Aunt Kate's house is in London, close to college, so it made sense to stay there while I looked for more permanent accommodation. She's my father's brother's ex-wife, but both my father and his brother are complete shits who chose young flesh over family. Kate and my mother had that shared experience so remained close. When mum asked her, she was only too happy. 'Michael can stay as long as he likes. It'll be nice to have the company.'
Studying for my masters and a bit of a nerd, I was relieved that cousin Sophie was now living with her boyfriend, because she bullied me mercilessly when we were kids. I imagined I would stay in Sophie's bedroom, but Aunt Kate had little faith in this latest relationship lasting and suspected her daughter could come back at any time, furious her little cousin had taken her place. Instead, apologising, she put me up in her dressing room.
It was really the box bedroom, but Kate had always dreamed of having a dressing room so had colonised it with her extensive wardrobe. A successful businesswoman, she had only discovered her talents once her useless husband had abandoned her with a teenage child. To reinforce her sense of self she bought lots of expensive clothes and hung them on rails in the small room, alongside an ornate full-length mirror. The couch settee which, when pulled out, took up most of the space became my bed, but I didn't mind. I adored my aunt. The families had spent holidays together when I was a kid and she filled out a swimsuit much better than my mother. Very touchy-feely, she'd smother you with hugs and kisses and I got my first hard-on as an 11-year-old, watching a movie, snuggled up against her generous breasts. I credit her with my love of old films and big boobs.
Now in her mid 40s, she was still a great-looking woman, a pretty, round face framed by a wavy bob haircut, slender limbs and a full body. As she showed me the house, I tried to put all thoughts of snuggling in front of movies out of my head - she was my aunt for god's sake - but I could barely tear my eyes from her round arse wiggling under a silk pencil skirt. And, of course, her magnificent chest. Two heavy mounds bursting at the seams of her blouse. Sat opposite her at the kitchen table, it took all my will not to gawp at the deep, inviting cleavage she was unwittingly showing off.
That first night I had a terrible time keeping perverted thoughts out of my head. She was only the other side of the wall. I imagined her lying in bed, naked. Did she sleep naked? In my mind she did. In my fevered imaginings she also left the bathroom door ajar when she showered. She even did housework in just an apron. Christ! I might have to look for somewhere of my own sooner than I had planned.
I was still awake when she snuck into my room the next morning. A gentle finger tap on my door was followed by Aunt Kate entering quietly, dressed in a frowsy towelling bathrobe. Pretending to be asleep, in the dim light I watched her through half-closed eyes as she edged along the rail of blouses running adjacent to my bed. Choosing one, she peeled off her robe.
I was disappointed to see that underneath she was dressed in her usual tight business skirt, but on top she wore only a bra. Although her back was towards me I imagined her large juicy melons straining under the lacy fabric. My cock hardened. I longed to glimpse her fabulous tits. The long mirror was positioned just off but if I moved down a little I would be able to...
'I'm so sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed a blouse for work.' She hastily buttoned up before turning towards me. 'Should have sorted it out last night. I'm really sorry.'
'Don't worry,' I stammered. 'No problem, Aunty Kate. You look great, by the way. Really great.'
'You're a sweetheart,' she said, smiling. Then leaning over me she kissed my head and I got a sumptuous view down her blouse of her heavy, swaying jugs in her overworked lingerie.
'You can go back to sleep now,' she chirped before leaving. Yeah. Fat chance of that. As I beat myself off to a frenzied orgasm, I felt absolutely lousy.
...
I purposely stayed out with college mates that evening, but Kate was waiting up for me. She wore no make-up, her hair was wet and lank from showering and she was in her ugly bathrobe. But she still looked ball-achingly gorgeous. My aunt wanted to catch me before bed to tell me she wouldn't have to disturb me the next morning. She had her clothes ready for an important meeting and I could sleep as long as I wanted. The smile on my face wouldn't have fooled many people. The kiss goodnight made it a bit more genuine.
In the morning, I could hear her getting ready next door. I imagined her pulling panties over her round arse, teasing on tights, cupping her fat, round boobs in a sheer bustier. My hand found my old boy hard and I started to beat myself off.
Luckily there was a pause between the knock at my door and Aunt Kate coming in.
'I'm really sorry, Michael. It's this blouse. It's not right. Sorry.' She started to look through the rail. 'It needs to be just right.'
'Not a problem, Aunty Kate. Good to get a wake up call.'
'Don't mind me. Go back to sleep.' I watched hawk-like as, her back towards me, she took off her suit jacket and replaced her loose white shirt with a blue round-necked blouse. I sat up a little to get a view in the mirror as she changed. Her chest was stupendous, nestled in a satin balconette bra that offered it up to a grateful world. My hand went to my groin. Turning, she asked, 'What do you think?'
My hand pulled back sharply. 'You're beautiful.'
'No, Michael. Don't be silly. What do you think of the top?
'Oh.' I was stunned. Think fast. Try to talk calmly. 'I think I prefer the other one.'
Did she suspect? I mean, I did prefer the other one. The blue one was way too conservative. But the prospect of another glimpse of her large jubblies testing the fabric of her undies was way too good to turn down.
'Of course you do. I know what young men are like. It's all about the cleavage, isn't it? Well, the meeting will be full of young men. No harm in giving them something distracting. Much better deal that way.'
As she chatted casually, she took off the blue blouse and replaced it with the white one, this time not bothering to turn away. Why should she? I was family. It was perfectly natural to change your top. Unless your nephew was a nork-obsessed pervert.
'Tada! What do you think?' She was appraising herself in the mirror, running her hands over her fulsome hips and bum, teasing a strand of hair back into place.
'You look fantastic.'
'Knock it off, creep. But not bad for an old broad, eh?'
'You're not old,' I insisted.
'You're a dear, dear nephew.'
As she bent to kiss me goodbye her heavy jugs caressed my cheek. When the door was closed I threw the duvet off and grabbed my engorged dick. I tugged at it wildly in a whirlwind of lust. Naturally I didn't hear her coming back in.
'Michael!'
'Aunty Kate! I'm sorry! I didn't mean...! I thought you'd gone!' One hand desperately searched for the discarded duvet while the other tried to cover the throbbing erection that was refusing to die down.
'Good god!' Her mouth hung open.
