Paul had felt a little unsettled for a number of years, ten to be precise. He'd been happy enough, and he was innately cheerful and optimistic, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he ought to be back where he belonged. It was 1978, he was twenty-five and doing well at work. During the past eighteen months he'd left his parents home to live in a small apartment. There had been several young women in his life, and a couple of flings with older ones; one of them well into her forties. The world was at his feet but he felt a pull to return to where he'd been happiest.
Since his family had uprooted and moved to the Midlands a decade ago, he'd had a hankering to get back to the northern county where he was born and raised. He still had family in the north, and his beloved football team would always be in his blood through good times and bad; mostly bad. That's why just over a month ago he'd applied for a job with the northern local authority of his birthplace. The jump in wages was considerable, and his application had been speculative, so he was pleasantly surprised to get an interview. He was even more surprised subsequently when he took a call, from the personnel department of the northern local authority, offering him the job.
Having given himself no chance of landing the job, it had suddenly dawned on him how much he would have to put in place to make it possible to start in one month's time. When he visited his parents that evening to tell them his good news, his mother immediately phoned her sister, his Aunt Rose, to ask whether she could put him up for a few weeks, whilst he found somewhere to live. She said she'd be delighted, she lived with her husband Patrick in a large Victorian detached house with five bedrooms. Her son and his wife had moved to Canada, so she'd said to her sister that it would be nice to have a young man around the house again.
On the way home from his parents, Paul's thoughts lingered on his Aunt Rose. She was his mother's younger sister, and had always been his favourite aunt. But it had gone deeper than that, since he could remember, Aunt Rose had regularly provided the erotic stimulus for his self induced orgasms. He knew that she was six years younger than his mother, so she was twenty years older than him; his adolescent crush on her had developed and deepened over the years.
Later on, after some bedtime reading, he treated himself to a glorious wank, with his Aunt Rose in the starring role. He imagined that she had seduced his younger self on the sofa one afternoon, when she'd been alone and he'd paid her an unexpected visit. In his fantasy she'd been smartly dressed in a twin set, pearls, a straight skirt and heels; just like he'd seen her dressed at family Christmases in the late fifties and early sixties. In those days, she used to look like she'd stepped off the cover of a woman's magazine. The type that was full of recipes, knitting patterns and advice on how to look good for your husband; with a picture of a pretty smiling housewife on the front.
As he pumped his erection with his right hand, he imagined that she had noticed a bulge in his jeans as they sat together on the sofa. She had told him, in a sultry, teasing tone of voice, that as his Aunt, she really felt it was her duty to help relive his swelling. He offered no resistance as she slowly unzipped his fly, and reached inside for his hard cock. He shot his semen onto his chest as he imagined her pushing him down onto his back, lifting her skirt to reveal stockings and suspenders, slipping off her panties and straddling him. It was a beautiful toe curling orgasm, which peaked as he imagined the sensation of his stiff cock being enveloped by her tight, warm, wet cunt.
********************
Rose replaced the receiver and stood a moment in thought. Her sister had just told her that her nephew had got a new job in the area, and he needed a place to stay for a few weeks, until he could find suitable accommodation. She had readily agreed to him staying as long as he wanted. Since her own son had moved to Canada to start a new life, Rose had felt desperately lonely in the large old house that she occupied with her uncommunicative husband Patrick. What a pleasure it would be to have a friendly sociable young man around the house.
The joy and romance, such as it was, had disappeared from Rose and Patrick's relationship years ago. She tried hard to please him, but he was never anything less than morose, complaining and controlling. She couldn't remember the last time he had taken her anywhere but to garden centres and cheap cafes. They hadn't had a night out in the last decade, not even for a meal in a pub, as had become the fashion in those days.
Patrick was a motor mechanic by trade, an occupation he carried on at home by constantly doing up and selling old cars. When he wasn't covered in oil, he had his hands in the soil, losing himself in their large garden for hours on end. That was it, that was the sum of their marriage now.
Rose had no real friends, he'd made it difficult for her over the years to go out on her own and see people, to the extent that it was easier for her to stay in alone, than face the barrage of questions about where she was going, and what she was doing, followed by his inevitable sulk when she returned home.
Since her son had left home two years ago, Rose's life had been empty. She occasionally saw her older brother and his wife, and she visited her sister, Paul's mother, in the Midlands once in a while, but she had no real life of her own. A part time job two days a week in a local grocer's shop helped ease the boredom. Patrick hadn't objected to her taking the job, because the shop was just across the road from the garage where he worked, so he was able to keep an eye on her.
Rose had few opportunities for physical intimacy, she was, by nature, a tactile woman, but had no outlet for her affection and her need for physical contact. She and Patrick had indulged in sex no more than a handful times in the past five years, and not at all in the last twelve months.
In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had an orgasm, she thought vaguely that it might have been New Year's Eve 1967, when Patrick had dozed off after a failed drunken attempt at fucking her. In a frustrated half drunken state, she had masturbated, while imagining being fucked by her brother in law. The next morning, she felt so ashamed at the thought of the depravity of what she had done, that it had become her one and only self masturbatory experience; the guilt and repression of her religious upbringing had left a lasting impression on her.
She contemplated the memory of that guilt inducing act all those years ago. Sitting in her lounge, pretending to be engrossed in a magazine, while her husband watched football on television, she wondered if it was too late for her to find true love and sexual fulfilment in her life. She thought not, but at least the prospect of her tall, good looking nephew staying with her for a few weeks, gave her something to look forward to. She thought he looked a lot like his father for whom Rose had always had a secret admiration. She thought her sister was a very lucky woman indeed.
********************
Paul worked his required notice of one month, and made preparations to move back up north. He closed the door to his apartment for the last time and reflected on the women that he had entertained in the bedroom. He'd had several one night stands and a couple of relationships lasting a few months.
One of the memories that made his cock twitch most was of his fling with his line manager. She was in her early thirties and married, but they had both thrown themselves into a steamy three month affair when he first moved into the apartment. He still fucked her occasionally, when they took advantage of a long lunch period, or she dropped in for a quick fully clothed fuck on her way home after work; sometimes on the sofa, sometimes from behind as she bent over a table and sometimes as she sat on the kitchen worktop.
Another episode laced with eroticism, was when he was seduced by the headteacher of one of the schools that he had visited as part of his job. The shapely, attractive forty seven year old divorcee , dressed in a smart fitted jacket, straight skirt and heels with an ankle strap, had him hooked from the moment they met and she knew it. They met later for a drink, and he ended up being ridden energetically by the insatiable tigress in her stockings, suspenders and heels.
He bedded her once more a week later, and this time, after she'd ridden him to several orgasms each, she eventually allowed him to get on top, and fuck her until the light of dawn broke through his bedroom curtains. She gave a sultry running commentary while she coaxed him as he lay between her legs.
He laid in bed, still with a huge erection, watching her step into her dress and heels. She instructed him to zip her dress up, so he obliged by standing behind her with his rigid cock pointing skywards. As soon as she swept sensuously out of his apartment, he dived back into bed to relive his desperate desires with a sumptuous self induced orgasm. They didn't meet for sex again, and he found out later that her boyfriend had since returned from a three month trip to the United States.
When Paul arrived at his aunt's house, on the first Sunday in February, she greeted him with a big smile and a warm embrace. As she released her grip she tried to plant a kiss on his cheek, but he turned his head to look at her and her lips landed on his. The kiss was warm and more intimate than she had intended. They broke their embrace and he made embarrassed apologies, whilst Rose laughed it off.
"Come here honey, let's have a look at you. My, you've filled out, you look more like your father every time I see you."
