked down at my clothes and skin. I paced around the living room, staying clear of Malcolm till the phone call was over: he was going to get one hell of an earful as soon as I got off the phone!

By the time I did – nearly fifteen minutes later – his cum had all but dried up and his blatant transgression already seemed less critical, but still, I wasn't going to stand for this! I stormed up to the guestroom, barging in and found him playing with his phone.

"Look, you pervert." I shouted. "I don't know what disgusting little game you're playing here, but it ends here and now... if you feel the need to pump your cock and empty your balls, you do it in private! You don't do in front of me, and certainly not on me. Is that understood?"

"Yes aunt Erin." he replied. Although he sounded sincere, nothing about his body language or behavior indicated that he was the least bit sorry. "I just got so horny when..."

"I don't wanna hear it Malcolm." I interrupted him. "Stay in your room for the rest of the day!"

And with that, I walked out of the guest room, slamming the door shut. As I walked into the bathroom and took off my cum stained skirt and blouse, I realized that I wouldn't be able to enforce his imprisonment if he challenged it. Luckily, he didn't. After using a wash cloth to clean his dried up cum off my skin and throwing my soiled clothes in the hamper, I put on some sweat pants and a loose t-shirt and went downstairs to watch some tv. Malcolm wisely hid in his room as requested, and except for hearing him fix himself a sandwich around dinner time, I couldn't even tell he was there.

Around 10pm, I woke up – I must have dozed off during the film – as I felt something on my face; I opened my eyes and noticed Malcolm stepping away from me, holding his big cock. When I noticed a bead of cum hanging from his purple mushroom head, I feared the worst. Out of the reflex, not really thinking things through, I put my hand on my face and felt his thick, warm cum clinging to my face: needless to say, it was a lot! Except for my eyes, which he had apparently skillfully avoided, nearly all of it was drenched. Baffled by his audacity, I looked at him, then at my hand briefly – part of me still not believing what I knew had happened – and jumped up, running towards the kitchen, screaming:"You fucking brat!"

After rinsing off my face and washing away his cum, I used the kitchen towel to dry off my face and stormed back into the living room. He was just standing there, holding his shrinking – but still impressive cock – just looking at me. It was clear that he wasn't the least bit worried about my reaction!

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I screamed. "I told you this morning that your behavior was not acceptable, and that was just for you cumming on my clothes. Now you're cumming in my fucking face?! What the hell is wrong with you, you little shit?"

"I am sorry aunt Erin." he said.

"Don't give me that crap! This is the fourth time you've cum in my vicinity and the third time you've cum ON me... IN LESS THAN A DAY... I don't know what you are, but you're definitely not sorry! Get out of my sight." I shouted.

As he started walking out of the living room, I added:"And I assure you, there will be hell to pay when your mother gets back, you perverted little fuck!"

As I looked at him, I could swear he was smiling just as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. My god, he had gotten me so angry.

As I pondered my predicament and thought back to everything he had done to me so far, I suddenly felt a familiar feeling between my legs. I jumped up, suppressed everything I was thinking and feeling and went to bed. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop myself from replaying everything that had happened over and over again in my mind. Part of me, actually started rationalizing Malcolm's actions: he was a 19-year old boy, his sex drive was probably driving him crazy, no girlfriend to take his frustrations out on and as far as his cum was concerned: it washes off. And it wasn't as if I had never taken a facial before!

Then, my rational side kicked in again: he was not my boyfriend, he was my nephew; there are some boundaries which shouldn't be crossed. Eventually I spent more than an hour thinking and arguing with myself. I twisted and turned for hours, desperately trying to get to sleep, but I was too horny. Eventually, close to morning – from pure exhaustion – I finally fell asleep; only to be awakened by my cell phone barely two hours later.

It was my sister, calling to check in and inform me of the situation: her friend's husband was still in the ICU; all of the surgery had gone well and the doctors were mainly hopeful, provided he would wake up on his own in the next few hours. When she asked to talk to Malcolm, I hesitated for a second, questioning whether I should inform her of her son's behavior or not, but decided against it: this was hardly the time nor the way to have this kind of talk. I got up and walked into the hallway, trying to find Malcolm. After checking the bathroom, I figured he was still sleeping, so I walked into the guestroom. To my modest surprise, he was sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed, masturbating, with my black panties – the ones I had worn yesterday – draped over his face, the crotch of it positioned under his nose. Not only did he not stop masturbating; he exploded as soon as he saw me, proudly blasting his rich cum all over the bed and onto the floor next to it. What was I going to do now? Rat the kid out, ruin everyone's day? Or play it cool?

"Um, he's in the shower at the moment. I'll have him call you back okay?" I said as I took a step back and closed the door, glancing at his spewing cock again. As I finished the phone call, I walked into the bathroom and gently closed the door, leaving it a little ajar. I put the phone on the sink and leaned forward towards the mirror, looking at myself, wondering what I was going to do about Malcolm. Just then, he walked in, butt naked and threw my used panties back in the hamper, looked at me and asked:"What's up?"

"Call your mother." I replied, as I watched him step into the shower and turn the water on. "I wanna talk to you about something else!"

"Like what?" he asked, looking back at me in the mirror.

"Like what? Like your behavior Malcolm, this is not a healthy situation!" I blurted out. "You can't just use my underwear for your personal pleasure, I am your aunt!"

"So? You're also a woman, and I like the way your pussy smells!" he replied brazenly.

I was speechless... I didn't know what to say or do anymore. When I glanced at him for a second, in the mirror, I noticed him staring at my ass. My extremely short night gown – which barely covered anything as it was – had ridden up because my leaning forward on the sink and had thus exposed most of my ass crack. It dawned on me that I had also walked into his room like that; no wonder he had ejaculated as soon as I walked in, I thought. I had to keep up appearances, so I grabbed a towel, covered myself up as much as possible and said:"We'll continue this conversation when we're both dressed."

I walked out of the bathroom and headed for my room, kicking myself for wearing such revealing sleeping attire in front of a 19-year old boy, who had already been pumping out more cum than your average male porn star. I put on a blouse and a skirt and headed downstairs, where I started breakfast.

"Good morning." he said when he came down about ten minutes later.

"Morning."

We didn't speak for several minutes as we both knew the topic I wanted to discuss and neither of us felt the need to ruin breakfast over it. However, as I was skimming over the newspaper and sipping from my coffee, I noticed his right hand slipping under the table.

After a few seconds of highly recognizable movements, I sighed and said:"Malcolm, could you please stop pumping that thing for five minutes?"

"I am sorry aunt Erin, I can't help it... my cock gets so fucking hard all the time!" he replied.

"Watch your language, young man." I replied sternly, yet I didn't order him to stop jerking, and with every second that passed, it became harder to tell him off. After about fifteen seconds, I just gave up and continued reading my newspaper. I could also simply have walked out of the room, but I didn't. The sounds of him pumping his dick filled the room and made it virtually impossible to focus on anything else. Suddenly, after a matter of minutes, I felt cum splattering against my bare skin: the little bastard had jerked himself to a finish and was simply dumping his cum under the table, onto my legs. After quickly moving my legs out of the way and checking whether my skirt was still clean – it was – I decided to let this one go and sipped from my coffee. I really didn't want to start screaming again; besides I had had the chance to stop him a few minutes earlier.

After breakfast, I used a kitchen towel to clean the cum off my legs and went for a walk, figuring both Malcolm and I could use some alone time. When I came back, nearly three hours later, I found him lying on the couch in the living room, watching a movie and pumping his cock for a change.

Trying indifference as a new approach, I walked right past him, towards the kitchen and asked:"At it again?" Even at a glance, I could tell he had been beating off for quite a while; his cock was huge, throbbing and dark red from all the blood pumping through it. I felt my pussy tingling as I walked into the kitchen, trying to get the image of his giant erection out of my head. As I sipped from a bottle of water, Malcolm walked in, still pumping it.

Worried what he might do – and what I would allow him to do – if I didn't react, I forced myself to look at him strictly and said:"Malcolm, could you please go do that somewhere else?"

"Can't I just do it in front of you? I mean, you've seen me cum before, right?" he replied.

"Malcolm, I don't..."

"I want you to watch me empty my balls, right here!" he interrupted me.

"But I..."

"Please, please aunt Erin! I want to look at you as I cum... you're so beautiful!" he cut me off again.

I knew it was a line – a cheesy one at that – but still he got me to doubt myself for a second. At least, this time he had the decency to ask for permission first, I told myself. I was rationalizing his inappropriate behavior, because a big part of me wanted this to happen too. After taking another glance at his big, fat cock, I heard myself say:"Fine, but not on me; not on my clothes and not on my body, okay?"

"You got it!" he said as he – quick as a cat – climbed on the kitchen counter and started jacking off furiously, fast and hard. Barely twenty seconds later, the first, thick jet of cum shot of his cock and effortlessly covered the whole distance clear across our small kitchen, splattering against the lower cupboard on the other side of the kitchen. Immediately several more jets blasted out, as he moaned loudly and waved his cock all around, making sure there was cum flying in all directions. After five or six large jets, he started catapulting small droplets all over the place: on the counter, the floor, the cupboards on each side of him, the kitchen sink, the kitchen table and chairs two meters away from him. There literally wasn't a thing left in the kitchen which didn't at least have a speck of cum on it; including me... although I had moved as far away back as I could as soon as Malcolm began ejaculating, he had managed to hit my shoes with several drops.

"Are you empty now?" I asked rhetorically, highly impressed by the sheer amount of sperm he'd shot around. Malcolm hopped off the kitchen counter and squeezed out the last string of cum as he passed me by, deliberately drawing a gooey, white line across my red skirt. As soon as I felt him brushing up against me, I turned and looked down, but the damage was already done.