Thankfully the hosts of the party had a decent sized garden. It was a hot, humid August evening. The heat had become increasingly oppressive through the day and even the faintest movement seemed to send a trickle of perspiration down the back. To be inside would have been unbearable. Even outside his shirt was sticking to part of his back, and his armpits were damp.
Pete attempted to be sociable but the fact that his aunt was the only person he knew, along with his slightly reserved personality meant that it did not come naturally. There was another issue, too.
The last few occasions when he had seen his Aunt Jo he had begun to feel sexually attracted to her. It was wrong, he knew – after all, she was his father's forty-four year old sister. But whatever she was wearing she always seemed smart and attractive. Her brown hair was fairly short and beginning to fleck slightly with grey, but it was always well groomed. Even this added to her appeal in his mind - his aunt clearly took pride in her appearance and made the most of it. She she was still slim, too.
She was also naturally tanned. She enjoyed being out in the sun and as well as her tanned skin she also sported quite a lot of freckles on her shoulders. Her breasts were smaller than he usually liked, but they looked firm and in proportion to the rest of her. Her legs looked good, too. They had lost some shape over the years but they were not fat and still looked good.
His aunt was facially attractive as well. She had recently needed spectacles and the designer frames that she had chosen gave her a distinguished air. Pete was twenty-one years old. He had had several girlfriends and considered himself to have average sexual experience for his age. He had often found older women sexy, but not to the extent that his aunt had begun to make him feel.
Oddly, he found her voice one of the sexiest things about her. She spoke and laughed softy but her voice had a slight throatiness to its sound, not quite husky, but something like it. To Pete, especially when his inappropriate thoughts about his aunt came to his mind, it made her sound very intimate and sexy.
He had not seen her for many months but she had invited him to come and stay with her for a few days and catch up with her now that he had graduated from college. He found it very arousing to be alone with her. When he knew she was dressing, undressing or showering he was almost painfully conscious that only a thin wall separated them and screened her nakedness from his view.
Out of genuine respect for her he tried to avoid leering at her, but it was hard not to. He tried to satisfy himself with fleeting, secretive glances. Once or twice she seemed to catch his wandering eye, but if so she said nothing. He hoped that she did not spot his frequent hard-ons.
This evening at the party, with other people around, it was even more difficult. He had to be really careful to avoid looking at her in "that" way altogether so as not to be spotted by other guests.
His Aunt Jo was wearing a cotton top with a small floral pattern and elasticated vertical pleats. It was sleeveless and bared her shoulders, apart from two narrow straps. She also had on a grey, calf-length cotton skirt. It fitted loosely but in some ways it was more alluring than if it had been tighter. Sometimes when she moved her skirt hugged her thighs, even sometimes hinting at the line of her crotch. The shape of her small breasts showed against her pretty top, too, and she was clearly not wearing a bra.
To be dressed like this was not exactly brazen; her breasts were small and were supported adequately by the elasticated pleats of her top so that they moved little. Besides, it had been hot and humid all day, and it made sense to dress accordingly. And although she was single at present, Pete knew that she was not the sort of woman to flaunt herself.
But in his state of arousal her bra-lessness seemed highly erotic. It was as if whilst appearing to be innocent she was in reality inviting attention from the men at the party – all of whom were married or at least "attached". Pete knew that this was not the case and was simply his imagination. But it was a nice thought to play with, and the fact that it was purely in his own mind didn't diminish the strength of his lust.
He noticed several blokes looking at his aunt's breasts and running their eyes over her grey skirt, too, watching the way it moved with her, and trying to make out the line of her legs, her hips, her backside through it. In Pete's mind it made his aunt seem a tease, and it made him feel horny to see other blokes checking her out.
The hot, sticky air made him uncomfortable, and was beginning to give him a headache. He was perspiring, and so were most other people. He noticed beads of perspiration glistening on his aunt's shoulders and above the neckline of her top. Inexplicably it seemed very erotic.
"We need a good storm to clear the air," one man commented to Pete, as he wafted his hand in front of his face.
Pete's Aunt Jo was nearby. She winced visibly.
"Don't say that – I hate thunderstorms," she replied. "Ever since I was a girl. We were staying with my grandmother and there was a storm, a really bad one in the middle of he night. The chimney pot crashed onto the roof of the house, I was screaming in my bed, terrified, thinking the whole house was going to cave in on me, my mum and dad were with me in moments but I've never got over the shock. I don't know whether it got struck by lightning or whether it was the vibration of the thunder that did it, but it's the same difference – it absolutely terrified me for life."
She spoke quicker than normal, running her words together, and her voice quavered with emotion. The bloke who had wished for a storm was visibly embarrassed by her distress. He mumbled that there probably wouldn't be one in their area and moved away to speak to someone else.
It got late and one by one the guests at the party began to drift away. Pete and his Aunt Jo also left. Her friends wished them goodnight. The party was only a couple of streets away from his aunt's house and they walked back.
This was the last evening of his stay with her, and as he was due to drive home the next day he was more or less sober. His aunt, on the other hand, while far from being off her head, was a little unsteady on her feet. She giggled from time to time, too, and leaned on his arm for support. As they walked home the warmth and weight of her body pressing against him stirred his desire. So did the way her skirt moved as she walked. Her arm was slightly sweaty against his.
They walked up the driveway to her front door. She bent over her handbag and rummaged for her door key. He could not help glancing down her top at her small, partly revealed breasts as her top gaped open a little. She giggled again and passed him the key. He unlocked the door and let her in ahead of him. Partly this was courtesy. Partly, if he were honest, it was so that he could watch her skirt swing and sway as she entered the house and headed into the lounge.
