Living with Great Aunt Helen -- Chapter 2
Chapter 1 described how Peter began an intensely sexual relationship with his maternal great aunt, Helen, after moving in with her while he completed a master's degree. At the end of the chapter his mother discovers the true nature of Peter and Helen's relationship. This chapter follows on directly from Chapter 1 and describes what happened next. Comments etc always welcome.
Sylviafan
After mum had gone I agonised for a time about whether I should mention to Aunt Helen that her niece knew all about our sexual shenanigans; I was certain that mum would say nothing so in the end I decided to keep schtum. I'd just come to this decision when there was the sound of a key in the front door. I was still feeling horny as hell and I imagined I could still feel my mother's quick goodbye-kiss on my lips and hear her parting shot -- "Lucky old Helen, I say". What did she mean by that, if it wasn't the obvious? I was confused, partly because I'd never remotely fancied my mother. She was, and is, a wonderful person and a great parent, but she's thin and rather flat-chested and what looks she might once have had have mostly faded with time and with living with my dad, who's a bit of an inconsiderate pig and expects to be waited on hand and foot by his wife. I don't know why she stays with him, unless it's just misplaced loyalty. But getting back to the point, the little exchange with my mother after she found out about Helen and me had stirred something inside. I was definitely aroused.
My great aunt came into the kitchen, where I was sitting at the table, took her coat off and put her handbag down on a chair. I got up and went round the table and embraced her and kissed her on the lips.
'Goodness,' she smiled, 'have I been away that long?'
Resisting the urge to drag her upstairs, or just fuck her over the kitchen table, I asked how the book club meeting had gone.
'Well it was alright until that wretched woman from the Post Office started blethering about the book of the week as though it was some seminal work of literature. It's nothing more than a modern-day bodice ripper!' I laughed. Aunt Helen could be cuttingly funny about the other book club members and their contributions. The only one she seemed to have any respect for was the chairwoman; she'd invited her around for dinner a few months ago and she'd turned out to be an interesting and elegant lady a few years younger than my aunt. The dinner had been enjoyable and Deborah, the chairwoman, had suggested that we both come round to her house for dinner the next time, although nothing had been arranged yet.
I listened as Helen did a well-informed hatchet job on the book, although only about a third of my attention was on what she was saying. The other two thirds were imagining my aunt tied to the bedstead in her bedroom while I pleasured myself on her sixty-nine-year-old body. Kissing, licking, penetrating...
'Sorry?' I said.
'I asked you if you'd had any lunch?'
'No. Not yet. The truth is, darling, that I am aching to make love to you and I can't think about anything else!'
My great aunt blushed, rather becomingly. 'Well, an old girl like me shouldn't turn down an offer like that. Would you like me to go upstairs and dress up for you?'
I kissed her again, this time sliding my tongue between her lips and she responded by opening her mouth and working her lips against mine. I pressed her back against the fridge-freezer, my erection nudging into her crotch. She gripped me tightly and we kissed hard for a minute.
'You really do want me don't you!' gasped Aunt Helen, breaking the kiss for some air. 'How very flattering.' She pushed me gently away and headed for the stairs. 'Give me twenty minutes, darling.'
I wandered around the ground floor for the allotted time then made my way up the stairs and into her bedroom at the far end of the landing. The curtains were drawn but there was still plenty of light in the room. My great aunt was sitting on a stool in front of her dressing table finishing off her make-up by applying bright-red lipstick. The room smelt faintly of solvent and I guessed she had removed her old nail varnish and applied a new coat. She was dressed only in black stockings, with thin seams, and a matching garter belt; she had long ago stopped being self-conscious about her appearance in front of me. Nor was there any reason why she should have been, Great Aunt Helen was gorgeous: pale-skinned, long-limbed and slim with well-defined hips and shapely legs. True, there were signs of her sixty-nine years: her breasts sagged and there were wrinkles on her upper arms and stomach and a tracery of fine blue veins on her thighs. But her breasts were still full and round with big nipples and she had a luxurious, thick, black bush of pubic hair, the same colour as that on her head.
As I watched, entranced, she finished her preparations and stood up, moving to the bed where she sat back against the piled-up pillows and spread her legs, sliding one of her slim hands, with its carmine-tipped fingers, over her breasts and down her stomach towards her crotch. This was a frequent part of our foreplay; Aunt Helen liked stroking her pussy for me and I liked to watch. Now I undressed and came and sat on the edge of the bed and watched as her long middle finger slid between her labia and emerged coated in her shiny secretions. She smiled at me and raised the finger to her nose, smelling her scent before sliding it into her mouth and sucking the juices off. As always at this display I was immensely aroused, rock hard and breathless.
We'd both come a long way in the three years since I'd moved in with my great aunt while I completed my doctorate in astrophysics at the local university. I'd been twenty-one and although I'd dated regularly as an undergraduate, I wasn't the experienced and considerate lover that I was to become with my great aunt. But Helen had undergone a more profound change, from a lonely and isolated spinster, decades past her last relationship and with rather Victorian ideas about propriety, to this delicious, wanton lady on the bed before me, keen to experiment, savouring the eroticism and taboo nature of our joining, and with a lust for sex that still surprised me, sometimes.
Now she opened her legs wide for me. 'Go down on me, darling,' she said in a throaty whisper. I needed no second invitation. Kneeling between her stockinged legs I buried my face in her glorious, silky black bush, tonguing her labia, slurping up her juices, rubbing my face all over her pussy, smelling her scent, pushing three fingers into her cunt hole and finger-fucking her while I licked the little nub of her clitoris, peeping out of its protective hood. Helen squealed and moaned and gripped the pillows with her long fingers. 'Oh God that's so good. Oh Peter, make me come...'
As her climax started I took my sopping fingers out of her cunt and slid the middle one into her anus, right in, up to the knuckle, and she came with a scream, shaking her head wildly, spital flying from her lips. Before it was over I knelt up and penetrated her, my seven-inch erection sliding easily into her lubricated depths. Then we were kissing, and she was tasting her juices on my lips and chin and I was tasting her saliva and thrusting my dick in and out of her sex hole. She stared at me wildly as I pounded her cunt: 'Tie me up, darling. Tie me up and have me!'
This was not an unusual request; Great Aunt Helen was supremely turned on by bondage and by being explored and fucked and pleasured whilst tied to the bedstead. In the early days of our relationship I had purchased a restraint system which we used regularly to tie her spreadeagled to the bed. Face up for conventional sex and face down when I took her in her anus. And it was her anus that I had in mind now.
'Kneel up,' I ordered, 'facing the wall.' She got up obediently and turned around, putting her hands on the top rail of the bedstead. She knew what was coming. I used a couple of Velcro straps to lash her wrists to the rail then sat back on my heels, regarding her.
