Women I have known: 07 Aunt Beth
Aunt Beth was exactly twenty years older than I was, as we shared the same birthdate.
For my twentieth birthday, she took me to a play on the stage at the local playhouse theater.
Our birthday has not always been celebrated together since I turned ten and she turned thirty. We were at Disneyland, staying at the hotel with her family and mine. She had been married for five years, twice, and was single for almost ten years.
She called me her rescuer because I became the focus of her grief when her marriage blew apart. She related stories of pain, anger, frustration, deceit, mental strife, and sexual inadequacy as a couple when she would tell her tales of woe and hardship.
About the time I turned eighteen, she was all over me, wanting to go with her, take her places, and act as an escort this Christmas season. As an assistant to the County Board of Supervisors, Aunt Beth grew more socially important as it became evident, according to my dad, of her climbing the powers of the county for more influence.
When I asked her, "What did dad mean that she was 'climbing the powers of the county for more influence?'"
Her response was, "He has seen the success I have in the county offices and he is jealous."
We were at a Christmas cocktail party a year later at some bigwig's home. Aunt Beth had more to drink than usual. She was drinking egg nog and adding more brandy. By the time the party was winding down, her strapless dress was nearly sliding over her small breasts. At one point, while we were dancing, I placed my thumbs beside her breasts inside the strapless dress and lifted both sides of her dress in the front because she wasn't.
When the dance was over, I ushered us to the car and left. It was about ten thirty Friday evening, and we were about forty miles from her house. She began to feel like she was going to throw up, so I pulled to the side of the highway, scurried around to her side of the car, and assisted her in getting out. She was stumbling and unsure on her feet because she had removed her heels and was in her nylons when we stopped. The side of the roadway was crusher gravel and sharp and painful to her bare feet.
Aunt Beth was able to hobble away as I held her waist. Bending over forward, I listened to her wretch and sputter for three or four spasms, after which she stood up straight rapidly and then threw up all down the front of herself. She had mostly been drinking egg nog, so she produced a curdled slurry that rolled down her chin, dripping and smearing onto her chest and into her strapless bra.
The slipperiness of the vomit soaked to her waist. As it began to run inside her waist, she writhed loose of my grip. She fell forward, stumbling and eventually collapsing in the water along the highway right of way. Now her head was soaked, her glasses broken, her dress muddy, her hairdo fraying apart, becoming a straight muddy mess dripping mud and grime.
Of course, she was balling by now and mad as a hornet. I attempted to pick her out of the ooze at the bottom of the drainage, but she decided to fight me instead of allowing me to help. She fell again in the mud and landed on her back in the deeper part of the drainage ditch. Her dress, formerly white with green accents, was by now black, gray, brown, and torn at the hip.
She was so mad she'd ceased crying, seemed more lucid momentarily, but then said, "Dale, you have been the best thing that ever happened to me. Tonight you are willing to help me when I am fighting your kindness, getting you filthy with vomit, mud, and drain ditch effluent; magically, you are not mad at me, still. Every other person in the family considers me trash and a slut, because I am. But you either do not care how I am or care too much."
"Please, Aunty Beth, let's just get you home now. Everything will seem better in the morning, and even now when I get you home. You can get those clothes off and take a shower,
get clean and toasty again and into bed to sleep it off."
While I was attempting to get her to cooperate, she became a romantic drunk. She had no idea how pathetic she looked. Her makeup was a fright, her dress was torn and ruined, her heels were soaked, and she was covered in ditch water, mud and vomit.
She wobbled and staggered from the alcohol, and she was attempting to get me in a kissing hug. I stepped back away from her because she was a filthy, slimy mess, but the hood of the car was behind me, and she leaned into my face with her filthy hair and face and kissed me fiercely on the lips. I couldn't help myself. I kissed her back.
When my tongue met hers, she pulled away and said, "You taste like cowshit smells."
By then, I was erect, filthy, and losing my patience. "Well, Aunty Beth, I think you are terrific and maybe the smartest family member, but you are the stinky one."
Aunty Beth said, "For that, I reward you with another kiss."
She kissed me more, again and again. She was greedy and hungry. She was aroused so fast I couldn't believe it. She was kissing me as a car roared past, and then it was dark again. When the car headlights revealed us, we were hugging and kissing, and would not have even noticed the car if they hadn't hollered out their car window, "Get a room!"
We kissed, leaning against the hood, and when we took a break to breathe, Aunty Beth stepped back, grabbed the top of her dress along with the strapless bra, and shrugged them off over her head, throwing the whole thing into the ditch. Her tits were as dirty as her dress, but they were uncovered, her nipples rock hard, inviting me to suck them.
I restrained myself, and instead, she leaned forward and stripped off her nylons, garter belt, and panties. Now she was starkers except for a diamond bracelet and necklace. Her earrings were gone, he rings were gone, and her clothes were gone. She was an ugly shade of camouflage colors and bits of twigs, leaves, and dirt.
I again realized how drunk she was when she boosted herself up on the hood of my 1951 Chevrolet, then spread her legs and crooked her finger at me to, 'Come here.'
Needless to say, by this point, I was hers to do with whatever she wanted. I came closer, and she placed her hands on either side of my face. She softly, lovingly looked me in the eyes, then said sternly, "Eat me, cousin. Let's have some incestuous sex, whadda-you-say?"
She pushed-pulled my head to her vagina, and I smelled her before I tasted her. Her smell was burned into my memory forever, available to recall instantly when I get near her, even these forty or so years later.
She was spread out over the chrome strip down the center of the hood so that the hood ornament was pushed against her ass and vagina just at the top of the ornament. I was licking her vagina when she grabbed my head again and moved my mouth onto her clitoris. She screamed in an orgasm so loud that the country sounds fell silent. She eventually pulled my hair into and away from her vagina as I ate and licked her into three orgasms.
We both realized what we were doing, stopped, and I was able to get her to sit in the car while I gathered her clothes and put them in the car's trunk.
When I got in the car to drive, her hand sneaked over to my belt, released it, folded open my suit pants fly, pushed my briefs down and bent her mouth onto my cock and began a blow job. I turned the car off, leaned back with the seat, pushed my pants off my hips, and let her go.
When I came, she clamped her lips tight enough to seal my come in her mouth. She was smiling, and her lips were attempting to contain my come when we kissed again. She had swallowed almost all of the come, but she 'flavored' me, and we snowballed as we continued to make out.
I said, "Aunty Beth, I want to fuck you. Can we go to your house, or is there someone else there?"
