Tyson's Bucet List

When I was twenty I was immortal, convinced that I would live forever. The world was mine to conquer. At thirty I was a lot less ambitious, and more realistic, knowing that my time on earth was limited, but I knew that I still had plenty of decades ahead of me. However, forty was a reality check, and it shocked me.

Shortly after that milestone birthday I was seriously ill, and I almost died. Eventually I recovered, but it was a wake-up call for me. It made me realize that I might only have a few years left, and that I should make the most of them.

That's when I decided to make a bucket list!

I spent the weekend doing it. When I'd finished I was pleased with myself. It was ambitious, but it was achievable. Since my divorce two years ago, my life had lacked purpose. Now I had something to strive for, something to look forward to.

For the next year it was my hobby, and I took great delight in crossing things off the list.

The beach holiday in Bali had exceeded my expectations. It was an amazing place. And trekking in the Amazon rainforest was a trip of a lifetime. But when I was back at home, alone in my bed, I felt that there was something missing in my life. That's when I amended my bucket list. Some things were deleted, replaced by things that I really wanted to do.

Those additions were women that I wanted to sleep with. Then, with a new zeal, I set about achieving those goals.

My first attempt was a disaster. I wanted to have sex with a stranger on a train. I thought that I'd been charming, and that she was enjoying my flirting. But I was wrong, and when I suggested that she should join me in the toilet, the look on her face told me that I'd made a big mistake. After profusely apologizing, I got off at the next station.

As soon as I got home I took another look at my list. Sex with a stranger on a train? That had been stupid. I'd had a lucky escape, she might have called the police. I put a line through it. There were others that needed to be crossed out as well. A threesome with identical twins was never going to happen. And as for joining the mile high club, that was pure fantasy.

When I'd finished it was a shorter list, but I could have pruned it even more. I'd kept some things on it that should really be deleted. However, just seeing them on the list excited me, so I was reluctant to remove them. One of them was Aunty Jessica, my Mother's younger sibling.

She was sixty one, but you could believe that she was at least ten years younger. Always smartly dressed, and her manners were impeccable. She might only be a small woman, but she cast a large shadow. An imposing person. She excited me, and frightened me, in equal measures!

For the next month, my bucket list was the last thing on my mind. I was working day and night on a project that had a tight deadline. I wasn't complaining, I liked the work and it paid well, but I was relieved when it was over and I'd got my life back.

That's when I got a call, and it was completely unexpected.

"Tyson, it's your Aunty. I have some business to attend to near you. I'll be staying with you for a few days."

There was no need for her to introduce herself, because there was no mistaking her voice and mannerisms. If I was a man, I would have asked her when that was, to see if it was convenient, but with her I was a mouse.

"Yes Aunty."

Two days later she was with me.

"Be a dear and get my things from the car."

I did, and carrying in the suitcases nearly broke my back. She was supposed to be staying for just a week, but it looked as if she'd packed for at least a month.

"You can stay in your bedroom, I'll sleep in the spare room."

It was my house, and I was supposed to be in charge, but I knew my place. I should be grateful that she hadn't demanded that I stay in a hotel so that she could have the place to herself.

"Thank you Aunty."

While we were watching television together I thought about my bucket list. She was on it, and coincidentally, she was here with me now. That made having her a possibility. But should I try? Then I thought about that unfortunate incident on the train, it had been so embarrassing, but I knew that rejection by my Aunty would be much worse than that. While staying calm, she'd give me a tongue-lashing that would reduce me to tears. I gave a little shudder. She would stay on my list, because I wanted her, but getting her was never going to happen.

The next day, while we were having our evening meal, she surprised me.

"Gerard is no longer in my life. I asked him to leave."

"Why?"

I could see the anguish on her face, but she quickly composed herself. When she spoke again it was if she was talking about something that was trivial.

"He was cheating on me."

I was impressed. I didn't think that he had it in him. He'd been completely under her thumb. Perhaps, one day, he'd just had enough. Like most powerful women, she turned me on, and I wanted to fuck her, but I didn't want to live with her. That would be a nightmare.

"And it was with a woman that was completely unsuitable. She was half his age. An exotic dancer with breasts that were obscenely large."

When she then said, "Don't you agree?" I nodded, but that was just to keep her happy. For a man of his age, who had been living with my Aunty for ten years, she was just what he needed. If I was to see him again then I'd shake his hand!

"I do miss him."

I could tell that she really did, and I was starting to feel sorry for her.

"He used to rub my feet, and I liked that."

Without thinking, I blurted out, "I can do that for you."

The look I got from her was as if I'd asked if I could put my hand inside her panties. Then, probably because she realized that I was only trying to be helpful, she smiled.

"It was nice of you to offer, but I don't think it would be appropriate."

I must learn to keep my mouth shut. One day it's going to be the death of me.

When we'd finished eating we went to the lounge to watch a film.

For the next hour and a half we didn't talk, because both of us were enjoying it. But when it ended, she surprised me again, by saying, "You can rub my feet."

Before, doing it had been inappropriate, but now, for some reason, it wasn't. However, I wasn't going to point that out to her. She'd changed her mind, and I had as well. I didn't want to do it. I was tired and I wanted to go to bed. But that wasn't an option.

"Yes Aunty."

To do that I had to sit next to her on the sofa. She then put her legs onto my lap.

Her feet were dainty, not much bigger than a child's. And her skin was soft. I'd been reluctant, but now I was enjoying it. When I looked at her, and she returned my smile, I knew that she was enjoying it as well.

The next television programme was a documentary about the Mafia. It was riveting. Full of intrigue and double-crossing. I was fully immersed in it, and that was why my hand had got to where it was now without me noticing. It was high up on her calf, near to her knee. Why hadn't she stopped me? I quickly removed it.

"Please put it back, I was enjoying it."

I did, and when it was on her, she parted her legs. I gulped, I could almost see her panties. There was now blood flowing into my cock. I didn't know what to do. Were her actions deliberate, to entice me, or were they just accidental? I desperately wanted to move my hand up, for it to go between her legs, but I was a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"Gerard used to rub my thighs, I liked that."

She was calmness personified. No hint of excitement in her voice. She'd said it casually, as if it was of no importance.

However, for me, when my hand was where she wanted it to be, I was anything but calm.

I'd done this before with lots of other women. My hand had started there, and then it had quickly moved upwards. That had always excited me, but not as much as it was exciting me now, and I was still a long way from her pussy.

As I gently rubbed her leg it felt hot, as if she had a fever. That was because my senses were heightened. And because of that, I could smell her perfume. It was orange blossom.

"You can go higher, that's if you want to."

This time there was emotion in her voice. She'd spoken the words slowly, and in a seductive tone. I now realized that underneath her hard exterior there was a sensual woman that was trying to get out.

Then, while smiling, she added, "I'll tell you when to stop."

My heart was racing and I was finding it difficult to breathe. And why was the room suddenly so hot?

She'd given me a choice, but my decision was a no-brainer. With my cock doing its best to burst out of my trousers, I slowly moved my hand up her thigh.

As it progressed, she matched it by opening her legs even wider. For every inch that my hand moved up, I got to see more of her inner thighs. And now, with my fingers at the hem of her panties, her pussy was on display.

I couldn't believe it. She was showing it to me, and not in a subtle way. I could see all of it. In a perfect world she wouldn't be wearing any panties, but even with it covered it was still highly erotic.

She was sixty one, an age where a woman might wear loose fitting underwear for comfort. But surprisingly, not my Aunty. Her panties were small, perhaps a size too small, because they were tight over her pussy. I could see all the contours of it. I could even see where her clit was. If I was to rub it, just once, then she would be mine. Very soon I would be crossing her off my list!

However, when I did that, she didn't react in the way that I'd expected. She didn't moan, or ask me to take her panties off, instead she quickly closed her legs. I had to pull hard to get my hand out.

"I'm going to bed."

And I knew that she didn't want me to join her.

I could have kicked myself. I'd rushed in, like a bull in a china shop. I should have taken my time, making sure that she was fully aroused before touching her there. Going straight for her clit was a mistake, a big one.

In the morning, while going downstairs for breakfast, I was nervous. I was convinced that Aunty was going to have a word with me, and she might not be subtle. I was trying to imagine what she might say.

"Tyson, I'm disappointed with you. Trying to finger me was completely unacceptable."

I'd apologize, and then I'd hang my head in shame. Or worse.

"I'm going to tell your Mother what you did."

If it was that, I'd go down on my bended knee, and then I'd beg her not to do it.

When I entered the kitchen my heart was thumping in my chest, it felt as if it was going to burst. I was determined to stay strong, but I was worried that I might crumble, and that I might even cry.

"Your breakfast is ready. If you want more then I'll make it for you."

And that was it. No harsh words, and no awkward silence. It was as if nothing had happened!

After she'd left to go to her business meeting, I took a few minutes to think about her before leaving for work. Very soon she would be gone, and I would miss her.

That evening we again watched television together, but I wasn't taking much of it in. I kept looking at her legs, waiting for her to ask me to rub her feet. But she didn't ask, and I couldn't pluck up the courage to offer to do it. Why was I such a wimp? It's been often said of me that I should be more assertive, and it was true. When it got to ten o'clock I'd given up hope.

"If Gerard was here he'd massage my shoulders."

He wasn't here, but I was, and I was willing and able. I tried to be cool, to casually say it, but there was no hiding the excitement in my voice when I said, "I can do it for you."

I was now next to her on the sofa, and she was sitting so that her back was towards me.

"That feels good."

It was for me as well. I was only touching her shoulders, but my cock had responded as if I was playing with her pussy. It was rock-hard.

"It would be better without the straps getting in the way."

I'd said it under my breath, in a low voice, for my ears only, but she'd heard it.

"That's a good idea."

Was that permission to remove them? It must be.

Her dress and bra straps were now off her shoulders. They were a few inches down her arms, but they didn't stay there. As I massaged her shoulders and neck, the straps started to slip further down. She must have noticed, but she didn't do anything to stop it.

Eventually, the inevitable happened. The straps were so low, that her top was down to her waist, and her bra was resting on her lap. Her small breasts were now exposed. But frustratingly, I couldn't see them. However, I could touch them. Was that what she wanted me to do? It had to be a yes, because if she didn't, then she wouldn't now be topless.

Yesterday had taught me a valuable lesson. I needed to proceed slowly. Any sudden movement might spook her, and like before, she would end it.

At first, I was too slow. It would be hours before I got to her breasts. When I realized that, I was quicker, but I was still taking my time. After ten minutes, my hands were over her shoulders, but they still had a long way to go. And I was keeping them there until I got some indication that she wanted them to go lower.

"This is very good."

But it would be even better if my hands were on her tits. I was going to wait another minute, and then I was going to go for it.

When my hands started to move down, there was no resistance from her. There wasn't much to feel, only a handful, but it was more than enough for me. I was as excited as I had been the first time that my hand was on a breast. And then, when I found her nipples, my excitement went up a level. That's when she started to moan!

While I was thinking about doing it, I knew that it was reckless, and that I should wait, but that didn't stop me trying. I wanted my hand on her pussy. And when, after I'd reached around her, she opened her legs so that I could get to it, I had to smile. She was going to let me do it.

What was supposed to be calm and controlled, was now frantic. My hand, that was on her little breast, was squeezing it, and she was responding by moaning. But it was my other hand, that was between her legs, that was making her moan louder. Its fingers were furiously rubbing her little pebble.

I was forty years old, a mature man. I'd been with enough women to know what happens when you rub their clit, but when she boiled over, it took me by surprise.

Her body went rigid, and she made a lot of noise, then it was over, and she was pulling on the hand that was between her legs.

In a voice, that under the circumstances, was surprisingly calm, she said, "Tyson, I would like a drink of water."

"Yes Aunty."

When I was in the kitchen, I looked down at my trousers, there was an impressive bulge in them. My cock was desperate for some attention. While the glass was filling up with water, I made a decision. I was going to be bold, I was going to tell her what I wanted.

After handing her the water, I was going to say, "Aunty, I want you to jerk me off."

When I got back, she was dressed. She took the water from me, but before I could say anything she spoke.

"I want to watch this programme. You can watch it with me, but you have to sit on the chair over there and not make a sound."

I was now going to ask her to make me come, but I lost my nerve. What came out of my mouth wasn't, "Aunty, I want you to jerk me off," Instead it was, "Yes Aunty."

I stayed with her until it had ended, and as instructed, I watched it without speaking to her.

"Thanks for doing that," then she quickly added, "Watching it with me."

But I knew what she really meant. She was thanking me for making her come.

"You're welcome. And we must do it again."

Her parting words made my heart sing.

"We will."

However, nothing happened the next day, or the day after that. And tonight was our last one. Tomorrow she would be gone.

She was back late, and she looked tired.

"I need an early night."

When I was married, an early night meant that we would fuck, but it was obvious, even to me, that wasn't what Aunty was suggesting.

So was that it? It looked like it. After breakfast I'd pack the car for her. Then, perhaps after a hug and a peck on the cheek, she would drive off. She would be staying on my bucket list. If only we could have more time together, then I was confident that I'd be able to cross her off.

At eight o'clock, she declared, "I'm off to bed."

That was really it. All hope was gone. Then she said more.

"I almost forgot to say. I'm staying for another week."

I waited until she'd left the room before punching the air. It was game on!

The next night she had some work to do, so I had to watch the television on my own. I kept glancing over at the sofa, wishing that she was with me. At nine o'clock I went to bed, and shortly after I was asleep.

She was up first, and when I joined her in the kitchen, she greeted me with a big smile.

"It's very kind of you to let me stay. Today I'm not working, so I can pamper you. What would you like?"

A lot of things crossed my mind. All of them sexual, and some were obscene. One of them might even be illegal. But I knew that she wasn't asking about my sexual needs, she was asking me what I would like her to cook for me.

"Mother's famous chicken curry."

That got a frown from her.

With her hands on her hips, and her eyes on me, she said, "Don't you mean Aunty's famous chicken curry?"

While smiling, I loudly said, "No Aunty," and that made her laugh.

I was home early and so we ate at six.

The meal was sumptuous, and I had a second helping. That pleased her.

After patting my stomach, I said, "That was wonderful, almost as good as Mother's."

That got a stern look from her, and a shake of her head, but I knew that she wasn't really annoyed with me.

"I'll tidy the kitchen up, and you can run me a bath. Make it hot, and I like plenty of bubbles."

"Yes Aunty."

Twenty minutes later it was ready. I'd added too much lavender bubble bath, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

The old Aunty, before she'd come to stay with me, would have complained, but the new one was more tolerant.

While smiling, she said, "I did say a lot of bubbles, but this is extreme."

It was, you couldn't see any of the water.

I then went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. While she was in the bath I was going to do some reading. I was halfway through the latest blockbuster, 'A cold day in Red Square'. The plot was ridiculous and the action was over the top, but I was thoroughly enjoying it. Would Matt Diamond, the debonair British super spy, save the world? Of course he would, but I was curious to find out how he would do it.

However, after only reading a couple of pages, I stopped. I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about my Aunty. She was in the bathroom, and more importantly, she was naked.

I was going to see if she was OK, to see if she needed anything. But that was just an excuse, the real reason I was doing it was so that I could be close to her. And if the door was slightly open, then I might be able to take a peek at her gorgeous breasts!

But disappointingly, the door was closed. I was now going to leave without saying anything. However, she must have heard me walking about, because she spoke.

"Gerard always used to scrub my back."

As soon as I was in the bathroom, my eyes were on her. I wanted to see her tits, but all I could see was a mountain of foam. It was up to her neck.

"Please will you scrub my back?"

After giving a deep sigh, I said, "I will, that's if I can find it."

That made her laugh.

I did find it, but it only got a brief scrub. There was a better place to touch, and that was where my hand was now. It was her tits. I'd like to say that I'd planned it, but I hadn't. Pouring in too much of the bubble bath was accidental, but sometimes you get lucky. My mistake meant that most of her body was covered by foam. So, because my hands were hidden from view while I fondled her breasts, both of us could pretend that nothing was happening!